Winds of Fury (33 page)

“That's all very good news,” Darkwind observed.

But Elspeth frowned. “It is good news, so why are you worried?” she asked Kero.

The Herald-Captain sighed. “Because even with all that help, we're still outnumbered head-to-head, both in mages and in troops, and that's just the troops we know about.”

Elspeth thought back to the last conflict, and the mage-controlled troops Valdemar had faced.

“He can take the peasants right out of the fields and throw them into the front lines,” she said slowly, her heart sinking.

Kerowyn nodded grimly. “That's right. Ancar doesn't
care
if his country falls to pieces, so he can conscript as many men to fight as he wants to. He doesn't care if they're decent fighters or not; they're fodder, and he can keep throwing them at our lines until they wear us down.”

“You are sssaying that he will rissk ssstarrving hissss own people that he may win hisss warrr?” Hydona said, astonished.

All Elspeth and Kero could do was nod.

But Kero wasn't finished with the bad news. “Last of all, he's got some new mage with him; this one just turned up at Ancar's Court fairly recently, and this one worries me.” She bit her lip, and looked from the Tayledras to the gryphons and back. “The fellow is so odd that I'm wondering if you lot can't tell me what we can expect out of him. He looks more than half cat, from what my agents tell me, and he keeps pretty much to himself. Only one of them has seen him, and just for a moment. We don't even know his name for certain—just a guess, Falcon's Breath, Falcon's Death, or something like that.”

Elspeth felt as if she had taken a blow to the stomach, and Nyara looked stricken. Firesong bit off an exclamation, and Darkwind a curse. The gryphons both jerked bolt upright. Skif looked quite ready to kill something.

Kero looked around at all of them and raised her eyebrows. “I take it you know this person?”

Darkwind was the first to recover. “You could say that,” he replied dryly.
“Will we never be rid of the Beast? ”

The last was half-snarled, and Skif's nostrils flared as he nodded in agreement. Firesong shut his gaping mouth with a snap.

“That sincerely annoys me. I can only ask myself what dark demon holds the Beast in high esteem, that he keeps returning,” the Healing Adept said after everyone turned to look at him. He bestowed a look full of irony on Kerowyn. “Twice already he has escaped from situations that should have finished him,” Firesong continued, “and the next time I shall not believe he is dead until I burn the body, and sow the ashes with salt!”

“I may assume, then, that this is not good news?” Kero asked mildly.

It was Treyvan who answered that question.

“No, warrriorrrr,” he growled, crest and hackles up. His voice was so full of venom that Elspeth hardly recognized it. “Thisss isss not good newssss.”

 

By nightfall, they had a basic plan. Firesong would first find the place where the new Heartstone lay and fully activate it. Then he would roam the Palace with Jeri, looking for the old magic workrooms and any artifacts or books that might still be in existence and stored somewhere other than the Archives. Once the rooms were identified and the artifacts found, he would help Jeri get them properly cleaned and restored to their original functions. He did not expect that to take very long. As soon as the workrooms were ready, Firesong would begin training the strongest of the new mages.

The gryphons would identify any Heralds here at the Collegium that had obvious Mage-Gift and begin their basic training if they were not of such potential that they needed Firesong's attention. If there were any doubts whether or not a Herald had Mage-Gift, Darkwind or Elspeth could pass judgment. Need could as well—but the blade opined that it would be better to keep the fact of her existence as an intelligent personality very quiet. A sentient sword would be certain to attract attention, and all of it the wrong kind.

“This group is strange enough without adding a talking sword,” Kero agreed. “Good gods, I don't know how I'm going to explain some of you!”

Meanwhile, until the mages from outKingdom arrived, Darkwind and Elspeth would work with Firesong and the new Heartstone, and search the Archives for “lost” books on magic.
She
was certain that there were books they
needed
hidden in there, and that only the prohibition on magic had kept her from finding them in her earlier searches. Now that the prohibition was gone, she should be able to locate them. While books would not replace a real teacher, they could augment what teachers could do. And they might offer spells none of the Tayledras knew, and clues to what Ancar might muster.

