Winds of Change (48 page)

“The Healing Adept, you mean?” he hazarded. That was the only “he” the question seemed apt for. “The one from k’Treva?”

She nodded, and he made a half shrug. He hadn’t thought about it; he was far more interested in the Adept’s skills than in anything else.

“It usually takes a Healing Adept years to come into his full power, so I suppose that he is probably about the age of my father,” he said, after a moment. “Probably very serious, very deliberate. Although - ” he frowned, trying to recall the message’s exact words, “ - they did say that he was a kind of experimenter. That is an interesting point. He might be more like Kra’heera than my father.”

“What, that funny kind of trickster?” She nibbled at a piece of fruit. “But powerful.”

“Oh, that, at the least,” he agreed. “He would have to be, to be willing to ride alone across uncertain land. I think that he will definitely have that kind of air about him that Iceshadow has when he is truly certain of himself. Except that he will have it all the time.”

“You have that air sometimes,” she said suddenly.

“No - ” Now that startled him. “I do?”

“Yes.” She licked juice from her fingers and gave him a sidelong glance. “You did last night. Sometimes I think you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

He shook his head. “I think you are being flattering, but - ”

“I’m not really hungry,” she interrupted him. “Are you?”

He laughed, now knowing where the pathway was leading. “Not for this sort of food,” he said.

* * *

Bondbirds carried the message in midmorning that the k’Treva Adept was less than a league away. Those of the Clan that were not otherwise engaged in Clan duties gathered at the entrance of the Vale to await his arrival. Although the snow was knee-deep beyond the Veil, it would not have been a proper welcome to greet him within.

Elspeth and Darkwind were among them, and she thought privately that this mysterious mage could not have contrived a more perfect backdrop for his first appearance.,The clouds of the past few days had cleared away by dawn, and the sun shone down out of a flawless blue sky, filling the snow-bedecked woods outside the entrance of the Vale with pure white light. There wasn’t even a breath of wind, and the woods were completely silent except for a few calls of birds off in the distance. As they waited in the snow, straining their ears for the sound of hoofbeats, Elspeth fretted a little beneath the suspense of the moment. Even Gwena seemed tense with anticipation.

Finally, the sound they had been waiting for echoed beneath the trees; the muffled thud of hooves pounding through snow. From the cadence, Elspeth knew that he had urged his mount into a gallop. Not that
dyheli
had any objection to galloping, but he could not possibly have kept up that pace all the way here. Only a Companion had the stamina to gallop for hours at a time.

Either he’s impatient for the end of the trip, or he wants to make an impressive entrance,
she thought with amusement.

And then the object of their anticipation came pounding in, sprays of snow flying all about him, and a magnificent, snow-white firebird skimmed just beneath the branches precisely over his head, its tail streaming behind it as the Adept’s long hair streamed behind him.

The firebird was the biggest one she had ever seen - and never had she ever heard of anyone using one for a bond-bird. It threw off the little false-sparks of golden light as it flew, glittering, a creature of myth or tales.

From the murmurs of surprise, she surmised that no one among the Hawkbrothers had ever seen a firebird bondbird before, either.

It was at least as large as Darkwind’s forest-gyre. It seemed to be larger, because of the length of its magnificent tail. The head, with its huge, ice-blue eyes, was just as large as any bondbird’s head, which meant it could be as intelligent as the rest.

But the firebirds were seed and fruit eaters. Not carnivores or hunters. . . .

Well, why not? He’s a mage. He doesn’t
need
a combative bird to help him, the way the scouts do.

The Adept pulled up before the entrance to the Vale in a shower of snow and a flurry of hooves, like some kind of young god of winter, or an ice-storm personified. Even his mount gave Elspeth pause for a moment, until she saw the curving horns over the two ice-blue eyes, for he rode a
dyheli
bleached to snowy white just as the bondbirds were.

