Was he being warned? But he had no spouse to mourn, and the very last thing he would weep over was the death of his traitorous daughter.
His predilection for black was apparently well known to these riders-or whoever sent them. There had been the rose, the velvet, the horse. and now the ring. And this would certainly gain his attention far quicker than a simple peasants' gold or silver wedding band.
So, was this an invitation to a "wedding"-an alliance?
Or a funeral?
"I don't like this," Darkwind told Firesong unhappily. "I only told you MY plan because I hoped you'd have another way of handling this, something that wouldn't put anyone into danger like this. Even if it is MY plan, I don't like it." He had intercepted Firesong as soon as the Adept had anchored the proto-Gate for the night. They had walked back to Firesong's ekele together, while Darkwind laid bare his thoughts on Falconsbane and what might be done about him.
To his dismay, Firesong had agreed, completely.
"Nor do I care for your plan," Firesong replied, wearily sagging back against the cushions of his couch. "I dislike sending Nyara into peril of this sort. She is a frail prop for all our hopes-and yet there is a certain symmetry in it. in sending her to avenge her own hurts upon her father."
Darkwind snorted. "Symmetry was not what I had in mind," he said.
He would have gone farther than that, but at that same moment, Nyara and Skif arrived, summoned by one of Firesong's ever-present hertasi.
Skif was unarmed as far as Darkwind could see, but Nyara, as always, had Need; the sword at her side was so much a part of her that he couldn't imagine her without it.
He took a moment to examine her with the dispassionate eyes of a stranger and was a little surprised. He'd thought of Nyara as small and slender, maybe even spidery; well, perhaps she was, compared to himself and to Skif. But she certainly carried her sword with authority-and from what he'd seen, she knew how to use it well. And what skill she did not possess, the sword could grant to her, if Elspeth was to be believed.
" Sit," Firesong said, before the other two could say anything. "Please.
We have somewhat we need to ask you." He waved to one of the hovering hertasi, who converged upon the two Outlanders with food and drink.
They took seats; Nyara a little apprehensively, Skif reluctantly. Darkwind didn't blame them. He'd had the feeling that Nyara knew what he'd had in mind all along, from the nebulous ideas that had formed when he asked her to locate Falconsbane's stronghold, to the crystallized plan that had sent him looking for Firesong. Skif probably didn't know what was in Darkwind's mind, but if it required involving Nyara, he was going to be immediately suspicious.
"I'll come straight to the point," Darkwind said. "Before we take this to a larger forum, we need to know something from you." He waited until they had settled a little, then turned to the Changechild. "Nyara, this afternoon I asked you to help me find your father's stronghold on the map. You thought you located approximately where it is, correct?" She nodded, slowly, accepting a cup of tea from one of the hertasi. It was very hard to read her face; long ago she had probably learned how to control her expressions minutely, and that was a habit that was hard to break.
He hated to ask this of her. He hated to put her back where she might need that kind of control. "Well, this is a different question, but related.
Could you trace your way back to it-and if you found it, get into it?" Skif yelped and started to rise; she shook her head at him, and placed one hand on his knee to calm him. It didn't calm him a bit, but he subsided, looking sharply at both Firesong and Darkwind.
Hmm. Interesting. I thought he was unarmed, but the way his right hand is tensing~he has a knife hidden somewhere near it. If he had a choice, he probably wouldn't be looking daggers at us, he'd be throwing them.
"Yes to both questions," she replied steadily. "My problem with finding Father's hold upon your map was that I could not see the things I know as landmarks. I have a perfect memory for trails, it seems. I never had occasion to use it before I escaped my father, but it is very difficult for me to become lost. I can easily find the stronghold." She licked her lips, showing the tips of her canine teeth, then took a drink before continuing. "I can find it-and having found it, I know many of the odd ways into it. He does not guard all of them, for many are hidden.
Some I was taught, but some I found on my own."
"Yes, but will he not know of them as well?" Firesong asked gently.
"I would not send you into a trap, dear child. Candidly, that would not serve either of us." Her lips curved in a faint smile. "I do not think there will be a trap.
Since I am only interested in fleeing from him-he thinks-I suspect that the last thing he would look for me to do is return. The ways that I would take inside will be those that only I know, or those that I think he will not bother to trap."
"I can hide her some, if that's your next question," Need said. "I can hold a "reflective" illusion on her, the kind that makes her look like part of the landscape to Mage-Sight. More importantly, while I'm doing that, I can hide myself as well. Watch." At that instant, Need ceased to exist, from the point of view of Darkwind's Mage-Sight. She was nothing more sinister to ordinary sight than an ordinary broadsword, and to Mage-Sight, she and Nyara did not exist, and Skif sat alone on the couch.
Then Nyara was "back," all in an instant, and the sword with her.
"Good. Very good," Firesong said, leaning forward a bit, his voice warm with approval. "Well, then, you must know that we have a plan, but the'one in greatest danger will be you, Nyara. That is a great burden to be placed upon you, and no one will fault you if you say no." She shook her head, but not, Darkwind sensed, in denial. "I have been partially to blame for much harm that has come to you," she said.
"I feel that I owe some recompense."
"It's not like she's going to do this alone," Need added dryly. "I've handled what Falconsbane can throw before. Hmph. Maybe if he throws the right stuff at us this time, I can transmute it and take off a little more of what he did to her."
" I will not count upon that," Nyara told her blade, and Darkwind thought he detected a tone of friendly chiding in her voice. "I will not even think of it. It serves little purpose, after all. If you can, I shall be grateful, but do not put yourself into jeopardy by an attempt." Need couldn't shrug, but Darkwind got the impression she had. "At any rate, as Nyara and Skif can tell you, I took on this form because there are times when one person can do what an army couldn't. I'm no expert on Falconsbane, but I don't think the odds are any worse now than they were back when I froze myself into this blade." Darkwind looked at Skif, who growled, but shrugged. "She's her own woman," he replied unhappily. "If I tried to make her change her mind, I wouldn't be doing either of us any good. She wants to go through with this-I'll do what I can to help." Darkwind raised an eyebrow skeptically. Skif grimaced.
"I don't like it," he admitted. "I'm scared to death for her, and if I could take her place I would. I won't pretend otherwise. But let's just say I learned how stupid it is to try and stop someone from doing something they have to do. It's even more stupid if you care about them." Darkwind read the look Skif gave both of them, however. If Nyara came to any harm at all, Skif would personally collect the damages due.