Mercedes Lackey: Winds Of Fate

"I, too, will be a kind of pupil," he reminded her. "I have not used my powers in a long time; I shall have to relearn them before I can teach you.

But it is easier for two than one. And my friends are few enough. Elspeth has become one.

She shrugged. "If you don't care, I don't. What I do care about is that you can teach me as quickly as I can learn. I don't have a lot of time to spend here." Dark thoughts shadowed her face; he guessed they were thoughts of home, and all that could be taking place there. He softened a little, understanding those worries only too well. "If you will give me your best, I will give you mine," he replied.

She met his eyes at last. "I never give less than my best," she said.

He glanced at the slumbering Skif out of the corner of his eye. "Not even to him?" he asked, a little cruelly, but unable to help himself. You must know yourself, strengths and weaknesses, before you dare magic.

"I gave Skif my best," she replied instantly, without a wince."

"It just wasn't what he thought he wanted. He's still my friend." He nodded, satisfied, and rose, holding out his hand to her. "In that case, lady, gather your things again." This time she did wince. "Why? Did you change your mind just now about throwing us out?" She sounded a little desperate.

"No." He stared at the forest for a moment, wondering again if he was doing the right thing.

But he was doing something, and his heart told him it was right. And that was infinitely better than doing nothing.

"No... no, Elspeth," he replied after a moment, tasting the flavor of the strange name, and finding he liked it. "I have not changed my mind. As soon as you are ready, I will have Skif brought to the Vale, and conduct you there myself." He turned toward her and found himself smiling at the look of complete surprise she wore. "You have succeeded in winning a place where no Outlander has been for generations."

He clasped her forearm in his hand, searching in her eyes for a moment ... then speaking to her softly.

"As Council Leader of Vale k'sheyna, I offer you the sanctuary and peace of the Vale; I offer you the honor and responsibility of the Clan.

If you will take it, I give you the name Elspeth k'sheyna k'valdemar...

Somewhere overhead, a forestgyre called his approval as he rode the winds, watching over the forest; for Vree's bondmate had begun his healing at last.

Author's Note"

Just as the Companions are not horses as we know them, so the Tayledras bondbirds are not hawks and falcons. They have been genetically altered to make them larger, more intelligent, telepathic, and far more social than any terrestrial bird of prey. The "real thing" bears the same resemblance to a bondbird as a German Shepherd does to a jackal The ancient art of falconry can be thrilling and enjoyable, but the falconer must be prepared to devote as much or more time to it as he would his job. The birds must be fed, trained, and exercised every day without fail, and frequently will not permit anyone but their handler to feed them. For the most part, the falconer must make all his own equipment.

And in order to obtain the licenses for his sport, he must pass a lengthy Federal examination, and the facilities for his bird must pass a Federal inspection. The licenses themselves must be obtained from both the Federal and State governments. All native birds are protected species, and possession without a permit is subject to a Federal fine as well as confiscation of the bird. The Apprentice falconer is only permitted to train and fly the red-tailed hawk or the kestrel (North American sparrowhawk), and must do so under the auspices of a Master. This is not a hobby to be taken on lightly, nor is it one that can be put in a closet on a rainy day, or if the falconer doesn't feel well that day. For the most part, birds of prey are not capable of "affection" for their handler, and the best one can expect is tolerance and acceptance. Falconers speak of "serving" their bird, and that is very much the case, for this is a partnership in which the bird has the upper hand, and can choose at any moment to dissolve the relationship and fly away. And frequently, she does just that.

Falconers are single-handedly responsible for keeping the population of North American peregrine falcons alive. They were the first to notice the declining numbers, the first to make the connection between DDT and too-fragile eggshells, and the first to begin captive breeding programs to save the breed from extinction. They are intensely involved in conservation at all levels, and are vitally interested in preserving the wilderness for all future generations.