Winds of Fury (9 page)

She saw the differences, and nodded. “And anything that changes the force-lines, or creates nodes, or whatever, right? Darkwind, just what
is
the difference between a node and a Heartstone?”

He blinked at her, as if he wasn't certain he had heard her correctly, then instead of answering, asked her a question. “Where does the energy go when it flows into a node?”

She was used to that now; if she didn't know the answer, he asked her a question that would make her see the answer for herself, rather than simply telling her. It had been infuriating, at first, but she had to admit that the answers stuck with her much better when she had to deduce them for herself. “It flows right back out on another—oh! Now
why
didn't I see that before?” She shook her head, annoyed. “How could I be so stupid? The difference between a node and a Heartstone is that the energy
doesn't
flow out of a Heartstone. It all stays there. I can't imagine why I didn't see that; it's like a lot of rivers flowing into a sea, and who ever heard of a river flowing
out
of a sea?”

“Well, at least it does not flow out on another ley-line,” Darkwind amended. “Power is taken from a Heartstone, of course, or it would build up past the point where it could be contained. It is used to provide the power for all the things in the Vale that require such power. But that is our great secret, the construction of such a thing. Even had Falconsbane succeeded in stealing the proto-Heartstone, I do not think he could have turned it into a real one. He would
have
to have given it an outflowing ley-line, however small, and all he would have had would have been, in the end, no more than an exceptionally strong node. Not that such a node would not have granted him great power! But it would not have been the power of a Heartstone, which has no known equal to my people. It is the fact that a Heartstone has no such way to relieve the pressure of the contained power that makes a Heartstone so very powerful.”

“But the one in Haven now is a Heartstone, and not a node, right?” she asked anxiously.

He shrugged. “It appears so, yes, but I cannot be certain until I can view it myself. At the moment it is a guess, an assumption, based on some signs we can See at this great distance. If it is—well, that means that whatever force sent it there knows how to create Heartstones, or cause a waiting one to settle. And what that could portend, I do not know.”

“I don't either,” she replied. Although that was not strictly true, since the force that had sent the proto-Heartstone to Haven instead of the new k'Sheyna Vale had come from the North of Valdemar, and in the North of Valdemar was the Forest of Sorrows. . . .

“Well, Firesong has cloistered himself away for a day and a night, to rebuild his own energy levels, so we cannot ask him,” Darkwind said with a hint of unease in his blue eyes. “I suspect he would only shrug and look mysterious, though.”

“Probably,” Elspeth chuckled, trying to remove the unease. “You know what a showman he is, he can't even drink a cup of
chava
without making a production out of it. At any rate, in two days we'll have some of our answers, when we get to k'Treva, and we can consult the mages there. The rest can wait until we reach Valdemar. Certainly whatever is under Haven can wait until then.”

They had all decided that the first step on their journey would be to return to k'Treva with Firesong. Elspeth had hoped that this would make the change from Darkwind's home in the Vale to Valdemar less of a shock. Only Firesong could create the Gate for this journey, but the Gate would not have to be held open for so great a span of time, so only one Adept would be needed. And while the creation of a Gate was no small task, it was one that Firesong had undertaken so many times that with due preparation, he would emerge into his home Vale in fairly good shape, not as drained and exhausted as Darkwind. Besides, once there, he would have his own Heartstone, keyed to the mages of k'Treva, to draw upon to replenish his resources.

Darkwind remained silent after that last comment, and Elspeth wondered now if she should have left all mention of Valdemar out of the conversation. She had been very reluctant to discuss anything past their departure from k'Treva, and she had sensed a corresponding reluctance in Darkwind. He
was
going with her; that much was absolutely certain. But she would no longer be simply Elspeth k'Sheyna k'Valdemar at that point; she would be a princess, the Heir, and on her home ground, with responsibilities to Valdemar that went far beyond personal feelings. For that matter,
she
hadn't thought much about those responsibilities of late.

I should. I need to weigh them all out, and decide what is important and what isn't. And what I am actually able to do.
And, a little reluctantly, she decided one other thing.
I need to talk to Gwena. If there's anyone that can discuss where my responsibilities end and stupid customs begin, it's her
. She nibbled her lip uneasily. Gwena had been very agreeable lately; maybe too much so. On the other hand, the Companion had sworn she was not going to attempt to manipulate her Chosen any more.

But did she say she would do so any less? Hmm
. . . . On the other hand, she admitted she had no real control over her Chosen. And Gwena's disposition lately had been as cheerful as this sunny day. Whether it would continue to be so, if Elspeth did something totally against her Companion's advice, was a good question.

Well, there was no point in getting worked up over something that was days, weeks, perhaps months away. But it might be a good idea to drag Gwena off for a long heart-to-heart talk now.

She squeezed Darkwind's hand again, and he smiled at her. “I'm going to make a round of the Vale to make sure I haven't forgotten anything we might need,” she told him, as an excuse to get Gwena alone for that long talk. “It won't take more than a candlemark or two. Where shall I meet you?”

“Right here?” he offered. His expression lightened considerably, and his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “It's about the least-busy place in the Vale at the moment; I was half afraid to go to our
ekele
lest I be thrown out by a work crew!”

She laughed, and tossed her hair over her shoulder—now it was long enough to toss, for the first time in years. “I think they'll be polite enough to wait until we're gone, but you ought to take Vree outside the Vale for a hunt. Maybe you and I have been working our tails off, but I think he's been bored.”

Nearly invisible in the bush, Vree made a chortling sound. :
Good Elspeth,
: he Mindspoke—more in images than in words. :
Keep this mate, Darkwind. Elspeth bright/ clever/wise.:

Darkwind flushed, but Elspeth only chuckled and made a mock bow to the forestgyre in the branches. “Thank you, Vree, for your unvarnished and candid opinion.”

