Valdemar 11 - [Owl Mage 03] - Owlknight (5 page)

“Huh. The boy finally pays attention,” Ayshen muttered, but when Darian turned to fix him with a sharp glance, he looked as innocent as could be.

“On the whole,” Ayshen continued blandly, “I am relieved. This is going to be much easier to plan and execute than a wedding, for instance. Should I pull some of the
ekele-
building crew to go to work on the Herald's permanent quarters, do you think?”

Starfall exchanged a glance with Darian, who shook his head slightly. “Not yet,” Starfall told him. “Although Breon said he's expecting to stay here—I presume as a kind of envoy—he may decide that he prefers to lodge in the village, in more familiar surroundings. For all we know, he may decide to establish himself outside
all
of our enclaves. I can let him know at some point that we have the hands, and the rest will contribute materials, when he wants to have a permanent residence built, and that he can have it constructed where he pleases.”

Darian nodded. “Instead, I suggest you pull a couple of builder crews off to add proper accommodations for the Companion; they'll want to be close to each other, and this will show that
we
understand that the Companion is as important as the Herald, and that they work together. It certainly wouldn't hurt to have Companion quarters attached to the guest lodge for future visiting Heralds.”

Ayshen nodded his blunt snout decisively. “Right, then. Won't be difficult; knock a two-level door into one of the end rooms, add the stabling, bring water in for a fountain—I can have that finished in a few days.” He scratched his nose. “Sawdust floor, I think. Maybe some mats. Outside door with a rope latch, so the Companion can let himself in and out.”

“That sounds perfect to me,” Darian replied, very much impressed with Ayshen's forethought.

“So ... just the welcome to plan for now, and the extra building.” Ayshen wrote out a note in silverstick, folded it into a pyramid, and stuck it on the model of the guest lodge as a reminder. “That's manageable. Well, are you two going to sit there all day, eating everything in the kitchen? Shoo! I have work to do!”

Laughing, Darian and Starfall left the
hertasi
to his own devices, as he began rummaging about for more paper, muttering about menus.

 

Keisha stood at the open door of Darian's vine-covered house, hefting first one wicker pannier basket, then the other, to judge roughly which was heavier. Above her head, the trees met to form a ceiling over the house and path; songbirds and colorful messenger-birds chattered and sang, and hummingbirds chased each other around the branches. She had not gone to the meeting; as the chief Healer to both Vale and village, she spent roughly equal time in each—and that left her feeling a bit odd about representing either. Instead, Nightwind served as the mouthpiece for the Healers unless there was some pressing reason for Keisha herself to be there.

She had to check her packs anyway, for she was about to make another trip back to the village to make sure anyone who needed her services was properly tended to. The baskets were laden with various medications, most of them for animals rather than humans. The villagers were uncommonly healthy this summer, with half the normal number of accidents, even among the children. Perhaps that was due to increasing prosperity; well-fed and well-rested people resisted disease and didn't have nearly so many mishaps. Ever since the events of recent times, the Crown had sent more funding for rebuilding and renewing the area than it had ever received before in half a decade. Newer tools were invariably more reliable, safer tools out here. Even the old mill had been rebuilt into a safer operation—she had not had to deal with a single injury from it since its reopening.

She wore full Greens now, the forest-hued colors of a full Healer, with a silk scarf serving as a sash around her waist, laid over a matching one of cotton. Healers always had a use for a scarf—to sling an arm, tie off a cut artery, or dry a child's tears. They were not official parts of Healer's uniform, but their use was so common they might as well have been. Keisha paused, considering the Healer's uniform she wore. It had taken her a while to get used to that—and some persuasion as well. It was finally the argument that it would be better for her
patients
to see her in the colors of a Healer, because they would be under less stress, that tilted the balance. She refused to don anything elaborate, though; the loose trews and long-sleeved tunic were fancy enough for everyday wear—and when she wanted something festive, she opted for something that didn't display her status for all to see.

The good thing about being in the Vale was that she no longer had to make her own medicines unless she really felt like it; all she had to do was give the
hertasi
instructions, and they would see to the preparation for her, presenting her with neatly labeled pots and jars of anything she needed or wanted. A great deal of her time in the past had been spent in the actual concoction of medicine, time she now had leisure to spend in other ways.

So now I spend it riding to and from the village, instead!
she thought wryly, as she made sure the two pannier baskets that her dyheli would carry were finally balanced as evenly as she could manage without actually weighing them.

She shared Darian's quarters—and yes, his bed—when she was in the Vale, and since he had never yet accompanied her to Errold's Grove when she went on her weekly visits, the touchy problem of whether he would share
her
home had never come up. Her parents, of course, had no idea that they were anything but friends, and everyone else had the sense not to betray their ongoing relationship to the village. It was true that she was old enough to do as she wished; it was also true, as Kerowyn had remarked before she left, that no child is “old enough” in her parents' eyes. She could own an estate, command a dozen servants, and have gray hair, yet she would not be “old enough.”

She ducked back inside for a moment to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything, then returned to wait in the sunshine for her
dyheli
to arrive.
It's a given. If Shandi were to come back for more than a fortnight, she'd be treated the same way—as if she was no more than fourteen, and unable to make any decisions for herself. The only reason she doesn't get treated that way is because before Mother has a chance to get her lectures set fair in her head, Shandi's gone again.

Besides, Keisha wasn't entirely sure how long this particular liaison was going to last. Darian was a very handsome lad, and every village female unspoken for (and some who were) had made it very clear that they found him fascinating. There were plenty of girls who would be only too happy to find out what life was like in a Vale. What if he got tired of her?

What if I got tired of him?
Well, she couldn't see that happening, but she had a lot of responsibilities, more than she had ever had before.

And so did he.

