Magic's Price

grace.

Savil blinked, and took a sip of her own wine. “What was that supposed to accomplish?” she asked. “And why on earth did you broach that subject now?”

Moondance put down his cup of wine untasted. “It was something that needed Healing,” he replied. “I have done my poor best, and we may only see what time will bring.”

Starwind nodded without speaking.

Savil looked up at the velvet of the night sky; no moon tonight, which made the stars seem all the brighter. “It felt right, if my opinion means anything to you,” she said at last. “Right words, right time. If anything is going to happen -”

“It is in Withen's hands,” Starwind sighed, then stretched. “Gods of my fathers - if there is anything more difficult than dealing with the heart, I do not know what it may be. I am to my rest.”

“And I to mine,” Savil said, putting her cup down. “Tomorrow is another day.”

“Yes. And tomorrow we shall have finished the preliminaries over that evil hilt. Tomorrow we shall look into its past, and that of its wielder.” Moondance shook his head. “This will not be pleasant.”

“No,” Savil agreed, moving toward the door with the other two. “And I don't think the answers we're going to get will be pleasant either. So let's enjoy our peace while we have it, hmm?”

“Indeed.” Starwind said, pausing to let her precede him. “For it is all too fleeting and fragile a thing, peace.”

Vanyel knew that Savil would have been happier in a fortified Work Room, but the current situation wouldn't allow it. There really was no place suitable in all of the keep. The Tayledras felt more comfortable out-of-doors, and the orchard was the place where the strange mage had died, so to the orchard they had all come. Savil had brought a cushion with her; the ground was too much for her bones. The Tayledras sank down in their places with no sign of discomfort at all. Vanyel wished belatedly that he had thought to bring something to sit on, but it was too late now.

They sat in a circle, but with their backs to each other, rather than face-to-face. All four of them would see this reenactment of the recent past; all four of them would Hear the thoughts that had been strong enough to have left an imprint there. They were looking outward, not inward, and hence, the seating arrangement.

They were all in place now, as Vanyel eased himself down between Savil and Starwind.

The little circle did not include Stefen, who was keeping Treesa and her ladies occupied and out of the mages' way, but it was Starwind's opinion that he was better employed in that capacity than in watching them work magic he could not participate in.

Vanyel unwrapped the blackened hilt and laid it on the bare earth. He looked up at Savil, whose expression made him think that her insides were probably in knots. “You don't have to do this, you know,” he reminded her. “You don't have to help.”

“I know that,” she replied, “but I'd worry myself to bits until you three finished this little exercise. I'd rather be in on it.”

Vanyel nodded. “All right, then. Let's link.”

He linked to Savil, while Starwind gathered Moondance in; familiar bonds to familiar. Then the two halves joined, forming a meld that was as close to seamless as anything Van had ever seen. It helped that the four of them had wielded magics as a group before; it also helped that their friendship was as close as it was. But what made this work was that all four of them had actually trained together. They would take turns as leader and supporters in this, and there was no room for temperament or pride.

Savil took the lead for the first part; invoking from the hilt and from the blood-soaked ground the mage's last moments.

The peaceful orchard and his companions vanished from Vanyel's sight. Now he approached a ring of Treesa's ladies, listening to Stefen's music, as if he rode upon the mage's shoulder, and Vanyel knew that the others were Seeing what he Saw. All of the stranger's surface thoughts were open to them for that time period. Savil froze the scene at the moment the mage had attacked Treesa and Stefen, and they read then what was uppermost in his mind.

Vanyel was so startled he nearly fell out of the link. The man he had captured in the Wood and this mage might just as well have been two entirely different people! Not only was this mage not crazed, but his attitudes were drastically different, as well as what could be read of his past history and training.

The mage had not known that Vanyel was home; he had deduced who Vanyel was quickly enough, but had entrapped him by pure accident. He had been assuming that he would trap Withen's house-mage; most nobles outside Valdemar had one, to weave protections for themselves and their interests. Since he hadn't detected any of the arcane protections that would have shown him Withen's house-mage had a Work Room, he had supposed that