SIX
MAGELET
The next day, a month after her arrival, she was waiting for the trainees to finish their morning workout when she heard a low persistent rumble. For a week the hill above the barracks had swarmed with men loading empty wagons. Now draft horses had been hitched to the wagons; one by one, they towed the laden vehicles up the hill. Sarge clapped Daine on the shoulder. “This is it,” he said cheerfully. “The king is on his way, so we can be on ours. I’m ready!”
“I’m confused,” she said, craning to see his face. “He’s on what way?”
“See, my lamb, in summer the king goes on progress, to see how fares the kingdom. Soon as he goes, the queen takes the trainees to our summer camp—”
“Pirate’s Swoop this year,” Alanna put in. She’d been training with the Riders for the last week. “We set out tomorrow.”
“That isn’t much notice,” remarked Farant, who had overheard.
“How much notice do you need, trainee?” Sarge asked. “You have half a day to prepare. One day you’ll have to roll out of bed ready for a long ride. Then you’ll appreciate this leisurely pace.”
Technically, Daine thought that night, the trainees didn’t have even half a day to get ready. They’d put in their usual afternoon’s work with their spare mounts. The only change in their routine was that they were excused from their lessons before meditation to pack. She hadn’t been excused from her lessons, but she had little packing to do.
Meditation was held, as always, in the mess hall, and everyone attended. When Numair gave the word to begin, she decided to try her idea from the night before. Instead of thinking of nothing, she closed her eyes and listened.
How could breathing be so loud? She concentrated, putting the sound of her lungs aside. As the noise lessened, her nerves calmed. Her neck itched, but it was a distant feeling, not a distracting one. She scratched, lazily, and let her hand settle into her lap. A drumlike thud in her ears was her own heart. Easy, she told it in her mind, and the sound retreated.
Something bumped steadily at the front of the mess: Tahoi, lying near Onua, was wagging his tail. Daine peeked and saw the dog shining with copper fire. She looked at Onua—the K’mir was veined with fine copper threads.
Taking a deep breath, she looked inside. The wellspring of her own power was there, just as it had been the night by the undine’s pool.
Remembering Numair’s lectures, she trapped how it had felt just now, to listen and to find her power, and memorized it. When she placed the feeling in her mind, she knew exactly where it was and how to find it again, quickly. It’s organized, she thought with an inner smile.
She let the excitement fade and listened again. In the closed and dark kitchen at her back, mice hunted for scraps. She directed them to a rind of cheese she’d hidden for them beneath the long table, then sent her hearing out of the mess hall, into the night. Sounds crashed into her skull: bats seeking insects, cats on the hunt, kenneled dogs settling for sleep, horses relaxing, the hawks in the palace mews. It was too much to hear all at once: she almost lost her inner silence in panic. Stopping, she pushed the animal sounds back with her mind until they didn’t overpower her. Only when she was sure they were under control did she send her hearing out to the horse meadow once more.
A herd of ponies, including Cloud, grazed there. All of them knew her by now, from the silent-calling lessons. She joined with them, entering the herd. A breeze filled the air, bringing lush scents: ripe grass, leaves, the heady, rich smell of the earth. Around her were the others, her brothers and sisters. A king stallion watched over their family, ready to lead them to safety at the smallest hint of danger.
Spring made them all coltish. With a snort, the king horse broke into a run, just to be running. The herd and Daine followed, racing, black earth thudding under their hooves, the night air in their nostrils. With the herd she was safe; with the herd she had all she could need of comrades and family…
Cloud knew the instant Daine came into the herd. She’d seen this coming, as the stork-man encouraged the girl to venture farther and farther from herself. Tonight the feel of Daine’s presence was stronger than it had been since they came to this giant human stable, making Cloud edgy. When Daine’s spirit began to change, to take on the scent of the herd, the mare knew they were in trouble again.
She ran for the fence and jumped it. From the meadow she felt the herd call her to go with them. She wavered, wanting to follow. Then, with an angry neigh at the part of her that made her think unhorselike things, she broke free of the call and ran to the stable where Daine’s body was.
The gate was barred. She flung herself at it, flailing with her hooves. Putting her hindquarters to it she kicked the gate once, and again, until the large human, the wood brown man, yanked it open. She shoved past him—no time to be polite—and looked around this room that smelled of human food.
Sure enough, there Daine sat on the ground, front hooves limp in her lap, eyes closed. Cloud went to the girl and knocked her over.
A warm force slammed into Daine’s body. Suddenly she was free of the herd, safe inside her own mind. Opening her eyes, she saw Cloud standing over her. People around them were talking.
“I did it again, didn’t I?” she whispered.
Numair knelt beside her, dark eyes worried. “What happened? She nearly kicked down the door to get at you—”
Daine was shaking. They didn’t know. They didn’t know what Cloud had prevented. Thank you, she told the mare.
