Starwind sent his falcon up once more, this time in response to a pigeon taking wing from the keep eaves. Wild raptors, Savil knew, missed more often than they struck, but Tayledras bondbirds seldom stooped without a kill at the end. Starwind had his eyes closed, and his entire body stiffened with tension as his bird dove. A scream of triumph rang out as the bird pulled up for the kill and Starwind shivered a little, a tiny smile of satisfaction on his lips, as the falcon's talons struck home.
The gyrfalcon carried its prey to the roof to feed, and Starwind opened his eyes and smiled a little more broadly at Savil's knowing grin.
“Fantasizing someone other than a pigeon at the end of that stoop, hmm?” Savil asked.
“I?” Starwind was all innocence. And Savil didn't believe it for a moment.
“You. If I had that bastard in my reach right now - never mind. Come on, let's finish this walk.” Savil headed out into the paddocks, and Starwind fell in beside her, Kellan following noiselessly behind.
“As for being waylaid by half-grown girls, half the problems you and Moondance are having you brought on yourselves,” she told him frankly. “You two insisted on being spectacular, well, now you see what happens to a spectacle. I'm sorry, but I can't feel terribly sorry for you.”
“I would not have insisted, had I known the sheer number of inhabitants in this place,” he replied ruefully. “Gods of my fathers - five families, with no less than seven children in each, hundreds of men-at-arms, and then there are the servants, the fosterlings -” He shook his head in disbelief. “K'Treva is little larger, and it is an entire clan! It staggers the imagination.”
“And every one of those people is dying for a close-up look at you,” Savil sighed. “I tried to warn you.”
“The warning came too late.” He shrugged. “Though - I am glad to have met Withen's falconer, for all that he salivates every time he looks upon our winged brothers. And I am doubly glad to have met Vanyel's father and mother.”
Savil strolled over to a fence surrounding the field that held the yearling fillies, and leaned on it, putting one foot on the lowest rung. “Withen's gotten better the last five years or so. I must say, I'm rather proud of him. Most men go more hidebound with age, but the old bastard seems to have relaxed some of his attitudes. Hellfires, he hardly ever bellows at me anymore.”
“You think so?” Starwind replied, looking out over the field. “That is good. That is very good.”
But why it was good, he refused to say.
Every night after dinner, Withen and Treesa had taken to inviting the Tayledras, Savil and Vanyel up to their private suite or (more often, since the weather was excellent) out to the secluded side porch Vanyel had favored before the orchard incident. In part, it was out of pity - to get them away from the Forst Reach hordes. And after the first evening, they included Stefen in on the invitation, although the Bard begged off, saying he had promised to entertain the younger set.
Tonight was no exception, but this time Vanyel, too, had gracefully asked pardon to decline. He didn't give a reason, but Savil told Withen as she joined the group out on the porch that he was missing an unusual experience.
“What is it?” Withen said curiously, handing Starwind a cup of wine. He'd had servants line the porch with festival-lanterns so that the place was well, but not brightly, lit.
“Someone managed to goad your son and his friend into challenging each other, musically speaking,” she replied. “That's what they're up to right now, in front of most of the younglings of the keep - no, Treesa, trust me, it isn't anything you want to subject yourself to.”
Treesa had begun to rise, but sank back down to her seat. “I do trust you, but why? I trust Van not to do anything that would upset the children's parents, so it can't be a bawdy-song contest, can it?”
“No, it's not,” Savil said, grinning. “It's a bad song contest. They've challenged each other to come up with the worst songs they know. Trite, badly-rhymed, badly-scanned-you name it. Right now Van's going through some piece of drivel about being trapped in a magic circle for seventeen years, and it sounds like it may take seventeen years to sing it.”
Treesa laughed. “It may, at that,” she said, and filled a cup for the younger Tayledras.
Moondance took it, but his face was sober. “Lady Treesa, Lord Withen, I have a great wish to speak of something with you, and as it concerns your son, I think this moment of his absence gives me the opportunity. If you will permit.” He paused, and looked first into Treesa's eyes, then into Withen's. “It is not comfortable.”
Treesa dropped her gaze, but nodded. Withen cleared his throat. “Nothing about my son is particularly comfortable. I'm not sure he was ever created to inspire comfort. I think I would like to hear what you have to say. No, I would not like it, but I think I should hear it.”
Moondance sighed, and sat down on the stone railing.
“Then, let me tell you something about a very young man, a boy, named Tallo.”
Savil was considerably more than a little surprised; Moondance found the story of his own past so painful that he had rarely divulged it to anyone. She knew it, of course; she had found the boy . . . she had brought him to Starwind, nearly dead.
Moondance told his story in as few words as possible, his voice flat and without emotion.
“Some thirty years ago, in a village far from here, there lived a boy named Tallo. He was a recluse, a lone runner, an odd boy, given more to thought than deed. His parents hoped he would become a votary, and sent him to the priest to learn - but in the priest's books he found what he was truly Gifted with. Magic. His parents did not understand this, nor did they sympathize, for their lives had little to do with magic and mages. This made him further alone, more different, and his parents began to try to force him back to their own simple ways. It was too late for that - there were arguments. There were more when they attempted to bring him to wed, and he refused. He could not tell them what he felt, for what he yearned for were those of his own sex, and such a thing was forbidden.”
Moondance's soft voice did not betray the pain the Tayledras Adept felt. Savil knew; no one better - but certainly Withen could never have guessed.
“One summer, after a winter of arguments and anger, there came a troupe of gleemen to the village - one among them was very handsome, and quite different from his fellows. Thus it was that Tallo learned he was not the only boy to feel yearnings of that kind. They became lovers - then they were discovered. Both were beaten and cast out of the village. In anger Tallo's lover repudiated him - and in pain and anger, Tallo called lightnings down upon him.”
Moondance sighed, and shook his head. “He did not mean even to hurt, only to frighten - but he did not know enough to control what he called, and the young gleeman died in agony, crying out Tallo's name. And in remorse for what he had done, Tallo tried to take his own life. It was Herald Savil who found him, who brought him to her new friend, Starwind of the k'Treva. Who was also shay'a'chern, and Healed the young boy in body and spirit - but still, there was such grief, such remorse, that Tallo felt something must be given in sacrifice to the harm he had done. So did Tallo die, and in his place came Moondance.”