“We are here to help young Vanyel, little one,” Starwind said kindly. “But for us to do so, you must move away from him.”
Stefen lurched to his feet, knocking over the chair he'd been sitting on, and backed away, tripping over it in the process. Moondance caught him before he fell, and Savil wondered for a moment if the poor boy was going to faint on the spot. He recovered, and edged over to Savil, standing slightly behind her, his eyes never once leaving the Tayledras.
Starwind held one finger near to the leech-blade, but did not touch it. “A nasty piece of work, that,” he said in his own tongue to Savil. “More than ordinary malice went into its making.”
“But can you get rid of it?” Savil asked anxiously.
“Oh, aye. Not easily, but it is by no means the hardest task I have ever undertaken. Ashke -”
Moondance nodded, and moved to stand immediately behind him, with one hand resting lightly on his shoulder. Starwind ripped part of the ornamental silk from his sleeve; the cloth parted with a sound like the snarl of a hunting cat. He wrapped the bit of silk around his hand, and only then grasped the hilt of the leech-blade.
“Now we give it something else to seek after,” he murmured, and held his other hand a few thumblengths away from the wicked little knife. Invoking Mage-Sight, Savil Saw that his hand glowed with life-force; far more than Vanyel possessed, even at the core of him. And she Saw how the blade loosened its hold on the Herald-Mage; how it turned in Starwind's hand, and lurched out of the wound like a hunger-maddened weasel.
“Not this time, I think,” Starwind said aloud, pulling his unprotected hand away before the writhing blade could strike it. “Now, ashke -”
Moondance made an arc of pure power between his two hands, and Starwind brought the blade down into it.
The thing shrieked.
Stefen screamed, and clasped his hands over his ears. Savil very nearly did the same. The only reason she didn't try to block her ears was because she knew it wouldn't do any good. That hideous screaming was purely mental.
The scream of the blade continued for four or five breaths, then, as suddenly as it had begun, the thing fell silent. Moondance damped the power-arc, and when Savil's eyes and Mage-Sight recovered from the dazzle, she saw that Starwind held only a hilt. The blade itself was gone, and the air reeked of charred silk.
“And that,” the Tayledras said with satisfaction, turning the blackened hilt over in his hand, and examining it carefully, “is that.” He looked up at Savil. “And now, dearest Wingsister, we four can all join to bring our brother back to us.”
She was placing her hands over Moondance's when she realized what he'd said.
Four? Huh. Well, why not?
“Come here, lad,” she said over her shoulder to Stefen, who was hovering worriedly in the background. “They won't bite you.”
“Much,” Moondance said, in her tongue, with a sly grin for Stefen. Oddly enough, that seemed to relax him.
“What can I do?” he asked, taking his place at Savil's side.
“I have no idea,” she admitted. “But he knows. So let's both find out.”
Starwind smiled, and placed his hands atop theirs.
Savil took a long, deep breath and looked quickly down at Vanyel. He was breathing normally, deeply asleep, and his color was back. He'll probably wake up in a candlemark or so. 'Fandes will be out about as long.
“What happened?” Stef asked, dazedly. “What did we do?”
“Sit, Singer,” Moondance said, pushing him down onto the bed. “We gave young Vanyel a path back to himself, and the strength to return upon it. But that strength came from us, you most particularly, and you should now rest.” He nodded at the bed. “There is plenty of room there, and Vanyel would feel comforted by your presence.”
“He would?” The youngster looked on his last legs, but was stubbornly refusing to admit his weariness. “Well - if you think so -”
“I think so.” Moondance threw a light blanket over the Bard's shoulders. “Rest. You do not hasten his recovery by fretting.”
“If you -” he stifled a yawn “- say so.”
Moondance shook his head at Starwind. “Children. Was I that stubborn-minded?” he asked in Tayledras.
“Oh, you were worse.” Starwind grinned, and took Savil by the elbow. “Kindly show us where we will be staying, Wingsister. I think we will have to remain here some few days more, else Vanyel will foolishly exert himself and it will be all to do again.”
:And just what do you have up your sleeve?: she asked him. :You're right, of course, but there's more that you aren't telling the boy.:
:Perceptive as always,: he replied. :I wish you to hear this from Moondance, however.:
She nodded at Moondance, who joined them at the door. “Sleep, Stefen,” he ordered as he closed it. An indistinct mumble came from the general direction of the bed. It sounded like agreement.
“In the absence of anyone else I guess I'll make the decision of where to put you two,” Savil said. “And because I don't know where else, I guess you might as well take the room next to Van's.”
She opened the door to the next guest room, which looked about the same as Vanyel's in the dim light; with Forst Reach entertaining as many as a hundred visitors during the course of a year, no room ever sat long enough to take on an air of disuse. The only real sign that it was not occupied was the fact that the shutters were closed, and what light there was leaked in through the cracks.
“So, now, what was it you wanted to tell me about?” Savil asked Starwind, closing the door behind him. The older Tayledras went directly to the window and threw the shutters open.
“Not I,” he said, “but Moondance.” He sat on the window ledge and leaned out, looking with interest-though real or feigned, Savil couldn't tell which-at the grounds below.
“Well?” she asked impatiently of Moondance. The Healing-Adept looked very uncomfortable.
“I do not know how much you give credence to our beliefs,” he said doubtfully.
“Depends on which one,” she replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. “If it's the one about how people should live in trees, I still think you're out of your mind.”
He ignored the sally. “We think - and have proved, insofar as such a thing is possible to prove - that souls are reborn, sometimes even crossing species' boundaries. Rebirth into something of like intelligence, a hertasi perhaps being reborn as a kyree, or a kyree as a human -”
“Must make things interesting at dinnertime,” Savil jibed.
He glared at her. She gave him a sardonic stare right back.
“This is all very fascinating philosophy, but I don't see what it has to do with Van,” she pointed out, tilting her head a little.
Moondance shook his head. “Not with Vanyel - with the Singer.”
“Stef?” she exclaimed incredulously. “Why on earth Stefen? And why is it important?”