How could she possibly explain to her mother that ever since she'd started on this trip-even before she'd started-she'd had the feeling that the Crown wasn't something she was ever going to wear? Even if she had tried to tell her, Selenay would have taken it the wrong way; she'd have been sure that Elspeth had some premonition of doom, and there she'd be in embroidery class again away from all possibility of danger.
What an awful idea.
And it wasn't a premonition of "doom," or anything like one. It was just the feeling that she was never going to rule. That one of the twins was going to have the throne, and the other The other would be King's Own. Not a bad arrangement , since they aren't at all alike. Wouldn't be the first time that sibs were Monarch and Monarch's Own.
Her fate was something else entirely-though what, she hadn't the faintest notion. Even though her conscience bothered her now that she was so far away from home, she'd been doing some useful work) assigned to Kerowyn and the Skybolts. And, though she would never have believed it when she left Haven, she was homesick.
She kept telling herself that there wasn't much she had been doing that couldn't be done by Talia and Daren... and that though she wasn't a Foreseer, she'd never been wrong when she got really strong feelings about something. There was something she had to do, and it was tied up with learning magic.
She'd said as much to Gwena, who'd agreed with her. "Even though you aren't following the course we'd planned for you," she'd added.
Too bad. So I'm a stubborn bitch. I do things my way, or not at all, and if Mother, Gwena, and Rolan don't like it, I'm not at all sorry. So there.
Nyah, nyah. She grinned to herself at her own childish thought. Really, it was a very good thing that the messages were going through Rolan to Talia and only then to Selenay. Rolan had more of a sense of humor than Gwena-and a little more tolerance. And Talia knew her former charge very well indeed. Further, Talia had told Elspeth privately that she thought the Queen was reacting like most mothers to the evidences of her daughter growing up and developing a mind of her own.
Badly.
Oh, not as badly as she could have, but all things considered, it was much better for Elspeth to be off beyond Mama's reach for a while. By the time she returned, it might be possible for Queen Selenay to admit that her daughter wasn't a foolish, headstrong, stupid child anymore.
I've managed to acquire a little sense, anyway..."Gather yourself, my dear," Gwena Mindspoke, interrupting her thoughts. "They're coming for you. Finally."
Elspeth glanced out of the corner of her eye at Skif and Tre'valen.
Skif looked as if he were concentrating on every word that the Hawkbrother called Iceshadow spoke. Actually, he probably was; his command of the Tayledras tongue wasn't anywhere near as good as hers.
Odd; she'd slipped right into the language as if she had known it most of her life.
Oh, that's probably because it's like Shin'a'in, and Kero taught me some of that.
Tre'valen wore that inscrutable face that Kero always put on when she was determined not to let anyone know what she was thinking.
"Gambling-face," she called it.
The more she thought about it, the better she liked the idea of approaching Tre'valen later to see if they could do anything for each other.
She felt a lot more comfortable around him-around any of the Shin'a'in, really-than she did around the Tayledras. That was probably because she could read him, a little. He and Kethra reminded her of Kero; well, that shouldn't surprise her. Kero had trained her, and Kero had, in turn, been trained by a Shin'a'in Swordsworn, so there was a lot of Shin'a'in attitude and thinking patterns in the way Kero looked at things. A good bit of that had rubbed off on her pupil, without a doubt. The Tayledras, however, were very exotic, and Darkwind had been so hard to read that Elspeth had given up even trying.
I wonder if they seem that way to Tre'valen.
They hadn't had much of a chance to see the Vale; as Gwena had predicted, it was sunset when the Hawkbrothers came for them, and most of the Vale was shrouded in shadows as they passed through it.
Elspeth had gotten some impressions that had taken her breath away, however-of luxuriant growth that made any forest she'd ever seen look sparse by comparison, and trees so enormous her mind refused to accept their size. The Companions had trailed along behind as they followed a well-worn path past curtaining vines covered with cascading flowers the size of her hand, and bushes with leaves bigger than a saddle. Elspeth couldn't wait to see the place in the daytime.
Darkwind himself had come to fetch them, as their sponsor into the Clan; Kethra was Tre'valen's. With him had come at least a dozen more Tayledras-and Elspeth had done her best not to stare, but it had been very difficult. She had thought that Darkwind was a typical Hawkbrother, and she had been just a little disappointed, given the hints in the Chronicles of how strange the Hawkbrothers were, at his shoulderlength, mottled-brown hair and his drab clothing. The Chronicles had talked about Moondance and Starwind being as "brightly plumaged as firebirds" and she'd cherished images of brilliant colors and weird clothing, maybe things that didn't look like clothing at all.
She wasn't disappointed any longer. The dozen Tayledras with Darkwind had been garbed as wildly and beautifully as she could have wished.
Every one of them had hair that was waist-length or longer, white as ice, and twined with feathers, crystals, bells, slender chains, or strands of silk matching their-costumes. That was the only word she could arrive at.
"Clothing" certainly wasn't adequate-not for robes with layered sleeves that trailed on the ground, hugged the arm like silken skin, were scalloped, bejeweled, embroidered, and tapestried. "Garb" didn't describe tunics and gowns that mimicked feathers, leaves, flower petals, frozen waterfalls. Every one of the dozen was unique; every one was incredible and complex. And yet, the costumes weren't any less functional than, say, Valdemaran Court gear; although she wouldn't have known how to move in those outfits without tripping over something.
She felt for the first time as if she had truly left the world she knew and had stepped into the pages of a tale.
Even Darkwind-drab, disappointing Darkwind-had been transformed.
Although his hair was still shoulder-length, he had somehow managed to get patterns dyed into it. She assumed it was dye; it might not have been. How would she know? It might have been magic. Birds flickered whitely against a dark gold background every time he moved his head, as if his hair was a forest in autumn with doves flying through it. And his costume was as fanciful as the rest-although a little more practical. He had eschewed trailing sleeves and hemlines for embroidery and something that stayed fairly close to his body. But he was )just as eye-dazzling in his way as the others were in theirs.
He smiled shyly when he saw the surprise and approval, in her expression, but said nothing, simply gesturing for her and Skif to follow him into the depths of the Vale. Kethra led Tre'valen in a similar fashion; the rest of the Tayledras came behind, with mage-lights bobbing above their heads, and the COMPANIONS bringing up the rear. Above t walls of the valley and the tops of the towering trees, the sky still glowed blue, with the west a warm gold-in the shelter of the massive branches dense blue shadows obscured all but the trail they walked.