Mercedes Lackey - Owlsight

It was just that at the moment, it was harder than ever for her to be around them. Two of her brothers were trying to court the same girl, which led to a great deal of masculine head-butting, snorting, and prancing around the dinner table. The youngest two were in the stage of adolescent revolt, which meant a great deal of conflict with her father. Her Mum was worried because they’d gotten only two letters from Shandi, and both were very brief. Keisha wasn’t at all surprised, considering the daily round of chores and classes Shandi described! Shandi wasn’t spoiled, but she’d never had to work this hard in her life! There seemed to be a great deal of book-learning, too, which was not Shandi’s strongest suit.

Be fair, Keisha. She’s not a dunce either. She would just rather do handiwork than bookwork.

At least they’d done the wisest thing at that Collegium, so far as Shandi’s chore-assignments went, and put her to work on sewing and mending for her share of the daily work. By now they had probably discovered that with Shandi’s nimble fingers on the job, they didn’t need to assign anyone else the sewing tasks!

Mum worried, though, and that made Keisha’s stomach ache, which made it impossible for her to eat, which made Mum worry more, and - well, Keisha began to look for reasons to be away from the dinner table.

It certainly is convenient how many little accidents occur around dinnertime.

In fact, it was getting so she could find those little accidents before anyone came to fetch her - granted, though, she was looking for them. But when it came to baby’s colic or mother’s burned hand, brother’s tumble from a tree, father’s work-related blisters or sister’s bad sunburn, Keisha had never been so attentive to the needs of the village. Small wonder she was getting little gifts left on the doorstep.

In the afterglow of mingled pleasure and exhaustion that followed the Faire, the only topics of discussion among the villagers were Val’s betrothed, the pledging of two of the village couples, and the resounding success of trading. For the moment, they had forgotten to fret about Darian and the Hawkbrothers, the weather, the harvest, or the level of the river. All of these were safe enough topics not to cause argument, and laden with contentment rather than worry; Keisha woke on the third morning after Midsummer, looking forward to a few more days without headaches.

She was out in her garden when the unusual sound of hoofbeats on the path behind her made her look up - to find herself staring up at a strange, deerlike animal with long, curved horns and a Hawkbrother on its back. She gaped at him stupidly, her mind gone blank.

“Heyla!” the rider said, cheerfully, in very good Valdemaran. “I am looking for someone of authority in Errold’s Grove to deliver a message to. Some children sent me here.”

That, at least, brought her out of her daze. She stood up, wiping her hands on her garden-smock. “The Mayor is probably checking the irrigation mill,” she said, thinking out loud. “I know the priest is visiting a sick farmer. Will I do? I’m sort of the Healer.”

“Assuredly,” the Hawkbrother replied. “It’s simple enough. We of k’Valdemar Vale are finally settled in, and I was told to say that the Elders of the Vale and Mage Darian will come tomorrow to present themselves as new neighbors to you. They told me to tell you that there is no need to make a great event of this, or special preparations. We waited until after the Faire so as not to disrupt your celebration.”

She stared at him for a moment, before stammering a reply. “Ah - that will be fine, wonderful!” she managed.

“I’ll go find the Mayor and let him know right now! Who shall I say gave the message?”

The rider had already given some subtle signal to his mount; it was ten paces back up the path before she got out the last word of her reply. The rider called back over his shoulder.

“I am Wintersky k’Vala - and thank you for taking the message for me!” His beast leaped into a gallop, and he vanished into the forest.

She didn’t wait any longer herself; the Mayor needed to hear this right away. She tore off her smock and left it in the middle of the garden, pelting down the path toward the river as fast as her feet could carry her.

She intercepted the Mayor and the blacksmith on the path leading to the river. They were their way back from their weekly inspection of the mill that kept the vegetable fields nearest the village irrigated - the ones on the other side of the river, being at a lower level, could be watered naturally. She waved her arm wildly at him as soon as she saw him and increased her speed; he stopped immediately, a look of worry jumping into his eyes.

She might have been running, but not long enough to be the least winded. She didn’t wait for him to ask what was wrong. “A message came from the Hawkbrothers, sir!” she called, as she came to a halt on the path in front of him. “The new ones, the ones with Darian Firkin! They’re coming here tomorrow to meet you!”

The worry changed immediately to pleasure. “Finally!” he exclaimed. Then the worry returned. “But tomorrow? How can we make proper preparations with such short notice?”

“The Hawkbrother - he said he was Wintersky k’Vala - said he was told to tell you that this isn’t a formal meeting, that you aren’t to make a big fuss over it - ” But she saw she might just as well have been talking to a wall and stopped trying. The Mayor was off in a tangle of plans and preparations, and probably wouldn’t believe that the Hawkbrother had said any such thing. In fact, he broke into a trot, heading straight for the village square, probably with the intention of gathering every person of importance in Errold’s Grove to see what they could put together for a “proper” greeting committee.

The blacksmith was right behind him, too, but heading for his home. The news was about to spread through the village by the fastest means possible. He was going to tell his wife, who would promptly start the news going in all directions. Wives were better than Heralds and Companions at getting any news of any kind spread.

Which meant that Keisha could go back to her garden with a good conscience.

I only hope it‘ll continue to stay my garden, she reflected, worried. Darian can’t possibly want the cottage back. No, surely not. He’s living with the Hawkbrothers.

Everyone in the village was awake before dawn. From the great oven of the village baker (who was also the miller) came the scent, not only of bread, but of roasting meat. From dozens of hearths rose equally appetizing smells. From the other huge oven at the threshing barn came the aroma of cake and pie. Errold’s Grove was going to give a feast for Darian and his Hawkbrothers whether they wanted one or not.

As soon as the first dawn light pierced the morning sky, groups of children streamed past Keisha’s cottage, heading for the forest, their voices shrill with excitement. They came back within a candlemark, laden with boughs of greenery and bunches of long, trailing vines. Keisha followed them and joined the older children in decorating the square with the greenery, while all the tables and benches that had just been taken back into houses after the Faire were brought back out again and set up in the square itself.

By midmorning, most of the preparations were complete; food that didn’t need to be warm had been brought to the Temple for later serving, the bowers and decorations were up, banners and flags flew from windows looking out on the square, and a small boy, giddy with pride at his important assignment, was up in the Temple tower, watching for the first sign of the Hawkbrothers.