Mercedes Lackey - Winds Of Change

Nyah, nyah. She grinned to herself at her own childish thought. Really, it was a very good thing that the messages were going through Rolan to Talia and only then to Selenay. Rolan had more of a sense of humor than Gwena-and a little more tolerance. And Talia knew her former charge very well indeed. Further, Talia had told Elspeth privately that she thought the Queen was reacting like most mothers to the evidences of her daughter growing up and developing a mind of her own.

Badly.

Oh, not as badly as she could have, but all things considered, it was much better for Elspeth to be off beyond Mama's reach for a while. By the time she returned, it might be possible for Queen Selenay to admit that her daughter wasn't a foolish, headstrong, stupid child anymore.

I've managed to acquire a little sense, anyway..."Gather yourself, my dear," Gwena Mindspoke, interrupting her thoughts. "They're coming for you. Finally."

Elspeth glanced out of the corner of her eye at Skif and Tre'valen.

Skif looked as if he were concentrating on every word that the Hawkbrother called Iceshadow spoke. Actually, he probably was; his command of the Tayledras tongue wasn't anywhere near as good as hers.

Odd; she'd slipped right into the language as if she had known it most of her life.

Oh, that's probably because it's like Shin'a'in, and Kero taught me some of that.

Tre'valen wore that inscrutable face that Kero always put on when she was determined not to let anyone know what she was thinking.

"Gambling-face," she called it.

The more she thought about it, the better she liked the idea of approaching Tre'valen later to see if they could do anything for each other.

She felt a lot more comfortable around him-around any of the Shin'a'in, really-than she did around the Tayledras. That was probably because she could read him, a little. He and Kethra reminded her of Kero; well, that shouldn't surprise her. Kero had trained her, and Kero had, in turn, been trained by a Shin'a'in Swordsworn, so there was a lot of Shin'a'in attitude and thinking patterns in the way Kero looked at things. A good bit of that had rubbed off on her pupil, without a doubt. The Tayledras, however, were very exotic, and Darkwind had been so hard to read that Elspeth had given up even trying.

I wonder if they seem that way to Tre'valen.

They hadn't had much of a chance to see the Vale; as Gwena had predicted, it was sunset when the Hawkbrothers came for them, and most of the Vale was shrouded in shadows as they passed through it.

Elspeth had gotten some impressions that had taken her breath away, however-of luxuriant growth that made any forest she'd ever seen look sparse by comparison, and trees so enormous her mind refused to accept their size. The Companions had trailed along behind as they followed a well-worn path past curtaining vines covered with cascading flowers the size of her hand, and bushes with leaves bigger than a saddle. Elspeth couldn't wait to see the place in the daytime.

Darkwind himself had come to fetch them, as their sponsor into the Clan; Kethra was Tre'valen's. With him had come at least a dozen more Tayledras-and Elspeth had done her best not to stare, but it had been very difficult. She had thought that Darkwind was a typical Hawkbrother, and she had been just a little disappointed, given the hints in the Chronicles of how strange the Hawkbrothers were, at his shoulderlength, mottled-brown hair and his drab clothing. The Chronicles had talked about Moondance and Starwind being as "brightly plumaged as firebirds" and she'd cherished images of brilliant colors and weird clothing, maybe things that didn't look like clothing at all.

She wasn't disappointed any longer. The dozen Tayledras with Darkwind had been garbed as wildly and beautifully as she could have wished.

Every one of them had hair that was waist-length or longer, white as ice, and twined with feathers, crystals, bells, slender chains, or strands of silk matching their-costumes. That was the only word she could arrive at.

"Clothing" certainly wasn't adequate-not for robes with layered sleeves that trailed on the ground, hugged the arm like silken skin, were scalloped, bejeweled, embroidered, and tapestried. "Garb" didn't describe tunics and gowns that mimicked feathers, leaves, flower petals, frozen waterfalls. Every one of the dozen was unique; every one was incredible and complex. And yet, the costumes weren't any less functional than, say, Valdemaran Court gear; although she wouldn't have known how to move in those outfits without tripping over something.

She felt for the first time as if she had truly left the world she knew and had stepped into the pages of a tale.

Even Darkwind-drab, disappointing Darkwind-had been transformed.

Although his hair was still shoulder-length, he had somehow managed to get patterns dyed into it. She assumed it was dye; it might not have been. How would she know? It might have been magic. Birds flickered whitely against a dark gold background every time he moved his head, as if his hair was a forest in autumn with doves flying through it. And his costume was as fanciful as the rest-although a little more practical. He had eschewed trailing sleeves and hemlines for embroidery and something that stayed fairly close to his body. But he was )just as eye-dazzling in his way as the others were in theirs.

He smiled shyly when he saw the surprise and approval, in her expression, but said nothing, simply gesturing for her and Skif to follow him into the depths of the Vale. Kethra led Tre'valen in a similar fashion; the rest of the Tayledras came behind, with mage-lights bobbing above their heads, and the COMPANIONS bringing up the rear. Above t walls of the valley and the tops of the towering trees, the sky still glowed blue, with the west a warm gold-in the shelter of the massive branches dense blue shadows obscured all but the trail they walked.

They had emerged in a clearing, ringed and paved with stone. In the very center of the circular area stood a cracked and half-broken stone with a brazier at its foot, all of it lit by more mage-lights. This Strange monolith, she assumed, was the Heartstone-damaged, its wild energies barely restrained by multiple layers of shielding. Darkwind had warned her to keep tight personal shields about her when she was near it; she saw no reason to argue with him. Even through her protections she felt something vaguely wrong with the stone, a kind of sickness about it. It wasn't something she could put a finger on, or point to, but the uneasy feeling was definitely there.

Iceshadow-wearing an elaborate costume that made him look as if he was half a man and half a delicate, frozen fountain-took his place before the stone. In the transparent, unwavering illumination of the mage-lights, he could have been a dream, an illusion-an ice sculpture brought to life. Then he moved, gracefully, holding up his hands-and with no more preparation than that, Elspeth found herself surrounded by a blue glow that was quite familiar.

Truth Spell? Bright Havens, did we get it from them, or did they get it from Vanyel?

The other question that occurred to her, with a touch of envy, was how Iceshadow had managed to call the spell up with no preparation and in no more than a heartbeat. It took her a good bit of time to call up a Truth Spell, and she was one of the best in her class at that particular exercise. Iceshadow hadn't even needed to think about it, so far as she had been able to tell. He just gestured, and there it was. That was

as impressive as all the lightnings and thunders she'd seen-and cast fighting Falconsbane and his creatures. Iceshadow had not only cast the spell as easily as breathing, he had made it look effortless.

Iceshadow lowered his arms, and a white horn-tufted owl drifted down Out of the trees to land on his shoulder. He watched the three of them serenely for a moment, and then folded his hands in his sleeves. "Do You bring any ill-intent into this Vale?" he asked, conversationally.