Magic's Price (49 page)

Stef felt Yfandes' shoulder muscles relax a little.
:Yes. Have you a MindHealer among your Clan?:

:I fear not,:
Aroon replied, regretfully. :Yet
the talents of the singer and yourself, and the safety of our caves may suffice. Do not count the prey escaped until it wings into the sky.:

“I think you should know, sir,” Stef said hesitantly, “That the men that were here served someone who is our enemy. He's killed a lot of people, and he's a very powerful mage.”

:Adept-class, easily:
Yfandes interjected.

“I doubt very much that he'll be pleased with the way things have turned out. And he won't hesitate to kill
you
if you give us shelter and protection.” Stef took a deep breath, afraid this would mean the creature would change its mind, yet feeling better that he'd
told
the
kyree
about the dangers involved.

The dry voice warmed a great deal.
:We have often been called insular, and isolationist,:
Aroon replied.
:And there is some truth to that. But if the one you speak of would indeed kill those of whom he knows nothing to achieve his vengeance on you, then he is our enemy as well, and you are well deserving of our protection. And as the Tayledras and the white sister will tell you, that is not inconsiderable, particularly for a Clan with a Winged One.:

Yfandes heaved a great sigh.
:You have a shaman, then?:

:Indeed,: the kyree
chuckled.
:Comparable to your Adept-class. And I doubt me that this enemy of yours has ever encountered the magic of the Folk. If he can even find you on this continent, I would be greatly surprised. So—tell me all that you know of him. Warned ahead is armed ahead.:

Yfandes touched Van's leg with her nose before answering. : They
called him Master Dark—
:

 

Sunset saw them entering the mouth of the cave-complex that the
kyree
called home, in the foothills of the very mountains Vanyel had been aiming for. To Stefen's considerable amazement, the caves were not dark; they were lit by glowing balls of light of many colors—each one, so Aroon told them, representing the last life-energy of a
kyree
shaman, created before he, she, or it passed out of the world.

:The blue are those that were mages,:
he told them, as he led them through a gathering crowd of curious
kyree
that had gotten word of their arrival. The kyree didn't press about them, or hinder them in any way, but Stef felt their eyes on him, alight with a lively curiosity.
:The green,:
Aroon continued,
:those that were Healers. The yellow, those that were god-touched, and the red, those that had mostly Mind-magic.:
The globes of softly glowing light showed Stef wonders he'd have been glad to stop and examine more closely, if he hadn't been so worried about Van. Stone icicles grew toward stone tree trunks; stone pillars flowed toward the ceiling on either hand. Stone curtains, as rippling and fluid as real fabric, cloaked off farther chambers—light from globes behind them showed that, and the light passing through them made Stef catch his breath in wonder at their beauty.

And it was warm down here, and getting warmer.

“What's making it so warm?” Stef asked, throwing his cloak back and taking off his scarf.

:The springs,:
Aroon told him. :We
have both hot and cold springs here. I shall ask you while you stay here that you light no fires—the smoke will be trapped, you see, and cause us difficulties. But do not fear the winter's cold, or that you must eat your food raw. There is one spring fully hot enough that you may cook meat in it. And as for the white sister, I think we can provide—:

:I'd worried about that,:
she admitted.

:
Tubers, grain that we shall Fetch from those humans greedy enough to deserve being robbed, and mushrooms that we grow ourselves.:
He laughed silently.
:We are not wholly carnivores.:

:I'm relieved to hear it,:
Yfandes began, when they passed beneath a smooth, nearly circular arch and into an enormous cavern centered with a stone formation so incredible Stef could hardly take it in. The
kyree
apparently appreciated it as well, for it was surrounded by glowing lights, placed to display it best. The thing looked like some kind of incredible temple, but one that had grown rather than been built....

At the foot of this enormous structure lay a snow-white kyree, one with eyes as blue as Yfandes‘, Stef saw when they approached her closely.

Yfandes bowed as deeply as she could without dislodging Van.

“Our thanks, gracious Lady,” Stef said for them both.

:My thanks for your honesty with Aroon. I think that first, to warm you from your journey and to cleanse you, the springs would be the best place for all of you.:
She looked up at the semi-conscious Herald appraisingly.
:You have one deeply hurt; the Healing will not be easy.:

Stef finally blurted out what he'd been thinking since they met Aroon. “Lady—I don't think I can! I'm just a Bard, I don't know anything about—about Healing something like
this!
I—”

:You are one who loves, and is beloved,: she replied
gravely.
:That is not the answer to everything, but it will give you a beginning. You are a Bard, and you are practiced with words. Use that. Words can Heal—words and love together can more often achieve what magic cannot.:

Aroon bowed and moved away then; Yfandes followed, and Stef had no choice but to go along. As they left that cavern for another, Stef noticed it was getting hotter—and there was a great deal of moisture in the air. Shortly after that, he knew why, as they emerged into a cave filled with multileveled hot springs.

Yfandes stopped beside one that steamed invitingly, lit from above by a globe as yellow as sunshine.
:Get him down, Stef. Strip him, and get him into the water. And get into there yourself. Then—do what seems best.:

“Why?” he asked, doing as he was told.

:I'm going with Aroon. Hyrryl is a Healer, and I need that Gift right now. Don't worry, I'll
be
back
—
and if Van starts having problems, I'll be there in a blink.:

He stripped Vanyel of his boots, shirt, and tunic—hesitated over the underbreeches, and decided to leave them on. Yfandes turned and headed wearily back toward the cavern entrance, and Stef saw how she limped—the cuts he hadn't noticed before in his anxiety for Van—how worn and exhausted she looked, and decided not to ask her to stay, even though he felt badly in need of her support.

