Magic's Price (42 page)

“Don't you go a-lookin' at me like that, missy,” he said. “Them's not roses you was a-smellin‘, 'twas the young lad's hair.”

She sighed, as deep and heartfelt as any crestfallen maiden, and closed her eyes. The groom pulled the final strap tight, and turned toward Stef. “Chirras,” he said, shaking his head. “Curious as cats, they are. You watch this ‘un; she likes flowers, an' anything that's bright-colored she'll go sniffin' at just in case it might be some posy she ain't never seen afore.” He grinned. “Some fool Herald name of Vanyel gave 'er a snow-rose once, an' ever since she's been lookin' fer flowers where there can't be none.”

“She'd just carried my packs through a blizzard, Berd,” Vanyel replied without turning around. “I thought she deserved a reward, and I didn't have any sweets with me. Listen, we plan to leave these two at the Border, at the last Guard post. Is that all right?”

“What're you gonna do for supplies?” the groom asked skeptically.

“What I generally do; live off the land.” Now Vanyel turned to face them. “I wouldn't have asked you for them now except that Stef isn't used to this kind of trip, and I don't want to make it too hard on him at the beginning.”

“Whatever you say,” the groom replied. “The Guard post is fine. Next replacement to come back down can bring ‘em with.”

“That's pretty much what I thought.” Vanyel took the lead-rope of the other chirra from a young boy and fastened it to the cantle of his saddle, while Berd did the same with the flower-loving chirra and Melody's saddle. Van mounted once his chirra was secure, and Stef followed his example.

“You take care, m‘lord Van—” Berd called after them, as they rode out into the dark and cold. Vanyel half-turned in his saddle to wave, but he neither replied nor smiled.

Outside the walls of the city, there was nothing to be seen except snow-covered hills and a farmhouse or two. By the time they were a candlemark from Haven, the sky was as light as it was likely to get for the rest of the day. The clouds hung low, heavy, and leaden; the air felt a little damp, and the only place Stef wasn't cold was where his legs were warmed by contact with his horse.

Vanyel lifted his head and sniffed the light breeze, a few strands of silvered hair escaping from the hood of his cloak. “Smells like snow,” he said, the first words he'd spoken since leaving the Palace grounds. Stef sampled the air himself, but it didn't smell any differently to him. “How can you tell?” he asked, his voice sounding loud over the snow-muffled footfalls of the beasts on the road.

“It just does,” Van replied. “Like rain, only fainter and colder.” He looked back at Stef, and got Yfandes to slow so that they were riding side by side. “I won't stop for you, and I won't hold my pace back for you, Stef,” he said warningly. “I don't dare. I'm holding back enough as it is, taking chirras for the first leg. The only reason I'm catering to your inexperience on this first stage is because my enemy is going to assume I'm coming straight for him at a Companion's pace, and I hope this will throw him off.”

“I understand,” Stef hastened to say. “I won't hold you back. I'll keep up.”

“You might, but your filly isn't a Companion,” Van began. Then he got that “listening” expression that meant his Companion was talking to him. “ ‘Fandes says she'll help,” he replied, looking a little surprised. “I don't know what she plans to do; maybe do something so that Melody can keep up with her. I hope so; a Companion is good for a lot more in the way of speed and endurance than an ordinary horse. I bred both those qualities into Star's line, but there's still only so much a horse can do.”

“I'll keep up,” Stef repeated, vowing to himself that he'd die before he complained of soreness or fatigue.

“I have to stop this mage,” Vanyel said quietly, as if he'd heard Stefen's thoughts. “I have to, Stef, it's the most important thing I've ever had to do. Can you understand that? I'm sorry if it seems as though I'm being cold to you—”

Stefen shook his head. “No, it's all right,” he said hastily, even though it
didn't
feel all right. “I told you I wouldn't fall behind, and I won't. You'll have no reason to feel that bringing me along was a bad idea.”

“I hope you're right,” Van replied bleakly. “Although I must admit that it looks as though the weather is going to be a bigger factor in our progress than you are.”

Even as he spoke, the first big, fluffy flakes began falling from the lowering clouds. Stef looked up in puzzlement. “It doesn't look that bad,” he protested, shifting in his saddle to relieve strained muscles inside his thighs.

Vanyel's eyes were closed, and his brows knitted with concentration. “It's not bad now,” he said slowly. “But it could get that way very quickly, very easily. This storm system goes all the way up to the Border, and the balances in it are quite delicate. Right now it looks as though it's going to snow steadily, but things can change that balance all too easily.”

“Oh,” Stef replied. “I didn't know you could predict weather like that.”

Vanyel opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow at him. “I can‘t,” he said. “I can only read weather, I can't predict what it's going to do. It's one of the first things I was taught after I got control of my Mage-powers. The kind of magic I can do often disrupts weather patterns, and I need to know if I'm going to kick up a storm if I build a Gate or something of that nature.”

“Oh, like when ‘Lendel died—” Stef replied absently, lost in his own worries.

But Vanyel stiffened, and turned completely in his saddle to face the Bard. “How did you know that?”

Stefen brushed snow away from his face, and felt an odd little chill down his spine at the tone of Vanyel's voice and the odd expression he wore. Van actually looked frightened. Mostly startled, but a little frightened.

“Savil must have told me, or maybe Jisa,” he said, trying to make sense of his own muddled memories and Vanyel's reaction. “I remember
somebody
must have told me there was a big storm caused mostly by the Gate being made. It was probably Savil, since there was a lot of stuff about how magic works involved in the explanation. I know Savil talked to me about it after I asked her—”

“Why?” Van asked. “Why did you ask her?”

“Because it's a part of you that's important,” Stefen replied in a quietly defensive tone. “I never asked you about it because it seemed like you avoided the subject—I didn't want to hurt you or anything. So I asked Savil if
she'd
mind talking about it, and she said no, it had been long enough ago that she didn't mind anymore. That was while you were getting back to yourself after that mage attacked us.”

Vanyel relaxed, and lost his haunted look.

“I talked to your parents a lot, too,” Stef said. “I hope you don't mind.” He tried to muster up a hint of mischief. “Treesa and I have a lot in common; she says I'm more fun to have as company than any of her ladies. I helped her get herself settled in when they got here, you know.”

“I didn't know,” Vanyel replied with a kind of absent-minded chagrin. “I just saw Father taking to the job of Councillor like a hound to the chase, and I guess I just assumed Mother would be all right.”

She wasn't all right; she got here and found out that she was in the same position Savil said you were in when you first came here
—
a provincial noble from the backwater, twenty years behind the fashions, with no knowledge of current gossip or protocol, Stef thought. She saw less of you than before. She was terribly lonely, and if there had been a way to get home, she'd have taken it.

“I thought she was fine. It just seemed like after the first couple of weeks, she was as happy as Father,” Van continued, peering through the curtain of snow at the road ahead. “Every time I'd see her she was the center of attention, surrounded by others.” He paused for a moment, then said, “Was that your doing?”

“Some of it,” Stef admitted. “I coached her, and I introduced her to Countess Bryerly and Lady Gellwin. You probably hadn't noticed, but there isn't much ‘court' at Court with Randi so sick and Shavri's time taken up with it. The real Court, the social part, has pretty much moved out of the Crown section of the Palace and into the nobles' suites. And those are the two that really run it. Countess Bryerly is distantly related to the Brendewhins, so that made everything fine. Lady Gellwin took Treesa under her wing as a kind of protege, put her in charge of a lot of the younger girls once she found out that your mother did a lot of fostering.”

A month ago, Vanyel would have been deeply upset that he hadn't thought to make sure his mother was well settled in. Now he only said, “Thank you, Stef. I appreciate your helping her,” and continued to peer up the road.

The snow was getting thicker; there was no doubt about that. It still wasn't enough to stop them, or to slow them by too much, but Vanyel was obviously concerned. He spoke in an absent tone of voice whenever Stef asked him a direct question, but otherwise he was absolutely silent and inward-centered. The morning lengthened into afternoon, and Stef was afraid to ask him to stop for something to eat and a chance to warm up, even though they passed through three villages with inns that Stef eyed longingly. He was hungry, but worse than the hunger was the cold. Snow kept getting in under his hood and melting, sending runnels of icy water down the back of his neck. He could hardly feel his hands or his nose. There wasn't any wind, but they were creating their own breeze just by moving, and it kept finding its way in through the arm-slits of his cloak. And Melody was suffering, too; she walked steadily in Yfandes' wake with her head down and her eyes half-closed; she was tired, and probably missed her warm stable as much as Stefen missed his room and fireplace.

Finally Yfandes planted all four hooves in the middle of the road and refused to go any farther. Melody actually ran right into her rump before the filly realized the Companion had stopped.

Van seemed to come out of a trance. “All right,” he said crossly. “If that's the way you want it, I guess I don't have a choice.”

“What?” Stef said, startled.

“Not you,
ashke,
Yfandes. She says she's cold and hungry and she's stopping whether I like it or not.” He dismounted and led her and the chirra over to the side of the road, kicking his way through the soft snow. Stef had to make two tries at dismounting before he could get off; he'd never been so stiff and sore in his life, and he had the sinking feeling it was only going to get worse.

But when he got under the tree, he felt a little resistance in the air—and when he passed it, a breath of warmth melted the snow stuck to his hair. It was more than just a breath of warmth; the entire area beneath the branches was warm, about as warm as a summer day; what snow Van hadn't cleared away was melting, and Yfandes was looking very pleased with herself.

“Van—” Stef said hesitatingly. “Is this a good idea? I mean, I guess you used magic to do this, won't somebody spot it?”

Vanyel shook his head. “I used a
Tayledras
trick; it's how they shield their valleys. From the outside, even to Mage-Sight, this place looks absolutely the same as it did before we got here; snow-covered trees, and no humans. It'll stay that way until well after we've gone on.” He brushed snow from his cloak and grimaced. “There will still be a trace of magic-use here, though, and if my enemy knows I trained with the
Tayledras
he'll be able to track us by that, about two days behind our real trail. I'd rather not have done this, but ‘Fandes said her joints were getting stiff and she had to get warm, so I didn't have much choice.”

Stef had a sneaking suspicion that ‘Fandes had insisted as much for
his
sake as her own, and he gave her a look of gratitude he hoped she could read. To his astonishment, she turned to look right at him and gave him a slow, deliberate wink when Vanyel's back was turned, rummaging in the chirras' packs.

“Could we sort of change direction every once in a while to throw him off?” Stef said, hoping this meant Van was going to warm up their resting place every time they stopped.

“It won't do much good; he knows we're coming north after him, and there's only a limited number of ways we can travel.” Vanyel sighed, and looked over Stefs shoulder as if he wished they could get back on the road immediately.

Stefen ate his meal in silence. Yfandes sidled up to him and he leaned on her, grateful for the support and for her warmth.
It looks like the best I can hope for is that he'll wait until I'm warm clear through before getting back on the road.

“At any rate, this is how we'll camp at night,” Vanyel continued, handing him cold meat, bread, and cheese, and two apples. “I don't want to stop at inns; there could be spies there, and I don't want this mage to know exactly where we are.”

Stef split his second apple and fed half to Yfandes and half to Melody. “Whatever you say, Van,” he replied, hoping he'd be able to get back on his horse when Vanyel wanted to leave. “As long as I can be with you.”