Winds of Change

by Mercedes Lackey

  Shin‘a‘in proverbs from an Outlander. God help me. But he couldn’t help but smile ruefully in reply. “The trouble with proverbs is that they’re truisms,” he agreed. “You make me think that you are reading my thoughts, though.”

  It was a half-serious accusation, although he made it with a smile. It was no secret that these Heralds had mind-magic - but did they use it without warning?

  She laughed. “Not a chance. I don’t eavesdrop, I promise. No Herald would. It was just a case of parallel worries. So, where are we going to go to work?”

  No Herald would. Perhaps the Companion might. . . but I suspect she knows that. He wasn’t worried about her Companion reading his thoughts. It was not likely that there was anything he would think that a Guardian Spirit had not seen before.

  “Have you eaten yet?” he asked instead. When she shook her head, he went back into his ekele and rummaged about in his belongings and what the hertasi had left him. He brought out two coats draped over his arm, and fruit and bread, handing her a share of the food. She took it with a nod of thanks. “I thought,” he said after she had settled beside him on the steps, “that we might work from the ruins.”

  “The gryphon’s lair?” She tipped her head to one side. “There is a node underneath it. And we’re likely to need one. But what about - well - attracting things when we do the magic?”

  “We won’t have the shields of the Vale, and that’s a problem,” he admitted, biting into a ripepomera. “I don’t know how to get around that.”

  She considered that for a moment, then shrugged. “We’ll deal with it, I suppose,” she replied. “Gwena can’t think of any way around it either, but she’s in agreement with both of us on not working near the Heartstone.” She finished the last of her bread and stood up, dusting her hands off. “So, what, exactly, are we doing?”

  He licked juice from his fingers and followed her example, handed her a coat, then led the way down the stairs to the path below. “Well, we can’t do a wide open Mindcall,” he began.

  “Obviously,” she said dryly. “Since we don’t want every nasty thing in the area to know that k’Sheyna is in trouble. I wouldn’t imagine we’d want to do a focused Mindcall either; something still might pick it up, even though we meant it only for Tayledras. There might even be something watching for a Mindcall like that, for all we know.”

  “And what’s the point in wasting all the energy needed for a focused Mindcall to all the Clans when there may not be more than one or two Adepts that can help us?” he concluded. “No, what I’d thought that we should do is to send a specific message-spell; that is a complicated message that can be carried by a single bird.” He smiled to himself; she wouldn’t believe what kind of bird would carry the incorporeal message, but it was the most logical.

  “To whom?” she asked in surprise, as Gwena joined them, following a polite ten paces behind. “I thought - ” she stopped in confusion.

  “I don’t know who to send it to, but I know what,” he explained, brushing aside a branch that overhung the path. “Somewhere in the Clans is a Healing Adept of a high enough level that he either knows or can figure out what we need to do. Now I know that no one here can, so I send out a message to the nearest Clan, aimed at any Adept that’s of our ability or higher. In this case, the nearest Clan is k’Treva. And I’m pretty sure they have someone better equipped to deal with this than we are. They offered their help a while back, and Father refused it.”

  “And if no one there can help us after all?” she asked, darkly.

  He shrugged. “Then I ask them to pass on the word to the others. They don’t have a flawed Heartstone in their midst. They can send out to any Clan Council. To tell you the truth, our biggest problem with getting the Stone taken care of has been isolation. Solve that, and we can solve the rest.”

  The Vale was unusually silent, with all the mages abed and recovering. Their steps were the only sounds besides the faint stirring of leaves in the breeze and the bird songs that always circulated through the Vale. She was quiet all the way to the entrance and the Veil that guarded it. Beyond the protections, another winter snowstorm dropped fat flakes through the bare branches of the trees.

  They shared a look of resignation; wrapped themselves in their coats and crossed the invisible barrier between summer and winter. The first sound outside was of their boots splashing into the puddles of water made by snow melted from the ambient heat of the Vale’s entrance.

