“Well,” she said, dusting her hands off on her tunic, “what kind of an entrance do you want to make?”
“Your pardon?” Starwind replied, puzzled by her turn of phrase.
“Do you want things to stay as quiet as possible?” she asked. “Would you prefer we kept your presence at Forst Reach a secret? It'd be hard, and frankly, we'd waste a lot of magic doing it, but we could, if that's what you want.”
Starwind exchanged glances - and probably thoughts - with Moondance. He bit his lower lip, and looked at her measuringly before replying.
“I am of two minds,” he said. “And the first thought is that it would be worth any effort to keep our presence unknown. Yet if we were to do that, we would be unable to accomplish many things that I would like. Moondance wishes to have speech of Vanyel's father, for one. If we are to do such a thing, we must be here openly.”
Savil did her best to keep her surprise from showing. “I can't imagine why you'd want to talk to Withen, but - all right. So what's your choice?”
“Open,” Moondance said promptly. “With as much drama as we may. If we are to break Tayledras silence, then I say we should leave your folk with a memory that will follow them all their days.”
“You'll do more than that, my lad,” Savil muttered, but nodded anyway. “However you want,” she said a little louder. “I'd like you to look at Treesa first, if you would. Van can wait a little, and I'd rather get her on her feet before Withen comes home and has hysterics.”
Starwind nodded. “Lead the way, Wingsister. We will follow your lead.”
I doubt that, she thought, but didn't say it.
It was worth every odd look she'd ever collected from the members of her family to see their faces as she sailed into Treesa's sickroom, followed by the two Tayledras. They certainly knew how to time things for a particularly dramatic entrance, she gave them that. She shoved open the doors first, then made a half-turn to see if they were still coming - then, just before the doors swung completely shut, they flowed through, side by side, and paused to look around.
There were roughly half a dozen people in the room, all told. The only two Savil recognized were the Healer and Father Tyler, both of whom stared at the exotic Adepts with their mouths slowly falling open.
The rest drew back as far as they could get; years of being told as children to “be good, or the Hawkbrothers will get you” were bound to have an effect. And no one could doubt for a moment that these two were a pair of the fabled out-landers-for their birds were still perched calmly on their shoulders, as if they passed through Gates and were carried around strange keeps every day of the month.
Both birds were stark white now, though when Savil had last seen him, Starwind's bondbird, the younger of the pair, was still marked with gray where the darker colorations hadn't yet bleached out. She found herself marveling anew at the birds' calm; no falcon in the Ashkevron mews would sit unjessed and unhooded on a human's shoulder, nor tolerate being taken all over the keep. But then, these birds were to ordinary raptors what Shin'a'in warsteeds were to horses. Bred for centuries to be the partners of those they bonded with, their intelligence was a little unnerving. Just now Starwind's bird was watching Savil with a quiet, knowing look in its eyes, and Moondance's was watching the priest with what had to be an expression of wicked amusement.
Moondance himself strode toward the bed where Treesa had been placed. Those at her bedside melted out of his way without a single word. He held his hand briefly above her forehead, frowned for a moment, and then announced without turning around, “You were correct, Wingsister. It is simple mage-shock from being too near a blast. I can bring her out, if you'd like. It makes no difference to her recovery if she is awakened now or later.”
“Do it now,” Savil advised, “before Withen comes crashing in here like a bull with its tail on fire.”
Moondance took both of Treesa's hands in his, and held them for a moment with his eyes closed. Treesa began to stir, muttering unintelligibly under her breath. Moondance waited for a moment, then opened his eyes and called her name, once.
“Treesa,” he breathed. Only that, but somehow the name took on the flavoring of everything she was, and things Savil hadn't guessed she could be.
Treesa's eyes fluttered open, and the first thing she focused on was Moondance.
“Oh -” she said, weakly. “My.” She gulped, and blinked at the Tayledras as if she could not look away from him, though he dazzled her. “Am - am I dead? Are - are you an angel?”
Starwind was too polite to burst out laughing, but Savil could tell by his too-calm expression and the creases around his twinkling eyes that he was doing his very best not to laugh at the notion of Moondance as an angel.
Moondance is never going to hear the last of this, Savil thought, holding back a smile that twitched the corners of her mouth despite the seriousness of the overall situation.
“No, my lady,” Moondance said haltingly in the tongue of Valdemar. “I am only a friend of your son. We came here to help him, and you as well.”
“To help -” All the color drained from Treesa's face. “Van - how badly is he hurt? Dear gods -”
She struggled to sit up, but the Healer prevented her from moving by holding her down with one hand on her shoulder. Moondance put his hand atop the Healer's, eliciting a gasp from both the Healer and Treesa.
“We go to him now, my lady,” Moondance said, and smiled sweetly. “Be at ease; all will be well.”
And with that, he turned and swept out of the room, Starwind joining him so that they left as they had entered, together. Savil smiled at Treesa, as reassuringly as she could, and followed them.
“Where is young Vanyel?” asked Starwind as soon as they were all in the stone-walled corridor.
“Up a flight and over a bit,” Savil told him, taking the lead again, and moving as quickly as her aching hip would permit. “I should warn you about something. Seems he's lifebonded again, this time to a young Bard about half his age -”
Starwind exchanged a wry glance with Moondance. “Indeed? And where have I heard that tale before?”
“I would have no idea,” Savil replied, her tone heavy with irony. “Just because you were near thirty and Moondance was all of sixteen ... At any rate, the boy's with him. Don't frighten him; he's had a bad few hours, and he's part of the reason why I haven't been frantic to get you here.”
Moondance looked puzzled, but Starwind nodded knowingly. “Ah. The blade feeds on both of them. I had wondered why you were so calm about all this.”
“So long as you didn't take a week to make up your minds, I reckoned we had time.” She paused outside Vanyel's door. “Here. And remember what I told you.”
This time Starwind held the door open for her, and followed her inside with no dramatics at all. Stefen, whitefaced, was absorbed in Van - so completely that he didn't even notice they were there until Starwind laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.
Stefen jumped; he looked up at the Tayledras Adept, and his eyes grew very large, and very round. His mouth opened, but he couldn't seem to make a sound.