Mercedes Lackey - Owlflight

“And you’ve got this.” Lilly, the barmaid, came up dragging someone’s once-fine coverlet, made into a crude bag, across the ground. She let the comers fall, revealing a mixed pile of coins and jewelry. “I couldn’t tell whose was whose,” she continued. “So I just piled them all together, but I know that most of this didn’t come from Errold’s Grove.”

It certainly couldn’t have, since a great deal of the jewelry was of gold. No wonder the bundle had been too heavy to carry!

“Shcar had all this in his room,” she continued. “And I thought that when you get done picking out the bits that belong to you, Lord Breon could arrange to sell the rest and buy new stock for everybody who lost beasts and fowl.”

“What about the stuff you’re wearing?” asked a woman, shrilly, and only then did Darian look up to see that Lilly was bedecked with several heavy gold bracelets, chains, and odd-looking pendants.

Lilly flushed, but looked angry. “This is mine,” she replied fiercely. “I earned every bit of it!”

“Oh, earned it, did you?” the woman snarled. “At your ease, in comfort, while the rest of us sweated out in the fields? Earned it, did you?”

For once, Lilly stood up for herself, pulling herself up tall and staring the woman down. “Yes, earned it! Earned it by waiting on Shkar day and night, doing things I don’t even like to think about, keeping him and his bullies looking at me and thinking about me instead of you, making sure that every time their eyes started wandering toward your pretty little daughter, Stella Harthon, that they got pulled back toward me. How did you think it happened? By magic? I fought for all our sakes with the only weapon that I knew would work against them! And now I’m keeping what I earned from them, I’m taking it, and I’m going to go and buy a real inn someplace else where nobody is going to look down her long petty nose at me again!”

Darian flushed with anger as he saw sour and angry faces among the women still, in spite of the fact that the pile of loot in the coverlet was vastly more valuable than what Lilly wore. How greedy can they be? he wondered.

But Lutter coughed, and said to Lilly, red-faced, “You’re right, girl. You’ve earned it. And you’ve earned the right to take it and yourself someplace else if you want to. But if we’re going to get the dye-trade going again, we’re going to need a real inn - “

Lilly interrupted him, shaking her head, though her demeanor softened. “No. If I go elsewhere, I’ll be Lilly, the respectable innkeeper. I can never be that if I stay here. I’m leaving. Besides,” she chuckled weakly, “when I leave, it’ll give your wives a bad example to show their girl-children.”

“I would like to ask you some questions about your time among those men,” Lord Breon said with delicate tact. “You knew the name of one of the leaders, for instance.”

“Shkar,” she said, and shrugged. “I didn’t learn much of their tongue. They didn’t need me for language lessons, and what they wanted they could get by pointing.”

“Nevertheless, you may know more than you think you do,” Lord Breon persisted. “If you’d care to come back with me, after I’ve learned what I can from you, I’ll gladly provide an escort to wherever you choose.”-

“That suits me.” She turned abruptly arid went to stand among Lord Breon’s men, who, after a stern look from Lord Breon, did not leer or make suggestive comments but simply made a place for her.

“In the meantime, the woman is right,” the Lord continued, surveying the pile. “Between the loot there, and the horses, you will have more than enough to rebuild what was lost. I’ll trade ten cattle or twenty adult hogs for each warhorse this minute, sight unseen, for instance. Or you can take them to the horsemarket and try your luck there.” He raked his eyes over the crowd. “You’ll have to agree on equal shares, as you all suffered equally, so far as I can see. It will take a great deal of work, but in the end, Errold’s Grove will be as prosperous as it was before.”

There was some muttering, especially among those who had been the most well-off before the invasion, but finally everyone agreed.

“Now, as for Darian,” Lord Breon began.

Snowfire interrupted him this time. “With all respect, we have already taken him into our clan,” the Tayledras said, and Darian’s heart leaped. “We do not consider him a burden.”

But evidently some word of what Darian had done had gotten to the villagers, for there was an immediate protest. “But he’s our mage! We are going to need a mage!” exclaimed Lutter in dismay. “What if someone like these barbarians comes back?”

“You need a trained mage, which Dar’ian is not,” Snowfire replied sternly. “He must be trained, and you have no adequate teachers. Nor are you likely to get any, considering how long it took to get you the first one.”

“But he can heal - “

“As I believe some of you once pointed out, any of your young people could learn to do, apprenticing for six months with a Healer.” Snowfire’s mouth twitched at the dismay on certain faces; Darian had to hide his face lest his own expression give him away. “I suggest you do that. Perhaps, if at some time, a generous offer is made, you may tempt another mage to come and take residence here. Until that time, I fear you shall have to learn to watch your own borders and defend yourselves.”

But Darian felt a twinge of guilt as he looked at the real fear in the eyes of some of them. Terrible things had happened here, things that people would never speak of, but which would shadow their dreams for the rest of their lives. They would never feel truly secure again.

“What is it, lad?” Lord Breon asked, seeing the doubt in his own eyes. “What is it to be? Do you go with the Hawkbrothers, or do you remain here?”

He looked from Snowfire’s calm eyes, to Lord Breon’s worried ones, and back again. “I - I have to be trained, first,” he said, echoing Snowfire’s words. “And I’d rather it was with my friends than anyone else. But - “ He shook his head, and tried to put into words the idea he’d had. “But - this place is right on the border, right on the edge of Hawkbrother lands and Valdemar, right? Shouldn’t there be someone who was as much a Hawkbrother as a Valdemaran, right here all the time, to make sure that there are never any misunderstandings?”

Lord Breon looked astounded, and Snowfire impressed and pleased. He hurried on. “And Lutter is right. Errold’s Grove is going to need a real mage, sooner or later. The Peligirs haven’t gotten less strange, even after the Storms; if there was a mage here, he could look at stuff that was brought out and tell if it was good for anything besides dyeing. Other things, too. So - couldn’t I do both?” He turned pleading eyes to Snowfire. “Couldn’t I go with you, learn to be a mage and one of the Clan, then come back here and maybe make a little Vale where Tayledras would always be able to come?”

“It would be a hard life, and often lonely, being neither of this world nor that,” Snowfire said softly in the Hawkbrother tongue. “But you are correct, that there is a need for such a person. Especially here, where there is - scope for a great deal of misunderstanding.”

“Then that’s what I’d like,” he sighed. Then he laughed a little and shook his head. “Hellfires, I never could take the easy way with anything!”

“I am glad that you made that choice, little brother,” the scout replied, and switched to Valdemaran. “That is a good plan, and a generous one. You shall come with us and be trained, and when you are ready, you shall return here and be a living example of the Alliance. You shall make for us a haven for our kind, and a place where those of Valdemar will find help when it is needed.”