Winds of Fury (16 page)

:Here we are—:
Stefen announced proudly.
:I thought you'd like this place. It's very romantic.:

Romantic? Hardly an adequate description for a place where trees overhung a mossy cup of a valley, where delicate flowers bloomed at precisely the right spots, and where a tiny waterfall trickled musically down the back wall of the valley, to fill a perfect, rock-rimmed basin just big enough for two if they cared for a little waterplay. In a candlemark or two the sun would be above the trees, warming this valley and the tiny pool.

Skif had the suspicion that Stefen had a hand in somehow creating this idyllic little hideaway, and was waiting for a reaction.

“This is . . . this is lovely,” he said, finally. “I haven't seen anything prettier even in k'Sheyna Vale.”

Stefen looked pleased as Nyara nodded agreement. :
I've been training the trees and the plants
,: he said diffidently.
:Not in the way of a Hawkbrother or anything, but—I'm glad you like it. Van likes it, but he's rather biased on my behalf.:

“If you don't mind my asking,” Skif said hesitantly, “Why have you two—you know,
stuck around
all this time?”

:Gods.
: Stefen looked embarrassed.
:Responsibility, I suppose. I mean, we finished off magic in Valdemar, and until people were ready to accept Mage-Gift as just one more Gift, someone had to make certain that another wizard-lord like Leareth didn't come down out of the mountains with a mage-army. Van didn't trust his barriers against someone with Adept strength. So—:
he shrugged, :—
here we are.:

“And I suppose you planned on doing something to educate the next Herald-Mages?” Skif persisted.

“So you have been aware of that?” Skif asked.

Stefen laughed silently.
:I should say, Van couldn't help but notice, she's in his bloodline, and he put that other spell on all his relatives so he'd know if anyone was trying to turn them into frogs or flatten them or something. That kind of thing persisted a lot longer than he thought it would, too.:

“Perhaps your Vanyel is a better mage than even he gave himself credit for being,” Nyara observed quietly.

Stefen favored her with a sweet smile.
:Once Elspeth started working magic in the Vales, that got his attention and he found out what was going on down there with you folks. He wanted to do something, but he knew his powers were pretty limited that far away Eventually he started helping the Shin'a'in distract that nasty piece of work, Falconsbane. Sent mage winds to break all his windows, then replaced them with red glass, sent him black roses using a firebird as the carrier—we had a lot of fun with that. And the crystal paperweight with the castle and snow. Even 'Fandes enjoyed that.:

“I imagine,” Skif said dryly. “So now what do you plan for us?”

“It would help. Skif, if you tell me who these people are—or were—” Nyara said plaintively, sitting down on a rock and curling her legs underneath her. Skif took a place beside her. “It is obvious that you and Firesong trust them, but—”

Skif hit his forehead with the heel of his palm. “Oh, hellfires. I'm sorry, Nyara—”

:There wasn't time,:
Stefen reminded him.
:Why don't you tell her, and I'll fill in what you don't know.:

 

Skif chuckled. Stefen was making it very easy to simply accept all this, acting quite like an ordinary human and not at all like something out of legends. Perhaps he was making a deliberate effort to do so: to Skif's mind that was a great deal easier than having the two spirits appear, ten feet tall, carrying flaming swords, thundering “Fear not!” There was a vitality and a lightness about the spirit; in fact, there was something about him that kept Skif from feeling worried or anxious when he had every reason to.

For that matter, there was also a feeling of familiarity about Stefen, as if he and the Bard had been old friends of the kind that can say anything to each other, and forgive anything. . . .

“Skif, it seems to me—perhaps I am being forward, but—” Nyara hesitated, then continued as Stefen nodded encouragingly. “What he and Vanyel faced—between them—there is a great deal in common with our situation.”

:I think so,:
Stefen agreed. :
So does Van. That's part of why I wanted to talk with you.:
He shrugged.
:You'd have thought that once we were a pair, everything would have been lovely, but things kept happening that could have ruined it all. He spent a lot of time away from me. Not everyone accepted it. There were always things coming from outside of us that put strains on us, no matter what we did. Things were never perfect for more than a day at a time. Really—I think you would only harm yourselves if you expected perfection. You'd both just be unhappy when you didn't have it.:
Stefen's attention was all on Nyara.
:And there is something else Van wanted me to tell you, Nyara. Your father is not sane by anyone's definition. What he did to you—wasn't sane. Insane people do things no one can anticipate.
Nothing that happened to you is your fault.
You didn't “deserve” it, or ask for it, or cause it. And what he did was not right. A parent who does that is a monster, and nothing more.:

Skif and Need had been trying to tell her the same things, but it was as if a light had suddenly been kindled inside her. And Skif knew why. This was a total stranger, affirming what people she knew cared for her had been saying. And this was a spirit as well, who presumably had a little more insight into things than a still-living mortal. . . .

