Things to know before reading:

--Chapter voting: Rethwellan, 0, and Valdemar, 3. I made a prediction that I wasn't going to get anymore reviews for Chapter 8 and started writing Chapter 9. Aren't I optimistic? Yeps…the point is that Dawnshadow & Co. are now in Valdemar. ^.^

--Kuriana is Derik's best friend, who has not 'graduated' out of the Collegium yet because she needs more training with her gifts, which are Firestarting and Farsight. Just thought I'd tell you now, since she's kind of right at the beginning. Yeah, I know – another character whose name starts with 'K'. I am partial to that letter.

--In the un-edited version, I had this really crummy poem up in this chapter. I have taken it away so that I would no longer taint anyone I read this with my awful poetry. ^~^ Meanwhile, if you want to see some good poetry, go read Yue-chan's ficcy. :D

--Kestri is a very odd kestrel. Do you know why? It's because Kestri is female, and she has slate-blue wings – a trait that male kestrels have. Now isn't that weird?

Kismet of a Changechild

Chapter IX

By Aura Kage

Dear Kuri,

Heyla – it's me, Syrkaderik, again. Having fun at the Collegium? I hope so…though, I guess, when I was there I didn't really like it very much. At least you have the interesting gifts – Firestarting and Farsight, of course, the best two gift combinations ever. I'm jealous…speaking of Firestarting, I told you that I'd only call Makura if I had an emergency out over in Rethwellan. Well, I have an emergency all right…no, no, don't worry – I'm fine. The "trouble" in Rethwellan was just some kid colddrake trying to eat a Companion and a newly Chosen. That's right – newly Chosen. Kyrrith finally Chose…it's a female, too, so you'll get to have a little fun. Except…I had a dream last night that there'd be some trouble over at Haven. There might have been some people already detecting that, and they're probably preparing the defenses…but I doubt that the Palace is going to be attacked. More like in the marketplace…well, talk to you when I get to Haven. I just need to rest now…the Combs weren't very nice to me and my companions, so speaking. But if I call, try and get help quickly – most preferably Dirk or Griff. All right? I'll explain it all when I get there, don't worry.

-Derik

Herald Syrkaderik folded his letter in half, and then in fourths, and then ran his finger down the crest and back of the bird that was perched in his shoulder. It was a pigeon that he and his friend Kuri (whom he called a sister, though she really wasn't related to him at all) had raised, as it had fallen from its nest in a tree and they had accidentally touched it and contaminated its plumage with their scent. Makura, as the pigeon was named, had been trained to come to the call of a whistle that Derik and Kuri always had somewhere. The pigeon's only fault was that he could only hear the whistle from so far – and he could only deliver to Haven, unless one of the two called him to a specific place.

Derik tied the note around the pigeon's leg with a piece of twine, making sure it was secure and light enough for the bird to hold. The pigeon pecked at its leg experimentally, than nipped Derik's fingers affectionately and hopped onto his palm.

"Good job, Makura," Derik whispered as his hand dipped and rose abruptly to throw the bird into the dawning sky. "Tell Kuri to give you some nice seeds, alright?"

There was no reply; the Herald wasn't expecting one. With a heavy sigh, he leaned against Ranaena's warm, soft side and dug around in her saddlebags for his book.

:And you complain that you have bad gifts,: the Companion said as Derik withdrew what he was looking for. Derik ignored her and took back the thin, hollow stick that he used as a writing utensil, and dipped it into the bottle of naturally made ink.

"I do," Derik replied finally, moving the book away from the Companion's azure eyes. "And I'd rather you not read this."

:Pfft. I don't need to read your book to know what it says, sweet,: Ranaena informed her Chosen. :I can just read your mind.:

"Please don't. Really."

:Well, then go to sleep. You just told Kuriana that you needed your rest – and I know that you took the Comb worse than Snowsong or Dawnshadow. Go to sleep.:

"You tempt me, Rae…" Derik yawned, placing the book and ink-filled stick on the ground. "But I'm not going to let you read my book…and I don't want anyone else to, either…"

:Don't make me have to sing to you. Go to bed – get your rest,: Rae said, whuffing her Chosen's chestnut hair. Derik yawned again, and had just enough wits to put away his book, stick, and ink away correctly before drifting off immediately into sleep.

Nearby, Dawnshadow shifted in her sleep uncomfortably, and finally woke up, rubbing her fingers against her eyes and mewing softly. She looked behind her, where she thought she had heard whatever had waken her up, and saw that the fire Snowsong had worked so hard to make was half-dead, its creator asleep in a curled position behind his Companion.