“All right,
ashke,”
he said quietly, as he slipped Van down into the hot water, and the Herald started to revive from the stupor he'd been in. “Let's see if words and love really
are
enough.”

 

Life in the
kyree
caverns had a curious, dreamlike quality to it. Stef ate when he was hungry, slept when he was weary, and forced himself to put all thoughts of time and urgency out of his mind. Any weakness in Vanyel would be fatal once he left the caverns—Master Dark would surely be eager to have them in his hands, and sooner or later, they
had
to leave the protection and hospitality the kyree Clan was providing them. Yfandes helped, helped a great deal, in fact—but it became very obvious that since most of Van's mental and emotional trauma stemmed from the brutal serial rape he'd suffered, it was his lover that would have to be the prime mover in helping him become whole again.

Stef discovered a patience in himself that he had never once suspected. He took things so slowly that it was frequently Yfandes who fretted at the pace he was setting. Sometimes Van needed to be alone more than he needed either of them—when that happened, Stef took himself off to some other cavern, and made Yfandes come with him. There he usually found himself surrounded by kyree, all as hungry for music as any group of humans he'd ever encountered. He didn't have an instrument, but they considered his voice instrument enough. They'd accompany him with surprisingly complex rhythms tapped out on skin drums made for the use of paws and tails, and a low crooning drone they sang deep in their chests. Their sound was so unique, it filled him with a compulsion he would never have expected: it made him want to
compose
something for them, something to use their distinct sound.

He soaked with Vanyel in the hot springs, Yfandes lying in the heat nearby. It was days before Van could bear to have Stef touch him....

And far longer for anything more.

And sometimes Stef was so tied up inside with frustration, longing, and emotions so confused he couldn't sort them out himself that he'd go off to some dark corner and cry himself hoarse. Hyrryl would find him there, and when he was ready he would talk to her, for hours, as Van talked to him, never minding that his was the only voice, and she ran on four feet instead of two. She spoke to him in strong, affectionate terms, and gently encouraged him to continue his “song-carving” with the
kyree.
He was flattered, and admitted that it actually seemed to be helping him more than it was entertaining the Clan. Hyrryl closed her eyes and chuckled silently, assuring him wordlessly not to be too sure about that. Stefen found himself telling her everything about his life over the “days,” many things he had never told Vanyel, and some things he'd never before thought of as significant. He often wondered if Van ever confided in her as well, but if he did, Stef never learned of it.

Then, one “night,” Van sought his solitary bed. Not for loving—but for comfort, which was by far the harder for him to need again—the comfort of arms around him, and the trust to sleep in the same bed as someone else.

And from that moment, there was no turning back.

V
anyel had called a private meeting of the three of them as soon as he felt he was ready to face the world again. Aroon had directed them to a small side-chamber lit only by a single green globe.

“All right,” Vanyel said quietly, sitting cross-legged against a stone pillar, sipping at a tin cup (rescued from his saddlebags) full of cold water. “Here's what we're up against.”

He looked from Stefs troubled eyes to Yfandes' calm ones.
At least I had enough sense to clean out Rendan's mind before I killed him—even if I didn't do it in the approved manner.

“I got all this from ransacking the bandit lord's thoughts. This mage, this ‘Master Dark,' has been operating for a long, long time.” Vanyel sat back, and grasped his crossed ankles, nervously. “Rendan's
father
served him, in fact. This past year he actually began recruiting bandit groups seriously, but before that, he had at least four or five along the Border at any one time.”

“Why?” Stef asked, puzzled. “What's the point, if he's up past the mountains and we're down here?”

:Because he didn't plan to stay there,:
Yfandes replied.

Van nodded, and ran his hand through his hair. “Exactly. As I said, he's been operating a long time. Long enough that he began all this before Elspeth was born. The northlands are harsh, cold, and populated mostly by nomadic hunters and caribou herders. He wanted power over somewhere more civilized.”

: Valdemar.:
Yfandes cocked her head sideways.
:Why us?:

“Because—this is a guess, mind—the Pelagirs are protected by the
Tayledras,
and Iftel was too tough a nut to crack.” He smiled, crookedly. “Iftel is very quiet unless you rouse them, and that deity of theirs—
whatever
it is—takes a very proprietary and active interest in the well-being of its people. Not even a circle of Adept-class mages wants to tackle a god.”

“So, he decided he wanted Valdemar.” Stef sat in the far corner and mended Van's tunic with careful, tiny stitches. Some of the gear had been retrieved with Yfandes' saddlebags, but most was lost, and Vanyel hadn't wanted to go back for it. “What's he been doing about it?”

“He's been killing Heralds,” Van said bluntly. “But doing it so carefully that no one ever suspected. Rendan knew a fair amount, more than he ever told his men—Rendan's father was in a real position to know a great deal, since he had enough Mage-Gift to be useful to Master Dark.”

Vanyel knew a great deal more than that; since he hadn't been exactly concerned with ethics at the time, he'd raped Rendan's mind away from him in a heartbeat.
He couldn't subvert us, he couldn't take us on openly, so he destroyed us singly. The Herald-Mages were the easiest for him to identify at a distance—and the ones he considered most threatening. And I was right; he's been killing children and trainees, making it look like accidents, for a very long time now. Getting the children the moment their Mage-Gift manifested, if he could. Like Tylendel....

“He's been doing this for
years
without detection,” Vanyel continued, “And the only reason he tipped his hand with me is because I was a different and more powerful mage than he expected. And because I'm the last; he didn't have to worry about detection by the others, and he really
wanted
me out of the way. And—”

“And?” Stef prompted.

Vanyel closed his eyes a moment. “And because he's ready. He's bringing his forces down here to invade. Rendan didn't know when, but probably this spring.”