This was not the simple green tunic-and-trews she had expected. She did not recall that there had been anything special planned for her return.
But next to the dress was a note attached to a new hair ornament - one of Aya’s sparkling white tail-feathers with green crystal beadwork ornamenting the shaft. She picked it up and read it.
You are invited to share a small celebration in honor of Darian Firkin k’Vala k’Valdemar on the occasion of his attaining the rank of Master Mage, follow the firebird feathers. And there was a postscript, in a rougher hand. We decided to postpone this until you came home; it wouldn’t be a proper celebration without you. She didn’t need a signature to recognize Darian’s handwriting on the postscript, and only the elegant Silverfox could have penned the invitation.
She forgot her anger completely. Surprise was followed immediately by such a rush of cheer that she might as well have downed an entire beaker of wine by herself.
She dropped her towels on the floor and hurried into the lovely gown, fastening the hair clasp into her damp hair. The feather trailed down along the side of her face, brushing her cheek in a graceful curve. Although the feather ceased to drip false sparks once it was no longer attached to Aya, it did retain the ability to sparkle as if it had been dusted with minute particles of gemstones.
With her skirts caught up in one hand, she ran out the front door and caught sight of the first of the firebird feathers. This was a smaller, body-feather; it hung from a strand of beads fastened to the lamp-standard marking the beginning of the lefthand path, fluttering and twisting in the light breeze.
The feathers were easy enough to spot - each one was within sight of another - and she soon met someone else following the same trail.
Wintersky’s current partner, a Tayledras scout called Ravenwing, waved to Keisha just as Keisha caught sight of her. She, too, was dressed for a celebration, in tunic of gold deerskin and trews of black silk. The tunic had beading in black and metallic gold across the shoulders and around the collar, with fringes along the sleeves and bottom hem that cascaded past her knees. Her bondbird, a handsome little cooperihawk, perched on a light gauntlet she wore on her left hand.
“Heyla!” Ravenwing called cheerfully. “Have you any idea what’s been planned? I got out of my bath to find an invitation next to my clothing!”
Keisha shook her head, admiring Ravenwing’s new hair patterns. Many of the Tayledras had snow-white hair by their early twenties at least, simply because they lived within a place where extremely powerful mage-energies were a part of everyday life, but the scouts often had their hair dyed in camouflage colors so that they blended in with their surroundings. Ravenwing’s patterns were brand new, the colors and edges crisp and unfaded - and it was obvious to Keisha’s experienced eyes that the reason she’d been in the bath was because she had been washing out the excess dyes.
“I love your new patterns!” she exclaimed - for Ravenwing’s hair had been dyed to resemble the wings of the enormous brown-eye butterflies that thronged the Vale. It was still camouflage, but it was anything but drab.
“You do? Thank you!” Ravenwing looked pleased, and ran her fingers through her loose hair with obvious pleasure. “I just got so tired of looking like I had a nest of old leaves on my head!”
“Once the others see it, they’ll want to copy it,” Keisha assured her. “It looks wonderful!”
Ravenwing caught her up on the news as they followed the trail of beaded feathers at a brisk walk. Keisha learned that she hadn’t missed much, other than Darian attaining Master status. “Everybody’s too caught up in getting ready for the Heralds to arrive,” Ravenwing concluded, and looked curiously at Keisha. “Is it true that one of them is your sister?”
“So they tell me! I’ll be glad to see her. Until she was Chosen, she was my best friend besides being my sister.” Keisha fingered the feather in her hair thoughtfully. “I hope she hasn’t forgotten that.”
“How could she? Don’t be silly.” Ravenwing seemed very sure of that. “She’ll be just as happy to see you as you are to see her. And if she’s anything like you, I can’t wait to meet her. There aren’t enough girls our age around this Vale, not nearly enough to get into the kind of trouble we used to cause back in k’Vala!”
Ravenwing’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she said that, and Keisha had to laugh. The Tayledras girl had been very free with her tales of the scrapes she and her gang of friends had perpetrated, and Keisha had, more than once, wished she had gotten a chance to join in the mischief. “Believe me, Shandi can cause enough trouble for three! If she hasn’t gone all sober on us now that she’s a Herald, we’ll have a fine time - oh, look - ” She interrupted herself. “That must be where the party is!”
Meeren, her own hertasi, stood beside the path, holding aside a curtain of vines for someone who had come from the opposite direction. He saw them, and beckoned them on; they hurried their steps and he grinned, showing all his teeth, as they reached him.
“Ah, the final pair!” Meeren exclaimed. “With you, we are ready to begin the celebration at last!”
Keisha ducked under the slant of vines, and was seized from behind by a pair of strong arms. “Keisha!” Darian crowed, spinning her around and around until she was dizzy. “You found my presents!”
“What? The dress? The feather?” she asked, trying to catch her breath, her head swimming as he finally stopped whirling her around. “Never mind, thank you for both - oh, Darian, congratulations! This is - wonderful!”
She cupped both her hands around his chin and pulled his head down for a long, heartfelt kiss. She heard the others whooping behind her, and for once, was not embarrassed by their rowdy attentions. She was wholeheartedly proud of him, and happy for his achievement, and she wanted him to know it beyond a shadow of a doubt. His arms closed around her as he drew her close, and for a time the cheers and hoots faded into a faint murmur as her ears filled with the pounding of both their hearts.
Then he let her go, and she took a step backward, smiling breathlessly up into his wide grin. She hadn’t even gotten her scattered wits together when he seized her hand and led her ceremoniously to a seat on the far side of a little clearing, where two enormous cushions had been braced against backrests placed on the ground. “My lady,” he said, gesturing broadly as he bowed to her, his grin as wide as ever, “if you will choose your seat, we can begin.”
She took the seat to the right; he dropped onto the cushion at the left, and a steady stream of hertasi moved into the clearing, each carrying a platter. As was usual at these casual celebrations, the hertasi carried each platter around the circle of diners, and they helped themselves. If the platters still had anything left on them, they made the rounds a second time. Hertasi then returned bearing drink, pouring each cup full of a light spiced wine. There was very little alcohol in this wine; Tayledras drank it for the taste, not with the purpose of intoxication. That was one of the things that Keisha liked so much about living among the Tayledras. Celebrations in the village inevitably ended in drunks staggering about and making themselves nuisances, and the morning after inevitably brought a parade of hung-over sufferers to her door. But the rare intoxicated Hawkbrother took himself away to sleep it off as soon as he or his friends realized the extent of his intoxication, and he either found his own hangover remedy or quietly suffered the punishment for his overindulgence.