Good plans, all of them. Now they would have to see just how long those plans lasted. The worst of their nightmares was now real. Ancar and Mornelithe Falconsbane appeared to be allies. Add in Hulda, and however many mages Ancar had recruited—and Valdemar was racing against time and the most furious of mage winds.

Only Mornelithe and Ancar knew what they were going to do next. Despite what others said about true mages not guarding against mind-magic, Ancar had long ago learned many of the limits of Heraldic abilities. ForeSight or FarSight, neither worked well against him; all they could do was try to outthink him.

 

:What have you learned for us?:
Dawnfire asked An'desha, as Falconsbane dozed in his chair beside the fire. :
Is there anything new?:

She had appeared in the flames of the fireplace itself; if Falconsbane happened to wake, it would be very easy for her to hide herself and her power away. The Avatars often appeared to him in the fireplace now; with Ancar so on edge, he could and did burst into Falconsbane's rooms at any time, waking the Adept, and An'desha did not dare to be away from the body if that happened. An'desha had learned to manipulate Falconsbane's mind and body to make him more aware of his fatigue. The Adept slept most of the time he spent in his rooms, but he was not aware that he was spending a truly inordinate amount of time in slumber. An'desha saw to it that he ate and drank and cared for himself; the rest of that time An'desha spent in rummaging through Falconsbane's memories.

:I have more of Falconsbane's memories,:
he replied, and then, with pardonable pride, added,
:and I have been convincing Falconsbane that the defects and faults in his thinking that I cause by accident are truly caused by Ancar, deliberately, to hamper him. It makes him very angry, and less inclined to aid Ancar willingly.:

Dawnfire was joined by Tre'valen; a pair of graceful forms of gold and blue, with whitely glowing eyes. This time they had both appeared as hawks of flame, rather than in human form. An'desha found their chosen forms oddly comforting, for they were very clearly vorcel-hawks, and they made him think of home every time he saw them.

:Excellent!:
Tre'valen applauded, and An'desha flushed with pride.
:Open your thoughts to us, little one, and we shall search through those new memories of yours. Then tell us what else you have learned as we sort them through.:

That was done quickly; it was a pity there was so little of substance in the memories. This time An'desha had gotten access to the sculpting and training of Falconsbane's daughter Nyara. He could not think of Nyara as
his
daughter; he had not engendered her, and he certainly had nothing to do with her upbringing. He did, however, feel a kinship to her. It seemed to him that they were siblings of a kind; they had both suffered from Falconsbane's whims, and in similar ways. He could empathize and sympathize with her as no one else could.

But the Avatars found more of interest in those pain-filled memories than he had thought they would.
:Oh, this is excellent,:
Tre'valen applauded.
:We shall be able to help Nyara with this. She will never look entirely human again, but there is much that can be undone, now that we know how it was wrought upon her.:

He hadn't thought of that! The thought that he might be able to help Nyara, even a little, gave him a great deal of pleasure. There was so little he had been able to do for her, and nothing to save her.

:Falconsbane now moves about the court freely,:
he reported, as Dawnfire and Tre'valen sorted through the memories they had taken from him. :
He does little but observes much, and I am able to watch what he thinks.:
For all of his myriad faults, Falconsbane was no fool, and his observations were always worth making note of.
:He has concluded that Ancar is something of a younger, much clumsier, and stupider version of himself. Ancar rules as he did, by fear. Other than those he thinks are valuable, which are mostly great nobles, no one is truly safe from Ancar's mages or his magic.:

Tre'valen turned his burning white eyes on An'desha. Strange, how he had no trouble telling the two Avatars apart.
:Why is it that Ancar does not molest his great nobles?:
the shaman-Avatar asked sharply.

