were concerned, Nyara was still their heroine. She hadn't known that their entrapment had been a set-up by her father, to ensure that the k'sheyna would look on her favorably. She had acted in the belief that she was saving them. They knew that, and honored her for it.
So the facts of her disappearance were of great interest to them; they promised Elspeth that they would watch for signs of the Changechild, and report anything they learned back to the Tayledras scouts.
All but the most die-hard of dancers had given up by now; Elspeth found herself a seat in the shadows. Tre'valen was the center of a cluster of the scouts, who were trying to persuade him to dance. Finally he shook his head, shrugged, and gestured to the musicians. 'Hawk Dance?' Iceshadow called back.
Tre'valen laughed. 'Indeed!' he said, taking a stand in the middle of the illuminated area. 'What else would I do for you) But only on condition that Darkwind follow with a Wind Dance.' Elspeth hadn't seen Darkwind before Tre'valen called out his name, but when he waved agreement from across the clearing, she saw that he had stripped off the fancier overtunic, and now looked more like the Darkwind she knew, in a deep-cut sleeveless jerkin and tight breeches, his only ornaments the feathers in his hair.
Tre'valen had changed after the ceremony into his Shin'a'in finery of scarlet, black, and gold; embroidered vest with fringe to his knees, fringed and belied armbands. Loose breeches with fringed kneeboots, all of it topped with a horsehair and feather headdress like some strange bird's crest-he was a striking sight.
The drummer began first; Tre'valen marked the time with one foot, the fringe shivering with each beat. When the instruments came in, Tre'valen leapt into action.
Elspeth soon saw why it was called the 'Hawk Dance.' Tre'valen was aloft more often than he was on the ground; whirling, flying, leaping.
He never paused, never rested; no sooner did his foot touch the ground than he was in the air again. His arms curved like wings cupping the air. Elspeth's heart kept time with the beat, her eyes unable to leave him. He didn't seem much like a human at the moment-more like a creature akin to the tervardi or the firebirds. But then, perhaps that was the essence of being a shaman.
The dance came to an end on a triple beat and one of the highest leaps of the dance that left Tre'valen standing still as stone, exactly in the same place where he had begun the dance. Elspeth had no idea how he had known the music was about to end; she had heard nothing to signal the end of the piece. It left her staring, dumb with astonishment and delight.
Tre'valen sat down on a root amid the shouts and applause of the others. Darkwind took the shaman's place in the center of the circle; composed himself, and nodded to the musicians.
This time the music began slowly, with a glissando on the odd hammered instrument, followed by another on the harp, a softer echo of the first. Then Darkwind began to dance.
The Tayledras and Shin'a'in music were related; that much was obvious from a root similarity of melody, but dancing and music had changed from the time the two races were one. Either the Shin'a'in had gotten wilder, or the Tayledras had become more lyrical, or both.
Darkwind didn't leap, he floated; he didn't whirl, he flowed. He moved as if he had no bones, flew like his own bird, glided and spun and hovered. There was nothing feminine in the dance, for all of that; it was completely, supremely masculine. Besides his supple grace, what Elspeth noticed most of all were his hands-they had to be the most graceful pair of hands she had ever seen.
Darkwind finished the dance like a bird alighting for the night; coming to rest with a final run from the harp. There was a faint sheen of sweat over his body and face, shining in the moonlight. As he held his final pose, he was so completely still that he could have been a silver statue of a forest spirit, looking up in wonder at the stars.
That was the image that Elspeth took with her, as she slipped out of the clearing and found one of the hertasi. She asked the little creature to show her the quarters Darkwind had promised were waiting for her here.
The little lizard grinned at her, and led her down so many twisting, dark paths that she was soon lost. Not that it mattered at the moment.
Darkwind had also pledged that he would send someone to lead her about until she knew her own way.
She recognized the area, once they got near it; they were very close to the entrance to the Vale, the farthest they could be from the Heartstone and still be inside the Vale shields. The hertasi showed her a staircase winding up the side of a tree. For a moment she was afraid that she would have to climb up several stories. and she wasn't sure she had the head for it.
But the hertasi scrambled up ahead of her, and her waiting quarters proved to be a mere single story above the floor of the Vale, a set of two rooms built just off the stairs, lighted and waiting for her.
She fell into the bed as soon as the hertasi left her-but for a surprisingly long time she lay looking at the moon, as sleep deserted her.
She felt a little less like a stranger, but no less lonely. Skif had Nyara-or at least, he had the dream of Nyara, wherever he was now. She still had no one.
Only her duty, her omnipresent duty. To learn everything she could about magic; learn it quickly, and bring it home to Valdemar.
That was cold comfort-and no company-on a silvered, moonfilled night...
*Chapter Three - Darkwind and Vree
Darkwind accepted the applause of his fellow scouts along with a damp cloth and a healthy gulp of cold water. It had been a long time since he had performed the Wind Dance in full, although dance was a part of his daily workout. He enjoyed it, and enjoyed the applause almost as much.
It was good to know his skill could still conjure approval from his brethren.
The Outlander, Elspeth, had been watching the dancers when Tre'valen began his display. He knew she had enjoyed the Hawk Dance; from the look on her face, she had probably never seen anything quite like it before. He thought she'd enjoyed his dancing as well-and he meant to talk to her afterward. He was disappointed, after he'd caught his breath, to find she had gone.
