other creatures of the twisted lands; a construction, of one of the blood-path mages at the time of the Mage Wars. But perversely, once abandoned, the basilisk continued to persist on its own.
It's just a good thing they only lay two or three fertile eggs in a lifetime, he thought wryly, or we'd be up to our necks in them.
A broken swath of vegetation caught his attention, and he looked closer, only to discover the spoor of a running deer and the tracks of its pursuer, an ordinary enough wolf pair. From the small hooves, it was probably a weanling, separated from its mother; it wouldn't have broken down the bushes if it had been an adult. this is ridiculous, he thought. I might as well be a forester in the cleansed lands.
There hasn't been att3~bw worth talking about out here for the past week.
That was the way the area around a Vale was supposed to look, just before a Clan move to a new spot. No magic-warped creatures like the giant serpent, no mage-made things like the basilisk; just normal animals, relatively normal plant life.
Maybe Father's been right about sitting and waiting for the Heartstone to settle...Up ahead, the forest thinned a little, the sunlight actually reaching the ground in thick shafts. These golden lances penetrated the emerald leaf canopy, bringing life to the forest floor, for the undergrowth was thicker here, and there was even thin grass among the wild plum bushes.
He looked up at the hot blue eye of the sky as he reached a patch of clearing; framed by tree-branches, Vree soared overhead, calmly. He hadn't seen anything either; in fact, he'd been so bored he'd taken a rock-dove and eaten it while waiting for Darkwind to catch up. It had been a long time since he'd been able to hunt and eat while out on scout.
Starblade's answer to the fracture of the Heartstone had been to wait and see what would happen. He'd insisted that the great well of power would drain itself, slowly-Heal itself, in fact-until it was safe to tap into it, drain the last of its energies, construct a Gate, and leave.
Darkwind had disagreed with his father on that, as he had seemingly on everything else. And up until the past week, it certainly hadn't looked as if the Heartstone was following his father's predictions. In fact, if anything, the opposite was true. There had been more uncanny creatures; more Misborn attracted, more actually trying to penetrate the borders.
And recently, there had been the other developments; the fact that the mages within the Vale had been unable to sense the changes in energy flows outside it, the fact that now most of the scouts' bondbirds refused to enter the Vale itself, the perturbations that Treyvan sensed.
But maybe that was all kind of the last gasp-maybe things have settled down. Maybe Father's right.
But when he considered that possibility, all his instincts revolted.
Yes, but what if I just feel that way because if Father is right, it means that I am wrong? at if I am wrong, what does it matter? Other than if I'm wrong, Father will never let me forget it...He stopped for a moment, hearing a thudding sound-then realized it was only a hare drumming alarm, hind foot beating against the ground to alert the rest of his warren-probably at the sight of Vree.
Is it just that I can't admit that sometimes he might be right?
On the other hand, there was a feeling deep inside, connected, he now realized, with the mage-senses he seldom used, that Starblade was wrong, dead wrong. A Heartstone that badly damaged could not Heal itself, it could only get worse. And this calm they were experiencing was just a pause before things degenerated to another level.
I guess I'll enjoy it while it lasts, and stay out of the Vale as much as possible.
He sent another inquiring thought at Vree, but the gyre had no more to report than the last time.
It was very tempting to cut everything short and go to see how Nyara was doing. So tempting, that he fought against the impulse stubbornly, determined to see his patrol properly done. It might make up for the other days he had neglected it.
Not really neglected it-there were the dyheli, and then Nyara.
His efforts at appeasing his conscience came to nothing. It still wasn't done. And if I hadn't been very lucky, things could easily have slipped in.
He no longer worried that these temptations were caused by anything other than his own selfish desire to spend more time with the Changechild.
Nyara was good company, in a peculiar way. She was interested in what he had to say and just as interesting to listen to.
At least I can appease my conscience with the fact that I'm learning something about our enemy.