  There was no wind, and snow buried their feet to the calf with every step they took. Flakes drifted down slowly through air that felt humid on Darkwind’s face, and not as cold as he had expected. Above the gray branches, a white sky stretched featurelessly from horizon to horizon; Darkwind got the oddest impression, as if the snowflakes were bits of the sky, chipped off and slowly falling. Beneath the branches, the gray columns of the tree trunks loomed through the curtaining snow, and more snow carpeted the forest floor and mounded in the twigs of every bush. There were no evergreens in this part of the woods, so there was nothing to break the landscape of gray and white.

  Snow creaked under their feet, and the cold crept into his boots. Their feet would be half frozen by the time they reached the ruins.

  Darkwind didn’t mind the lack of color. After the riot of colors and verdant greens within the Vale, the subdued grays and gray-browns were restful, refreshing. He wished, though, that he had time and the proper surroundings to enjoy them.

  This is a good day for bundling up beside afire, watching the snowfall and not thinking of anything in particular.

  “This is the kind of day when I used to curl up in a blanket in a window and read,” Elspeth said quietly, barely breaking the silence. “When I’d just sit, listen to the fire, watch the snow pile up on the window ledge, and think about how nice it was to be warm and inside.”

  He chuckled, and she glanced at him. Gwena moved around them to walk in front, breaking the trail for them.

  “I was just thinking the same thing,” he explained. “If we only had the time. I used to do much the same.”

  “Ah.” She nodded. “I’d forgotten you used to live outside that glorified greenhouse. I like it, the Vale, I mean - but sometimes I miss weather when I’m in there. It’s hard to tell what time of day it is, much less what season.”

  “Well, I imagine Wintermoon and Skif would be willing to trade places with us right now,” he replied thoughtfully. “This is good weather to be inside - but not for camping. Snow this damp is heavy when it collects on a tent. Oh, if you’re wondering, I sent Vree on ahead with a message about what we want to do; I expect Treyvan and Hydona will be waiting for us.”

  “I was wondering.” She glanced at him again, but this time she half-smiled as she tucked her hair more securely inside the hood of her coat. “Not that I expected them to object, but it is considered good manners to let people know that you are planning on setting off fireworks from the roof of their house - and you plan to have their help in doing it.”

  He laughed; this was a very pleasant change from the Elspeth of several weeks ago. Reasonable, communicative. And showing a good sense of humor. “Yes it is,” he agreed. “My message to them was that if they objected to the idea, to let me know immediately. That was when I first woke; since Vree didn’t come back, I assume they don’t mind.”

  “Either that, or he forgot his promise and made a snatch at a crestfeather again,” she said with mock solemnity. “In that case, you’ll have to find yourself another bondbird.”

  Elspeth enjoyed the walk, for with Gwena breaking the trail for them, the trip to the lair was something like a pleasant morning’s hike. They had to keep a watch for unexpected trouble, of course, but nothing more threatening appeared than a crow scolding them for being in his part of the forest.

  This is the most relaxed I’ve been since I got here, she thought. Perhaps it was because the waiting was finally over. She’d had the feeling all along that the mages of k’Sheyna would never be able to solve the problem by
themselves. Darkwind felt the same, she knew, but he never discussed it. He was relieved, too - but too conscientious to feel pleased with the failure of his Clan’s mages, even though it proved that he was right. He wasn’t a shallow man.

  The ruins were cloaked in snow, which gave some portions an air of utter desolation, and others an uncanny resemblance to complete buildings. Passage of the gryphons in and around their territory kept the pathways they used relatively free of snow. It was easier to move here, but with the last of the trees out of sight, the place felt like a desert.

  Vree was on his best behavior, it seemed, for when they approached the gryphons’ lair, they found him up on the “rafters” of the nest, pulling bits from a fresh-killed quail with great gusto.

  He didn’t have time to do more than call a greeting to Darkwind, though. The gryphlets tumbled out of the nest and overran all three of them, knocking Darkwind off his feet and rolling him in the snow, wrestling with him as if they were kittens and he was a kind of superior cat-toy.

  Elspeth laughed until her sides hurt; every time he started to get up, one of the youngsters knocked him over again. He was matted with snow; he looked like an animated snowman, and was laughing so hard she wondered how he caught his breath.

  Gwena watched the melee wistfully, obviously wishing she could join in.

  Elspeth decided that Darkwind could use a rescue. She waded in and started pulling tails, which turned the gryph-lets on her. Within a heartbeat, she found herself going ramp-over-tail into a snowdrift, with a squealing Jerven on top of her, flailing with his short, stubby wings and kicking up clouds of the soft snow in all directions.

  That was when Gwena joined the fun; making short charges and shouldering the youngsters aside so that she tumbled them into the snow the way they had knocked Darkwind and Elspeth over. The gryphlets loved that; Gwena was big enough to hold her own with them, and provided they kept their foreclaws fisted, they didn’t have to hold back with her in a rough-and-tumble.

  In a few moments, their parents appeared, and rather than calling a halt to the game, they joined it. Now the odds were clearly against the gryphlets, and first Darkwind, then Elspeth switched sides, coming to the youngsters’ defense while Gwena sided with the parents. In moments, snow flew everywhere. It looked like a blizzard from the ground up.

  The best strategy seemed to be seizing the tail of an adult, hampering movement, while the young one batted away at the front end with blows of their wings and with their claws held tightly into a fist to avoid injury.

  That wouldn’t work for long, however.

  Just as Elspeth was getting winded, Hydona turned the tables on them. The gryphon whirled, dragging Elspeth along with her and bringing her into the range of the huge wings. Suddenly she went tumbling, buffeted into another snowbank by a carefully controlled sweep of a wing; landing right beside Jerven who had gotten the same treatment. Before either of them could scramble to their feet, Hydona was upon them, pinning each of them down with a foreclaw.

  “Trrruce?” the gryphon asked, her head cocked to one side, her beak slightly open as she panted. Steam rose in puffs from her half-open beak. Elspeth sensed the controlled power in the claw pinning her carefully into the drift, and marveled at it, even as she signaled her defeat laughingly. Hydona let both of them up, extending the claw again to help Elspeth to her feet.

  “Thanks,” she said, looking for Gwena, and finding that Darkwind and Lytha had taken Gwena hostage, holding her against Treyvan’s continued good behavior. The Companion’s blue eyes sparkled like sapphires, and her ears were up and tail flagged -

  In short, they only thought they had her.

  Elspeth kept her mouth shut, waiting for Gwena to make her move.

  Treyvan feinted, and Darkwind turned just a little too far to block him. For one moment, he took his eyes off the Companion.

  That was when Gwena grabbed his collar in her teeth, and, whipping her head around on her long, graceful neck, jerked him off his feet and flung him sideways into Lytha.

  Darkwind whuffed with surprise; Lytha squealed. They both went down in a tangle of legs and wings.

  Elspeth giggled uncontrollably, then took a huge double handful of snow, packed it tight, and lobbed it at Gwena. It impacted against Gwena’s rump, and she whirled to glare at her Chosen indignantly. Darkwind howled with laughter, and the gryphlets joined in.

  “I was afraid you were going to break the game up,” Elspeth told the female gryphon, as Darkwind and his partner surrendered to her mate.

  Hydona shook her head to rid it of snow. “No,” she replied. “The little onesss werrre resstlessss. Now they will sssettle, and let usss worrk in peace.”

  Elspeth stretched and began beating the snow out of her cloak, feeling vertebrae pop as her muscles loosened. “I feel like I’ve worked off a bit of nerves, too,” she began, when another creature popped its head out of the gryphon’s lair, ears pricked forward and eyes wide with interest.

  :Is the battle over?: the kyree asked. :Or is this a temporary truce?:

  “I think we’ve been defeated too soundly to make another attempt,” Darkwind said cheerfully. “Despite Gwena’s indignation. Am I right, my shieldbrother?” he asked, turning to Lytha.

  The gryphlet nodded vigorously, and sneezed a clump of melting snow from her cere and crown. “Wet,” she complained. “Got sssnow in my featherssss.”