He
posed
for a moment, and she realized that he was doing it deliberately. Not that she blamed him. She smiled, but kept it to herself.

Oh, what a vain creature he is! And how he basks in the admiration he’s getting. Rightfully.

They had expected a venerable wise man; another Iceshadow with more presence, perhaps. What they had gotten was something else entirely.

He swept his arm out and the firebird drifted down to rest on his snow-white leather gauntlet, alighting as silently as one of its own feathers would fall. Only then was it clear that the firebird was fully as large as any of the greater hawks, and approached the size of the hawk-eagle. Its tail trailed down gracefully to within a hand’s breadth of the snow, and it, too, posed, as if perfectly well aware of its unearthly beauty.

He was dressed all in white; white furs and leathers, long white hair with white feathers in a braid to one side, white coat draped over the rump of his white
dyheli.
Three sets of ice-blue eyes looked over the assembled Clansfolk dispassionately; the eyes of the
dyheli
and the firebird held only curiosity, but the eyes of the Adept held more than a touch of a self-confidence that was surely forgivable - both for his Adept status (and indeed, he could never have achieved that complete bleaching of hair and eyes and bird if he had
not
been controlling node-magic since he could toddle) and for his absolute physical perfection.

Never in all her life had Elspeth seen anyone so beautiful. That was the only word for him. He was beautiful in a way that transcended sexuality and yet was bound up with it.

So some arrogance and self-assurance could certainly be forgiven, even if he was no older than Darkwind.

Gwena was staring at him intently, much more intently than Elspeth expected.

:What’s wrong?:
she asked the Companion quietly.
:Is there anything wrong ?:

:Nothing wrong, exactly,:
she said slowly.
:No, that’s not true. There’s nothing
wrong
at all. But it almost seems like I’ve seen him before, though I can’t imagine how I ever could have. But there certainly is something familiar about him -:

:Of course there is, my dear,:
a deep, masculine mind-voice interrupted. And the k’Treva Adept winked at the Companion, slowly, and unmistakably.

Elspeth was left floundering in surprise - and as for Gwena, clearly, if the Companion’s jaw could have dropped in shock, it would have. Gwena stepped backwards.

“Greetings, Clansibs,” the Adept called to them all, as calmly as if he had not just utterly flabbergasted Gwena. “I am Firesong k’Treva, and I trust I have not made you wait for too long for my arrival.”

With that, he dismounted, sliding from the back of the
dyheli
so smoothly that the firebird was not in the least disturbed. There was a pack on his back - also of white leather - which had been hidden until he dismounted. The
dyheli
paced beside him as he walked forward to the Veil and the Tayledras waiting to greet him, one hand still on the
dyheli’s
shoulder, a half-smile on his handsome face. Iceshadow and the other Elders greeted him first, as was only proper, but when he had done clasping arms with them, he turned immediately to Elspeth and Darkwind.

“And here are those whose message summoned me,” he said, tossing his head to send his braid over his shoulder, his lips curved in an enigmatic smile. “I see one Clansib - and two Outlanders. A fascinating combination.”

“This is Wingsister Elspeth k’Sheyna k’Valdemar, and her Companion Gwena k’Valdemar,” Darkwind said carefully. A little too carefully, Elspeth thought. “I am Darkwind.”

“K’Valdemar, hmm?” Firesong repeated, his smile increasing by just a hair. ‘
‘And
a Companion.
Thai ‘helleva,
Wingsibs. The tale of your coming here must be a fascinating one indeed.”

“Elspeth is a Herald of Valdemar, if you have heard of such things.” Darkwind’s voice was carefully neutral. “There is another Herald out on the borders of k’Sheyna who was also made Wingsib, one Skif k’Sheyna k’Valdemar - but it is pressing business that keeps him there, and at any rate, he is no mage.”

“Which you, bright falcon, most certainly are.” Firesong’s handclasp was warm and firm as he took Elspeth’s hand in greeting. “And as it happens I have heard of Heralds before. It is something of a k’Treva legend, the visits of Heralds. But then, k’Treva has always been considered - hmm - unconventional.” He glanced aside at Iceshadow, who coughed politely.

“But here I am keeping you out in the snow and cold, when we could be in the welcoming warmth of the Vale!” he exclaimed, turning swiftly in a graceful swirl of snowy hair, feathers, and clothing. “Come, Clansibs! Let us continue these greetings in comfort.”

Darkwind struggled against annoyance. This Firesong - this
young
Firesong - displayed a body-language that flaunted his arrogance. And a confidence that implied a competence fully as great as the arrogance.

Well, the firebird resting on his shoulder said something of his competence. It had been generations since one of the Tayledras had thought to breed up a new species of bond-bird - and to do so from firebird stock was doubly amazing. Firebirds were shy, highly territorial, easily startled - none of those being traits that augured well for their potential as bondbirds. Yet here he was, this Firesong, bearing a snow-white firebird that sat his shoulder as calmly as ever a forest-gyre sat a scout’s.

Small wonder that his Clan described him as an experimenter.

He
could
be older than he looked; it often took an Adept up to sixty years to show any signs of aging. But Darkwind doubted that. The arrogance that Firesong flaunted was that of youth, not age; Darkwind reckoned that he
might
even be a year or two younger than
he
was.

Just as annoying was Elspeth’s obvious fascination with the newcomer.

He is as beautiful as a god,
a traitorous whisper said in the back of his mind. How could
she not be attracted to him? How could anyone?

He took small comfort in the fact that Firesong chose an
ekele
near the opposite end of the Vale from Elspeth’s. Right beside Starblade’s in fact, a little higher in the same tree. But no sooner had the Adept tossed his white pack carelessly up into the open door, sent his white firebird to a perch, and shed his heavy outer garments, than he turned and looked down at Darkwind with that annoying half-smile on his face.

“I should like to see your father Starblade, if I may,” he said without preamble. “If you will excuse me.”

And with that, he ran lightly down the stairs and tapped upon the doorpost of Starblade’s
ekele
as if he were expected.

Perhaps he was, for Kethra beckoned him inside, leaving Darkwind
outside.
She did not beckon him in, although she clearly saw him standing there.

He felt like a fool, and only felt like less of one because there was no one there to witness his exclusion from what was obviously a private conference.

He gritted his teeth, and went oif to find something marginally useful to do, before he did something decidedly the opposite.

“Ho, Darkwind!”

The unfamiliar voice hailing him could only be Firesong’s. Darkwind stopped, put a pleasant expression on his face with an effort of will, and turned to face the young Adept.

Firesong had changed his costume, from the winter whites he had ridden in wearing, to something more appropriate to the warmth of the Vale. A half-robe and trousers of fine silk - and if Darkwind had not seen it, he would not have believed that it was possible to create a costume that was
more
flamboyant than that of his arrival.

Firebird gold, white, and flame-blue were the colors, and they matched the blue of his eyes, the silver of his hair, and the gold of his skin to perfection. Someone -
hertasi,
probably - had taken great pains with his hair. Darkwind felt positively plain beside him.

“Darkwind,” Firesong said, cheerfully, as he strode up beside him. “I have had speech of Starblade and Kethra, of the Elders, and also of the Shin’a’in shaman Tre’valen. What they have told me has confirmed the impression your message gave to me. We can do nothing about the Heartstone for a brace of days; I must study it at close hand.”

Well, at least he has that much sense.

“I trust I don’t need to warn you to be careful about it,” Darkwind said.

Firesong nodded, for once, seeming entirely serious. “There is no doubt in my mind that the Stone is treacherous,” he stated. “It has behaved in a way that no such Stone in the history of either of our Clans has ever done before. I shall take
no
chances with it.”

That much gave Darkwind a feeling of relief. However arrogant this young man was, he was at least no fool.