Ranaena, however, was not asleep, and focused those bluer-than-blue eyes on Dawnshadow's earthly-golden ones. Very slowly, the Companion jerked her head towards her saddlebags, as if to say, "Whatever he doesn't want anyone to see is right there. Help yourself."

Dawnshadow stood up, stretching cramped muscles, and walked silently over to the saddlebags, kneeling down and undoing the first. Ranaena snorted what Dawnshadow knew somehow was a negative; she moved to a second, and another snort stopped her. Finally she found the backmost saddlebag, and Ranaena gave the slightest nod. Kyrrith looked up interestedly, not asleep either, and watched Dawnshadow lift up a small white book from the tightness of the bag. She leaned against Ranaena comfortably, a movement that the Companion did not object to, and began reading the small scratches in the rough paper. Or, at least, tried to…most of the words were ineligible, but as she went further to the back of the book, the words 'evolved' somewhat, to a readable status. It seemed to be…a poem book. Dawnshadow's eyes ran quickly over the words as she read the poem silently to herself.

It seemed to be about a mistress christened 'Lady Fate' and the utmost hatred Derik had for her.

:I do not get most of it,: Dawnshadow complained to Kyrrith, reading over the poem a few times more. :I only get the last two lines.:

:Don't worry about it,: Kyrrith assured her between laughs. :I guess he's just writing down his thoughts, and this is what he thinks.:

:Then Herald Syrkaderik must have a very odd mind,: Dawnshadow decided, carefully replacing the book back in its former spot and crawling back to her place by Kyrrith. She leaned against the Companion, crossing her arms behind her head in a gesture that she had seen Derik often do, and looked at the rising sun with severely contracted pupils.

It was pretty – the skies were tinted with a soft, translucent pink, while the skies seemed to glow with various hues of orange and gold and – sometimes – crimson. The clouds were shaped somewhat like little diamonds tessellating with each other, like fish scales. And the sun was like one big, giant yarnball-

:You're obsessed with yarn and fish,: Kyrrith interrupted.

:Of course I am. I am a cat.:

:You're not. You're human. It's all right to like yarn and fish – but it's not going to be your top priority, not after you start your training in Haven.:

:Oh, what is my top priority going to be, then?: Dawnshadow inquired bitterly. :Painting over my face as if I was a doll? Dressing my hair in many different styles?:

:It will be Valdemar,: Kyrrith answered instead. :Your priority will be your duty to Valdemar. Yarn and fish will be second and third.:

:Hmph.: Dawnshadow continued watching the sunrise, contemplating. :Being a Herald doesn't sound like much fun.:

:It's not supposed to be,: Kyrrith replied tartly. :It's a job. Just ask Syrkaderik…but, you know, there are a lot of people who would kill to be a Herald, have as powerful gifts as yours.:

:What am I going to use them for, though, Kyrrith?: Dawnshadow asked, troubled. :Empathy and Firestarting – maybe more. The only useful one, it seems to me, is Fetching…and I use that so I can ride you!:

:You'll learn to ride horses soon enough, Cateyes,: Kyrrith said gently, using Derik's nickname for her and nuzzling Dawnshadow's cheek. :And you'll see the point of your gifts soon enough.:

:Hmm…:

Dawnshadow stood up and stretched, and Kyrrith watched from his comfortable position on the ground. Her eyes never left the sunrise, totally captured in its beauty, but her movement ended the uncomfortable conversation. Why did she have to act human to be accepted? It would be lying – she would be accepted for the mask that she put on her face, not for the face and personality that lied beneath. So what if she was fond of yarn and fish? Tailors liked yarn – lots of people liked fish! She wasn't any different from them in the first place…except…

Dawnshadow looked down at her 'hands', turned them over so she saw their backs and her palms. She had attempted to try and remove most of the 'fur' so she would look 'nice' for Haven (in truth, both Syrkaderik and Snowsong had ganged up on her and demanded that she at least try to remove the 'fur')…and then she touched her ears, which were tufted somewhat like a lynx's. And then her eyes…

Lots of people talk about how someone can look into your eyes and see your true self, Dawnshadow mused, looking at the skies, feeling a kind of freedom that she expected was a lot like flying. Therefore, someone would look into my eyes and see only that…

I am different.

For some reason, though she had been calling herself different with a kind of pride, the three words stung in her mind. Different. Why was Kyrrith so afraid that she wouldn't be accepted? Herald Syrkaderik had taken the idea easily enough – and even with a sense of humor, and maybe some hidden bitterness at Lady Fate's prank. If he disliked Dawnshadow, he didn't show it. And Snowsong…Snowsong had saved her from death, and was one of her closest friends, she thought. He left his clan to 'protect' the Changechild, and Kestri had come with him…

And still Kyrrith was afraid she would be disliked.