Darkwind rose and offered her his hand to help her up. “I expect I'd better, before he offers any more unvarnished opinions. A good chase followed by a full crop should keep him quiet—so he doesn't lecture me as often as Gwena lectures you!”

 

Nyara separated her hair with clawed fingertips and began braiding it as she watched Skif from a corner of their shared
ekele
. She had considerably less to pack than anyone else, other than, perhaps, the gryphons. Just herself, two changes of clothing, a set of armor made by the
hertasi,
and a very large and vocal sword. . . .
:I'll thank you not to think of me as baggage, young lady
,: Need said dryly, but softened it with a chuckle. :
Baggage can only hinder, after all.:

:
Oh, you can hinder, too, my teacher—when
you
choose to,:
Nyara replied saucily, as she bound off the little braid she wore at the side of her head with a thin strip of twine.

“Is Need putting her point in again?” Skif asked, looking up from his own packing. Nyara watched him with a great deal of admiration; she could not for a moment imagine how he was getting so many things into those small packs.

“Why, yes!” she said in surprise. “How can you tell?”

He chuckled and put one gentle finger right between her eyebrows. “Because you get a little crease
here
when you Mindspeak with her, and you only get it then.” He raised a bushy eyebrow at the sword, and addressed Need directly. “Well, dear lady, do you think you are prepared for Valdemar?”

:
Is Valdemar prepared for me, might be the real question, insolent brat,:
Need countered. :
I'm not at all certain that anyone there is
.:

“Well, I'm entirely certain that they're
not,”
Skif replied, with a laugh. He ran one hand through his curly dark hair and waggled his eyebrows at both the sword and her bearer. “You're not the same sword that left. I think Kero is going to be quite happy to have you at someone else's side, all things considered. I don't even want to contemplate the clash of personalities that would ensue if you went back to her.”
:I'd win
,: Need stated arrogantly.

But Skif shook his head. “With all due respect, my lady, I know you both and I think it would be a draw,” Skif told her. “Kero is just as stubborn as you are. What's more, that would just be if the confrontation was one-onone. With Sayvil on her side, you wouldn't stand a chance.”

:
Hmm
.: The sword thought that over for a moment, then turned to a more impartial judge, one who was cropping grass beneath the
ekele
Skif and Nyara shared.
: Cymry? What do you think?
:

Skif's Companion shook her head noisily, and glanced up at the open windows of the
ekele.
Skif had yet to figure out how the sword could talk to both Cymry and Gwena, when Companions were only supposed to be able to Mindspeak their own Heralds.

But then, Need was a law unto herself. How else to characterize a kind of ghost bespelled into a magical blade, an artifact of such age that the places she had known as a woman didn't even exist on maps anymore?

:I think even you would be no match for Kero and Sayvil together
,: Cymry said decisively. :
And your magic would give you no edge—pun intended—if Sayvil were to bend her will against yours
.:

If a sword could be said to sigh, Need did so.
:No respect,:
she complained. :
Now silly white horses are punning at me. Ah, well. At least my bearer appreciates me, even if she does think of me as
baggage.:

Nyara giggled, and Skif smiled at her. The sound that she made rather surprised her; she had not done much laughing in her short lifetime, and it seemed as if all of it had been occurring in the last year.

Since Skif
. The conclusion was as inescapable as her feelings for him. And his feelings for her. When the plans for their departure from the Vale had been discussed, Nyara had entertained no doubts; she would go with Skif, even into a place that had never seen anything like her kind before, and endure whatever came.

Whatever came—it could be some formidable opposition from his own people. She did not look very—human. Her father, Mornelithe Falconsbane, had used her as a kind of experimental model of himself, working the changes he wished to make on his own flesh upon hers first. She had no illusions about herself; she knew there was no disguising her strange, catlike features. What would people who had never seen anything that was not completely human think of her?

What would they think when they learned that Skif, one of their precious Heralds, was her lover?

:
Don't lose that smile, Kitten,:
Need said, as she tensed unconsciously.
:Remember you have cyring you, and you have me. These Heralds listen to their horses, and the horses don't give advice so often that they can afford to be ignored. And as Skif pointed out, I'm not the sword that left. I'm better. In fact—:
Need produced another one of her dry mental chuckles, like the creaking of forge bellows.
:—in a sense, you will have them by the proverbial short hairs. They can't afford to offend Skif by treating you poorly; he'll leave. They can afford the loss of a single Herald right now, not with a war on the horizon. That Ancar character is not going to give up, and we're just lucky he's been so busy stewing his own little pot that he hasn't come roaring up to the Border before this. But besides Skif, they certainly can't afford to do without me! I may not be an Adept by the currents standards, but I can do a great many things that an Adept can do, and some that I suspect no one knows how to do anymore. I'm a mage that is utterly unpredictable and unexpected. I can shield my powers and yours: I can look like nothing more than an ordinary sword if I try hard. No one else that I know of can do that. We're too valuable to lose, my dear. Remember, where you go I go.:

Nyara considered this seriously; it was an advantage she had not put into her calculations..
Do you mean you would be willing to coerce all of Valdemar—:

:
Blackmail them to be certain you are happy?:
Need finished for her. :
In a moment. Without a second thought. I don't have any stake in their little war, and now that I'm awake, I don't send my bearer rushing to the side of whatever female is in trouble. What happens with Ancar is not necessarily my concern. If Selenay wants me fighting on the side of valdemar, she's going to have to make certain you are treated well.:

Nyara was taken aback, but in a flattered and delighted way. She had not expected such a strong response from her teacher; she hadn't let herself expect any backing at all. Need had taught her to be self-sufficient, at the cost of many hard and bitter lessons. To
depend
on no one but herself—while at the same time learning to give another her trust as a partner.