Page 71 of Valdemar

They were all as silent as if they were statues, although there was very little doubt that several of them were Mindspeaking. Silvermoon looked over at him and broke off from the group.

“Can you think of any reason why the Companions would be interrogating my cousin?” he demanded—a great deal more brusquely than Kordas was used to, coming from the usually debonair Hawkbrother.

“Well, they can’t be asking her about Tayledras magic,” Kordas replied, furrowing his brow. “She’s a Healer, I’m sure she only knows as much about magic as she needs to live in a Vale—”

“It’s not about magic,” Silvermoon replied. “They’re asking her . . . personal questions. Does she have a mate, for instance. What are her duties in the Vale. Is she happy there.” He sounded rather agitated. “I don’t understand why they are asking her these things.”

But Kordas certainly had one idea. . . . It seemed preposterous, but it did match the questions. And it matched the code of ethics the Companions seemed to operate under. “Oh . . .” was all he managed to say.

Then all of the Companions stepped back. Except one. A mare as slim and supple as a dyheli. She stepped forward until she was almost nose to nose with Starbird.

:Are you sure?: he heard in his mind. :Are you absolutely sure? This cannot be undone except at great cost to both of us.:

“Yes,” Starbird replied aloud. “Yes. Very sure. Please.”

The Companion’s eyes seemed to glow from within. :Then I, Radiant, Choose you, Starbird k’Vesla.:

Starbird pressed her forehead to the Companion’s forehead as Silvermoon uttered an audible gasp.

“Well,” Kordas said into the silence. “That was unexpected.”

Silvermoon wore an expression Kordas had never seen on his face before. He was completely and utterly befuddled. Starbird, of course, was deep into that terrifying, exultant, indescribable communion with Radiant that Kordas knew so well, and he envied her for experiencing it for the very first time for herself. Once Chosen, the communion “settled” into something easy to live with on a day-to-day basis, but that first time . . . definitely the closest thing to a life-altering religious experience he had ever had.

Ardatha moved along the fenceline to Silvermoon. :I cannot say that I am sorry,: the Companion said so that both of them could hear. :Because I am not. Starbird knows what this entails, and wants it, but, as you care for her, I understand your agitation. Starbird and Radiant are more than compatible, they are perfect for one another. But somehow I feel I must console you, because when we came here, it was with the intention of only Choosing those of Valdemar.: Ardatha also sounded a bit befuddled. :There must be a reason for this, but I don’t know what it is. You heard us, Silvermoon. We made certain that she had no commitments to k’Vesla that could not be undone, and that she was willing to uproot her life to live it here. We made sure she understood how different Valdemar is from the Vale. She understands. She is sure. You heard her.:

Silvermoon broke out of his fugue state and rubbed the back of his neck as if it ached. “Well, she is her own person. She is a full adult, and you did make sure she knew her own mind . . .” He sighed. “You Companions are the Gift of the Star-Eyed, at least in part. I just do not quite know how to explain this to the Elders of k’Vesla.”

:Leave that to your Goddess,:Ardatha told him.

“That’s easy for you to say,” Silvermoon retorted, then flushed with embarrassment, realizing whom, or rather, what, he was talking to.

But Ardatha just made a whickering, chuckling sound. :Why yes. It is.:

“This isn’t going to be a diplomatic incident, is it?” Kordas asked Silvermoon, sounding plaintive and anxious even to his own ears. Starbird, of course, was still deep in communion with Radiant. I wonder if she’s been taken to the Moonpaths, he thought fleetingly. “She just became Valdemaran right in front of us. Being Chosen makes her a Herald, so she’ll be in the service of Valdemar. You must have a hundred questions about loyalty and secrets.”

“She’s an adult. She’s entitled to make her own decisions,” Silvermoon repeated, just as Starbird’s sooty buzzard soared overhead and spiraled down to the fence, where she landed, then sidled along the fence rail until she could press herself up against Starbird’s side. Then she went as still and quiet as the young woman and her Companion.

“Looks as if the bird approves,” Kordas offered. “I suppose she could fly on the Moonpaths, too.”

Silvermoon pinched the bridge of his nose. “The Moonpaths. Gods and Powers, if I may use a Valdemaran phrase, it feels like every time I come here something unprecedented happens. I . . . I must admit there are more good things about this than bad. In fact . . . there are no bad things. Just . . . it’s an inconvenience. Her family will want explanations, but thank the gods, that is not something I need to supply. And if the Companions actually did make all the drawbacks clear to her—”

:We did,:Ardatha told them both. :There was a great deal we said to her that was not for any ears but hers. Actually, I would suggest that she and Radiant make a farewell visit to k’Vesla Vale so she can make her own explanations.:

Silvermoon threw up his hands. “Then it’s clearly nothing I have any business poking my fingers into. Starbird will become a Herald, and will join you all here. It’s not as if we can’t spare a single Healer.” He sighed. “I just hope she’s happy. Your world is very different from ours.”

“Maybe that’s part of the attraction,” Kordas offered. “Not that I mean anything offensive by that. It actually seems quite equitable to me. Three of my people decided to join themselves to Tayledras mates and go with you to k’Vesla, and one of them was one of my mages.”

“Truth,” Silvermoon admitted. “And you interrogated them quite thoroughly to make sure they knew what they were getting into.”

“Just as the Companions did,” Kordas pointed out. “Nobody is going into anything blind.”

Silvermoon turned his gaze on to his cousin, who was still deep in her communion. “Naive maybe, but not blind. A mage for a Healer,” he said, finally. “Seems fair, if we were to look at them by avocation. But—your three became Tayledras because of love. I wonder what her reason is.”

• • •

Mostly, Restil and Rothas chatted outside, which was where they were now—sitting in one of the pea-bowers, enjoying the breeze and occasionally stripping a pod and popping peas into their mouths. Even though when they were in their spell-bound slumbers, you couldn’t wake Rothas or Lythe if you dumped cold water on them, shook them like rattles, and yelled in their ears, Rothas didn’t like talking in their kitchen because—so he said—it might give Lythe disturbing dreams. And since the conversations with Rothas often involved things that were quite personal, Restil didn’t care for chatting in his own kitchen, in case Beltran came by looking for something. Or Delia, but right now, Delia was far enough away that wasn’t an issue.

Today Rothas was catching the Prince up on the progress with removing the sleeping curses. Granted, Rothas didn’t know all that much about magic, but from what he was saying, Sai and Ponu might have hit upon a way to unravel the magic. The problem was, apparently, that since both these curses were—as Sai put it—“hedge magic created by amateurs, powered by ridiculously strong Cataclysm echoes, and complicated by unknown factors”—the unraveling was going to have some very specific and as yet uncalculated requirements that normally would not be necessary.