So what? Wasn't everyone disliked at some point? If the Heralds were truly Chosen by Companions, then they would have good hearts and be able to see that for themselves.

And there was no one at the Collegium besides the Heralds, right?

:You are not telling me something,: Dawnshadow said suddenly, realizing just what was wrong. :You know someone will not tolerate my presence at the Collegium, but you are not telling me who it is.:

:You'll find out soon enough,: Kyrrith answered, not really answering Dawnshadow's question at all. :And when you do, you'll find out that the human lessons that Syrkaderik and Snowsong have been giving you really have been useful, Chosen.:

He was reminding her that she was Chosen – that he was her Companion, that he couldn't lie to her and that she couldn't lie to him either; he'd be able to eavesdrop on her thoughts.

Dawnshadow…

She remembered the Tayledras clan k'Vala, remembered how nice they had been, though they had practically threatened her not to leave her sickbed. How Nightwind had given the Changechild her name – Dawnshadow, because her moods changed at an alarming rate, the Tayledras said.

But 'Dawnshadow' didn't really relate to emotions…it was 'dawn' and 'shadow' put together in a single word. Maybe…maybe the name 'Dawnshadow' was chosen for an entirely different reason altogether…

As far as the Changechild was concerned, the dawn had no shadows. It was all sun and light and many colors announcing the presence of a new day. Her use-name contradicted itself. Unless…

Unless it really means 'Shadow of Dawn'? Would that be good, or bad?

:Perhaps, Chosen,: Kyrrith suggested, :the 'dawn' means beginning. Like the dawn of a new day…and it only means that you got off to a bad start when the Tayledras found you.:

She didn't know. And at that moment, she didn't care. Musing ended now – Syrkaderik promised to take her to Haven as soon as the sun rose, and big golden yarnball in the sky was blazing aureate over the verdant plains.

~

[a candlemark or two before midday, marketplace just outside Haven]

"Haven, Haven, Haven!" Derik shouted over the bustling crowd of people in the marketplace. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Dawnshadow, wrapped loosely in her blanket/cloak, couldn't tell, though Kyrrith lent her his vision. Haven sounded loud and looked loud – a motley, numerous amount of multicolored heads moving in a sea that roared tonelessly. The booths stationed in kind-of neat and straight lines glittered with bright ornaments to attract attention. Her hold on Snowsong's waist tightened, and Snowsong pressed his knees into his mount's sides to 'signal' Kyrrith on after Rae, whose ivory coat shone like a tiny sun.

:Don't worry, Dawnshadow,: Snowsong assured. :Derik said we'd be there soon.:

:Soon is not long enough,: Dawnshadow complained, wishing her had a tail to twitch in aggravation.

:Bright…hurts,: Kestri whined in all of their minds. The kestrel was perched on Snowsong's glove like a parrot in its favorite perch, randomly shrieking out in frustration at the people crowding about. :Too many. Too loud.:

:I know, Kestri,: Snowsong said sympathetically. :Don't worry, we're almost there.:

'Almost' was also a word that both Kestri and Dawnshadow disliked with a passion. It meant 'there, but not finished.'

Derik was looked around nervously, clutching Ranaena's reins fiercely; his short fingernails dug into his palms, leaving small indents.

:Calm down,: Ranaena said, rolling her blue eyes.

:No. I can't,: Derik replied. :I used Foresight – something bad is going to happen here. I'm only hoping it won't concern us.:

:When does it never?:

:Good point.:

:Yes, well, calm down anyway,: Ranaena said, snorting at a young merchant in front of her who got swiftly out of the way. :Almost there.:

:Yeah…probably just a pickpocket, is all,: Derik said, sighing in relief.

The merchant boy that had moved out of Ranaena's path was a beginner at his trade, and also new to Haven. He stumbled away from the big horse, which seemed to glare at him, and watched it disdainfully. Right after the first horse, another pure white horse followed, with the same air of importance and two riders. One was a bright-haired boy with piercing blue eyes and a meek aura about him, and the one after him was draped in a dark cloak and holding onto the boy's waist as if whomever was under there's life depended on the gesture.

Cloak-person looked bored, though. Maybe he'd be able to sell something…

"Hey!" the merchant called, tugging at the edge of Cloak-person's cloak roughly to get his/her attention. To his surprise – and Cloak-person's – the cloak (which the merchant found was really not a cloak at all, but a very dark blanket) slid off easily. Cloak-person, who the merchant found was a female, turned to him, mouth dropping open…

His mouth dropped open as well. The eyes that were peering at him weren't human – a kind of olive hue tinted with gold, and at one point had a small splotch of red, and a slit of black. Like…a cat eye.

"Demon!" the merchant shouted, falling backward in his own surprise, face pale. "DEMON!"

No one was listening to him, however.

:Herald Syrkaderik – the blanket fell!: Dawnshadow squealed, blinking at the merchant, pupils dilating so that they engulfed most of the color in her eyes. Derik quickly reined Ranaena around – though the Companion had turned herself, hearing the mindvoice – and cursed as he saw that Dawnshadow was exposed.

:No one's noticed yet! Maybe we can still-: Derik began.

"DEMON! DEMON!"

:Once an idiot, always an-: Ranaena started cheerfully.

:Shut up. Please.: Derik interrupted. :Dawnie – try and cover your eyes and ears!:

"Demon! DEEEMOONN! Aren't any of you listening to me? There's a DEMON here!" the merchant shouted, already starting to get hoarse as Dawnshadow pulled away and threw her hair over her eyes. Kyrrith looked at the merchant skeptically and continued forward as fast as he could, though there was such a crowd of people that he couldn't get far enough. Ranaena was standing still, waiting, though her shifting eyes betrayed apprehension. People were starting to notice; though Kestri perhaps thought it was a good idea to screech at anyone who was staring at them and flare her wings threateningly, people were starting to stare at the misbehaving bird.

"Kill it! Kill it! Kill it!" the merchant yelled, throwing his merchandise – incense sticks – at Dawnshadow. She caught the movement out of the corner of her eye, and their blurred forms at this speed – at least, to the one corner of her mind that wasn't as 'developed' as the rest – were a threat.

:FEAR!: Dawnshadow emitted unknowingly, shields falling down around her at loss of concentration. The single overwhelming emotion she felt at that moment poured forth from her like water being let through a dam. The incense sticks burst into fragrant flames but continued flying, landing with strange accuracy in the middle of a hanging carpet decorated with abstract drawings. The flames spread, fed by Dawnshadow's immensely growing fear, and after heartbeats it was only a box of formless flames.

"No! Nonononono…" Derik moaned, dismounting and feeling fear. But it was his own – he was shielded. Ranaena whinnied and reared, scaring away several people whom had come to see what had happened.

Someone had pulled Dawnshadow off Kyrrith, and the Companion had reared in what Derik thought was rage, also throwing Snowsong and Kestri off. The kestrel fled, taking to the skies, and Snowsong was yelping painfully as people moved in to assault the 'demon'. There was a yowl of pain and Kyrrith moved into the center of the mob, shoving people away and giving equine cries that were equivalent to snarls.

:FEAR! FEARFEARFEARFEARFEAR!: Dawnshadow screamed, curling into a fetal position on the ground as she was harassed by pots and pans and any merchandise that could be obtained. :Pain! Pain! Pain! Pain!:

With every recognized emotion, several more things burst aflame – another carpet, a purse, a tapestry. Derik noticed with relief that Dawnshadow was missing the people who were attacking her, and that the power of her flames was diminishing rapidly as she lost concentration and, perhaps, her consciousness.

:Shield! Shield!: Derik cried frantically, but he wasn't heard. Kyrrith whinnied and reared again, driving his hooves down like flashing mallets and making several more of the people withdraw.

:Shield for her, Chosen!: Rae called, shoving through the people to join the Herald. :I'll call for help!:

Derik obeyed – one of the few times he listened to his Companion – and threw a shield on Dawnshadow, preventing anymore of her emotions to leak out. But the mob was already stimulated; the Changechild's cries were once loud, but now fading and weakening. Kestri swooped overheard, screeching and raking acute talons across people's heads.

"STOP! STOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP!" Derik shouted, waving his arms to get attention. "STOPPIT! STOP…HURTING…HER!"

In response, someone slapped the back of his head with a fish, but before Derik could yell the person had disappeared.

:Fetch them off!: Ranaena shouted. :Help is coming soon – Kuriana and Griff and…well…:

:Who?:

:Talia.:

:WHAT?! WHAT DOES THE QUEEN'S OWN WANT WITH A NEW HERALD?!:

:A Herald that is of a different…type…than any other ever Chosen,: Ranaena said in that calm, aggravating way of hers. Derik ignored her and went into half-trance state, calling his Fetching gift with practiced ease. Two people flew backwards and safely landed on the ground. Derik called more power into his gift, already realizing how much power those two had taken out of him, and continued.

