So-the Heralds are a kind of Clan?' Wintermoon asked curiously.
'A Clan that is not related by blood, but by-purpose.'
'I guess we are.' It was an intriguing thought, one that had its own logic. Interesting. 'I want my own family, though. Eventually. Well, I told you all about that.'
'Where?' Wintermoon wanted to know. 'Have you a place that has won your heart?' His first thought was that farmhouse, so long ago. That was something he had to think about. 'Back at Haven, I suppose, though it could be anywhere. Come to that, there's a lot of peace here '. More than there is at home.' Now that he thought about it, if there was any one place he'd seen in all of his travels that he felt called to him, it was here. 'The Vale seems serene, tranquil. I don't really understand why you don't spend more time there.'
'Appearances can be deceiving,' Wintermoon replied dryly. 'If you were at all sensitive to the currents of magic, you would find it less than peaceful, even if the Stone were intact. And every Vale is under a constant state of siege. When it isn't, it is time to move on to a new one.
But you-how could you bear to leave the city? I should think you would miss the people and all the doings. There must be much to keep you busy there.'
'Not that much.' He considered the question. 'It's just as easy to be lonely in a city as out in the wilderness. Easier, really. It's harder to get to know someone when you meet in a crowded place. People can freely ignore you in the city; they can assume they don't have any responsibility for you. When there are fewer people, I think they begin assuming some kind of responsibility, simply because you naturally do the same.'
'Perhaps. But let me show you how a Vale appears to me, before you assume that it is a kind of wonderland. ' ' There was silence for a moment.
'Take the Vale itself; there is the constant undercurrent of magic, even in a Vale with an intact Heartstone, because magic is how the place is maintained. It is as if there were always bees droning somewhere nearby, Or something humming in a note so low it is felt more than heard. Then there are ever there underfoot.' Wintermoon sighed. 'They mean well, but they are so social they are nearly hive-minded. They cannot understand that one might wish to be without company.'
'I'd noticed that,' Skif chuckled. ,if I'm not asleep, there always seemed to be a hertasi around wanting to know if I needed anything.'
'And if you are asleep, they are there still. It can get tiresome,' wintermoon said with resignation. 'They also do not see that some of us can live without certain luxuries. For instance-did they steal your clothing?' Skif blinked with surprise. 'Why-yes-'
'They do not approve of it,' Wintermoon told him. 'I am certain of that. It is too plain, too severe. You will not see it again until you are ready to leave. And even then, I fear they will have made alterations to it.
Skif choked on a laugh.
'oh, no doubt this is amusing, but what if one prefers simpler clothing? What if one prefers to make one's own food? What if one would rather his quarters were left undisturbed? Then there is the matter of my Clansfolk.'
'what about them?' Skif asked.
'Several matters. The one which concerns both of us is the attitude that those with little magic are less important.' Wintermoon's voice conveyed faint bitterness. 'It matters not that someone must do the hunting, must keep the borders secure, must meet with the Shin'a'in and arrange for those few things we cannot make. There are a hundred things each day that must be done that need no magic. Yet those of us whose magic is only in the realm of thought and not of power, are, at least in this Clan, often discounted.'
'That might only be because of Starblade,' Skif pointed out. 'It could change.'
'Indeed. It may, and I hope it will. But if it does not-you, Wingsib, will, soon or late, find yourself accounted of less worth than your friend Elspeth.' The bedroll warmed, and Skif relaxed into it. 'That wouldn't be anything new,' he replied drowsily. 'Back home, after all, she's the Queen's daughter, and I'm nobody important.'
'Ah.' The tiny candle dimmed and died, leaving them in the darkness.
On the other side of the tent wall, one of the dyheli snored gently, a purring sound like a sleepy cat. 'They also do not much care for Changecreatures.'
'You mean Nyara.' Skif forced himself to think of her dispassionately.' Well, we'll worry about that when we find her. No point in getting worked up over something that hasn't happened yet.'
'They have other prejudices,' Wintermoon warned. 'Outsiders in general tend to be met with arrows and killing-bolts. And that is not the k'sheyna way only; that holds for all Clans. Only your acceptance by the Shin'a'in and the presence of your Companions kept you from gaining a similar welcome.'
Skif yawned. 'I'm sorry, Wintermoon, but I'm drifting off. I wish I could concentrate on what you're saying, but I can't.' The Tayledras sighed. 'I suppose it is just as well,' he admitted. 'I am losing track of my thoughts.' Skif gave up trying to fight off sleep. 'We can take this up in the morning, maybe,' he muttered after a while. And he never heard Wintermoon's answer.
There was too much light coming in the tower window.
Nyara unwrapped herself from her furs and winced as cold air struck her. She wrapped a single wolfskin about her shoulders, and moved cautiously to the narrow slit in the eastern wall. She looked out of her tower window on a world transformed, and panicked.
Snow. the forest is covered in snow!
It was at least knee-deep; deeper in some places. The wall below her glittered with patches of ice- predictably, wherever there were hand and foot-holds.
What am I going to do?
She wasn't ready for this. She still hadn't worked out a way of getting up and down her wall in snow and ice, she wasn't nearly good enough a hunter yet.
All the game must have gone into hiding, or worse, into hibernation; it will see me coming long before I'm in range, and I can't run or leap as fast, it'll be like trying to run in soft sand, but so cold.
