Mercedes Lackey - Owlsight

Snowfire raised a quizzical eyebrow. “You think he might stay?”

Silverfox only shrugged. “I cannot predict. I can only say that until a reason for him to leave should manifest, he will remain, and if none does - ”

“Interesting.” Nightwind found another soft spot on the bank to sit, and invited Silverfox to take her earlier perch. “So what is it that has turned your Firesong into a paragon?”

“Time, trials, and being forced to work with a fraction of the power that he was used to having,” Silverfox said casually. “No more Great Magics for him or for anyone; every bit of magic has to be carefully planned to gain the maximum benefit from the minimum of power. That has forced him to be patient, careful, restrained. He can no longer afford to act on impulse - almost a shame, since he had turned impulsiveness into an art form.”

“In short, he grew up,” Snowfire snorted, then blushed. “I’m sorry. That was entirely uncharitable.”

“Not entirely wrong, but very uncharitable,” Silverfox agreed. “I ask you to try to recall that his reputation was made in the days when he could afford to send up a Gate just because he preferred not to ride a single day’s journey. And no small part of that reputation was caused by his own insatiable urge to tweak the noses of others - so to speak.” Silverfox trailed his fingers in the water meditatively, then added, “He still has that sense of humor, but he has learned to express it in ways that are more - humorous.”

“I detect your delicate hand there,” Nightwind chuckled. Silverfox’s only response to that was an odd look.

“I told him that I thought we’d get along all right, sir,” Darian offered. “I still do, and I think I like him, too.”

“Good! That was what I was hoping to hear you say,” Silverfox applauded. “Have you any questions?”

“Ah - one.” Darian decided to just come out and ask it. “What exactly is a kestra‘chern, and why did Firesong choke when Starfall mentioned your clients?”

Nightwind suddenly developed a fit of coughing; Silverfox quelled her with a look.

“A kestra’chern is predominantly one who comforts, Dar’ian,” Silverfox said, taking care with his words. “That is the profession. The least that a kestra’chern does is to supply ease, a distraction, and an absolutely trustworthy confidant. The best of us are in part Healers - Healers of the mind and spirit, rather than of the body, although we have some skills there, and are often asked to help Healers when they are shorthanded. Sometimes that leads to some very intimate contact, for sometimes it is easiest to lead someone to open his heart when he has been intimate in body. That is not always, or even often, the case; it truly depends on the kestra’chern.”

Darian was perfectly capable of reading between the lines; but he also thought about Lilly, how she had used her crude skills to keep the barbarians occupied with her and away from the village girls - and he made a mental note to tell Silverfox about her at some point.

“As for why Firesong choked - ” Now Silverfox grinned. “Starfall initially had a - how shall I put this? - a somewhat narrow and distorted view of my profession, and said some misguided things about my relationship with Firesong.”

“Starfall nearly had a litter of kittens,” Nightwind said rudely. “And what he said doesn’t bear repeating. Needless to say, several of your k’Leshya compatriots had some choice words with him when we found out.”

“Oh - oh!” Now Darian understood Firesong’s reaction - hearing his father go from disapproval to calmly mentioning a room for Silverfox’s clients -

I think I’d have choked, too.

Snowfire snickered. There was no other word for the sound he made. “Don’t misunderstand me,” he said, “I admire Starfall immensely, but he has been known to get pig-headed about some things.”

“So you will recognize the same trait in the son,” Silverfox said smoothly. “I am glad, however, that there are no misunderstandings now; we have a full plate, which will be fuller yet if those threatened barbarians should appear.”

They all nodded, but it was Darian who broke the silence that followed that statement. “I’ve put it off long enough, I guess,” he said, mostly to Snowfire and Nightwind. “I’d better take care of one last thing before I discover I haven’t got the time for it.”

“What’s that?” Snowfire asked.

Darian made a face of distaste. “Tomorrow I’d better put in an official appearance in Errold’s Grove.”

Keisha kept herself busy, trying not to miss Shandi too much. Midsummer Faire came and went (Keisha stayed away, except for a single trip around the traders’ booths), with no further signs from the mysterious Hawkbrothers and the absent Dorian Firkin except for the frequent overhead flights of gryphons, sometimes bearing burdens, sometimes not. Lord Breon’s son came to the Faire representing his father, “selected” the wedding-shawl that had been especially made for him (with no indication that he realized his selection had been carefully steered). Valan of Kelmskeep assured everyone that, yes, the Hawkbrothers were in the process of setting up their settlement, and yes, Darian Firkin was with them. As to when he would reintroduce himself to Errold’s Grove, that, Val didn’t know. He had seen them, met with them on several occasions, even been to their settlement, so he could at least testify to that much.

Keisha didn’t much blame Darian for not showing up immediately and putting himself at the disposal of the village. If she were in his position, she’d give them a great deal of time to settle themselves down before she came to visit. The village of Errold’s Grove was entirely too keyed up about the return of their peregrinating son for her liking.

Fortunately, the excitement of Midsummer Faire, with Val in attendance, twice the usual number of Hawkbrother-traders, and several entirely new traders up out of the south, gave the villagers plenty to spend their excitement (and money) on.

Keisha wouldn’t have stayed so much away from the Faire, but after the first few candlemarks, she discovered that she couldn’t tolerate the press of people. She retreated to her workshop, discovered during the excitement of the games and contests that even that wasn’t far enough, and removed herself to the woods until the contests were over. Increasingly, Keisha suffered from headache, upset stomach, general nervousness when she was around two or more people - and she had no idea how to make it stop. Her best shelters were her workshop and the forest, and of the two, she preferred the forest, for in her workshop she was easy to find, and during the Faire people seemed to think it was their duty to coax her to attend.

She kept away from her family, too, as much as possible. In fact, even the outwardly peaceable Fellowship folk were something of a trial to be around, for beneath their placid exteriors lurked a stew of complicated emotions. Evidently there were some members of the group for whom a placid life and an absence of outward conflict was more of a trial than arguments would have been! Fortunately, she could get her meals without having to stay at the table.

She salved her conscience by providing her family with food instead of her physical help - greens and herbs from her garden, other foodstuffs from the bounty given her by her patients. They seemed to fear that now that she was on her own, she was in serious danger of starving to death. Every day saw a rough, temporary container plaited of green reeds or made of giant leaves stitched together left on her doorstep, containing something to eat - a loaf of fresh bread, a round pat of fresh-churned butter, fresh-picked vegetables, a meat or berry pie, a half-dozen eggs - if it was edible, it generally ended up in a basket on her doorstep. Sooner or later the bounty would probably dry up, but while it continued, sharing it with her family soothed the pangs of conscience for “deserting” them.