Don’t run with the People again until you remember to hold on to yourself, the mare ordered. I won’t always be here to wake you up!
Daine fumbled in her pocket and produced two lumps of sugar. “You’d best go outside now,” she whispered, and Cloud obeyed.
Numair helped the girl to her feet. “It’s all right,” he told everyone. “We were just trying an experiment. I didn’t realize it would work so well.” Shielding her from the stares of the trainees, he guided Daine out of the mess and into her own room. “What happened?” he asked, closing the door.
“I felt sick,” she lied. “Just a headache, that’s all.”
“Cloud wouldn’t come here for that,” he retorted. “She was in a panic. What went wrong? And what’s this?” The badger’s token had fallen outside her shirt. He picked it up, squinting at it. “From its appearance, it’s a claw.”
“It’s mine,” she retorted, yanking it away from him. “It’s private. Can’t I have anything private anymore?”
“Daine—”
Her voice rose. She knew she was about to cry. “Would you please go away? I’m tired and my head hurts! Can’t you leave me alone for once?”
“Very well.” His face was grave and sad. “But I wish you would trust me.” He left, quietly shutting the door.
Daine sat on her bed, tears on her cheeks. What could she do? If she went too deep in meditation, she risked madness. If she didn’t go deep—He said I might learn to heal, she thought desperately, squeezing the claw tight. But I have to master this first—or I’ll never be able to heal.
Caught between fear of losing control and wanting the power Numair said she could have, the girl tossed and turned all night. She would doze off, only to dream of running down a forest trail on all fours. Behind her would be the trainees, or the King’s Own, or Stormwings, tracking her so they could tear her to pieces.
Habit woke her at dawn, the hour Sarge usually bellowed for everyone to turn out. That morning the trainees had been given an extra hour to sleep, which meant if she hurried, she’d have the stable to herself. Soundlessly she called Cloud in for a thorough grooming and breakfast: there’d be no time for it later on. Onua had asked her to handle the supply wagon, and Daine expected her time before they left would be spent looking over the cart horse and making sure any last-minute additions to her load were safely stowed away.
A stranger was in the stable, a potbellied man the ponies greeted with enthusiasm from their stalls. Copper fire shone inside his red face. When he saw her, his head flew up as if he were a surprised horse.
Suddenly shy, Daine halted just inside the door. “Excuse me—might you be Stefan? The chief hostler?”
“Maybe. Who’re you?”
He can’t see it in me, she realized. I can see his magic, but he can’t see mine. “Daine, sir. Master Numair said you have wild magic. So do I.”
The man relaxed—slightly. “You’re the one, then. I brung ye a cart horse.” He led her to a newcomer, a sturdy bay cob. “This be Mangle.”
Daine offered the gelding her hands to sniff. “Mangle?” she asked with a grin. The cob felt like a calm well-behaved sort of horse to her.
Stefan smiled and ducked his head. “Oh, well,” he muttered by way of explanation. “Anyways, he’s good for whatever ye need in th’ way of work,” Daine leaned down to blow in Mangle’s nostrils. “He likes ye. Onua said I needn’t worry if you was in charge of ’im.” Cloud butted him from behind. “Who’s this fine lady?” He bent to the task of greeting the mare, while Daine finished getting acquainted with the cob. When she finished, Stefan was looking at her oddly. “You know this little beauty’s changed, ’cause of you.”
She couldn’t tell what the emotion in his pale blue eyes was. “Me’n Cloud have been through a lot together”
He gave the mare a last pat. “It shows.” With a wave to Daine, he walked to the stable door.
“Master Stefan?” He turned to look at her. “D’you ever want to run with the herd? To just—be a horse? Do what the herd does?” She sweated, waiting for an answer. It had cost a lot to ask.
“’Course I do,” was the mild reply. “Don’t everybody?”
She gripped the badger’s claw hidden under her shirt. “What keeps you from doing it?”
He rubbed his strawlike hair, “I’m a man. I can’t be runnin’ with the herd, now can I?” He left, closing the door behind him.
He makes it sound easy, but it’s not. There’s something wrong with me, she decided. It’s the madness, just waiting for me to drop my guard so it can take me again. That’s how he can protect himself—he never forgets what he really is. And I can’t remember.
Taking Cloud into an empty stall, the girl swore she would never let her guard down again. Better to disappoint Numair in her studies than to run wild and lose the friendships and respect she had found in this new country.
She was almost done with Cloud when Onua came into the stable. “There you are. Did Stefan bring our cart horse?”
Daine jerked a thumb at him. “His name’s Mangle.”
Onua grinned as the bay sniffed her pockets. “Is that so?” Looking at Daine as she fed the cob an apple, she asked, “Did you meet Stefan?”
The girl nodded. “Onua—about last night—I’m sorry.”