He shouldn't be jealous, just because it was Stefen who brought that light to her face and not him. And he knew he shouldn't be. But he couldn't help suffering a sharp stab of jealousy anyway.

:This won't be the last time you're jealous, old man,:
said Stefen, and he somehow knew Stefen spoke only to him.
:She can't help what she is. There are those who will find her desirable only because she is exotic, and others who will be certain she cannot resist them. She was built for a single purpose, and it still marks her. You have hard times ahead.:

Skif's jealousy turned to despair; how could he ever hope to hold Nyara once she entered Valdemar and began to meet others? Why should she wish to stay with him? There were people of wealth who had far more to offer than he did. He couldn't even offer her protection from the curious and the unkind. He was a Herald and had duties; he couldn't be with her every moment.

:Don't be a bigger ass than you have to be,:
Stefen said sharply.
:She loves you, for one thing. And for another— you will likely be the only creature she ever encounters who sees and desires her for her, herself, and not as an object to be possessed. She has had quite enough of that in her life, and believe me, she knows how to recognize it when she sees it.:

Skif blinked as a bee buzzed near his face. He also would have blushed, if Stefen had not resumed the conversation as casually as if he had not interrupted it to talk to Skif alone.
:There's no great virtue in being lifebonded, you know. It's a lot like having a Predestined Fate; often uncomfortable, frequently inconvenient, usually hazardous.:

Skif shook his head, and waved the bee away. He had often envied Talia and Dirk—how could Stefen say something like that? Wasn't being lifebonded the ultimate love?

“I thought lifebonding was something to be sought above all else,” Nyara replied dubiously.

“That doesn't sound very pleasant,” Skif put in. “In fact it doesn't even sound—romantic. It sounds like a disease.”

Stefen laughed.
:I don't know about a disease, but it isn't love, that's for certain, even though love usually cements the bond. Van thinks that it's likelier that someone with an extremely powerful Gift of some kind and a tendency to deep depression will be lifebonded than someone who is not so burdened and hag-ridden. That's so the Gifted-and-suicidal half has someone outside of himself to keep him stable and give him an external focus. But—all we know is that while it's rare, it isn't something to yearn after.:

“To think I've envied Talia all this time—” Skif mused. And at Stefen's puzzled look, he added, “That's the current Queen's Own.”

:Of course, the one with all the Empathy! 'Fandes almost swatted her once, when she thought the girl was going to lose all control.:
Before Skif could express his surprise, Stefen went on.
:I liked her, though—so, she lifebonded? You shouldn't be too surprised. I'll bet I can describe her lifemate. Strong, kind, thoughtful, intelligent, tends to keep his feelings to himself, the kind of man everyone knows they can depend on. Little children and animals love him immediately.:

“That's Dirk!” Skif exclaimed.

Before Skif could react to this, Need spoke up.
:All very pretty, I'm sure,: she said scathingly. :But this is Skif we're talking about. You're assuming the young lout has enough imagination to recognize diversity.:

“Of course he has imagination!” Nyara exclaimed immediately. “How can you say something so stupid?”

:Oh, he has about as much imagination as he has sensitivity,:
Need continued as if she hadn't noticed Nyara's angry exclamation.
:Frankly, I think both of you are giving him more credit than he deserves.:

Skif wisely kept his mouth shut. He thought he saw what Need was up to. Furthermore, Stefen, after all his impassioned speeches, was keeping quite, quite silent—

And Nyara had taken his hand in a most unmistakably possessive manner. With her other hand, she drew Need from her sheath. Need rasped on. When she insulted Skif's sexual prowess, Nyara pitched the sword away with a hiss.

Skif held Nyara closer. She glared at the discarded sword.

: Well, I've tried to shake you before, but this is going to be the last time,:
the sword said, sounding pleased.
:If I can't rattle your faith in each other. no one can.:

:Exactly so, you crafty woman,:
Stefen replied.
:You see, Skif? If her heart doesn't lie with you, then I know nothing of the heart—and as a Bard that has been my special study for a long time. And Nyara—he trusts you enough to allow you to fight your own battle and win, even when he is the target. Love is as much trust as it is devotion.:

Nyara's face relaxed, then she snorted a tension-breaking laugh and picked up Need. “You fooled me again, you chunk of lead. But—I was not perfectly sure—I—”

Skif smiled. Life was very, very good at the moment.

:Oh, there is no such thing as perfection, or a “perfect” love—Van and I still argue and even become angry with each other,:
Stefen countered.
:It annoys the birds and small animals to no end when we do. I doubt there is even perfection in the Havens. Wouldn't perfection be a bore?:

:Build on what you have, children,:
Need said gruffly.
:The foundation is a good one, so now see what kind of a house you can raise. And don't worry if the windows aren't the right size, the door is too tall, or there's dust on the mantelpiece. Just make sure the walls and the ceiling are sound, and make certain your home holds laughter. The dust will take care of itself.: