The Vildecaz Talents: The complete set of Vildecaz Stories including Nimuar's Loss, The Deceptive Oracle and Agnith's Promise (3 page)

Riding her sturdy, sensible, mountain pony up from Valdihovee, the thriving port city that was the largest in the Duzky, Ninianee was struck again with how well-situated the castle was for the old-style wars: the most advanced of the siege-weapons would have been hard-pressed to lob anything more than a pillow over the tall, inner wall, let alone damage the castle itself. She had a strong affection for the castle and all of Vildecaz; unlike Erianthee, whose talents called her away from Vildecaz, Ninianee knew that her talents meant that she would probably pass most of her life in the Duzky, her life structured around the castle and the three nights of the full moon.

The mountain pony halted, her head tossing once, shoulders tightening; she pulled at the bit as if to alert Ninianee.

“What is it?” Ninianee said, using her talent for communicating with furred animals. An image of the gates of the castle came into Ninianee’s mind, and an odor she could not recognize. “Has someone come? There’s no guest-banner over the Main Gate yet.” There was an impression of a team of horses and an elaborate carriage. “I’ll stay alert.” Four horses and two humans, like shadows. “Thank you,” she told the pony, patting the mare’s neck, and wishing, as she often did, that furred animals could think in words as well as pictures.

As she approached the Main Gate, Ninianee saw that the drawbridge was already down and the portcullis up. Had one of the guards seen her coming and done this, or had some unexpected visitor arrived, as the mountain pony had indicated? Ninianee muttered, “Bontaj,” at the timing, since this night would be the first night of the full moon – the Reaper’s Moon as the workmen called it – and that would exclude her from any entertaining that the guests might require. Already she was making plans for the coming night. She crossed the drawbridge and turned her mountain pony toward the stables, a bit startled that no one had come to meet her. Dismounting in front of the stable, she saw the grooms were busy with a team of handsome copper-duns. “Gremmi bontaj!” she exclaimed as she recognized the team. “What a time for Yulko Bihn to arrive.” She reached into her wallet and pulled out a browned wedge of apple, which she offered to her pony. “Thanks for the warning. I’m sorry I can’t stay to brush and feed you.”

One of the grooms heard her, and broke away from the other five. “My Duzna,” he said, hurrying to take the reins from her.

“There’re three packages on the saddle. See they are taken to the Duzna Erianthee’s apartments as soon as possible.” Ninianee knew she was being brusque with the lad, but she was too preoccupied to modify her tone. “Do you know where my father is?”

“In the Great Hall, Duzna,” said the head-groom, coming up to her. “You should change before presenting yourself: Yulko Bihn is a stickler for Court form. He wants us to put on our dogas to stable his horses.”

“I remember; thank you, Nejoch.” She strode away from the stables, bound for one of the five side-doors that gave admittance to the castle without passing through the Great Hall. Her mind was buzzing with plans for what she ought to do at sunset, and came up with a clumsy-but-serviceable scheme, which she was rehearsing as she climbed the narrow stairs to the gallery that gave onto the corridor to her apartments in the northeast wing.

“Oh! Thank goodness you’re back!” Erianthee was waiting in Ninianee’s sitting room; she was beautifully arrayed in a Mozh-cloth gaunel of pale-gold over a guin of burnt-sienna wisp-cotton. Her hair was bound with gold bands and she wore her Duzna coronet along with a pendant with the Vildecaz arms depicted in jewels on a gold shield. “You must know we have a guest – in fact, two of them.”

“Two?” Ninianee asked, surprised.

“Yulko Bihn hasn’t come alone. He has a companion with him, a young woman. He says she’s his student.” She made the last word an accusation.

“And she may be,” said Ninianee with a wicked chuckle. “If we don’t limit studies to magic.”

Erianthee’s dark eyes were knowing. “I don’t think it’s magic she’s learning, either. Or not the magic Yulko Bihn performs. You’ll know what I mean when you see her.” She laced her fingers together. “I put Heijot Merinex to work with a few refreshing spells so that the tapestries and the murals don’t look quite so shabby, but you know how Bihn is.”

“I certainly do – he is a thorough-going snob, one who likes to see others at a disadvantage,” said Ninianee decisively. “He enjoys seeing us appear paltry, backward, and unsophisticated. I wish I could wear my jewels, but considering it’s a full moon tonight . . . “

”Have you any idea what you can do about sunset?” Erianthee flung up her hands. “Oh, why did he have to choose to come today?”

Ninianee went into the dressing-room just off her sitting room and looked at the clothes hanging there. “What do you think I should wear?”

“The sea-green gaunel and the copper guin, and your coronet, of course.” Erianthee had come to the door and was looking in. “You’ve worn that for other formal receptions.”

“You’re probably right, although it should be a little grander. Yulko Bihn will think I’m a bumpkin. Not that he doesn’t already. He has decided that my talent for communicating with fur-bearing animals is proof of my – as I remember, he called it my rustic-ness the last time he came here.” Ninianee began to pull off her riding dolaj, then her tall boots, and last of all, her leather brikes. Standing in her skin-clothes, she took the copper guin off its peg. “If I had time, I would bathe, but a clean spell will have to do.”

“You’ll look fine,” said Erianthee.

“For a Duzna of a minor Duzky. I suppose this will do for even so grand a magician as Bihn. At least he won’t be able to fault you: you could appear before Riast himself in that outfit,” said Ninianee with a gesture of appreciation. “I don’t have anything quite so grand.”

“You could,” said Erianthee. “And you know it.”

“I suppose so.” She pulled the guin over her head, settling its soft tunic and scooped neck so that it hung perfectly, then she reached for her gaunel. “I’m going to put my arm in a sling, and say I hurt it while riding down to Valdihovee. It has happened to many another, so it’s reasonable enough to say that I sustained an injury in an accident, and have had the Valdihovee physician, Sharax Reiqui, take care of it, and on his instructions, I need to retire early. That will give me an excuse to retire early; no one will pay much attention. I must be here at sunset.”

“I’ll do a small Shadowshow for them tonight, nothing major, just a few Spirits of the Outer Air doing some amusing things, perhaps a folktale or a classic legend. But tomorrow night, Bihn expects more extensive entertainment, and one way or another, he shall have it. I’ll prepare tomorrow morning so that we can be ready for the event.” Erianthee sighed, and fiddled with the sleeves of her gaunel. “I wish he hadn’t come so soon. He always puts Papa in a state.”

“Because he intends to. It’s one of the reasons he never informs us of his visit, and never comes at the same time from year to year, only that it will be between the beginning of the Eighth Month and the end of the Ninth. So he can throw us all into disorder for his superior amusement.” Ninianee’s voice was muffled as she tugged her gaunel over her head, wriggling into its profusion of skirt, and then its well-fitted bodice. “Lace me up, will you, Eri?”

“Of course,” said Erianthee, and helped settle the garment on Ninianee’s trim figure before tightening the laces up the back. “What will you use for your sling? Not that horrid canvas thing you usually employ, Nin, please.”

“My square shawl, the bronze-colored one with the pattern of enicanthus flowers. It’s Mozh-cloth, and the colors will do with the rest.” Ninianee had taken her brush and was struggling to bring some order to her riot of russet ringlets. After several determined passes through her hair she set the brush down and turned to look in her dressing-mirror, making a frank appraisal of what she saw. “I suppose this will have to do.”

“You look wonderful,” said Erianthee, who was knotting the shawl into a triangular sling. “Here. Try this.”

Ninianee slipped the sling on, and fiddled it into the right position. “I hate not having the use of my arm, but better that than Change in front of the visitors.”

“Especially these visitors,” said Erianthee, reaching for Ninianee’s Duzna’s coronet. “It is unfortunate that you can no longer use the closed stall you spent the nights in when your Changes first began.”

“It is,” Ninianee agreed. “But too many people were becoming aware that something magical was going on there, and the gossip that resulted almost made my condition known from one end of Vildecaz to another. And that would have been much too dangerous for all of us.”

“I can’t argue with you,” said Erianthee as she handed Ninianee’s coronet to her. “You’ll need this.”

“So I will.” Ninianee stood still while Erianthee settled it onto her brow. “Thank you.”

“Are you ready to go down to the Great Hall?” Erianthee asked, squaring her shoulders and turning toward the outer door.