“For what?” The K’mir gave Mangle a last pat and went to see to her own two ponies. “Daine, your magic is taking you down a different road from most folk. Your friends understand that, if you don’t. Stop worrying so much.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Don’t thank me—get moving. We want to be assembled and ready to go when the first morning bell rings.”
Once she’d eaten a quick breakfast, Daine finished stowing the officers’ packs in the wagon, harnessed Mangle to it, and drove it to the flat area in front of the horse meadow gate where the Riders would assemble. The queen, Buri, Onua, and Sarge turned their spare mounts over to her to lead, so they would be free to range along the trainee column during the ride. The girl considered roping the three ponies and Sarge’s horse together for appearances’ sake and decided not to: all four mounts knew her well and promised to walk in their own column on one side of the wagon.
Alanna waved as she rode past on Darkmoon, going to wait with the queen. Daine grinned, knowing the Lioness would be more talkative after lunch.
She had started to wonder about Numair when several packs thudded into the back of the wagon. The mage rode up on a black-and-white gelding, looking tired. As if to prove it, once he stopped, he lay along his horse’s neck. “Wake me when we stop for lunch,” he said, and—to all appearances—went to sleep.
Daine looked at him, smiling. Dressed in a brown tunic, white shirt, and green breeches, he looked like the man she had known on the road to Corus, not the silk-clad friend of kings who’d been giving her lessons. The jeweled pins and rings he’d worn since his return to court were nowhere to be seen. The only hint of his apparent wealth was a large amber drop dangling from one earlobe.
Slowly twenty-three trainees assembled ahead of Daine in two columns, leading their spares on the outside. Each was inspected by the queen, Buri, Sarge, or Onua; some, including Farant and Selda, were sent to the barracks to lighten their packs. Four trainees, again including Selda, were sent back twice, this time with Sarge to harry them. Daine could hear his bellowed “Riders travel light!” when he was inside the barracks with his victims.
At last everyone was ready. Alanna and Buri took places on the left, Sarge and Onua on the right, outside the columns. Thayet rode to the head of the company, and Daine nudged Numair. He opened a bloodshot eye. “I think this is it,” she whispered. He nodded and straightened in the saddle.
It was. Thayet unsheathed her slightly curved blade and held it aloft. “Riders, move out!” she cried, her clear voice rippling through the columns, and started forward. The trainees followed, keeping the prescribed distance between their mounts as they took a well-marked road into the Royal Forest.
Daine’s skin quivered with goose bumps. “That’s fair beautiful,” she said to no one in particular. “Gi’ up, Mangle!” His ears pointing forward with eagerness, the cob obeyed.
The company stopped at noon for lunch. After cleanup, the trainees and officers switched mounts. Daine, her shame about the previous night put aside, tried not to smile when Numair asked if she minded if he rode with her. She agreed instantly. It was hard to be aloof from a man whose seat on a horse was so bad that he had to feel every bump in the road. Making friends with his patient gelding, Spots, she told the horse he deserved a carrot for bearing with such an ungraceful rider, and gave it to him.
Things went better during the afternoon: they picked up speed, covering some distance before camping for the night. Supper came from kettles that had been stowed in her wagon, their contents gently reheated over that night’s fires.
“Tomorrow you hunt for your meal,” Sarge warned as they filled their bowls with stew. “You’d best make less noise, my lambs, or you won’t eat.” Daine, settling between Miri and Evin, fought to hide a smile.
Returning to the fires after she had cleaned and put away her things, she was intercepted by Numair and led away from the trainees to an isolated clearing. “Lessons,” he said firmly. “As long as you and I are within riding distance of each other, my magelet, we will have lessons.”
She couldn’t protest, really. She knew the trainees were having lessons and, unlike them, she didn’t have the excuse of having fought two spirited ponies all day. With a sigh she took a seat on a nearby rock.
Numair put her book on another rock, where Cloud—who’d joined them—couldn’t nibble on it, and took a tailor’s seat next to Daine. He rubbed his large hands together. “Tonight we’ll try something a bit different While you were washing up, I untethered Mangle and Spots. I want you to call them both to us, at the same time.”
“Why can’t I call them one at a time?”
“You’re being difficult,” was the forbidding reply.
“It don’t make sense.”
“Remember the Stormwing attack in the horse meadow? You called quite a few animals to you, all at once. You might need to do something like that again one day. Wouldn’t it be nice if—instead of calling entire herds—you only called enough horses to keep you safe?”
He had her there.
She found the copper thread in her mind, the one she wrapped around a call to an animal, and held it.
Mangle—Spots, she called. Would you come here, please?
They crashed through the brush, coming up to nuzzle her and Numair.
“See? That wasn’t so bad,” he told her. “Send them back, please.”
With an apology and a short explanation to the horses, Daine obeyed.
Numair held up thumb and forefinger: between them sparkled a tiny ball of his magic. “Onua, now, if you please,” he said calmly. Putting thumb and forefinger together, he snuffed the ball out. “Our friend is releasing some of the other mounts,” he told Daine. “How many has she loosed?”
Daine listened—not with my ears, she reminded herself “Spots and Mangle are still free. Onua’s loosed—let’s see, Ox and General, Sarge’s two horses, and her pair, Whisper and Silk, and also Darkmoon.”
“Call them,” Numair said.
She struggled with the calling magic. It only worked for one creature, or two at best, because all she did was focus the magic on an easy-to-hear mind. To call several minds, she had to open her mind to her surroundings. She tried it, and lost her concentration when an owl screeched overhead.
“Relax,” Numair said, his voice pitched low. “It gets easier with practice. Find them, and call them—softly. You don’t need too much.”
She nodded, wiped her face on her sleeve, and tried again. Closing her eyes, she listened for the ones who were free of their ropes. That was easy—a tethered horse was always aware of the thing that kept him from getting that extra-juicy clump of grass just out of reach. There—she had them. She opened the cupboard in her mind where she’d put all her calling skill….
A scent of deer on the breeze; a frog croaking in the distance; the soft patter of bats hunting overhead. The herd was around her, contentedly browsing on lush, fat grasses that had been amazingly overlooked by the deer. Ox and General were with her, then Whisper, Silk, Spots, Mangle. Darkmoon, young and blood-proud, fought her command. She’d teach him to obey with teeth and hooves if need be, to give way to her domination—
She gasped and threw herself out of the magic. The herd had caught her up so much easier than last night! “I can’t,” she told Numair, her voice shaking. “My head aches.”
“You must learn this.” For the first time since he started her lessons, his voice was stern. “You didn’t have a headache before. Try again.”
I can’t, she thought, but there was no sense in telling him that—not unless she wanted to tell him everything. Desperate, she cheated, and hated herself for cheating. She wrinkled her face, clenched her teeth, shut her eyes, all so he’d think she was trying—but she kept her mind blank. She did this over and over, until he sighed.
“Perhaps I push too hard. You’ve done well—too well, perhaps. Most apprentice mages take over a year to make the progress you have in a month.”
She stared at him. “But I thought I wasn’t—How can you tell?” Scared, she added, “Can you see in my mind?”
“No. I wouldn’t if I could. We all have secrets.” Sadness moved over his face, making her wonder what his secrets were. Then he smiled. “I’m a mage, a well-educated one. When I wish, I can see things hidden from normal vision—like a persons magical aura. See mine?” He lifted his hands. White fire laced with shadows outlined his fingers. “The first day I was strong enough to do it, I examined your aura.” He let the brilliance fade. “Your magic was like a tangle of vines around you, going in a hundred directions. You’ve been getting that tangle under control, pulling it inside your skin, and you’re doing it faster than anyone I’ve ever known. Well, perhaps you’ve earned a night of rest. Come on—let’s go back to the others. Well meditate and stop there for the night.”
She started to protest the meditation, and kept her silence. I’ll just pretend, like with the calling, she told herself.
When they stepped into the clearing where the Riders were camped, Padrach was saying in his mountain burr, “Why won’t he declare war, then?”
“It’s true Carthak has the largest standing army in the world,” the Lioness replied. Sarge was rolling up a large map that had been spread out on the ground. “But to attack us they have to cross water at every turn—the Inland Sea, or come up our coast on the Emerald Ocean. We have the advantage, being firmly on land when they have to come ashore to engage us.”
“The navy’s grown since my lord came to the throne,” Thayet put in. The queen was dressed like the others in homespun breeches and tunic and a plain white shirt. Her glorious hair was severely pinned down, but nothing could dim the beauty of her face and clear, level eyes. “The emperor’s policy of coastal raiding and paying bandits to attack in the mountains and hills has made the people in those areas determined to fight. Also, since His Majesty built his university outside Corus, we’ve brought a lot of mages to Tortall—enough even to make Emperor Ozorne’s trained sorcerers think twice about taking us on.”
“And only a fool would want to attack King Jonathan without some kind of real advantage,” Numair said. “Not on Tortallan soil.”
“Why’s that, Master Numair?” asked Miri.
“Jonathan’s magic, and the magic of the crown, are tied into every grain of soil in this land,” explained the mage. “Unless an enemy has some kind of advantage that will hurt the king, or keep him from calling on his magic, it’s possible that every tree, stream, and rock would form death traps for an enemy.” Daine could see it in the trainees’ faces, the fear a warrior would live with when the land itself fought him. The thought gave her goose bumps.
“Very well, my doves, it’s that time again,” Sarge barked after giving the trainees a moment to reflect on such warfare. “Seat yourselves comfortably, but not too comfortably.”
Daine settled near the edge of trees around the clearing. Within a few moments the only sound to be heard was the breathing of the others. She watched them, envious. In the month she’d been with the Riders, she’d come to see that meditation supplied them with something they got nowhere else: a time to be calm, a time to find quiet inside themselves. It would be useful when they were living in the wilderness, hunting raiders and being hunted, she realized. Tonight especially she envied them that serenity. She wished she could find some measure of quiet in herself.
Carefully, gingerly, she closed her eyes and drew a breath. It was all right; she was safe. She released the breath, took another. Peace wrapped her like her mother’s arms. She opened her ears to the night.
In the distance, a wolf howled, and got no answer.
Poor wind-brother, she thought sadly. No one to sing with, no brothers and sisters to hunt with…like me. It’s so lonely, outside the pack.
As she breathed, her body fell into the habit she’d been making for it. Her mind cleared, her heartbeat slowed. Forgetting her danger, she opened herself to the music of the forest:
The swish of tails, the shifting of feet, the crunch of grass under broad teeth. A sense of peace and solidity flowed out from the humans to infect their mounts. The herd was content…
Once again she forced herself awake, to find she’d sweated her clothes through. What am I going to do? she asked Cloud as the mare nuzzled her. I can’t even close my eyes without it happening!
It doesn’t happen when you sleep, Cloud reminded her. It’s only when you use that fire-stuff—the thing that makes you People—or when you do the sitting thing. Leave the fire-stuff and the sitting thing alone, and you’ll be fine.
Daine shook her head. It seems like I can’t win for losing, she told Cloud silently. Sometimes I think I never should have left home.
The next day the Riders picked up the pace. There were fewer stops as they headed through the coastal hills; those that were made were shorter.
Daine faked her lessons that night, as she faked her meditation. She thought she’d handled it well too, until Numair stopped her just before she climbed into her bedroll.
“Are you all right?” he asked, feeling her forehead. “Is something wrong?”
Looking up at him, she swallowed hard. “What’s wrong, except for me being worked to death?” she asked, trying to put him off by being rude. “Honestly, can’t you stop fussing at me for one day?”
Tahoi whined from his spot near Onua’s bed, worried by Daine’s tone. Glancing over at him, Daine saw that Onua, Evin, Miri, and the Lioness had heard her as well and were staring at her as if she’d just grown horns. “I’m tired of being watched all the time too!” She struggled into her blankets and wrapped herself in them, not wanting to see how they reacted to that.
She heard Numair sigh. He patted her shoulder. “Sleep well, magelet.” He walked away as Tahoi came to lie down next to her.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she hid her face in her covers. I’m afraid, she wanted to tell her human friends. I’m afraid if I go any deeper in my magic, I’ll forget who I am.
She woke in the morning to a campsite draped in fog. Without speaking to anyone, she groomed and fed Mangle and Cloud, and hitched Mangle to the wagon. She drove in silence all day, ignoring the worry she saw on Onua’s and Numair’s faces. The fog burned off by midmorning, leaving the air crisp. By afternoon the breeze coming out of the west bore a new scent to it, tangy and strange. She sniffed it often, wondering what it was.
“That’s the sea,” Miri told her when she saw Daine lift her nose to the air. Her cheeks were flushed; her green eyes sparkled. “It’s close. That’s brine you smell, and seaweed. I can’t believe how much I missed it!”
“If she starts to talk nautical, plug your ears,” Evin advised. “She’s just showing off!” Miri stuck her tongue out at him.
Their road topped a rise, and a new world spread itself before them. Daine dropped her reins. “Goddess and glory,” she breathed.
Miri beamed with pride. “I told you.”
Nothing had prepared her for this. Endless blue-gray water stretched north to south, and waves pounded the rocky coast. Salt winds nearly plucked off her head-scarf before she retied it. In the distance a toy with a dab of sail bobbed along—a boat, she realized, but far off.
Soon they reached the coast road, crossing it to pitch camp in a sandy cove. Automatically she cared for Mangle and Cloud, barely able to take her eyes off the water that smashed against the sand. Every time she blinked, something new appeared. Even Cloud’s accusation that she looked like a cow, standing about with her jaw open, had no impact She was entranced.
As soon as archery practice was done, Miri and Alanna took the trainees to find supper in the rock pools of the northern curve of the beach, leaving the officers and Daine to entertain themselves. Thayet removed her boots and stockings, rolling up the legs of her breeches. “Come on,” she told Daine. “We’ll go for a walk.”
She ran to join the queen, trying to shed her boots at the same time. The woman laughed and steadied her as Daine wrestled her footgear off. “It won’t go away,” she said. “Slow down. Onua says you never saw it before?”
“No, mum.” She made sure her breeches, rolled above the knee like the queen’s, were tucked in securely.
“Then look. See how steep the beach is? It means waves pound it hard. They create a force called ‘undertow’ that grabs you and drags you out if you aren’t careful. The easier a beach slopes into the water, the less undertow you’ll find. Never forget it’s there, Daine.” Thayet’s low voice was stern. “Plenty of good swimmers drown because they can’t fight that drag.”
Daine nodded soberly. This place had dangers, like any other part of the world—that made sense.
“Then, let’s go.” The queen stepped down as a wave hit the shore, and let foaming water surround her ankles.
Daine took a breath and followed. The water was icy. When it met her skin, she heard singing. Gasping, she jumped back.
Thayet stood ankle deep in the retreating waves, fighting to keep her balance as they ate the sand under her feet. “Too cold?” she asked, grinning.
She doesn’t hear it, Daine thought.
“Come on,” the queen urged. “You’ll be numb before long.” She walked forward, stopping when the water swirled around her knees. Lifting her face to the sun, she gave a loud, bloodcurdling war cry.
“Thayet, stop that,” Numair called. His breeches rolled up, he had gone to explore a lumpy and pitted block of stone at the northern edge of the beach. He held up something. “Come look at this.”
Thayet went to him. Daine walked forward, immersing her feet to the ankles as a wave overtook her. A few steps more: she was far enough in the water that a wave’s backward crawl didn’t leave her dry.
“Singing” was not right, but she had no idea of what the proper term might be. Part of it was a croon, the speech of a wolf mother to her cubs, but held past a wolf’s ability to hang on to a note. A moaning whistle followed, then a series of short, high notes. The quality of the eerie calls was something like sound carried inside a cave—almost, but not entirely.
Hello? she cried silently (all she needed was for Numair to ask why she was talking to the ocean). Who are you?
There was no answer, not even the shift of attention she felt in most animals. Were these monsters? No—there was no gold fire in her mind. She gripped a thread of her magic, as much as she dared use, and tried again. Is anyone there? It’s me—it’s Daine! Can you hear me?
The songs—there were many, all beautiful and different—faltered.
—Call?—The voice was faint and alien, unlike any animal voice she’d heard in her life.
She strained to hear without using her power to help her listen. Yes! I’m calling! Me, here by the rocks—
—No call—
I called! I did! Where are you? Who are you?
—Calf-call?—
—No call—
I’m not loud enough, she realized. If I used my magic, maybe they could hear me, but I don’t dare.
Thayet yelled, trying to get Daine’s attention. Daine turned, but before she could answer a heavy form slammed into her. Down she went, mouth filling with brine. Trying to rise, she was slammed again and thrust deeper in the water by the animal’s impact.
She opened her mouth to scream, and breathed seawater.
Miri and Evin said later she popped into the air to hang upside down from an unseen hand, pouring water as she fought. She only knew she was free to cough and vomit out the liquid that had nearly killed her. Looking down, she shrieked, clawing at the invisible grip on her ankles. Then the hands that weren’t there whisked her to the beach, where Onua waited with a blanket. Daine was put gently on her feet, but her knees gave. Onua caught her before she fell.
Numair strode down the beach toward them, his face like a thundercloud. Black fire shot with white light gathered around his outstretched hand. Sarge grabbed up a quiver of javelins, Buri her double-curved bow. Both raced to attack the brown creature lumbering up onto shore.
Daine saw them just in time. “No, don’t!” She threw herself in front of the animal. “Don’t!” she screeched when fire left Numair’s fingers, flying at them. He twisted his hand, and it vanished.
Clutching the blanket around her, she faced the one who had tried to kill her. He returned her look with huge, liquid brown eyes set in a pointed face capped by a small crest. His body was wide in the center and pointed at both ends. Covered with slick, blond brown fur that went light and shaggy around his head, he waddled toward her on fins that ended in claws. Curiously she touched his chin and lifted his head, the better to see his slitlike nostrils and small, curled-leaf ears.
Like most of the big predators she had met, he chose to speak in sounds. He chattered away in sharp, varied barks. He was confused: he’d thought she was a rival male, come to take his harem. She looked where he did: twelve furry lumps, all a fourth to a third smaller than the male, watched her from the most southern arm of the cove.
“Why did you think I was another male?” she asked, curious.
She felt like one, a king bull. He’d been terrified. He was young, and the power of her mind had convinced him she could easily take his females.
“Well, I’m no king bull,” Daine assured him, tickling his curving whiskers until he calmed down. “I’m just me—whatever that is.”
He was relieved. His harem was safe.
“May I visit after supper?” she asked.
Food? Pictures of fat, juicy fish were in his mind, and the knowledge he couldn’t leave the females to hunt.
She promised to bring something. It seemed the least she could do, after giving him such a scare. He barked his thanks and slipped into the water, anxious to return to his mates before another male sneaked up on them.
“I forgot to ask what he was,” Daine muttered to herself.
“Sea lion.” Miri had come to stand beside her. “They’re touchy in the breeding season. The way he went for you, it looked like he thought you were another male, coming to steal his wives.”
“Do they eat in the breeding season?” Daine asked, curious.
“Not the beachmasters. If they hunt, another male will take their harems. They can go two months without food—Wave-walker defend us—look!”
