Magic's Pawn (44 page)

“The offensive magics will
remain
without control,” Savil said grimly, the smell of scorched rock still strong about her. “Like Tylendel. I couldn’t get past his trauma to get those magics fully under conscious lock. I should have brought
him
to you.”

“Wingsister, hindsight is ever perfect,” Starwind spared a moment to send a thread of wordless compassion her way, and she smiled wanly. “The thing with this boy - I told you, he
had
the lightnings in his hand, I could see him holding them, but he would not cast them. I thought to frighten him into taking the offense.” He lowered his hands and looked helplessly at Savil. “He is a puzzle to me; I cannot fathom why he will not fully utilize his powers.”

“Because he still doesn’t understand why he should, I suppose,” Savil brooded, rocking back and forth on her heels. “He can’t see any reason to use those powers. He doesn’t want to help anyone, all he wants now is to be left alone.”

Starwind looked aghast. “But - so
strong
- how can he
not
-
‘‘

“He hasn’t got the hunger yet,
shayana
, or if he’s got it, everything else he’s feeling has so overwhelmed him that all he can register is his own pain.” Savil shook her head. “That, mostly, would be my guess. Maybe it’s that he hasn’t ever seen a reason to care for anyone he doesn’t personally know. Maybe it’s that right now he has no energy to care for anyone but himself. Kellan tells me Yfandes would go through fire and flood for him, so there has to be
something
there. Maybe Moondance can get through to him.”

“Only if he survives what we do to him,” Starwind replied, motioning her to precede him into the pass-through, and sunk in gloom.

Vanyel woke with an ache in his heart and tears on his face; the image of the
wyrsa
had called up everything he wanted most to forget.

He could tell that he was lying on his bed, still clothed, but his hands and forearms felt like they’d been bandaged and the skin of his face hurt and felt hot and tight.

The full moon sent silver light down through the skylight above his head. He saw the white rondel of it clearly through the fronds of the ferns. His head hurt, and his burned hands, but not so much as the empty place inside him, or the guilt - the terrible guilt.

‘Lendel, ‘Lendel
-
my fault.

He heard someone breathing beside him; a Mindtouch confirmed that it was Moondance. He did not want to talk with anyone right now; he just wanted to be left aJone. He started to turn his face to the wall, when the soft, oddly young-sounding voice froze him in place.

“I would tell you of a thing - “

Vanyel wet his lips, and turned his head on the pillow to look at the argent-and-black figure seated beside him on one of the strange “chairs” he favored.

Moondance might have been a statue; a silvered god sitting with one leg curled beneath him, resting his crossed arms on his upraised knee, face tilted up to the moon. Moonlight flowed over him in a flood of liquid silver.

“There was a boy,” Moondance said, quietly. “His name was Tallo. His parents were farmers, simple people, good people in their way, really. Very tied to their ways, to their land, to the cycle of the seasons. This Tallo… was not. He felt things inside him that were at odds with the life they had. They did not understand their son, who wanted more than just the fields and the harvests. They did love him, though. They tried to understand. They got him learning, as best they could; they tried to interest the priest in him. They didn’t know that what the boy felt inside himself was something other than a vocation. It was power, but power of another sort than the priest’s. The boy learned at last from the books that the priest found for him that what he had was what was commonly called magic, and from those few books and the tales he heard, he tried to learn what to do with it. This made him - very different from his former friends, and he began to walk alone. His parents did not understand this need for solitude, they did not understand the strange paths he had begun to walk, and they tried to force him back to the ways of his fathers. There were - arguments. Anger, a great deal of it, on both sides. And there was another thing. They wished him to wed and begin a family. But the boy Tallo had no yearning toward young women - but young
men
- that was another tale.”

Moondance sighed, and in the moonlight Vanyel saw something glittering wetly on his eyelashes. “Then, the summer of the worst of the arguments, there came a troupe of gleemen to the village. And there was a young man among them, a very handsome young man, and the boy Tallo found that he was not the only young man in the world who had yearnings for his own sex. They quickly became lovers - Tallo thought he had never been so happy. He planned to leave with the gleemen, to run away and join them when they left his village, and his lover encouraged this. But it happened that they were found together. The parents, the priest, the entire village was most wroth, for such a thing as
shay’a’chern
was forbidden even to speak of, much less to be. They - beat Tallo, very badly; they beat the young gleeman, then they cast Tallo and his lover out of the village. Then it was that the young gleeman spurned Tallo, said in anger and in pain what he did not truly mean, that he wanted nothing of him. And Tallo became wild with rage. He, too, was in pain; he had suffered for this lover, been cast out of home and family for his sake, and now he had been rejected - and he called the lightning down with his half-learned magic. He did not mean to do anything more than frighten the young man - but that was not what happened. He killed him; struck him dead with the power that he could not control.”

Moonlight sparkled silver on the tears that slowly crept down Moondance’s face.

“Tallo had heard his lover’s thoughts, and knew that the young man had not meant in truth the hurtful things he had said. Tallo had wanted only for the boy to say with words what he had heard in the other’s mind. So he called the lightning to frighten him, but he learned that the lightning would not obey him when called by anger, and not by skill. And he heard the boy crying out his name as he died. Crying out in fear and terrible pain, and Tallo unable to save him. Tallo could not live with what he had done. With the dagger from his lover’s belt, he slashed his own wrist and waited to die, for he felt that only with his own death could he atone for murdering his love.”

Moondance raised his left arm to push some of his heavy hair back from his face, and the moon picked out the white scar that ran from his wrist halfway to his elbow.

“There was, however, a stranger on the road; an out-lander who had sensed the surge of power and read the signs and knew that it was uncontrolled. She came as quickly as she could - though not quickly enough to save both. She found the young men, one dead, one nearly - she saved the one she could, and brought him to a friend who she thought might understand.”

