By the time Firesong got to the upper deck of the
“That’s what I’m here for,” Silverfox replied easily. “I’ll be glad to look into it. You mustn’t be angry at me, though, if the outcome is that they decouple themselves.”
That took Firesong aback. “Why should they?” he asked, a little more sharply than he intended. “Do you already know something I don’t?”
Silverfox shrugged. “No, actually, I don’t. But remember, my job is to get the best possible outcome. I’m not a matchmaker. If our chief Healer and eventual Vale Elder are better off apart than together, that’s what I’ll counsel them. Short-term unhappiness is much better than long-term misery, and very few liaisons are lifebonds.”
Firesong was a touch disappointed in that answer, but he had to admit that Silverfox was right. “Well, if that’s what happens, I can’t promise you that I won’t be upset, but I won’t be angry, and certainly not with you.”
“Very sensible of you - and I’m only reminding you of the worst possible situation.” Silverfox reached over and took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “We could have the very opposite here, with both of them wanting a committed relationship, and both holding back because of some idealistic nonsense or other - ”
“Like, for instance?” Firesong put a teasing note into his voice, knowing what Silverfox was likely to say. “Idealism
“Pest. Like, for instance, that they both are under the illusion that all successful relationships
“You mean they don’t?” Firesong asked innocently.
“Oh, no, no, no. Spells aren’t needed to make magic, and lifebonds aren’t needed to make love. Here - ” Silverfox put his drink down, and stood up in a single fluid, gliding motion, to lean over Firesong’s chair. His long hair made a curtain that shut out the rest of the world. “Allow me to demonstrate. . . .”
Darian watched the shadows dance among the lamp-lit leaves overhead, supremely relaxed and content with his lot. The talk had settled to a murmur over to one side, with the rest of the small gathering of friends simply enjoying an all-too-infrequent moment of doing absolutely nothing.
“This isn’t really a proper party,” Wintersky complained, for after the drowsy laziness that inevitably followed a round of excellent food and drink set in, bodies sprawled over cushions as if in the aftermath of a massacre, and no one was inclined to do much more than listen to crickets sing. It had been a massacre, of sorts. The refreshments and supper brought by eager
The bodies stirred and sat up, but no one replied to Wintersky, who continued in a firmer tone of voice. “No, it’s just nothing like a real party, and if anyone among us deserves a big celebration, it’s you, Dar’ian,” Wintersky stated authoritatively. “We ought to have one, that’s what we should do!”
“What, on top of everything else we’re planning?” Darian replied, appalled at the very idea. “Aren’t you all going to make me enough of an entertainment as it is? And think of the poor
“He’s right, Wintersky,” Sunleaf responded from the far corner of the clearing. Sunleaf, a contemporary of Snowfire, had been eager and willing to assist Darian in his studies when none of the greater mages were available, and the two had become good friends. “But Dar’ian, Wintersky is right, too,” he continued, nodding his shaggy head. “Keisha isn’t here, for one thing, and it doesn’t seem fair to me that we leave her out. Why don’t we just do this all over again as soon as she gets back? We’ll just call this a practice for the real party - or better yet, just a little gathering of friends. Say we just made a spur-of-the-moment picnic to congratulate you, and it’s not a party at all. Because really, that’s all it was.”
Darian didn’t have to think about it. He knew that Keisha would be hurt if she thought she’d been left out of the celebration. He did