Owlsight

He decided to walk at the edge of the small lake that lay just beneath the cliff housing Kel’s aerie and Snowfire and Nightwind’s home. Darian was so preoccupied with sorting out his thoughts that he practically walked into Snowfire and Nightwind.

“Dar’ian, wake up!” Nightwind called, startling him into looking up. She smiled at him, and he smiled back sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he said, coming over to join them; they were dangling their feet in the water like a couple of youngsters. “I was thinking. I was just - well - I was talking to Firesong, or he was talking to me, I mean, and I have a lot to think about.”

“Hmm. I should imagine!” Nightwind replied. “I know Silverfox, of course - a very fine kestra‘chern, by the way - but I’d never met Firesong. I must admit to you that when I heard who your teacher was going to be, I was not anticipating being as impressed as I was.”

“You, too?” Snowfire said with astonishment. “I knew his reputation, and I rather thought he’d be something of a pain. I figured he’d have a tantrum when he saw his ekele, and as for training Dar’ian, no matter what Starfall said, I thought he’d be very haughty about it.”

“He’s not like that at all,” Darian began.

“I agree, I agree!” Snowfire replied hastily. “I agree completely! I don’t know what’s happened to him since he made that particular reputation, but he certainly doesn’t deserve it anymore.”

“I know what’s happened,” Nightwind replied, with a cynical half-smile. “Silverfox is what happened. He could humanize a monster.”

A step behind Darian, and Nightwind’s sudden blush, made Darian look around. Silverfox had just stolen up upon them in time to hear that last remark, and his grin at Nightwind’s embarrassment was full of mischievous charm.

“So, do you have any monsters you need tamed?” His grin widened. “Less of that is my doing than you might think, my dear,” he said genially. “Behind all those exquisite masks is a very real and generous man whose humanity has never been in doubt. He simply had to reconcile himself to the fact that he didn’t have to wear the masks on his heart, only his face.”

“Come here, you wicked creature,” Nightwing replied, leaping to her feet and holding out her arms. “Give me a proper greeting!”

“So little Nightwind still wants a hug from Uncle Silverfox?” the kestra‘chern teased. He did go to her and give her the greeting hug she wanted, though, and then clasped hands with Snowfire.

“I am very pleased to meet you, may I add,” he went on. “We stopped long enough at k’Vala that I managed to hear of your joining with my old friend, and I was quite anxious to meet the fellow capable of swerving her from her childhood vow never to wed anyone at all!”

“Silverfox! I was only twelve!” she objected, laughing.

“You seemed quite serious at the time, my dear,” Silverfox replied, and turned back toward Darian, who was edging away, thinking that he was intruding. “Please, Dar’ian, come join us. I had come specifically to talk to you a little more.”

“You’re sure I won’t be in the way?” he asked.

Snowfire and Nightwind both beckoned, and Silverfox smiled. “Not at all. A great deal of what I wanted to discuss with you concerns these two, as well, since I am told they are your oldest friends here. And it is about Firesong. I should like you three to know more about him, as he will be a part of k’Valdemar for some time to come. Perhaps longer than even he anticipates.”

Snowfire raised a quizzical eyebrow. “You think he might stay?”

Silverfox only shrugged. “I cannot predict. I can only say that until a reason for him to leave should manifest, he will remain, and if none does - ”

“Interesting.” Nightwind found another soft spot on the bank to sit, and invited Silverfox to take her earlier perch. “So what is it that has turned your Firesong into a paragon?”

“Time, trials, and being forced to work with a fraction of the power that he was used to having,” Silverfox said casually. “No more Great Magics for him or for anyone; every bit of magic has to be carefully planned to gain the maximum benefit from the minimum of power. That has forced him to be patient, careful, restrained. He can no longer afford to act on impulse - almost a shame, since he had turned impulsiveness into an art form.”

“In short, he grew up,” Snowfire snorted, then blushed. “I’m sorry. That was entirely uncharitable.”