:I can only tell you what Falconsbane thinks,:
he said hesitantly.
:The Adept believes that Ancar himself does not know. He thinks in part that Ancar still fears the power those nobles hold, even though he could eliminate them if he chose—it is a fear from the time when he was still the Prince and had little power but that which he stole. And he believes that in part it is because most of them are still his allies, and he knows that if he betrays them, no one will trust him.:
He hesitated again, then added, :
And Falconsbane thinks he is a fool; if he fears the power of these nobles, he should eliminate them quietly in ways that seem accidental. This is what he would do.:

Dawnfire's form writhed and distorted.
Somehow I am not surprised,:
she commented.

An'desha continued.
:He sees that this is how he himself ruled, but he feels that Ancar is being extremely stupid about it. While Falconsbane could have conquered every one of his own underlings, singly or together, if they had chosen to revolt, he would have had sabotage in place already to destroy them and all they held dear. Ancar would not be able to muster a sufficient defense if all of his underlings attacked at once. So he thinks that Ancar is being very foolhardy.:

Indeed, Falconsbane's thoughts had been far more contemptuous than that. He felt Ancar should eliminate every risk, and saw his failure to do so as a sign of weakness. An'desha had not been so certain. It seemed to him, after watching Ancar among his courtiers, that the young King felt as long as he kept the
threat
of retaliation before his underlings, but only made examples of those few he did not need, he would succeed. People were often like rabbits; frighten them, and their minds ceased to work. And An'desha was by no means as certain as Falconsbane that the Adept
could
have taken all of his underlings if they had chosen to mass against him. Look what one broken Clan, a pair of gryphons, a couple of Outlanders, and his own daughter had managed to do! Twice, it had only been the intervention of the Goddess and her Avatars that had saved him! No, another sign of the damaged state of Falconsbane's mind was this insane overconfidence, this surety that if only Ancar released the coercions, Mornelithe Falconsbane could conquer any obstacle.

Not that he was aware of what the Goddess had done, nor the gaps in his own reasoning, which surely was the cause for his own foolish bravado.

:You have learned much of this Court. What of Ancar's mages?:
Tre'valen asked. :
How do they judge their master? Is there any likelihood they will rise up?:

An'desha considered the question carefully.
:Hulda is the most powerful,: he said at last. :She seems to think that Ancar will never escape her influence, and does not realize that he already has done so. The other mages have a hierarchy of their own—the most powerful is a Blood Mountain sorcerer, Pires Nieth. Falconsbane believes that one has ambitions to rule, himself. He comes of a noble family, possibly is of royal blood by bastardy. Falconsbane thinks that if Hulda and Ancar were both to fall, Pires would attempt to seize the throne for himself. But he is only a Master, and not as learned or powerful even as Ancar, and although he rules the other mages, he lives in fear of both Ancar and Hulda.:

The Avatars communed silently with each other for a moment; the flames danced and hissed about their fire-winged forms.
:Would he intrigue, do you think?:
Dawnfire asked. :
If you revealed yourself to him, could he be counted upon to help you and aid you in getting rid of Falconsbane?:

An'desha hesitated, then replied,
:I do not know. Falconsbane considered him as a possible ally against Ancar. The Adept would not trust him, so how could we?:

Tre'valen nodded. :
A good point.:

:Besides,:
An'desha continued,
:He is a blood-path mage. Ancar will have none about him who are not blood-path mages. These men—they are all men, but Hulda—are evil, foul, and the only reason they are not as foul as Falconsbane himself is because they have fewer years, less power, and less imagination. Willing sacrifice is one thing—:

:You have no argument from me, youngling,:
Tre'valen said, hastily. :
You are right; we cannot trust or foster blood-path mages. It would be obscene.:

An'desha wished he had some way to make notes of what he wished to tell the Avatars; he always had the feeling he was going to forget something important!

:There is only one other thing,:
he said finally.
:Falconsbane would never do anything to aid either Hulda or Ancar because he hates them both, so he is fostering the friction between them. I have been trying to make him think this is a good idea. Am I doing rightly?: