“But ...” D’arvan floundered, as though the words were choking him. “Then—who is my father?”
Eilin smiled. “Hellorin, the Forest Lord.”
“Lady, that is not amusing!” Maya had never heard D’arvan sound so angry. “How dare you mock me. With such a jest! The Lord of the Phaerie, indeed. What nonsense! They have no existence outside legends and children’s stories.”
Eilin gave him a stern look. “Lad, do you think I’d jest over such a thing? You are completely mistaken, as are most folk. The Phaerie do indeed exist—and have existed far longer than either Mortals or Magefolk. They have their own powers, different from ours, and if they use them to remain apart from us, I cannot blame them. Your mother never told me how she met and fell in love with Hellorin, though it was no secret in the Academy that she and Bavordran bore little love for one another. She only agreed to become his soulmate at the insis-tance of Zandar, her father, the Archmage before Miathan. He was concerned that the .Magefolk were dying out, and Bavordran was the only available mate.” Eilin sighed. “Well, she joined with him in the end, out of love and respect for her father, but she gained no happiness from it. Bavordran was the dullest, most self-centered Mage I’ve ever met, and he made her life a misery in a thousand ways. As Adrina’s friend, I’m glad she found love, however briefly, with her Phaerie Lord. And you were the result, D’arvan. Your brother was her child of duty, but you were the child of her heart.”
D’arvan shuddered. “But Lady,” he cried despairingly, “what does that make me?”
“Unique!” Eilin replied briskly. “In my opinion, D’arvan, you are by no means inferior to the rest of the Magefolk. Aurian believes you may have a talent for Earth-magic, and your ability to speak with my wolves would seem to confirm that. We’ll soon see how far you can develop in that direction. As for any abilities you may have inherited from your father’s side—well, I scarcely know where to begin. The powers of the Phaerie are far beyond the experience of any Mage. Let us concentrate first on what I can teach you, then I suggest you go and ask Hellorin.”
“What?” D’arvan gasped.
“I don’t see why not,” Eilin replied. “I know that the Phaerie are close to us in this valley. They approve of my work here—bringing back the trees, and such. If his own son were to call him, then surely their Lord would answer. But . . .” She held up a warning hand. “I beg you not to rush into such a meeting, D’arvan. The Phaerie have a reputation for being tricky folk, and I don’t want to risk losing you to them just now. Miathan must be opposed, and with Aurian missing and Finbarr dead, that leaves only you and me. I wouldn’t trust the rest of them as far as I could spit!”
“But Lady, what can we possibly do against the Archmage?” D’arvan said.
“Just now, I have no idea. I think we may have to wait and see what happens. Anyway, I’m tired, you’re tired—and you have had far too many shocks in one night to be able to think straight. And poor Maya looks as though she could fall asleep at any second.” Eilin gave the warrior a kindly smile. “I suggest we all go to bed for what’s left of the night, and make our plans in the morning.”
No one argued. Too many shocks ipdeed, Maya thought, as Eilin showed her to the little room off the kitchen that had once been occupied by Forral. D’arvan had been given Aurian’s old room. The painful reminders of her two lost friends made Maya realize that there was one piece of news that she had not imparted to the Lady. “Lady Eilin,” she said abruptly, unable to think of a gentle way to break the news. “Did you know that Aurian and Forral were lovers?”
“Lovers.-’” For a terrifying moment Eilin’s eyes blazed into her own, then the Magewoman dropped her face into her hands. “Dear Gods,” she whispered. “Why did I never foresee it? There was always such a depth of love between them—but how could they have been so foolish?” She turned to Maya, her eyes dim with pain. “Well,jtjjey cannot be blamed for the Archmage turning to evil—but now we know what made him act when he did. Miathan, with his obsession with the purity of our race, would take such a joining ill, indeed.” She shook her head. “My poor child,” she murmured. “My poor, poor children.” As Eilin mounted the tower stairs, Maya heard the soft sound of her weeping.
In the dead of night—the dark, oppressive time when it seemed that dawn would never come—Maya left her room to sit by the embers of the kitchen stove. Weary though she was, she had finally given up trying to sleep. Her thoughts were filled with sorrow for Forral, who seemed so close to her in the room that had once been his, and with fear for Aurian, now a fugitive. Gods, how she must be grieving! Maya also worried about her city, in the grip of an evil madman, and her troops, who would be bearing the brunt of the disaster. Between grief and worry, she was finding it impossible to think clearly. The more she tried, the worse it became. What’s wrong with me? she thought despairingly. I’m a bloody soldier. I’m trained to deal with emergencies. There must be something I can do! But whatever it was, it eluded her. Never before had she felt so alone—Or so utterly, wretchedly helpless.
The sound of a door opening made her reach for her sword _but the intruder was only D’arvan, coming out of his room. He looked haggard and haunted. “You, too?” Maya said ruefully, suddenly glad of the company.
D’arvan glared at her. “How could I possibly sleep, after what I’ve been told toiwght?” he snapped.
“How, indeed? I can’t sleep after what I’ve been told, and you’ve had it far worse than me.” The self-pity in the Mage’s voice had served as a salutary reminder to Maya of just how close she had come to sinking into that same trap herself. “Want some tea?” she offered.
“No! I want this not to be! I want to wake up and find myself in my bed in the Academy, with everything safe and normal—and none of this ever to have happened.” He sank to the floor beside Maya’s chair and leaned his head against the arm. Though he was trying to conceal it from her, she could feel him shaking with sobs.
Maya stroked his fine, pale hair. “Me, too, pet,” she murmured sadly, “me, too.”
D’arvan looked up at her quickly, dragging a hand across his eyes. “Gods, how you must despise me!” he choked.
Maya was taken aback. “Whatever for?” she said.
“Because I’m good for nothing! I’m a useless coward—I can only weep like a maid and make a nuisance of myself! But you’re a warrior—you’re brave—I know how brave you are! You would never shame yourself by giving way like this!”
Maya chuckled. “Little do you know. Less than an hour ago I was lying next door bawling my heart out!”
D’arvan’s eyes went wide. “Truly?”
“Of course, dafty. We’ve had terrible news—treachery heaped on tragedy—and you’ve had some shocks to cope with on top of that! This is the best time for us to give way to our feelings—here, where we’re safe for the moment. It’s never wrong to need—or take—comfort, D’arvan. That’s something we both need right now.” As she spoke, Maya slipped to the floor beside the young Mage and put her arms around him.
He turned his face away. “How can you bear to touch me?” he muttered. “You don’t know what I am.”
“Balls! I know exactly what you are—I’ve known for months. You’re shy and good-hearted, you like music and flowers, and you have the most amazing aptitude for archery I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t believe it when you tried my bow that first day at the Garrison, then told me you’d never handled one before! So that’s one thing you’re good at, for a start. You can talk to wolves, and the Lady Eilin thinks you’ll be fine at Earth-magic—and who knows what talents you might have inherited from your father! I know what you are, D’arvan. You’re very special, indeed.”