Winds of Change (47 page)

“Actually, I was hoping you’d join me, but in the pool near
your
tree,” he said, relieved at her words, and even more so at the touch of self-deprecating humor. “Yours is the warmest pool in the Vale. I will ask my
hertasi
to bring oils, once I find them. They haven’t established a summoning method yet.”

“Shall I meet you there?” she suggested gracefully. “You’ve got things to do - and I’m still something of an appendage to the Clan.”

It didn’t take him too long to find the two lizard-folk; it took him even less time to make his way to the pool he now thought of as “Elspeth’s.” But by the time he got there, she was already chin-deep in hot water, her hair piled up on the top of her head and her eyes half-closed in pleasure.

‘ ‘We must have slipped and fallen in the snow a hundred times. I have bruises in places I didn’t even guess at. I have got to find some way to reproduce these pools once I get I back home,” she said, as he shed clothing and joined her. “A hot bath is no substitute for this.”

The two lizard-folk busied themselves in setting up cushions and towels beside the pool; once they were ready, he and Elspeth could go to their skillful hands with their muscles warm and pliant.
Much
easier to take the knots out of muscles that were relaxed and warmed than those that were stiff and tense.

“Have you no hot springs in your homeland?” he asked lazily, slipping into the hot water with a sigh of pleasure. “I would find that very strange.”

“You would find a lot of things about my land very strange,” she said. “At least as strange as Skif and I find the Vale. And speaking of Skif - ”

He felt a chill in spite of the heat of the water. Was she about to reveal that she and Skif were betrothed, or something of the sort? While he had no claims on her, nor had any right to think of such things - the idea disturbed him in a way that he did not want to examine too closely.

But she was continuing, and there was nothing in her tone to give him any kind of clue to her feelings about the other Herald. “Speaking of Skif - Darkwind, what should I do about Nyara? If - when he finds her. Should I worry? Should I even try to do anything?”

“I do not know,” he said, carefully, choosing his words in the hopes that they would not turn to stones and bruise his already shaken pride. “First I must ask you this - what is Skif to you?”

“To me?” She opened her eyes and looked him full in the face, and he was relieved to see that there was nothing hiding there. No hitherto undisclosed passions. No pain. Only simple concern. “My very good friend. My blood-brother. My - Wingsib, if you will, for the Heralds are the closest thing to a Tayledras Clan that my people know. He
has
no other kin but the Heralds, and I’m one of the closest friends he has among them. I’m
worried
about him, Darkwind.”

There was something she hadn’t told him yet. “Why should you worry?” he asked. “He seems perfectly capable to me.”

She sighed, and chewed her lower lip. “I’ve known him a long time, and the Skif you know isn’t the Skif I first made my brother. I haven’t talked to anyone about this, but something happened to him a couple of years ago, something to do with the war with Hardorn, and it changed him. He hasn’t been the same since. But he never said anything to me about it, and I don’t feel that I should press him on the subject. I mean, he values his privacy.”

He considered her words for a moment, hoping that the relief he felt on learning that Skif was no more than a brother to her did not show too clearly. But changes in a personality - oh, he was all too familiar with that. Though this was not likely to be the kind of sinister change that had overcome Starblade.

No, more like the change of shock that had made Song-wind become Darkwind.

“I think that if it was something he felt comfortable about revealing to you, he would have done so,” he said carefully. “That may have been because he considered you to be too sheltered to reveal it, because he was ashamed of it, or even because you are female and he is male. Do I take it that this experience - whatever it was - damaged him in some way?”

“Not physically, but he was never as - carefree afterward,” she replied thoughtfully. “Yes, I would say that it damaged him. Probably all three reasons have something to do with why he has never told me about it.”

“In that case, he might well reveal it to Wintermoon,” Darkwind mused aloud. “That would be a good thing. My brother is a remarkable man and has his own burdens he might be pleased to reveal. That would be a good thing as well.”

She gave him a glance filled with hope and speculation. “Do you think so? He’s been so - I don’t know. Before, he was always eager for the next adventure. Now it seems as if adventure has soured for him, and all he’s looking for is peace. And I think that Nyara just
might
be able to ease some of what is hurting him.
If
she doesn’t hurt him further.”

“A good point. I do not think that she would do so a-purpose,” he said, raising a dripping hand from the water to rub his temple. “She has been both cause and receiver of too much harm to wish to work further such, I think.” Nyara ... oh,
there
was a potential to become the lash of a whip if not carefully dealt with. “But there is pain waiting for him, with that one, be she ever so well-intentioned.”

Elspeth nodded. “You’re thinking what I’m thinking. If he - no, when he finds her, if she is not in love with him, he’s going to be hurt.”

“Would it were only as simple as that. You know that if she
does
love him and ran to save him before for that reason, he is destined for even greater hurt.” Darkwind raised himself a little higher in the water, rested his arms on the ledge around the pool, and propped his head on one hand. “You must know that, Elspeth. Think on it. Suppose she loves him truly. Suppose she
accepts
his love. My people I would have trouble in accepting a Changechild as the lover of one of their kin. But yours? To them, will she not seem a monster?”

She groaned, and rubbed her eyes. “I wish I could tell you no, but I can’t. Gods, Darkwind, the Shin’a’in are looked at askance when a rare one comes to Valdemar. The Hawkbrothers are legends only. They’d try to put
her
in a menagerie!” She shook her head. “No matter what we did, how we tried to disguise her, I doubt it would hold for long.”

“Soon or late, any disguise is unmade, any illusion is broken,” he agreed. “Nor is that the only problem with Nyara. She is utterly, totally foreign. Her ways could never be yours. Gods of my fathers, her ways are utterly alien to
my
people! Among yours, she would be like unto a plains-cat given a collar and called a pet!”

Elspeth groaned. “And that - that aura of sexuality she has - that isn’t going to win her any converts, I can tell you that. Havens, she even made
me
annoyed, sometimes, and there was nothing for me to be irritated with her over!”

“Except that every male eye must ever be on her,” he said ruefully. “Be he ever so faithful to his lover, he
still
must react to her like a male beast in season! Even I - well, I entertained fantasies, and I knew well the danger she implied. You say that Skif seems to seek only peace. Well, he will not find it with
that
one on his arm! Every male with no manners will be trying to have her for himself. Every female will react as you - or more strongly.”

“And she can’t help herself.” Elspeth’s mouth quirked in a half smile at his confession, but she quickly sobered. “Darkwind, what should I do?”

“Should you do anything?” he countered. “Can you do anything? Is there even any advice that you could give him that he would heed?”

She shook her head sadly. “Probably not. I guess there’s only one thing I can do - to be ready for whatever decision he and she make.”

“That is all that a friend can do, Elspeth,” he agreed. “And I think perhaps that is all that a friend
should
do. But you know, there is another course that he might take that you do not seem to have considered. What would you and your people think if he should choose to stay here - with her?”

“If he - ” She stared at him now as if the very idea were so alien that she couldn’t quite grasp it. “But he’s a Herald!”

“He is also a human - and a man. And he is very much in love.” Darkwind had a fleeting feeling of disorientation, as if he were not talking only about the Herald Skif. “Would your people make him choose between his love and his land? Would this cause his Companion to abandon him?”

“I don’t know,” she said helplessly. “The subject has never come up.”

“Interesting.” He leaned back into the water again. “Perhaps you and Gwena should discuss this at length. I have the feeling that it may be important.”

“So do I,” she replied, slowly. “So do I ...”

The Adept from k’Treva did not appear by nightfall, at which point Darkwind felt that he had most probably taken the wise course of finding a secure place to rest for the night. When he and Elspeth sought out Iceshadow just after dusk, the Elder said words to that same effect.

“I do not think our Clansbrother is likely to arrive on our doorstep until the morning,” Iceshadow predicted, as the three of them strolled back to the Elder’s
ekele.
“Were I he, I would find a
tervardi
and share his shelter for the night. I have sensed nothing amiss, and I think if he were in trouble, we would certainly
know
it.”

Darkwind nodded. Very few Tayledras traveled by night by choice. Even fewer did so in unknown and possibly dangerous territory. “He knows that our borders are shrunken, and that the land within them is not certain. The heavy snows of the past few days have probably slowed him down. I doubt the one who replied took the difficulties of winter riding into account when he sent the message and told you the Adept would arrive in half a day. Even on
dyheli I
would not undertake to go anywhere in this snow in half a day.”

They reached Iceshadow’s home at that moment; the Elder stretched, and paused with one hand on the railing. “I would not worry, were I you.
I
am not concerned. We will see this marvel when he arrives and not before, and the matter of one or two days more is not going to make a great deal of difference to our situation. True?”

When they agreed, he chuckled, and bid them a pleasant evening, a certain twinkle in his eyes as he looked from Elspeth to Darkwind and back.

Not that Darkwind minded the delay. Once the Healing Adept arrived, he and Elspeth would start on a round of magic-use that would leave them quite exhausted at day’s end. He knew
that
from experience. Sadly, heavy magic-use tended to leave one too weary for dalliance. They would have one more night together, at least - Or so he hoped.

This time, since they were so near, she had invited him to her
ekele
for supper, while the
hertasi
turned them both into limp yarn dolls. At the time he had thought he saw Faras, the one working on her back, smile a little when she made the invitation. He said nothing, though, then or now; she knew that the lizard-folk used Mindspeech as easily as humans used their voices. Though what she might not know was the way the little folk like to play at matchmaking. . . .

They took a second soak in the pool, then slipped into a pair of thick robes that the
hertasi
had left there for them, leaving the pool when dusk was only a memory and full darkness shrouded the Vale. Darkwind was not certain how Elspeth felt, but
he
had not been so relaxed or content for a very long time. He followed her up to her
ekele,
pretty well certain of what he would find there.

He was not disappointed. The robe of amber silk, clean again, was waiting for her - and his favorite, of deep blue, lay beside it across the cushions. And on the table there waited another intimate supper for two. This one was a bit different, though.

He recognized it, though she would not have. This was a lover’s supper, a trysting meal. Sensual delights. Things to tease the palate and the four senses. Light foods, the kind found at festivals, arranged in single bite-sized pieces. Food made to be eaten with the fingers -

 
- or fed to another.

Oddly modest, she caught up the robe and carried it into the next room to change into it, although she had not seemed so shy at the pool. He would have enjoyed seeing the soft silk slip over her young, supple body. Well, that would come in time as she lost her shyness with him.

If they had the time. . . .

He pushed the thought from his mind. He would enjoy what they had, and not seek to shape their future. He slipped into his own robe as she returned, the amber silk caressing her and enveloping her like a cloud of golden smoke. She made a circuit of the room, lighting scented candles to perfume the air; he watched her with pleasure, and wondered a little at her grace. Had she always moved like that? Or had he only now begun to notice?

He waited until she had made herself comfortable before moving toward her. She patted a place beside her and he settled next to her. His most urgent appetite was not for food, but he contented himself with nibbling on a slice of quince as she hesitantly took a piece of cheese.

“What do you think he’ll be like?” she asked abruptly, proving that whatever his thoughts were, hers were elsewhere.

The question took him by surprise, and he had to drag his thoughts away from contemplating
her,
and apply them to something a bit more abstract.