Moondance was so silent and for so long, that Vanyel thought he was through speaking. He stared up at the moon, eyes and cheeks shining wetly, like a marble statue in the rain.

Then he spoke again, and every syllable carried with it a sense of terrible pain. “So here is the paradox. If the boy Tallo had not misused his fledgling powers and struck down his lover, they would have gone off together, and, in time, parted. Tallo would likely have been found by a Mage and taught, or - who knows? - gotten as far as Valdemar and been taken by a Companion. Those with the power are not left long to themselves. It might even have been that the Mage that found him was a dark one, and Tallo might have turned for a time or for all time to evil. But that is not what happened. The boy killed - murdered in ignorance - and was brought to k’Treva. And in k’Treva he found forgiveness, and the learning he needed as the seed needs the spring rain - and one thing more. He found his
shay’kreth’ashke
. In your tongue, that means ‘lifebonded.’ “

Vanyel started. Moondance nodded without turning to look at him. “You see? Paradox. Had things not fallen as they did, Tallo would never have met with Starwind. The
Tayledras
are very secretive and Wingsister Savil is one of the first to see one of us, much less to see k’Treva, in years beyond counting. The two meant to be life-bonded would never have found each other. There would be no Healer-Adept in k’Treva, and much
Tayledras
work would have gone undone because of that. So - much good has come of this, and much love - but it has its roots in murder. Murder unintentional, but murder all the same.”

Moondance sighed again. “So what is the boy Tallo to think? Starwind’s solution was to declare the boy Tallo dead by his own hand, a fitting expiation for his guilt, and to bring to life a new person altogether, one Moondance k’Treva. So there is no more Tallo, and there is one that magic has changed into a man so like
Tayledras
that he might have been born to the blood. But sometimes the boy Tallo stirs in the heart of Moondance - and he wonders - and he weeps - and he mourns for the wrongs he has done.”

He turned his head, then, and held out his hand to Vanyel.
“Ke’chara
, would you share grief with Tallo? Weeping alone brings no comfort, and your heart is as sore as mine.”

Vanyel started to reach for that hand, then hesitated.

If I don’t touch
-

“If you do not touch,” said Moondance, as if he read Vanyel’s thought, “You do not
live
. If you seal yourself away inside your barriers, you seal out the love with the pain. And though love sometimes brings pain, you have no way of knowing if the pain you feel now might not bring you to love again.”

“Tylendel’s dead.” There; he’d said it, said it out loud. It was real - and couldn’t be changed. The tight, burned skin on his face hurt as he held back tears.
“Nothing
is going to bring him back. I’ll
never
be anything but alone.”

Moondance nodded, slowly, and left his hand resting on the edge of the bed; Vanyel couldn’t see his face, shadowed as it was by the white wing of his hair.

“The great love is gone. There are still little loves-friend to friend, brother to sister, student to teacher. Will you deny yourself comfort at the hearthfire of a cottage because you may no longer sit by the fireplace of a palace? Will you deny yourself to those who reach out to
you
in hopes of warming themselves at your hearthfire? That is cruel, and I had not thought you to be cruel, Vanyel. And what of Yfandes? She loves you with all her being. Would you lock her out of your regard as well? That is something more than cruel.”

“Why are you telling me, asking me this?” The words were torn out of him, unwilling.

“Because I nearly followed the road you are walking.” The
Tayledras
shifted slightly in his chair and Vanyel heard the wood creak a little. “Better, I thought, not to touch at all than to touch and bring hurt upon myself and others. Better to do nothing than to make a move and have it be the wrong one. But even deciding to not touch or to be nothing is a decision, Vanyel, and by deciding not to touch, so as to avoid hurt, I then hurt those who tried to touch me.” He waited, but Vanyel could not bring himself to answer him.

Moondance’s expression grew alien, unreadable, and he shrugged again. “It is your decision; it is your life. A Healer cannot live so; it may be that you can.”

He uncoiled himself from his chair and in a kind of seamless motion was standing on his feet, shaking back his hair. The tears were gone from his eyes, and his expression was as serene as if they had never been there as he looked down on Vanyel. “If you are in pain, Mind-call, and I shall come.”

Before Vanyel could blink, he was gone.

Morning came - but the expected summons to Star-wind’s Work Room did not. The sun rose, he wandered from room to empty room, in the small area that he knew, without finding anyone. He began to wonder if his rejection of Moondance last night had led them all to abandon him here.

Finally he found a way out into the valley itself, and stood by the rock-arch of the doorway, blinking a little at the bright sunlight, unfiltered by the tinted skylight. There were ferns the size of a small room, bushes and small trees with leaves he could have used as a rain shelter, and the larger trees, while not matching the one growing up through the middle of the “house” in girth, were still large enough that it would take five people to encircle their trunks with their arms.

:Yfandes
?: he Mindcalled tentatively. He wasn’t at all sure he’d get a reply.

But he did.
:Here
,: she said - and a few moments later, she came frisking through the undergrowth, tail and spirits held banner-high. She nuzzled his cheek.
:Are your hands better
?:

He had unwrapped them this morning from their bandages, and aside from a little soreness, they seemed fine - certainly nothing near as painful as they had been last night.

.
I
think so
.: He rested his forehead against her neck. It was incredibly comforting just to be in her presence, and hard to remember to barricade himself around her.
:Where is everybody
?:

:Savil is up above, in Starwind’s place
.: She gave him a mental picture of a kind of many-windowed room perched in the limbs of what could only be the tree growing up through the center of the “house.”
:She doesn’t much care for it, and having her up there makes Kellan nervy, but he was upset over the accident yesterday and
he
feels happier up in the boughs. They’re talking
.: