Free Valdemar 11 - [Owl Mage 03] - Owlknight by Mercedes Lackey

she’ll be pleased; she’s not very comfortable with being at a higher rank than people around her.” Darian sounded as if he found that difficult to understand, but then, Darian was, beyond any doubt, a natural leader himself. Which means he doesn’t yet really understand Keisha’s motivations. That could be a point of potential conflict, especially if she is put into a position where she has to make a leader’s decisions.
    Firesong continued to probe, interspersing his personal questions with those of a much more casual nature, and got the distinct impression that Darian was having some difficulty with the young Healer. It wasn’t enough to break their pairing—yet—but any time that conflict didn’t get resolved in one way or another, there was always the potential for it to happen. An unhappy Master Mage was a potentially reckless or careless one, and there was a long Hawkbrother tradition of taking good care of compatriot mages. More than that was the fact that Firesong genuinely liked young Darian on a friendly basis, and he did not want to see him troubled.
    While he continued to exchange banter with his student, half of Firesong’s mind was elsewhere, pondering what, if anything, could be done. Goddess help me, I’ve turned into an inveterate matchmaker, he thought with a mingling of amusement and dismay. If I don’t watch my step, I’m going to have anxious fathers coming to me yet. Well, I have before, actually, but daughters weren’t involved.... Nevertheless—
    I’ll ask Silverfox to look into the matter and have a word with one or both of them, he decided at last. Silverfox was infinitely more skilled at such things than he—as well he should be, since it was one of the duties of a kestra’chern, to keep all the interpersonal relationships running smoothly within the group to which he or she belonged, be it city or Vale, army or Clan.
    Let Silverfox make what he can of it, he decided. And at that point, it was past time to do any more thinking of his own—he stepped aside at a particular point in the path marked by a lamp-standard shaped like an elongated gryphon, holding the glass globe of the lamp in one extended claw. Darian paused when Firesong did, looking faintly puzzled, and Firesong drew aside the curtain of flowering vines that had hidden a clearing at the foot of a tree too small as yet to support an ekele. He gave Darian’s shoulder a push, sending him into the center of the clearing, where he was surrounded by friends and well-wishers, all eager to congratulate him on his new status. Hertasi had been waiting for just this moment, and as soon as Darian was escorted to a seat of cushions piled up against the trunk of the tree, they swarmed him with offerings of food and drink.
    Firesong stayed for a time, but kept his silence, as those who were mages monopolized the conversation. Those of Master rank and above—Starfall, Snowfire, and others—related their own Mastery Trials, as those who had not yet attained the rank of Master listened eagerly and a little enviously, then pelted the others with questions.
    It was altogether too much like a gathering of scouts comparing the latest skills of their bondbirds. Each and every nuance and tactic was described and debated in staggering detail. When anyone asked Firesong a question directly, he answered it, but otherwise kept silent.
    Although he hid it well, he was just as tired as Darian, and with as much reason; he had cultivated an appearance of calm, even indifference, but beneath it he had laid careful safety precautions, planning for the very worst. All of those safeguards had been integrated into his shields, of course, ensuring that Darian wouldn’t notice them—it was good for the young man’s confidence. Doing so had cost him a great deal in terms of work. The energy could be replaced, but the physical labor meant he needed his own rest. He’d