Storm Rising (35 page)

Treyvan raised his head and spotted Firesong. “Heigho!” he said. “And herrre at lassst is that old frrriend of yourrrsss, Sssilverrrfox!”

Silverfox?
Firesong froze in mid-step, as the
kestra’chern
Silverfox turned to greet him with a cheerful face lighting up with pleasure.
Why didn’t An’desha tell me Silverfox was here?

For a moment he was angry all over again, but reason prevailed.
How could he have known I even knew Silverfox? That was long, long before we met each other, and I don’t recall ever mentioning the k’Leshya except in passing.

His temper cooled again quickly, and he was able to greet Silverfox with unalloyed cheer—which was just as well, because the quality of the embrace that the
kestra’chern
gave him was very promising indeed.

“What brings
you
here, of all people?” Firesong asked as they separated. “I should have thought you would have preferred to stay in the Vale and not plunge yourself headlong into
this
inhospitable clime!”

“As to that, it’s no worse than the weather outside the Vale,” Silverfox replied easily. “And as to what brought me—we traditionally send members from each of the Disciplines when we put together a delegation.” He nodded at Treyvan and Hydona. “The first to make an approach are always from the Silver Gryphons, of
course. The Silvers are—well, I suppose you’d call them our version of Heralds. Peacekeepers, law enforcers, and so forth, but they also include our scouts. Usually they aren’t actual gryphons, unless we’re sending them
quite
far away. That was why Treyvan and Hydona were first selected to find the Vales, and then volunteered to come to Valdemar.”

“But why a
kestra’chern?”
Firesong repeated.

Silverfox laughed. “Because the
kestra’chern
are one of the Disciplines, pretty bird!” He indicated his fellow k’Leshya with a long finger as he told off the “Disciplines.” “Artisans, Administrators, Scholars, Silvers, Husbandry, Mages, and
Kestra’chern.
Actually, there are two of us
kestra’chern; trondi’irn
come under the Discipline of
Kestra’chern.
And we never send the last Discipline—that’s Shaman—out with a delegation. There’s no need for that, and besides,” he added with a grin, “we brought Lo’isha shena Pretara’sedrin with us, so there’s rather a superfluity of priestly types.”

As if responding to his name, a Shin’a’in garbed from head to toe in a dark, midnight-blue turned and flashed a pearly smile in their direction, before returning to his conversation with Jarim.

A cold burst of air reminded Firesong just how ridiculous it was for them all to be standing around in the snow. “Look, I can’t imagine why we’re all freezing out here when we could be warm. I came to offer you the hospitality of my home. I
think
you’ll all fit in; there’s at least a few amenities of civilization—”

“Oh, Whitebird will want to stay with the gryphons, so that will be one less—and Artisans, Administrators, and Mages will want to set up a proper embassy suite in the Palace. I suspect you’re only likely to get me, Husbandry, and the Scholar,” Silverfox said cheerfully. “That’s only four. And we store easily. If you’ve got a hot pool for soaking, the rest will probably come use it. Summerhawk of Husbandry is a marvelous cook, so they’ll probably come to eat as well, but I suspect otherwise they’ll want to be where the business is.” He smiled apologetically. “I’m afraid they are all very earnest and intent on their duty. They’re planning on
spending every waking moment with your mages and artificers, developing the next set of protections from the mage-storms.”

Firesong was secretly relieved that the k’Leshya mages would probably not be taking him up on his offer. He doubted any of them would think highly of his excursions to investigate Falconsbane’s Sanctuary, much less that he was considering using it He’d been able to conceal his activities so far from the other mages at Haven, largely because he was better than most of them. I
don’t know that I can hide what I’m doing from mages with unfamiliar skills. Gods only know what k’Leshya has still in the way of magics we’ve lost. And as for what they might have developed, I can’t even begin to guess.

“We need to unpack—and I think you ought to stay for that much of it, my friend,” the
kestra’chern
continued. “We brought some things along I suspect you’ve been missing. Our
hertasi
made you up some new clothing for one—you came here rather lightly packed, and I doubt these folk, pleasant as they are, have any notion of fabric or design!”

Firesong shuddered, recalling some of the things he’d been presented with by well-meaning tailors of Haven.
No
sense of style, and as for the limited palette of colors, the less said, the better! They wanted to dress him as a molting peahen.

“Introduce me to everyone so I can make my offer and they can decline or accept it on their own, would you?” he said, rather than commenting on the deficiencies of Valdemaran costume. “That way we can take the luggage and all straight to the
ekele
and you can get settled in properly.”

“Luggage and
presents
, my dear friend,” Silverfox said slyly. “I oversaw that part of the packing myself.”

Firesong laughed. “Should I be greedy or polite? Being polite, I should pretend I don’t have any great urgency to see what you’ve brought, but being greedy, that is the only reason why I would willingly stand here in snow up to my elbows while you sort yourselves out!”

Already his heart felt lighter for Silverfox’s presence. And as he helped unload the barge and sort packages and bundles, something else occurred to him.

Here, presented on a platter as it were, was the perfect way to make An’desha anxious and jealous, if it could be done at all. He had one last chance to win the Shin’a’in back.

Silverfox reclined indolently in the hot pool several days later, after having given Firesong a profoundly satisfying demonstration of at least one of a
kestra’chern’s
sets of skills. “I fear we have annoyed one set of your artificers with our arrival,” he said lazily.

“Oh?” Firesong was feeling too pleased to be annoyed at the mention of the artificers. “How is that? From all I hear, your mages are getting along splendidly with them. It’s a bit awkward cramming Treyvan and Hydona into the room so that there are enough translators, but so far as I’ve heard that’s the only thing like a problem.”

“Oh, it is the ones who are messing about with boilers and steam,” Silverfox chuckled. “I must admit I fail to see the attraction; the only places I care to have steam are in the kitchen, in the steam-house, and rising above the waters of a soaking-pool.”

Firesong laughed. “Oh, I understand what the trouble is. That girl Natoli and her friends were helping the steam fanatics when you arrived, but now they are crawling all over your floating barge, day or night. And when they are not examining the barge, they are trying to take apart some of the other useful things you brought with you. In the meantime, they have deserted the steam proponents to learn what mechanical wonders you have devised.”

“That is why we brought artisans, dear friend,” Silverfox retorted, with a half-smile. “So that the rest of us do not have to attempt to explain what
we
do not understand. So far as I know or care, it is
all
magic!” He laughed. “I told one of them that it is all run by
magic smoke. When the smoke escapes, the object ceases to function!”

Firesong had to laugh at that, too—since most of the mechanical contrivances of the artificers normally emitted great quantities of smoke when
they
stopped working, exploded or burned to the ground, especially the ones powered by steam boilers.

“Your friend An’desha has been making himself in-valuable to them, so they tell me,” Silverfox added.

Firesong’s thoughts darkened at the mention of An’desha’s name, and he controlled his expression to avoid giving himself away. He had been paying Silverfox his exclusive attentions in the hope that if anything would bring An’desha back it would be jealousy, but to his dismay, An’desha actually seemed pleased and relieved to see him so often in the
kestra’chern’s
company. His last attempt to fix An’desha’s wandering attention had certainly not turned out the way he had thought it would. In fact, another kink in his plans had developed, for when An’desha was not translating for the k’Leshya, he was most often in the company of the Sworn-Shaman, which certainly put paid to any hopes of weaning him away from his growing mysticism!

Yesterday he’d decided to bury the remains of the relationship before they began to stink, although he was not at all happy about the end of it. That really only left him back in the same position he’d been in when the k’Leshya delegation arrived. Either he resign himself to a life predominately alone, or—

Or I find a way to extend that life and even my odds of finding my lifebonded.

Just as his thoughts took that grimmer turn, however, Silverfox stretched languidly, striking an unconsciously provocative pose that distracted him. Steam veiled Silverfox’s head and torso, giving him an air of mystery. “You’ve been rather quiet and subdued for the past several days,” the
kestra’chern
observed. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were brooding over something, but you keep saying it’s only the weather. Is the weather here really depressing you that much?”

