“It is shielded,” Firesong said. “The room, I mean. It is shielded as heavily as if it were a mage’s workroom, although it appears that you and I and Darkwind have been given the key to those shields. They are powerful, layered, and very old; this room should be able to contain anything. As it must be, if it is to contain a Heartstone and yet be in the center of a populous area. The people of Haven are clearly not prepared to live with the energies of such magics.” He raised a snow-white eyebrow at her. “For that matter, I do not know what such magics would do to those who are not Tayledras. There might be problems that one would never encounter in a Vale.”
Elspeth licked her lips, and nodded. “I agree with you,” she said. Those energies were very real to her; she felt them on her skin, like warm sunlight. They were not unpleasant, not at all, and she had Vanyel’s word that she would come to no harm from them, but they were nothing she would want an ordinary person exposed to. These energies might not harm, say, a woman with child—but what if that woman were not a mage? Mages automatically took in energy and incorporated it into themselves, but what if it was not incorporated? All Tayledras were, at least to a tiny extent, mages. It was born into them, a gift from their Goddess. What would not harm them might harm someone from outClan.
Mage-energies radiating from the globe made her grateful that Firesong had thought to shield the servants before he allowed them in here to clean. This was like basking in warm summer sunlight! Now she really knew why working with this kind of magic bleached the Hawkbrothers’ hair and eyes to silver and blue. Firesong had told her that working with node-energy did the same to all Adepts, but living with a Heartstone made it happen more quickly to Tayledras. And for those who actually worked with a Heartstone—well, he claimed his hair was white by the time he was ten. She believed him now. She wondered how long it would take hers to make the change, for when she had looked in the mirror this morning, there had been streaks of silver as wide as her thumb running through her hair, and her eyes were already lighter than they had been. Actually, she had rather liked the effect.
At least when her mother looked at her now, she would never again be haunted by her resemblance to her late and unlamented father.
Actually, maybe it was seeing all the silver hair that made her realize I wasn’t her baby anymore. . . . Hmm. Maybe seeing the silver hair was what convinced the Court and Council that I knew what I was doing! People tended to listen more closely to someone their eyes told them was old enough to have attained some wisdom. There could be unexpected benefits to this bleaching business!
“The last of the workrooms is clean,” she told the Adept, who had taken a seat on one of the benches and was staring into the Heartstone with a little smile of bemused content. “We moved things that were being stored up into the attics, and the few people who were using them for living places or offices have gotten space elsewhere. They’re ready to use, as soon as you have a student you think is dangerous enough to need them.”
“Ah, good,” he said, proving by his immediate answer that he wasn’t as entranced as he looked. “We will be ready for them soon enough. Within a day or two, I think. At the moment you are the only Adept among the Heralds, but that could change at any time. With so many out in the field, one never knows what may ride in.”
She nodded. “I think if there really is an Adept-potential riding circuit, he or she will be coming in within the next couple of days, Firesong. Remember, the Web holds us all, and the Web ‘knows’ we need all the strong Mage-Gifts that are out there. Strongly Gifted people are not going to have a choice; something will bring them in.”
Firesong tilted his head to one side to look at her, and tucked the curtain of his hair behind his ear absently. “Interesting. Very useful.” He returned his gaze to the globe of crystal for a moment, as if he might see a vision of those Heralds in its depths. “And have you located all of the books and manuscripts on magic and the histories of Herald-Mages?”
She nodded, as he looked up again. “I think so,” she said. “At least, if there are any more, they’re hidden in shielded places I can’t sense. Thank you for pointing out that books used around magic would pick up some contamination and be visible to Mage-Sight. I never would have found most of them if you hadn’t mentioned that.”
He simply smiled. “Then let me borrow a single moment of your time. I believe the Stone and I are in full accord now. I know that it is completely active. So there is only one more thing to do, so far as you are concerned—the little triggering I told you of.”