A huge shape, far bigger than the sea lions, shot out of the water at the mouth of the cove: a great, lumpy gray thing that cleared the water and plunged back in with a tremendous splash.
“I can’t believe they came so close to the land,” Miri whispered.
“They who?” Daine’s heart was thudding. “Is that a fish?”
Miri shook her head. “They suckle their young, like furred animals.”
“Mammals,” Daine supplied, from what Numair had taught her.
“Oh. That was a humpback whale—whales are the biggest things in the sea. They sing, you know.”
Daine grabbed her friend’s arm. “What d’you mean, sing?”
“Well, not singing, not like us. They talk in sounds—whistles, some of them, and moans—eerie noises. You should hear them from a boat in the middle of the ocean. It comes right through the wood, and fills the air.”
Supper was ready by the time Daine had washed in a freshwater creek and put on dry clothes. She ate little, pondering the whale songs and her failure to reach the singers. After chores, she gathered up extra food and her bedroll.
“No lessons?” Numair asked quietly.
“I promised I’d bring him something to eat. And I do need a holiday.” She looked away, rather than meet his eyes and see the disappointment in them.
“If that’s what you want. Good night, then.” But he watched her all the way as she walked down to the sea lions.
The beachmaster greeted her—and her food—with enthusiasm, and let one of his wives show the girl the first of that spring’s new pups. When she slept, it was with her cheek pillowed on a yearling’s flank, and with heavy, fishy-smelling bodies ranged all around her.
The badger came. His fur was puffed out; he was very, very angry.
“I have lost patience with you,” he snarled. “If you were my kit, Yd knock you tail over snout. When will you stop being stubborn? I didn’t guide you all this way so you could fail to learn what you must! Tell these people what happened at that town of yours. Tell them what you’re afraid of! Did you think I would send you to more hunters?”
“Predators,” she told him.
With a smack of one heavy paw he knocked her onto her behind and jumped onto her chest. “Don’t talk back, youngster. Have you no sense? Your time is running out! Soon the storm will be here. Lives depend on learning your lessons. I realize you are only a kit, but even you must see more is at stake than your fear of the hunt. Now, promise me you will tell them.” She hesitated, and the badger snarled. “Promise me!”
He bore down on her with his will, thrusting his face into hers. She wondered later if it was the force of his mind, or the overpowering reek of his supper (decayed rabbit and a few worms), that made her surrender. “I promise.”
“Tomorrow, and not one day later” He climbed off her chest, and she could breathe. She sat up, pulling air into her squashed lungs.
“Well, you’re a good enough girl,” he grumbled. It was as much of an apology from him as she would get. “I just worry about you, and things are moving so fast” He lifted his nose and sniffed. “Phew—these friends of yours stink of fish!”
She woke to fog, dense and wet, beading in the sea lions’ fur. Sitting up, she winced. She felt like one large bruise. Luck had been with her the day before. If she hadn’t been in shallow water, she would have died, smashed by four hundred and fifty pounds of fast-moving sea lion. On top of the bruised ache were new, sharp pains. Peering inside her shirt, she found deep gouges, four on each shoulder—as if a badger had rested his weight there.
The morning fog turned into rain, and Thayet announced they would remain in their present camp. Steeling herself, Daine approached Onua and Numair as breakfast was being served. “Can I talk to you later?” she asked. “Alone?” She swallowed. “There’s something about me you ought to know.”
A few words to Thayet and Buri were all that was needed. Numair and Onua followed her to the south end of the cove, where a rock overhang kept a strip of sand dry. Numair built a fire. Tahoi sprawled between him and Onua, head on Onua’s lap, his belly to the warmth of the flames. Cloud lay down so Daine could lean against her, encouraging the girl silently.
“Is it so hard to begin?” Onua asked.
Daine looked at the high waves, feeling her chin quiver. She gripped the badger’s claw for reassurance. “Oh, yes. Don’t interrupt me. If I’m stopped, I don’t know if I’d have the courage to go on.” Drawing a breath through a chest that had gone all tight, she began, “When the thaw came, end of January, nothing would do for Ma but I go to the next valley over, and visit her friend that married a shepherd there. She heard that Lory—her friend—was coughing a lot, and Ma had a syrup to give her. She made me promise not to come home in the dark, but stay over till morning. Sometimes I wonder if she just knew…but prob’ly not. As a foreteller, Ma always made a good cook.
“So, I saddled Cloud and went. Lory was glad to see me. Her ‘n’ Rand, her husband, always treat me nice. There was a new baby she let me play with. They’re sweet when they’re that little. And Rand wanted me to take a look at his best ewe. Good thing I did. She was getting set to give him twin lambs, only breech birth, which might’ve killed them and their ma. So I was up late, and Lory let me sleep till noon.
“Coming out of their place, I couldn’t see anything anywhere but fog, couldn’t smell, couldn’t hear. I was clear to our village before I knew.