“If I must,” Ninianee said, and led the way out of her apartments.

* * *

Yulko Bihn accepted the tankard of hot, spiced wine from the footman extending a tray of eight tankards before taking the seat of honor in the Great Hall; there was more white in his hair and beard from the last time he visited, and his fingers were a bit knottier, yet he was decked out in an emerald-green doga embroidered in silver, worn over a dark dull-purple hupslan, elaborately decorated with patterns of stars and moons. He was fine enough for any grand Court reception, and although he had to admit that he had become a bit paunchy in the last few years, he knew he outshone his host and former rival, and that gave him great satisfaction. “How good of you to receive me – and my pupil Dinvee ae-Semilgai – so well, with no notice of my arrival.”

The tall, sinuous woman beside him stifled a laugh and took her tankard with a movement that promised many things. In her gaunel of dark-red Limurgan velvet, every motion, every gesture, was rendered sensuous and promising by the luminous fabric. Dinvee herself was a dangerously beautiful woman, with masses of lustrous brown hair spilling in soft waves down her back. She had flawless, pale- peach skin, dark-hazel eyes, and a wide, full lips that were almost as darkly colored as her clothes. “The wine smells delicious,” she said, imbuing this simple compliment with ramifications well beyond any demands of courtesy.

“From our own vineyards, of course,” said Nimuar, taking his own tankard from the tray. “And here are my daughters to greet you.” Relief shown in his eyes as Erianthee and Ninianee came into the Great Hall.

Erianthee offered a courtly respect to the Emperor’s Master of Rites and High Spells, performing this with grace. “You honor Vildecaz with your presence, Magsto Bihn.”

Bihn preened, and returned a small respect to Erianthee. “You are gracious as always, Duzna Erianthee.”

Although her respect was more perfunctory, Ninianee was careful to communicate no lack of esteem to Yulko Bihn. “You distinguish our castle, Magsto Bihn.”

Bihn looked directly at her sling. “I hope I do not find you injured?”

“Nothing to merit concern. I wrenched my shoulder while on my chores in Valdihovee.” She took a goblet of hot wine from the serving tray. “This will ease my discomfort.”

“I should think so,” said Nimuar, his brows drawn down in worry. “Do you need a spell to heal it? Or anything?”

”No, Papa. I will excuse myself early this evening and I should be improved in the morning.” Ninianee achieved a look of calm resignation which she sustained until she saw Dinvee; at the sight of the sensuous young woman, Ninianee became wary, which she masked immediately with polite curiosity. “I don’t believe I know your companion, Magsto.”

Bihn offered a possessive smile. “This is my student.”

“Dinvee ae-Semilgai,” she said, giving the most minor of respects, showing that she considered herself in company undeserving of her good opinion. “I am most thankful to my teacher for bringing me with him. I have so much to learn.” Her voice was low, musical, with a breathless quality that demanded attention.

“I should think so,” said Nimuar, a bit nervously.

Into the burgeoning silence came Hoftstan Ruch, the seneschal of Vildecaz Castle, and Duz Nimuar’s most trusted associate. “I beg your pardon for my tardiness, Magsto Bihn, Duz Nimuar. My wife is Justice in Valdihovee, and she returned later than usual from her duties. I was preparing to send one of my sons in my stead, at least until my wife was safely home, but that turned out not to be necessary. I apologize for any discommodation
?
I may have caused.” Hoftstan Ruch was a man of middle height, sturdily built, and sensibly dressed in a dark-green hupslan of drugh-ox wool and high, leg-fitting boots, appropriate garments for this occasion. His face was intelligent, showing he had spent his forty-two years prudently, and his light-brown eyes were kindly. “What an example your arrival provides us all, Magsto. I am sure all of us will benefit from your presence.” The hint of a barb in his last remarks were heard by no one but Erianthee.

Dinvee’s eyes flicked over Ruch as if to peel all cloth from his body; her mouth turned upwards and showed a gleam of teeth as the tip of her tongue flicked over her lips. “You are steward here?” she purred, and licked the rim of her tankard with slow deliberation.

“No,” said Nimuar firmly. “This is my seneschal and pursuivant herald, a man of good Vildecazin birth.”