Time for him to introduce me—us—to it. Despite Firesong’s assurances that the Stone was quite safe, she shivered a little. Her only experience with a Heartstone was with the damaged rogue in k’Sheyna Vale, the “parent,” as it were, of this one. It had not been in the least pleasant. On the other hand, if she were going to work as a full Tayledras-trained Adept, she must be able to use not only node-energies, but the powers of her Heartstone. The latter would give her the power to set magics that would outlive her, something few mages ever succeeded in doing. This Heartstone seemed “friendly.” Yet it had come from a Stone that had tried to kill more than one of the Tayledras she knew, and had succeeded with those she hadn’t known.
But she trusted Firesong. He said this Stone was not only safe, but it must be keyed to her, even as the shields around this room were keyed to her, so that she, in turn, could key it to other Adepts. Not just her, but Gwena as well—magically speaking, she and Gwena were bonded as closely as a lifebonded couple. So, with some trepidation, she opened herself completely to Gwena, then put her mental “hand” in Firesong’s and closed her eyes.
Suddenly, she was enveloped by light and welcome; and a sense of something very, very old, and at the same time, very, very young. The age of stone, the youth of pure power, both were part of this thing that took her into itself.
:Oh, my—: she heard Gwena exclaim, and knew that her Companion had encountered the same feelings. And this was nothing she had expected. There was intelligence, of a sort, but not a “mind.” At least, it was nothing she recognized as a mind. Fortunately, it was also utterly unlike the angry, unstable “intelligence” of the k’Sheyna Stone. This intelligence, whatever it was, had a far different view of “time” than she did, and if it had thoughts, they were so alien she could not even begin to grasp them.
But it was alive, there was absolutely no doubt in her mind about that. It recognized the two of them, and it welcomed her and Gwena both and would do so in the future. They “belonged” now. It would give her whatever power she needed, so long as she was in reach. That was what it was supposed to do.
Here was the moment of truth that made her Tayledras; a Heartstone’s power was meant for the good of the Clan as a whole—which in her case, was all of Valdemar—and not to be used for an individual’s needs. The shielding and the Veils that protected a Vale, the power to sculpt the rocks and create the springs, the force that grew the trees that supported up to a dozen ekeles apiece, all this came from the Heartstone. Excess energies were cleansed and stored there, for the use of all.
And for the moment, all that she wanted it to do was to help her create a mage-shield around Haven. For the protection of all. She sensed Firesong’s approval as she began.
Not too much protection, for that would block Mindspeech and other Gifts, but about the same as the Vales had when they were not under siege. Firesong understood what she wanted, and lent his own expertise, guiding her, but letting her set her own pace. He had done this before and cheerfully encouraged her as he showed her exactly what needed to be done. But she needed to do the actual work; this was her land, her “Vale,” her Heartstone.
To her surprise, she discovered that most of what was needed was already in place; either Vanyel’s work, or Firesong’s, or both. Much of it had a feeling of great age about it. It was possible that there had been mage-shields here before, and they had simply faded with time, leaving behind a framework for her to invest with the new power at her
disposal. All she needed to do, really, was to give the shield its proper shape, and define her protections. . . .
When she opened her eyes again, she was sweating with exertion and very tired, but Firesong nodded at her with the satisfaction of a teacher who has just seen his student complete a lesson perfectly. “Good!” he said. “Excellent! Now, since that shield is linked with this Heartstone, and not to you, it will hold even after you are gone or dead. That is the advantage of a Heartstone; the magics linked to it are perpetuated long past the death of the caster. Any other spells fade when the caster becomes depleted or dies. Distance can weaken the magic, too. That is why, when an Adept creates a Great Work, he tries to remain with it as much as possible—or else he does it in concert with others of his school and links it to their collective powers. That way the burden can be shared, or even passed on to students. The White Winds and Blue Mountain mages work that way, for instance.”
That made sense. She wiped her forehead with a handkerchief and nodded. “I can see that—but there are magical devices and artifacts. I distinctly remember Need showing us that she used one to make spell-impregnated swords. Doesn’t that imply that some magic can be put into things permanently?”
Firesong made a face, and shrugged. “Surely. But I do not know how to do so. Perhaps, at some point, that so-stubborn blade may be willing to show us. Until then I must go on as I have.”
Well, that made sense, too. She changed the subject. “Should we go see how the gryphons are doing? Treyvan said his batch might be able to start doing something about the wizard-weather today, and I’d like to be there when they start.”
“So they are come along that quickly?” Firesong said, with pleasure and surprise. “Wonderful! I should like to see this as well, and select those who might need extra tutoring. We cannot begin teaching them combative magics soon enough. Every hour we gain against the Beast must be used.”
Together they left the room, closing the door behind them and blowing out the lantern beside it. Elspeth was surprised at how well the gray wood of the door seemed to fade into the gray stone of the wall in the half-light of the corridor, and Firesong winked at her. “Camouflage of a sort,” he told her. “Those who do not need to find this room, probably will not be able to, even though they will no longer ‘forget’ it existed. This is not a spell, just good building. That was, in part, how it managed to remain overlooked all these years.”
They took the steps up to the ground floor, then found one of the corridors leading to a door into the gardens. Treyvan was teaching his “fledgling mages” in an old building in the gardens, a storage shed that had been built in the form of an ornamental tower, complete to being made of stone. It was only three stories tall, but it had a good flat roof and a fine view of the countryside on clear days. It had been placed in a grove of dwarf trees and proportioned to them, so that it appeared to be much taller than it really was. On a clear day, one could see every detail of Elspeth’s old pottery shed from its rooftop.
This was not a clear day, however, and the view from the top could be a perilous one in ugly weather. And it had been ugly, ever since the new Heartstone came to rest here. That should change over the course of the next few days; it would take a while to get the local patterns to return. Now the Stone was properly activated, properly shielded, and under supervision. Firesong had done a little about the mage-born storms plaguing the capital, but he had been too busy to learn as much as he needed to about the countryside, so he had erred on the side of caution, refusing to do very much. Another storm had threatened all day without breaking, bringing high winds and moisture-filled clouds in from the east. The wind whipped their clothes around them; Firesong had dressed for working in the dust of the Heartstone room, wearing relatively subdued grays and greens, but his costume was still that of a Tayledras mage, and as the wind caught his sleeves and hems, it made him look as if he were being attacked by his own clothing. The firebird narrowed its eyes to slits and clung to the padding of his shoulder, hunching down and practically gluing itself to his neck. His hair streamed out behind him, a creature of a hundred wildly whipping tentacles.
:I would not want to have to comb out that hair,: Gwena commented. Elspeth agreed; when the wind got through with it, he’d probably spend hours teasing out all the knots. No wonder the scouts wore theirs short!
:Oh, he’ll find someone who’s willing to comb it out for him, Gwena,: Elspeth responded cheerfully. :I’ve heard rumors of a lovely young Bard!:
Elspeth smelled rain as another gust hit her face, and winced. The grounds were already sodden, and another drenching would turn the gardens into a swamp. Well, maybe Treyvan would be able to do something about this before it did more than smell like rain. The farmlands north of here were parched; if they could just get some of this precipitation up there, the farmers would bless them for the rest of the season.
She and Firesong hurried along one of the gravel-covered paths to the tower. It was easy to see even at a distance a pair of golden-brown wings waving energetically at the top. The rest of the gryphon—and all of his pupils—lay hidden behind the stone coping around the tower’s edge.