“They hit around dawn. The mill was burned, the miller dead. They took the wheelwright’s oldest girl and the headman’s wife. Really, they mighta passed my house by, Ma having the Gift, but they remembered she was pretty too, see.
“They fought—all of them. Ma, Grandda, dogs, ponies, horses—even the stupid chickens. Even Ma’s geese. Not the rabbits. They left. Well, they never fight, and you can’t ask them to go against their nature. But the rest fought. They killed some of the bandits.
“The bandits went crazy. They killed everything on the farm and didn’t carry any of it away, Mammoth told me. Mammoth was my boss dog. He said they was too scared of animals who fought like that.
“Mammoth told me what happened, and died.
“So we buried them, me and Cloud, every last one of our family. Cloud’s dam and sire, her brothers are in those graves.
“I straightened up the house, what was left. The raiders had tried to burn it, but only the upper story and the roof were gone. Ma had a bunch of charms against fire in the kitchen, so most of the downstairs was saved.
“It was two days before anyone came to see. After Ma helped them birth their children, and nursed them when they was sick. Two days! She could’ve been alive and hurt all that time! If the bandits had passed us by, Ma would have been at the village with medicines and bandages, making me and Grandda help.
“When I saw them, I just—popped. I said get out. I threw rocks, and they ran. You got to understand, there was all this mad inside me, all this hate and wildness. I couldn’t hold it. My animal friends, they’re the only ones who came right off to see if I was alive. I was going to them when I found the blood trail the bandits left.
“I knew where the pack of wolves was. The boss male and female thought I was smart, for a two-legger. It took explaining—they don’t hunt their own kind. It’s one thing to run another pack off your territory, but to hunt each other like they’re prey, that makes them sick. When I showed them our farm, well, it made them crazy. We picked up the bandit trail and found them, in some caves.
“It was hard, keeping the pack from taking the bandits all at once, but I didn’t want the wolves to get killed. We picked off three shifts of sentries, ’cause nobody was awake or sober enough to remember if the old sentries came back. When the other bandits came out in the morning, we took them. I remembered enough to let the women taken from the village loose, and kept my pack-brothers from killing them too.
“By then I was gone wild entirely. I went to all fours, and me and the pack denned in the bandit caves. I was safe with the pack. Cloud couldn’t even talk to me. It scared her silly, being around the wolves, but I remembered she was family and I wouldn’t let them get her. There was plenty of meat, anyway, from all the bandits stole.
“We heard the humans coming. I told the pack to go to the old den. I waited to see what was what. Maybe I was getting human again, a little.
“I hid in the brush. They sent Hakkon Falconer ahead to talk to me. He used to visit Ma and stay over, before he married again. He’d’ve wed Ma, but I heard her tell him my da wouldn’t like it. She always spoke of my da that way, as if he was just around the corner. Anyway, Hakkon treated me all right, even after he married, because I helped with the birds.
“He said the women we set loose made it home and told what we did. He said I’d best come in now, before I took sick. He said he’d put me up, and I could earn my keep with him. He trained falcons for our lord.
“I came out onto the road. They’d’ve had me, but Cloud snuck up on one of the archers and kicked him. He shot too soon, and I ran.
“Hakkon said I was crazy, it was for my own good. He said I was like the rabid bear. I had to be put down merciful. If I’d come out, it’d be over in a minute—wouldn’t hurt at all. The rest of them were calling me a monster.
“Then they tried to set the dogs on me, but the dogs wouldn’t go. When them with ponies tried to come after me, the ponies threw them and lit out for home. The men should’ve known they couldn’t get their animals to come after me.
“Me and Cloud headed up into the rocks. Trouble was, they were mountain men, fair trackers even without dogs. I wasn’t thinking like a human, so I didn’t remember to hide my trail. The weather didn’t help, either.
“I don’t know how long they hunted me. I think it was most of a week. I got pretty tired and cold and hungry. Cloud saved me. She started to nip and bite my arms. See—this one left a scar, above my elbow. She only left me alone when I got on my hind feet. When I got used to walking like that, I remembered I was human, and I knew I had to get out of Snowsdale. I snuck back home, got the things I had left, and came south.
“That’s why I’ve been scared with the lessons. It never happened before my folks got killed, but now when I go deep in my magic or the meditating, when I’m by myself, I start thinking like the closest group of animals—like a herd of horses, or a pack. I forget I’m human. I forget I’m me.
“I was afraid to tell the truth. You don’t know what it’s like, having them you knew all your life hunt you like you was a deer. Hearing them on your trail and knowing if you don’t start running, your hide’ll get stretched on a frame and the rest of you goes into someone’s stewpot. And I was crazy, running on all fours, hunting with a pack. I wanted to forget all that, if I could. I wanted to be all new here, all normal, just like everyone else.
“Only I guess I can’t. The badger says I have to learn.”