Mercedes Lackey - Owlsight

Once again, Darian was caught off-guard by the unexpected question, and answered without thinking. “Ah - no, not now. It seems as if it’s something I should do.” He shook his head, unable to come up with anything that sounded right. “I guess I haven’t thought about it, about having a choice, I mean. There didn’t seem to be one.”

“There is a choice,” Firesong said somberly. “And I want to give you one. An informed choice. There’s something more I want to show you, before you make that choice.”

Before Darian had any idea of what the Adept was up to, Firesong had reached up - and removed his mask.

Darian blinked, but did not turn away or lower his eyes. In many ways, the scar-seamed face behind the mask was not as horrific as it could have been. It certainly wasn’t pretty, or rather, the fact that it was the ruin of something that had once been handsome was actually painful to think about. The silver eyes looked out of a randomly patterned set of shiny, tight patches divided by thick, red scars, something that was nearly another mask. It wouldn’t give nightmares to children -

Not screaming nightmares, anyway. Maybe bad dreams, though.

“There is often a price to wielding great magic, Darian,” the scar-twisted lips said. “This was mine. Envoy Karal paid with his sight. Two more of our party paid with their lives. I was very, very lucky, when it came down to cases. I could easily have died as well, had I not been protected by one of those who did. I had - thanks to the gods, who sent Silverfox - learned that there were far more important things than having a pretty face, and losing it didn’t destroy me. I was beautiful.” The scarred lips smiled. “I still am. I don’t wear masks for my own sake, but the sake of others, so that they need not feel pain that I myself no longer experience. But, Darian, had I not learned things about what is important by then, this minor price could have been a very major one. Have you thought about that, the possibility that you, too, might be asked to pay a great price for power?”

While Darian sat in silence, Firesong put his mask back on again.

“What about not using it?” he asked finally. “There’s a price for inaction, too. The trouble is, usually other people get caught in paying it as much as you do. At least, if I keep this Gift and use whatever power I have, I’ll be making the choice to act instead of just standing by and wringing my hands.”

Behind the mask, the eyes closed for a moment. “That is a good answer - and, I might add, one I’ve not heard before. It should have been obvious you aren’t the kind of young man to choose inaction.”

The silver eyes opened again, and there was a smile in the voice. “Young Dar’ian Firkin k’Vala k’Valdemar, you have passed my test. I will be quite pleased to have you as my student and to teach you all I can, until you have achieved everything possible within the limits of your Gift, or you drop from exhaustion. Have I passed your test as well?”

Slowly, Darian nodded. “I think . . . you won’t be an easy teacher, but you’ll be a good one. I think. . . we can get along.”

Firesong chuckled. “You’d be surprised at how few people realize that is important for teacher and pupil! One more thing, before I let you go for the day. If ever there is something that you are afraid to tell me, do not hesitate to confide it in Silverfox. That - in part - is his profession, to be a trustworthy confidant,”

“I will, sir,” Darian replied, knowing a dismissal when he heard one. He stood up, and as he was about to leave the room, Firesong motioned to him to stay.

“Dar’ian, I have one request.” He sighed, and Darian wondered if he’d done something wrong already. “Do me the very great favor of never calling me’sir’ again. Don’t call me ‘Master’ either. Call me Firesong.” His eyes grew mournful. “Being called’sir’ makes me feel so old!”

“Yes, s - Firesong,” Darian replied quickly. “But I’ve come to respect those who are wiser than I am, and I only meant it as a compliment.”

“Hmm. Well, in that case, I’ll let it pass, once in a while.” Firesong replied.

Darian went out the door and down the covered stair, unable to tell if Firesong was serious or had been teasing him.

He decided to walk at the edge of the small lake that lay just beneath the cliff housing Kel’s aerie and Snowfire and Nightwind’s home. Darian was so preoccupied with sorting out his thoughts that he practically walked into Snowfire and Nightwind.

“Dar’ian, wake up!” Nightwind called, startling him into looking up. She smiled at him, and he smiled back sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he said, coming over to join them; they were dangling their feet in the water like a couple of youngsters. “I was thinking. I was just - well - I was talking to Firesong, or he was talking to me, I mean, and I have a lot to think about.”

“Hmm. I should imagine!” Nightwind replied. “I know Silverfox, of course - a very fine kestra‘chern, by the way - but I’d never met Firesong. I must admit to you that when I heard who your teacher was going to be, I was not anticipating being as impressed as I was.”

“You, too?” Snowfire said with astonishment. “I knew his reputation, and I rather thought he’d be something of a pain. I figured he’d have a tantrum when he saw his ekele, and as for training Dar’ian, no matter what Starfall said, I thought he’d be very haughty about it.”

“He’s not like that at all,” Darian began.

“I agree, I agree!” Snowfire replied hastily. “I agree completely! I don’t know what’s happened to him since he made that particular reputation, but he certainly doesn’t deserve it anymore.”

“I know what’s happened,” Nightwind replied, with a cynical half-smile. “Silverfox is what happened. He could humanize a monster.”

A step behind Darian, and Nightwind’s sudden blush, made Darian look around. Silverfox had just stolen up upon them in time to hear that last remark, and his grin at Nightwind’s embarrassment was full of mischievous charm.

“So, do you have any monsters you need tamed?” His grin widened. “Less of that is my doing than you might think, my dear,” he said genially. “Behind all those exquisite masks is a very real and generous man whose humanity has never been in doubt. He simply had to reconcile himself to the fact that he didn’t have to wear the masks on his heart, only his face.”

“Come here, you wicked creature,” Nightwing replied, leaping to her feet and holding out her arms. “Give me a proper greeting!”

“So little Nightwind still wants a hug from Uncle Silverfox?” the kestra‘chern teased. He did go to her and give her the greeting hug she wanted, though, and then clasped hands with Snowfire.

“I am very pleased to meet you, may I add,” he went on. “We stopped long enough at k’Vala that I managed to hear of your joining with my old friend, and I was quite anxious to meet the fellow capable of swerving her from her childhood vow never to wed anyone at all!”

“Silverfox! I was only twelve!” she objected, laughing.

“You seemed quite serious at the time, my dear,” Silverfox replied, and turned back toward Darian, who was edging away, thinking that he was intruding. “Please, Dar’ian, come join us. I had come specifically to talk to you a little more.”

“You’re sure I won’t be in the way?” he asked.

Snowfire and Nightwind both beckoned, and Silverfox smiled. “Not at all. A great deal of what I wanted to discuss with you concerns these two, as well, since I am told they are your oldest friends here. And it is about Firesong. I should like you three to know more about him, as he will be a part of k’Valdemar for some time to come. Perhaps longer than even he anticipates.”