:Treyvan’s in fine fettle,: Gwena said, with an excited laugh. For the moment, even Gwena had put the lowering threat of Ancar out of her mind. :I’m down below the tower, but I’ve been able to follow the whole lesson, except while you and I were “talking” to the Heartstone, of course. He’s just about ready to have the new magetrainees try out their weather-working, but I told him you were coming, so he’s waiting for you. He wants you and Firesong to see them at work, I think. These are very cooperative students, and they work well together.:
They rounded a hedge that had been hiding the base of the tower, and there was Gwena, with two other Companions beside her, all of them looking with interest at the tower top. One of those Companions was Rolan; Elspeth recognized him immediately. But she couldn’t make out who the other was. Even for a Herald, it was sometimes hard to tell Companions apart.
:I’m Sayvil, dear,: came the dry mind-voice she had heard a time or two before. :And interested to see how the new teacher was coming. I didn’t know gryphons could be mages, although kyree can, and you know about hertasi and dyheli mages, I presume. He doing a fine job; I wouldn’t change a thing.:
Oh, so Sayvil was another one of those Companions who knew something of magic? Wasn’t that interesting. . . .
Was that why she Chose Kero? Or was there some other motivation? It would certainly help to have a Companion who knew about magic in charge of someone who had come riding into your Kingdom wearing a magic sword!
Well, that could wait. There were too many other things that she needed to know. :I’ll let him know you approve, my lady,: she replied, just as dryly, and got an amused chuckle for her pains.
The bottom stories of the tower were used mostly for storing gardening implements, and the top for storing seeds and bulbs, and wintering dormant plants. The whole building had a pleasant earthy smell about it although it was terribly dark, and she and Firesong had to grope after the ladder. The tiny windows in the sides of the tower were proportioned to make it look as if it were twice the size it actually was, and since the stone walls were a handspan thick, they let in very little light. The “ladders” here were an interesting cross between a ladder and a staircase with alternating steps, made so that they could be climbed by someone with both hands full. Not that Elspeth would want to, but the gardeners scampered up and down them all day without thinking twice about it.
There was more light from the open hatch to the roof, and that made the last of their climb a bit easier. They poked their heads up through the open hatchway cautiously, just as a couple of fat drops fell with identical splats onto the wood beside their heads.
“You are in good time, younglingssss,” Treyvan said. “You have ssssaved usss frrrom needing to worrk in the wet.” The male gryphon took up half of the roof space; the rest was occupied by two youngsters in trainee Grays, and three adults i
n Whites. Elspeth didn’t recognize any of them. Of the three adults, one could not have been more than twenty at most; the other two were somewhere around thirty. The young one was blond and had the look of a Northerner about him; the other two, male and female, both with brown hair, had the stocky build of the folk on the Rethwellan border. The two trainees were probably in their last year; one was thin and very dark, the other plump and fair.
“I will make introductionsss when we arrre finissshed,” the gryphon added hastily, as another set of raindrops joined the first. “Ssstudentsss, you may begin.”
Elspeth was a little surprised to see, as they looked at each other and immediately meshed their powers, that he must have directed them to work as a group rather than separately. On the other hand, since the object was not just to train these people, but to actually do something about a bad situation with the weather, his strategy made sense.
The older of the two trainees handled the wind; he began to leech energy away from the weather system that had created this storm in the first place, an odd knot in the sky to the east of Haven. Elspeth couldn’t quite see the point of this particular tactic; the wind did begin to die down, but that left the storm simply sitting there, right over the capital itself, ready to dump rain on them at any moment. But then the youngster passed the energy he had taken to the oldest of the Heralds, and that lady, rather than trying to change the direction of the existing wind, used the power to start another system north of Haven. Elspeth closed her eyes, and saw what they were Seeing, a “landscape” of weather, exactly like the sculptured terrain in a sandtable. The trainee was taking “sand” from a “hill” in the east and giving it to the woman. She was putting that “sand” in the south, creating another hill, there, while the second trainee began to scoop “sand” from the north and pass it along to the woman as well. The air made a kind of thin “liquid” flowing over the sand, too light to move it, but forced to move according to the way it had been sculpted. Where there was a slope, it “flowed” downhill, picking up force. So now there was a new wind that blew in from the south, heading north—
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