“Oh it isn’t the weather, really—at least it isn’t the primary problem,” Firesong found himself admitting. “I do confess that I hate leaving all that snow where I have to look at it every moment, though. Back in our Vale you’d never know it was winter unless you went outside the protected area, and I generally managed to avoid that in bad weather.”

“Hmm.” Silverfox stretched again, arching his back and closing his eyes for a moment. “Still. There’s something rather pleasant about being in
here
, where it’s warm and comfortable, and being able to look out there and know that if you don’t want to subject yourself to miserable weather, you don’t have to. Don’t you think?”

Firesong shrugged uncomfortably. “I said it wasn’t the primary problem.”

“So what
is
depressing you?” Somehow Silverfox had managed in all his stretching to work around behind Firesong, and began massaging his tense shoulders with strong, skillful fingers. “Perhaps I can help.”

“What depresses anyone?” he countered with irritation. “I’m
shay’a’chern
, alone, surrounded by people who have paired off comfortably—Elspeth and Dark-wind, Treyvan and Hydona, Karal and Natoli, Selenay and Daren, Kerowyn and Eldan—and gods save us, Talia and Dirk, who are mature parents and
quite
old enough not to be mooning over each other like a pair of romantic teenagers! Everywhere I look, I’m surrounded by hopeless romantics!”

“And here you are, a bird with a perfectly charming nest and no one to share it with.” Silverfox managed to make that sound sympathetic without being syrupy. “I understand; that’s enough to depress anyone.”

“The lifebonded couples are the worst,” Firesong continued acidly. “There seem to be more of
those
here than is decent by anyone’s standards.”

“Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that all the Heralds congregate here,” Silverfox observed casually. “It would be rather like concentrating all the
shay’a’chern
in Valdemar and the Vales in an institution
that was something like the Collegium. It makes such meetings of matching souls much more likely.”

If only I
could
do that
…. But if he could extend his years, that would have the same effect. “Still. It’s indecent, and it’s irritating.”

“I can see where it would be, although I find it rather charming. And at the same time, I rather feel sorry for them.” In spite of Firesong’s resistance to being soothed, Silverfox’s ministrations were having an effect. But that last statement was positively bizarre.

“Why on earth would you feel sorry for them?” he asked in surprise. “I thought everyone was looking for a lifebonded mate! Isn’t that the point?”

“I’m not looking for a lifebond,” Silverfox said firmly. “I would much, much rather have someone who loved me out of pure attraction or simple affection than have someone who
couldn’t help
loving me. So far as
I
can see, the difference between being in love and being lifebonded is rather like the difference between doing something because you want to and doing it because someone came along and put a geas on you to compel you to do it. You might have wanted to do it anyway, but the notion of being compelled to it makes me very uncomfortable.” He uttered a dry chuckle. “No—not uncomfortable; it makes me very rebellious. Quite frankly, if I met my lifebonded, I would try to fight the compulsion just because it
was
a compulsion. And I would insist that something more than a compulsion held us together.”

“I can’t see that.” Firesong shook his head. “Lifebonded mates are so devoted to one another, so bound up with each other, it seems the perfect way of life to me. Being lifebonded means there are no misunderstandings, no jealousies, no incompatibilities; none of the things that cause so many problems in ordinary relationships—”

But Silverfox was chuckling in earnest now, as if he had said something very amusing. “Who told you there were no misunderstandings, no incompatibilities? Did you read it somewhere? Do you know any lifebonded couples intimately enough to say that with
Believe
me, I’ve had lifebonded couples as clients in the past, and they have their share of both those things. The only difference between them and ordinary couples is that if
they
don’t resolve problems quickly, they’re going to suffer far more agony of spirit than you or I would.”

“That sounds like an advantage to me,” Firesong retorted stubbornly.

“Huh.” Silverfox did not seem to have a response to that statement. “You seem very sure of that.”

“I am.” Firesong was not going to back down on this one. “And I can’t see where ‘agony of spirit’ is any worse than the fires of jealousy. I’d say a person would be better off if he was forced to reconcile differences; I think it’s better for two people to be impelled to fix things between them than for one to suffer heartache while the other goes off blithely about his business without a care in the world. That would make life a great deal more even-handed,” he finished grimly.