  “If you fight in sssnow, you mussst expect sssome in your feathersss,” Hydona told her, with a twinkle.

  :My famous cousin Warrl used to say, “You cannot have a battle without getting your fur in a mess.”: The kyree scratched meditatively at one ear. :He used to say, “You know how fierce the fighting was by how long after it takes to clean up. “ If you two want to come inside, I can start a mage-fire for you to lie beside, and tell you a story.: The kyree’s head vanished into the lair again. Jerven beat Lytha inside by less than half a length. “I take it that was Rris?” Elspeth said, trying not to laugh.

  “Yesss,” sighed Hydona. She looked at Treyvan, and the two of them said, in chorus, “That wasss Rrisss Let-me-tell-you-of-my-famousss-cousssin-Warrl of Hyrrrull Pack.”

  “The childrrren love him,” Treyvan added. “I think I can bear with hisss famousss cousssin sstorriess sssince he doesss not repeat them.”

  “Only the proverbsss and advice.” Hydona shrugged. “It isss no worssse than living with a Ssshin’a’in.”

  “Surely, but what could be?” Darkwind agreed, and squinted at the sky. “We have all of the afternoon and some of the morning left. Do you want to start now?”

  “I thought it might be wisssse,” Treyvan replied. “The lair isss not dirrrectly above the node. When I found the place that wasss, I built it into a ssshelter asss well. Would you follow?”

  Darkwind waved him ahead; he and Hydona took up the lead, with the two humans following, Gwena between them. Elspeth laid a hand on her shoulder.

  :Did you enjoy yourself?: she asked. :You looked like you were having a wonderful time.:

  :Very much,: Gwena replied, her breath steaming from her nostrils, her eyes still bright and merry. :That was fun! I’d nearly forgotten how much fun it is to be a child. Or to be with a child. No matter how serious things are, they can always play.:

  :A good thing, too,: Elspeth chuckled, patting her on the neck. :They can remind us grownups that there’s a time to forget how serious things are. I miss the twins.:

  :So do I: Gwena sighed gustily. :I miss a lot of things.:

  Elspeth realized Gwena must feel rather alone. She at least had other humans around, however alien they were.

  With Skif out on the hunt for Nyara, Gwena didn’t even have Cyrnry to talk to.

  Gwena must have guessed the direction her thoughts were taking. :Oh, don’t feel too sorry for me,: she said, poking Elspeth in the shoulder with her nose. :I can do that well enough on my own!:

  Elspeth made a face at her, relieved. :I’m sure you can,: she teased. :And I wouldn‘t even have to encour
age you.:

  :Too true.: Gwena’s ears pricked forward and she brought her head up. :I do believe we have arrived.:

  Before them loomed another rough building-shape, much like the lair, but cruder. Where the lair was clearly a dwelling, this was no more than a simple shelter; the most basic of walls and a roof. But it was fully large enough for the gryphons and their guests, with room to spare.

  It was clear that Treyvan and his mate had constructed this place before the first snow fell. Elspeth wondered why they had built it. Had they always intended to work magic here in their ruins? Or had they some other purpose in mind?

  They entered, to find that Treyvan had already started a mage-fire inside; the glowing ball gave them both heat and light. The interior of the crude building was appreciably warmer than the outside, although an occasional draft whipped by at ankle height. Elspeth decided to leave her coat on; it wasn’t that warm inside.

  “What, exactly, arrre we doing?” Treyvan asked, settling down on his haunches. “I know of one kind of messssage-ssspell, but I do not know that it isss like the one you ussse.”

  “Ours requires.a carrier,” Darkwind explained carefully. He looked around and found a block of stone to sit on. “We generally use a bird of some kind. There are a lot of advantages to that. The spell itself weighs nothing, and it can’t be detected unless a mage is quite close to the bird. The bird doesn’t need to remember anything, so it doesn’t have to be a bondbird. The spell is in two parts; one is the message, and the other will identify the target. That part will tell the bird when it has found either the specific person that the message is for, or in our case, the kind of person the spell is for.”