Free Crossroads and Other Tales of Valdemar by Mercedes Lackey Page B

the trondi’irn ’s books. “We only have thisss frrrom the hissstorrries—an infusssion method unusssed sssince Ssskandrrranon’sss time. What effect it will have now, we can barrrely prrredict.” He looked off to the northwest. “Firrresssong isss bessside himssself—he wantsss ssso much to be herrre. He carrresss morrre about Kelvrrren than Kelvrrren prrrobably knowsss. He sssaysss everrryone frrrom Lorrrd Brrreon to the Ghossst Cat Clan wantsss Kelvrrren back. He sssaysss the Clansss arrre holding rrritualsss and lighting firrresss to guide Kelvrrren home to them.”
    Everyone was silent for a moment.
    “So,” Hallock began. “The questions are, do we try this method, can it be done, what is required for it to be done, and what will we do if it fails or succeeds?”
    “If it fails,” Rivenstone answered, “he will be his own funaral pyre.”
    “But the firrrssst quessstion isss what the rrressst hinge upon. Kelvrrren hasss rrresssolved that even if he diesss he hasss done well. I doubt he would want to lingerrr in a living death. Ssso I sssuggessst that we procsseed.”
    The others agreed. “We will need a sssite to prrreparrre,” Treyvan stated. “And I confesss, it isss no sssmall rrrisssk to me. We need a placsse clossse by, but sssafe from casssual interrrferrencsse—becaussse in a matterrr of a day, I mussst consstrrruct a node.”
    There was an uncomfortable silence.
    Finally Hallock asked, “What’s a node?”
    “A confluence of magical power,” Rivenstone replied. “Like streams run to a lake, a node is where lines of force converge. But since the Storms, those lines have been largely dispersed. If Treyvan tried to use his personal power, he could wind up like Kelvren is, and Kelvren still wouldn’t be healed. So he has to use an outside source of power—a node. There aren’t any nodes around here, so we need a place to make one. Safely. Quickly.”
    Ammari raised her hand shyly. “Uhm. Will a Changecircle do?”

    Being gryphon through and through, Treyvan was very physical about his magic—but to human eyes he looked utterly mad while he worked. He had gotten volunteers to go into the Changecircle and dig holes in specific places, with the deepest in the very center, a man’s height in depth. He dropped particular stones in the holes and covered them up, and paced around the Changecircle, muttered to himself, then did things his gathered audience found inexplicable. Many times he leaped ten feet in the air and suddenly dove down, thumbs locked, as if trying to push a stake into the ground with his forefeet; other times he would slink along the ground and turn his head side to side before jumping up to circle in the air over the site.
    Shafts of light erupted from the ground periodically, equidistant around the circle. Treyvan walked around each one, then drew glowing lines in midair toward the center of the circle, and subdivided them. More shafts of light shone, higher this time, where those lines crossed, and then wavered. Treyvan growled and leaped on one that was brighter than the rest, and the others became evenly brighter.
    He warned loudly that no one was to enter the Changecircle for any reason, and took to the air, flew a circuit across the Changecircle, and then arced back to the convalescents’ tent, where Kelvren was awake after his trondi’irn ’s drug-enforced sleep. Treyvan murmured to Pena, who dashed off after something. Hallock intercepted Treyvan.
    “Kel was just giving me his opinions about this political and military situation, in case the worst should happen,” the captain said. “And I have to say, I’m impressed. You should hear this.” He looked down at the notes he’d written. “ ‘In this conflict the Guard is already beaten, because they do not want to fight their fellow Valdemarans. And this insurgent militia, brought to bear arms against the Guard and Heralds, are also beaten for the same reason. In their hearts—regardless of blades, arrows,