That was part of the problem. His responsibilities kept him here, but that was not so with hers. Yes, she was—for now—the chief Healer for k'Valdemar. She was also still the Healer for Errold's Grove, and she wouldn't blame him if he got tired of finding her gone half the time. She couldn't devote herself to him the way her mother had devoted herself to her family. It just wasn't going to happen that way.

She rubbed her temple with one finger, and stifled a sigh. Sooner or later, the Vale would get a Tayledras Healer as well, and then all her energies would go to the village. She wouldn't have a reason to stay in k'Valdemar anymore. He certainly wouldn't move back to Errold's Grove. Then what? She couldn't keep going back and forth between here and the village when she didn't need to be here. People would start to wonder why. Saying she was studying under the Tayledras Healer would hold for a while, but what then?

She bent over to tie her baskets closed, certain now that she had everything she intended to take with her. Her vision was suddenly blocked by a pair of hands in front of her eyes; she seized Darian's wrists and spun herself around to meet his merry brown eyes and cheerful grin, reflecting dappled sunlight.

There was a crumb of pastry tangled up in a lock of his hair—and he was too fastidious to have left it there for very long. He must have just eaten minutes before. She sniffed, experimentally. “You've been eating garlic sausage rolls!” she accused.

“Well, you weren't going to be here tonight, so the garlic wouldn't matter, would it?” he retorted, and gave her a redolent kiss. “If you change your mind, there's still time to help yourself, and we'll both have garlic breath. Besides, you know how good garlic is for you!”

Not that she minded garlic breath, at least not when they both had it. Her main objection was that he would have been perfectly happy if everything he ate was spiced with garlic, and she didn't like it
that
much....

“Not a chance; if I don't make my trip, the Trilvy family will probably come get me. Rana Trilvy is
that
close—” she replied, holding her thumb and forefinger an infinitesimal distance apart. “And even though I've told her a hundred times that she's fine, she's still convinced that if I don't see her every week, something is bound to go wrong and her baby will be born with nine heads. Never, ever, try to argue with a nervous mother-to-be; you haven't the chance of a pigeon in a cattery of winning the argument.”

Something about his expression made her wary; he had that devilish look he always got when he was keeping a secret, that made his sharp features look even more fox-like. “What happened at the Council meeting?” she continued, as if she hadn't noticed.

“Mostly the usual, but Breon had some news.” He was
much
too casual; something was definitely up. Whatever Lord Breon had brought in the way of news was something he knew she'd want to hear.

She decided that two could play that game of feigned indifference. “Oh? Anything important, or can it wait until I get back?” She fooled with the baskets a bit more, taking care not to look directly at him.

“You'll probably hear it on the way back anyway, since you're going with Barda and Harrod. We're getting resident Heralds.” He watched her closely, and she knew from the way he was acting that although this was momentous news, it wasn't the biggest part of his secret.

“Really?” she exclaimed anyway. “Heralds? As permanent residents? More than one?”

He nodded. “Two of them; an older, experienced Herald-Mage, believe it or not, and his personally selected trainee. Or maybe I should say, protegé, since she's got her Whites, and this is taking the place of her ‘first circuit.' ”

“A Herald-Mage!
That's
certainly something!” It was, too; there still weren't that many Herald-Mages about, and to have one of them assigned permanently to Errold's Grove said a great deal for how the status of this area had risen. “They must think we're high on their list of priorities now!”

“But it's not the
biggest
news, not for you, anyway. The other Herald is your sister Shandi.” He grinned as her jaw dropped, and she looked at him in disbelief. “No, really, it is! I suppose they figure that they might as well assign her here, since she's likely to assign
herself
here, given half a chance. Even without half a chance, she's likely to turn up anyway.”

“But—it hasn't been much more than two years—” She still couldn't believe it; Shandi had said nothing of this in her letters! She'd only complained now and again of how busy she was and how much she was expected to absorb.

Is that why she hasn't spent more than four weeks here in the last two and a half years? Because she's been rushing
—
or rushed
—
through her studies?

“Breon said she hadn't gotten the record for graduating quickly, but she was close. He was fairly impressed.” Darian grinned at her reaction. “Mind you, he shouldn't have been surprised. Look at how well you've done, and you haven't had a Collegium full of teachers to help you! When I first met you, you would have barely qualified as a Healer trainee, at least as far as your Gift went. Now even the Sanctuary Healers call you their equal.”

“Pfft.” She dismissed her own prowess with a wave of her hand, not the least because she was not nearly as impressed with her “accomplishments” as he seemed to be. “How soon will they be here?”

“Cut your visit to Errold's Grove as short as you can; I got the impression it's just a matter of days before they arrive. For now, they'll be staying at the Vale. We're going to put on a celebration for them. Oh, the senior one's name is Anda; I don't suppose you recognize it, do you?” He tilted his head to the side, curiously.

She thought for a moment. “It sounds vaguely familiar ; Shandi must have mentioned him now and again.” She kissed him quickly, then pushed him gently away, and turned back to her baskets, tying them shut deftly. “The sooner I'm gone, the sooner I'll be back. Don't work too hard while I'm off; but do try to see that Ayshen doesn't try to do
everything.”

He sighed melodramatically, then bent to help her with her baskets. “You ought to know by now that keeping Ayshen from overwork is beyond
my
powers. I suppose it's of no use to ask if you'd like to stop all this, find a replacement, and settle down permanently here with me, is it?” he asked.

“When someone is getting ready for a journey, it's the wrong time to ask about settling down, Darian.” She told her stomach to stop bouncing, and put on an air of calm. “The answer still hasn't changed.”

“I didn't think it had, but a fellow can ask. It's just that we're awfully good together....” To her intense relief, he didn't pursue the subject. She was saved from having to say anything more by the arrival of her
dyheli,
a young buck this time.