Valdemar 11 - [Owl Mage 03] - Owlknight (9 page)

Although he hid it well, he was just as tired as Darian, and with as much reason; he had cultivated an appearance of calm, even indifference, but beneath it he had laid careful safety precautions, planning for the very worst. All of those safeguards had been integrated into his shields, of course, ensuring that Darian wouldn't notice them—it was good for the young man's confidence. Doing so had cost him a great deal in terms of work. The energy could be replaced, but the physical labor meant he needed his own rest. He'd also had an emotional stake in the trial that had worn him out; he was ready for relaxation, not a seminar.

So he waited until the celebration was well underway, and he knew he would not be missed, before he slipped out.

Once on his own, he took off his mask and used it as a fan—not that he was very hot, but it was pleasant to feel the cool air on his face. He walked slowly back to the ekele he shared with Silverfox, taking note as he walked of all of the improvements that the
hertasi
had made along the trail. He liked to be able to compliment them on specifics; it made them very happy when their handiwork was noted in detail.

For instance, the lamps had been replaced recently, so that they all matched. Much effort had gone into color matching the opaque, blue glass globes that protected the flames of the lamps from being blown out. All of the oil reservoirs matched, too—now they were made of green porcelain that harmonized with the blue glass. It was a very effective touch.

The standards themselves remained the same. Along this path they were all in the shapes of living things, inhabitants of the Vale. The gryphon at the entrance to the clearing was just one example; the standard Firesong was just passing was in the shape of an elongated hertasi, and the one just ahead in the form of an attenuated
dyheli.
Sometimes Firesong wondered if they were portraits of particular individuals, but he had never asked, and since none of the standards were of humans, he couldn't tell by examining them in passing. Individuals of each species had distinctive markings and proportions, of course. Representations of those weren't apparent, not in the ones he had seen, at any rate. It certainly didn't detract from their beauty.

The path he was on crossed with another—the
her
tasi had not yet gotten around to replacing the lamps here to make them match. The bell-shaped glass covers were also blue, but they were of differing sizes and shapes, and were not all of the same color of glass. The standards, however, were all similar; simple wooden poles with vines trained to climb up them. The effect was more rustic and less baroque, and reminded him of all of the makeshifts that they had used when the Vale was first settled.

Two lamps marked the entrance to Silverfox's home, a structure very much like Darian's, a dome made of stone with rounded corners on the added chambers. It was covered with vines, so that it looked from outside as if there was nothing there except a heap of greenery. Somewhat to Firesong's surprise, Silverfox was waiting for him, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Well, stranger, what are you doing out here?” he asked, pausing to admire the view. Silverfox had always been a handsome fellow, but in Firesong's opinion, he had improved with age. He had lost some of the softness along his jawline that had made him look younger than he actually was, and the silver streak running from his temple all through his waist-length hair had grown wider by no more than a finger‘s-width. Somehow he always managed to wear garments that harmonized with Firesong's—blue and black, for instance, to Firesong's current blue and green.

“Waiting for you; I knew you wouldn't be too late at the party,” came the easy reply. “You never did care much for discussions of technique, and that's
all
they're going to get into tonight—hmmm. Well, you won't be involved in—magical power technique, anyway.” He cast his eyes upward a little, as if he was calculating something. “By now I expect they've reached the stage of drawing diagrams on whatever surface is available.”

Firesong laughed. “I expect you're right; ” he replied. ”I'd rather keep discussions of technique for lessons; it's not my notion of conversational material.”

“Come on, then,” Silverfox said, standing up straight and beckoning. “I have refreshments cooling on the top deck, and there's a good breeze.”

By the time Firesong got to the upper deck of the ekele, his weariness had completely caught up with him, and he was perfectly happy to sink down into a chair next to Silverfox and accept a cool drink. “I've got a bit of a favor to ask you,
ashke,”
he said, as Silverfox took the chair next to him, pulling his hair over his right shoulder to avoid sitting on it. “Would you keep an eye on Keisha and Darian? I've got the feeling that all is not comfortable between them, and I think they could use a little advice.”

“That's what I'm here for,” Silverfox replied easily. “I'll be glad to look into it. You mustn't be angry at me, though, if the outcome is that they decouple themselves.”

That took Firesong aback. “Why should they?” he asked, a little more sharply than he intended. “Do you already know something I don't?”

Silverfox shrugged. “No, actually, I don't. But remember, my job is to get the best possible outcome. I'm not a matchmaker. If our chief Healer and eventual Vale Elder are better off apart than together, that's what I'll counsel them. Short-term unhappiness is much better than long-term misery, and very few liaisons are lifebonds.”

Firesong was a touch disappointed in that answer, but he had to admit that Silverfox was right. “Well, if that's what happens, I can't promise you that I won't be upset, but I won't be angry, and certainly not with you.”

“Very sensible of you—and I'm only reminding you of the worst possible situation.” Silverfox reached over and took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “We could have the very opposite here, with both of them wanting a committed relationship, and both holding back because of some idealistic nonsense or other—”

“Like, for instance?” Firesong put a teasing note into his voice, knowing what Silverfox was likely to say. “Idealism is always nonsense when it isn't
your
idealism, eh?”

“Pest. Like, for instance, that they both are under the illusion that all successful relationships
have
to be lifebonds,” Silverfox replied.

“You mean they don't?” Firesong asked innocently.

“Oh, no, no, no. Spells aren't needed to make magic, and lifebonds aren't needed to make love. Here—” Silverfox put his drink down, and stood up in a single fluid, gliding motion, to lean over Firesong's chair. His long hair made a curtain that shut out the rest of the world. “Allow me to demonstrate....”

D
arian watched the shadows dance among the lamp-lit leaves overhead, supremely relaxed and content with his lot. The talk had settled to a murmur over to one side, with the rest of the small gathering of friends simply enjoying an all-too-infrequent moment of doing absolutely nothing.

“This isn't
really
a proper party,” Wintersky complained, for after the drowsy laziness that inevitably followed a round of excellent food and drink set in, bodies sprawled over cushions as if in the aftermath of a massacre, and no one was inclined to do much more than listen to crickets sing. It had been a massacre, of sorts. The refreshments and supper brought by eager
hertasi
had been slaughtered down to the last drop and crust. Darian was wondering if he would make it to his bed after all, or just give up and fall asleep where he was, when Wintersky's complaint broke the silence.

The bodies stirred and sat up, but no one replied to Wintersky, who continued in a firmer tone of voice. “No, it's just nothing like a real party, and if anyone among us deserves a big celebration, it's you, Dar'ian,” Wintersky stated authoritatively. “We ought to have one, that's what we should do!”

“What, on top of everything else we're planning?” Darian replied, appalled at the very idea. “Aren't you all going to make me enough of an entertainment as it is? And think of the poor
hertasi
! They're already working their tails to stubs just to get ready for the Heralds, and now you want to add
another
party to their burden?”

“He's right, Wintersky,” Sunleaf responded from the far corner of the clearing. Sunleaf, a contemporary of Snowfire, had been eager and willing to assist Darian in his studies when none of the greater mages were available, and the two had become good friends. “But Dar'ian, Wintersky is right, too,” he continued, nodding his shaggy head. “Keisha isn't here, for one thing, and it doesn't seem fair to me that we leave her out. Why don't we just do this all over again as soon as she gets back? We'll just call this a practice for the real party—or better yet, just a little gathering of friends. Say we just made a spur-of-the-moment picnic to congratulate you, and it's not a party at all. Because really, that's all it was.”

Darian didn't have to think about it. He knew that Keisha would be hurt if she thought she'd been left out of the celebration. He did
not
want to hurt her feelings, nor did he want to make her think that he had forgotten all about her in the rush of euphoria after passing the Trial. “I'm glad you thought of that,” he replied gratefully. “So long as we don't t overburden our hertasi friends, that's what we ought to do.”

Sunleaf laughed. “Oh, trust me, it's in my own best interest,” he answered, and from across the clearing, Darian saw him wink. “I know what she'd do to me if she found out we had a party without her!”

“Do to
you?
Have pity, I have to sleep with her—what do you think she'd do to
me?
I'd be afraid to close my eyes!” Since the attendees at this little celebration were all males, and mostly bachelors, the entire gathering laughed at both of them, and Darian was momentarily ashamed to speak so of Keisha. On
the other hand, Snowfire has said the same thing about Nightwind, to her face, and she just pretends to threaten him.
“We should keep it very casual, but give Keisha and the other girls a chance to dress up.” There; that should make up for his lapse.

One of the
hertasi
that had adopted Darian and Keisha—a young striped male called Meeren—was picking up discarded and empty cups. At this sally, he hissed a laugh of his own. “Very well, then, do not worry about the preparations,” the leather-capped
hertasi
put in. “It is of manageable difficulty. In fact, with this much notice, we can have a few delicacies set aside for you. I will arrange for the
official
party to take place when Keisha returns.”

Darian relaxed; Meeren was one of Ayshen's most valued assistants, a specialist in logistics. Whatever Meeren organized was certain to be a success.

Now the young
hertasi
turned to sweep the clearing with his gaze, his tail counterbalancing his movement as he turned. “And what Dar'ian has said makes me think. Do you young Tayledras think to be inviting some females, so that Keisha will not be the only one of her gender here? It will not only be Keisha who is disappointed to learn that there was a gathering to which no one thought to bring a friend.”

“That's an even better idea—how
did
this end up as an all-male party, anyway?” asked Wintersky, looking around himself in astonishment. One of the
shaych
scouts replied with a laugh, “We were just lucky?”

“Don't ask me—I was the last one to be invited,” Darian countered, tossing a cushion at the scout. “It wasn't any idea of mine!”

 

Keisha was unusually glad to see the entrance of the Vale ahead of her. The twin pillars with the shimmer of the Veil between them beckoned her with all the warmth and welcome of an old friend. She was equally glad to ride through the cool shadows under moss-covered trunks and dismount at her very own door again. She removed the panniers resting across the back of her
dyheli,
but before she could touch the tack, a hertasi had come and taken it, and the
dyheli
trotted off to rejoin his herd.

How do they do that? Appear out of nowhere and just take over things?
She stared at the retreating hertasi tail.
I am never going to get used to it. It's like they are always around, and always watching, no matter what we do
—
and then they know what we need next.
She picked up the empty panniers, one in each hand, and with her foot nudged open the green-painted door.

It wasn't that she was tired—that was far from the case; she had enjoyed the ride back enormously. Spring was her favorite season, and this spring was turning out to be particularly lovely. So far it had rained just enough, and only at night, so that blue skies graced the daylight hours. Everything was growing or in bloom. There were already spring vegetables coming in to the market, weeks before the usual time. It hadn't been too cold or too hot. In fact, if the entire region had been seated beneath a Veil, the weather couldn't have been more perfect.