Storm Rising (36 page)

“Now
that
was certainly stated with conviction,” the
kestra’chern
observed. “I might almost suspect you’ve found yourself suffering the slung shot of jealousy a time or two.”

“Enough,” Firesong replied cautiously. “Enough to know it’s probably one of the most poisonous of emotions, and that it encourages obsession. How is being so obsessed with someone that you can’t get your mind on your work any better than being forced to be compatible?”

Silverfox moved his ministrations to below Firesong’s shoulder blades. “You have a point. Certainly for some people it would make getting one’s work done much easier. Obsession is a fairly ugly condition, and as you said, it is poisonous. It tends to warp one’s outlook.”

“And it is one that is hard to cure.” Firesong winced as Silverfox’s fingers encountered a particularly knotted muscle.

“So that is what is depressing you? Loneliness, jealousy, and obsession?” Silverfox sighed. “That is a combination sufficient to depress anyone, even at the
height of summer and with all going well. Given the current situation, I marvel you are getting anything accomplished. I am not certain I would.”

When did I admit that I was obsessed?
Firesong caught himself, keeping himself from saying anything further. Silverfox was the most persuasive person that Firesong had ever encountered, not excluding Herald Talia. This was not the first time that the
kestra’chern
had managed to maneuver him into admitting something he had not intended to.

And despite the fact that he was anything but a nuisance, Silverfox had been doing a remarkable job of somehow being present whenever Firesong contemplated a little trip over to the Palace and the Heart-stone for another visit to Falconsbane’s Sanctuary. If Silverfox had been anything other than what he was, Firesong would have been dying to get rid of him by now, and he would have considered the
kestra’chern
to be a prime nuisance.

As it was, every time the
kestra’chern
turned up so very inconveniently, he managed to change the encounter into something pleasant, enjoyable. His timing was amazing; too coincidental to be an accident, but how did he
know?
How could he know? And he never made anything so obvious as an outright interception; he was just there when Firesong’s thoughts turned grim, striking a casually provocative pose, or flirting cheerfully with him.

This was not the first time that he’d gotten Firesong to confess things to him, but this was the first time he’d coaxed the conversation into the dangerous grounds of emotional obsession, jealousy, and anger. This was
very
dangerous ground, in fact, since it might lead to other deductions.

Firesong restrained growing anger—not at Silverfox, but at the impossible, intolerable situation.

“It doesn’t matter; there’s nothing I can do about the situation, so I might as well just endure it with proper Tayledras stoicism,” he lied, trying to steer things off that precarious ground and hide his own feelings.

“Ah, but it does matter,” Silverfox countered. “You
are a mage, and as such, your control is dependent on your emotional state. As a Healer-with-knives should not practice when his hands are unsteady, a mage should not practice when his nerves are unsteady. You know that well enough to teach it!”

Firesong’s muscles knotted again under Silverfox’s hands, betraying his temper to the
kestra’chern.
“I do know that, and my nerves are steady enough,” he replied, “I know what I’m doing. And to tell the truth, at the moment my skills are not needed anyway.”

“Oh, my friend,” Silverfox sighed, releasing him. “Your body tells me a different story.” He slid around to his former position, and his expression was dead sober. “The chiefest language of the
kestra’chern
is that of emotion; his chiefest skill is in the matters of the heart rather than of the mind or spirit; we leave the former to the Scholar and the latter to the Priest.
That
is what we do, but there comes a point when we cannot do our work without cooperation.”

Instead of getting off that dangerous ground, they were now firmly atop it. Firesong feigned incomprehension and stifled alarm. “Why would you need my cooperation for anything more than you already have?”

But Silverfox frowned. “You already know the answer to that question. I do not know all, by any means, but I do know a few things. You are lonely and profoundly unhappy here, you live in a bower built for two but you are alone in it, you tense with anger when Karal and the artificers are mentioned, you tense with pain when An’desha’s name comes up. Your heart is in turmoil, your body reflects that, and your mind must of necessity reflect both your heart and body. Even an apprentice in my art could put those facts in their proper order.”

“What, is that all you have deduced?” Firesong retorted, more sharply than he had intended.

Silverfox looked directly into his eyes with unveiled candor. “There is more, but those are the things
I
can do something about, and only if you will talk about them.”

“Oh, you can, can you?” Firesong hoisted himself
up out of the pool abruptly, wrapping himself in an enveloping robe so that his body would not betray his thoughts any further.

Silverfox heeded his example, and followed
him
when he headed for the stairs to the
ekele.
“Yes, I can, and it is not a boast. That is my particular avocation, and I am as skilled in it as you are skilled in your avocation of mage. I have been studying and practicing my art for as long as you have.”

Firesong remained silent for the time it took to climb the stairs, but turned angrily to face the
kestra’chern
when they both reached the top. “I suppose you can do something about the way that An’desha has turned away from me, then? And you can silence that interfering sprout, Karal, so that An’desha gets no more stupid ideas, no more obsession with mysticism? Things between us were perfectly adequate until
he
came along! If there is anyone to blame here, it is Karal! An’desha depended on me, not on some idiot priest from a land that considers the Star-Eyed’s people to be barbaric eaters of raw meat!”

Too late, he realized that his mouth had run away with him again; he flushed, turned away, and flung himself sullenly onto the couch. He stared out the window rather than looking at Silverfox. It should be easier to keep a tight rein on his mouth if he wasn’t staring into the
kestra’chern
’s eyes.

If only it were possible to keep a tight rein on his emotions.

Outside the window an interlacing of stark, leafless branches against the snow reminded him of clutching talons.

A soft
shush
of fabric told him that Silverfox had taken a seat nearby, but not on the couch itself. “An’desha is not your lifebonded mate, and you knew that the moment he began to turn away from you. You also must know that nothing you could have said or done, nothing that was said to him, could ever make him into something he was not,” the
kestra’chern
pointed out with cool logic. “And as for the way he no longer depends on you, is that as a result of meddling
by Karal, or as a result of things you yourself did? You are a Healing Adept, Firesong—your own heart surely told you that such clutching dependence as you have described to me already was not healthy. You yourself must have set in motion the course that eventually led him away from your side; you could not betray your own avocation. Heal he must, even if it leads him away from you.”

Firesong flushed again, and before he could stop himself, he had turned to face Silverfox once more, his anger smoldering within him and threatening to burst out. “But Karal’s interference ruined everything! Where he led An’desha was
not
the direction I intended to take things!” he stormed. His voice rose, and his throat tightened as he clenched both his fists with barely restrained rage. “Damn him! He has
no
idea of my forbearance—a hundred times I could easily have
killed
him to get him out of our lives!” His rage rose into a killing thing. “I still could!” he shouted. “I wish I had!”

Across the room, Aya shrieked, and simultaneously, a vase shattered.

Silverfox did not even wince, but the crash of splintering glass dampened Firesong’s anger as effectively as a bucketful of cold water splashed into his face. He stared at the heap of glass shards on the table with his jaw clenched.

What am I doing? I haven’t let my temper rule my power since I was an apprentice mage! What’s wrong with me? Where did my control disappear to?

“Firesong, if it had not been Karal, it would have been someone else,” Silverfox said calmly into the heavy silence. “Given that he is half Shin’a’in, it would probably have been Querna. I cannot picture a Shin’a’in Goddess-Sworn leaving him in the unsettled state you have described to me yesterday. He was and is going to grow and mature, and short of damaging his mind, there is nothing you could have done to change that.”

I admitted I want to murder Karal, and he says nothing. Doesn’t he care?

“What would you have felt if it
had
been Querna rather than Karal?” Silverfox persisted. “Would that have made it any easier for you, as he grew away from you? Would you have been less angry than you are now?”

Of course he cares; he just realizes I still have
that
much control left that I wouldn’t murder Karal out of hand.

Would I?

“No,” he said slowly. “No. If he had turned to Querna, that would probably have made things worse. Karal is not precisely the figure of authority that Querna was; a Goddess-Sworn would certainly have turned him to mysticism much more quickly than Karal did.”

Only now did Silverfox rise and take a place on the couch beside Firesong, although the
kestra’ chern
made no move to touch him. “As you have said yourself, if it had been Querna who helped him answer his questions, we both know you would have lost him sooner,” the
kestra’chern
said quietly. “As it was, since in some ways both An’desha and Karal were groping for the truth through the same fog of uncertainty, you held him to you longer. You cannot keep a chick in the shell, my friend, no matter how hard you may try.”

Firesong had no answer for that, but Silverfox didn’t appear to expect one.
Fine, so I couldn’t hold him back—but why did he have to grow
away
from me?

“There are many ways in which his spirit was scarred that you and I will never and can never understand, thanks to the Gods,” Silverfox continued, his blue eyes thoughtful. “I have talked to him since I arrived here, since I became aware of your troubles.”

He has? I didn’t know that
—

Silverfox paused and smiled slightly. “I knew at once that I was not the one to help him in his personal quest, but I did learn some things. I think, perhaps, that he will never be able to have a strong emotional bond to any one person—not because he is not capable of one, but for other reasons. He has seen how emotions can be a weapon in the hands of someone as unscrupulous
as Falconsbane, and I think he will avoid emotional attachments for fear of using them himself in that way.” The
kestra’chern
closed his eyes for a moment. “For him, the best and surest path may be that of the spirit and intellect rather than the heart. I could wish for your sake that this was not the case, but that is my reading of him.”

Bitterness welled up in him, as much at the logic of Silverfox’s words as at the conclusion. It matched what he himself had observed, all too closely.
It is true, but I am not going to rejoice over this!

“But where does that leave me?” he asked, allowing his bitterness to well over into his words. “I spent all of my time here caring for An’desha when I might have been cultivating other possibilities. Now he has found other interests, and the possibilities I might have had when I first arrived are closed to me. Should I return to the Vales, I would find that all those of my inclination have paired off. So what am I to do? Where am I to look? He has had our time together
and
he has all that he now wants! Am I to have nothing for all my work and care but a few memories?”

Silverfox pursed his lips, then grimaced. “Well, I must admit that you have me there. You have given of yourself and your abilities here when you could easily have gone back to your own Vale or to k’Leshya. You have benefited a land and a people that are not even your own. Now, in fairness, I must point out that there are many who find your life and your position enviable, but that does not help how you feel now.” He sighed. “I do not have a solution for you, or even much comfort to offer. Being exclusively
shay’a’chern
as you are limits you, and we both know it.”

“And I am no pederast, to go looking for companions in the nursery because all those of my own years are paired,” Firesong said sourly.

Only now did Silverfox offer to touch him, and only to place one hand on his knee. “Firesong, my pretty bird, I like you very much. What comfort, physical and otherwise, that you feel you could accept from me I
gladly offer—and that is as a friend, not as
kestra’chern.
I know that it does not help—”

“But it also does not hurt.” He managed to smile thinly. “I will have to find a solution for myself.”

I think it is best if I leave it at that.

The sitting room of Karal’s suite was warmer and quieter than the common room of the Compass Rose, and you didn’t have to wade through snow to get to it. A cheerful fire burned on the hearth, and a kettle of hot tea and one of hot water hung on hooks where they would stay warm. Karal stood behind Natoli as she scribbled numbers and watched intently; he didn’t understand anything he saw, but that didn’t matter. Behind him, An’desha lounged on the couch, pretending to read a book. Karal knew that he wasn’t actually reading, because he hadn’t turned a page since he sat down.

“Damn and
blast!”
Natoli exclaimed, suddenly standing up and tossing the papers of scribbled calculations over her head in disgust. “Every time I make a calculation, it comes out differently!”