Owlknight

had worn their elaborate outfits had been at Snowfire and Nightwind’s wedding. Since then, the heavily embroidered and embellished items had been serving as wall art, as Darian’s own costume eventually would. Firesong had outdone all of them; if sheer magnificence of clothing was the standard of importance, Herald Anda would surely think that he was the leader in this Vale. Silverfox lacked Firesong’s impressive mask, but that was all he lacked; in every other respect, he was Firesong’s reverse-image twin. The two of them were clad in blue and gold; where Firesong had gold in the patterns of beading and embroidery, Silverfox had blue, and vice versa. What first appeared to be subtle streaks of gold or blue in their hair became, on closer inspection, strings of tiny beads, ending in minute feathers. Aya sat on Firesong’s shoulder, and as Darian neared, Kuari hooted a greeting from a branch above Starfall. His parents, Hweel and Huur, sat beside him. Starfall’s falcon was on his gloved fist, and even the glove was beautifully made, with appliqued designs made of layers of dyed deerskin set into the cuff. Birds called, crowed, or screamed to each other, and a yellow kick ball bounced off Kuari’s branch, making him hoot in indignation.

“Sorry!” someone called.

“Well, the boy cleans up rather nicely,” Firesong said to Starfall, with a wink. “Perhaps we won’t have to pretend he’s a servant after all.”

“Hey!” Darian protested, pointing an accusing finger at Firesong. “I’d been working on the stables all morning. What were you doing?”

“Making certain that rain would not interrupt our greetings,” Firesong replied blandly, with a toss of his head that made the beads chime together like tiny bells. “Delicate work, that, requiring the skill of an expert.”

Starfall rolled his eyes and snorted in derision. “Yes it did, which is why you helped,” he corrected. “Or at least, you called it helping.”

Firesong pretended to be greatly offended, and Silverfox just shook his head at both of them. “Indeed! I was there to make certain that instant corrections could be made if you upset something with your blundering. After all, Father, you are getting a bit forgetful lately.”

“Forgetful? My blundering!” Starfall exclaimed. “What about - ”

“Enough, you two,” Nightwind interrupted them, then giggled. “Some of the outsiders might begin to believe that you two hate each other.”

Starfall grinned, and behind the mask, Firesong mock-pouted. “Oh, Mother - ” he began, in imitation of a whining child.

“Don’t!” Nightwind warned, hands on hips. “Just don’t. Act like the baby, and I’ll send you to your room like a baby!”

Firesong chuckled. “She’s getting rather good at that, isn’t she?” he said in an aside to Snowfire. “That whole mother thing, I mean.”

Snowfire nodded ruefully. “It’s a good thing, too, since the baby has me completely under her control. One teary-eyed look, and any resistance I had just evaporates.”

He might have elaborated on that subject, but a shout of “Here they come!” interrupted him. There were several whistles, and the kick balls mysteriously vanished amid the crowd.

The entire group peered up the trail; Firesong and Darian both shaded their eyes with their hands. At first Darian couldn’t see anything, but then a ray of light falling slantwise through the branches glanced off something white, which resolved into two distant riders.

Was it only two years ago that I stood here waiting for my new teacher, only to find out that he was the famous Adept Firesong? So much had happened since then; he had been so busy he hadn’t even had much time to visit the village except for the seasonal Faires. When I’m not off settling minor disputes, arbitrating trades, or helping the Vale understand the village, I’ve been caught up in Firesong’s training. No wonder time has gotten away from me!

He wished for a breeze, feeling the weight of his coat even more; for once, a breeze sprang up in answer to his wish. The riders neared at a steady pace, and he broke off his musing to examine them at his leisure. They both wore the Herald “working garb” of leather trews, a leather jerkin, and a plain white shirt tied loosely at the neck; it was pretty clear that they hadn’t been expecting a formal reception or a major celebration. It had been a year since he’d last seen Shandi, and it seemed to him at least that she had gotten taller. Her face had thinned out a bit, but aside from that, her new status didn’t seem to have put much of an outward stamp on her.

However, her Whites were obviously new, compared to the well-worn costume of the man riding beside her. So was her Companion’s tack, and Darian made a mental note to have one of the hertasi look it over for stiffness and give it a good oiling with the special lanolin they used on hawk-furniture.

Herald Anda had probably not been very young when he demonstrated Mage-Gift and was selected for training by Darkwind and Elspeth. Now he was in late middle age, brown hair generously streaked with gray, and his weathered face as wrinkled as any shepherd’s of the same age. He was in perfect health and excellent condition, however; despite a ride of many days’ duration, he sat his Companion easily with little hint of fatigue.

The crowd behind Darian stilled, with hardly more than a murmur or two from those waiting. The two Heralds