Meanwhile, Snowsong was shoving relentlessly into the middle of the mob, an eye blackened and nose bleeding sluggishly…though he knew, somehow, that Dawnshadow was in a worse state. He shoved at someone who seemed to be the leader (the young merchant, in fact) and when he cursed something and retaliated, Snowsong's temporarily short temper finally evaporated completely. His fist connected squarely with the man's cheek. Kestri's high-pitched killy-killy-killy tore through the air – a kestrel's taunting laugh.

:Dawnshadow…hold on…:

:Snowsong…help me…it hurts! Stop them, please, do not let them…quickly…: Dawnshadow groaned, shielding her head as best as she could. A pan slapped violently against the side of her head; her vision reeled, and darkness enclosed one eye.

:I'm coming, I'm coming!: Snowsong replied, fearful. He fell to the floor as someone elbowed his back; he resumed crawling, grabbing people's ankles and making them trip out of pure spite.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he found her; in a truly sorry state. She was curled up into the smallest ball that he human body could manage, and was lying in a pool of her own blood that had been collecting out of what seemed to be a deep impression on either her exposed side or leg. She was trembling violently, and her mouth was moving in inaudible whispers, hair messy over her head and face.

And the strangest thing – several people were suddenly jerked back out of the mob, levitating in thin air before being dropped ungracefully to the ground.

:Dawnshadow!: Snowsong cried, bursting forward and coming to his feet. Kestri wheeled and screeched and landed in exhaustion.

:Snowsong – help here!: she exclaimed, swooping off into a new direction and out of sight.

:Kuri! Oh, thank the gods – these damned people are trying to kill Dawnie-: Derik said, his voice fading as he converted to private mindspeech.

"Out! Out of the way, this is Talia!" a soprano female voice (that was not Talia, but actually clearing the path for her) shouted over the crowd – though how he could establish such a volume, no one could tell. "Do you hear me? THIS IS TALIA, THE QUEEN'S OWN!"

"Finally! The Heralds are here!" the merchant cried in relief, running up to the three new appearances. He had several bruises, and was waving his arms happily. "I've heard all about you – you protect Valdemar! Help us – there's a demon here! It wants to kill us!"

"Is there was a demon here," a male dressed in Whites said tartly, stepping forward, "then I think I would rather that it kill you all! What's the matter with you?!"

As soon as he finished his sentence, all of the fires that Dawnshadow had made extinguished, leaving plumes of gray-black smoke.

The merchant, clearly very confused, fell silent with the rest of the crowd. A chestnut-haired female with semi-curly hair pushed through, trying to get to the center, avoiding the puddles of crimson fluid that appeared every so often. Kestri hovered just ahead of her, flying back to her bondmate and landing on his head.

Snowsong was cradling Dawnshadow, who was propped limply against him, staring blankly forward, pupils completely dilated. At Talia's appearance, Snowsong bristled, but as his eyes fell over her Whites he calmed down and stood up, dusting himself off in what he hoped was a casual manner, so he would look sane (it helps that he's thirteen, doesn't it?). Dawnshadow was staring into space and wavering slightly, left cheek and eye darkened, unconsciously holding her side, which was bleeding. One leg was crumpled underneath her.

"I-I'm…" Snowsong started, then cleared his throat; his voice was hoarse. "I'm Snowsong k'Vala. This" – the ex-scout pointed at the miniature form perched on his head – "is Kestri. And this is Dawnshadow. She's not a demon," he added hastily, sounding maybe five years younger than he really was.

Talia smiled reassuringly at him and kneeled down by Dawnshadow, laying a hand on her shoulder.

:FEARPAIN! LEAVE ME ALONE!: Dawnshadow half-emitted, half-spoke. Her eyes turned to Talia, trembling violently, eyes widening so they showed their whites. Something exploded into flames; Griff smothered it as soon as his eyes fell on it.

"Shh…I'm a friend," Talia whispered, though she withdrew her touch. It seemed the entire marketplace was silent; though this wasn't true, as there were faint sounds of bargaining in the distance. "I'm not going to hurt you."

:LIAR! HURT!:

Derik cursed as the sleeve of his Whites started smoldering, and a dark-haired femme helped him rip the burning fabric off before it could eat up his arm.

"No…I'm not. Seriously," Talia said, cracking a small smile. She connected herself to the Changechild carefully, 'threading' around the raw spots of her mind. The girl was an Empath – that was good. A blob of trust and reassurance and comfort throbbed down the connection. Dawnshadow's pupils widened further (if that was even possible at that point) as she realized that Talia could not make her feelings lie.

"See? I'm not going to hurt you. Can you get up? Do you need help?"

:I…: Dawnshadow said, looking up at her. The Herald looked innocent, and she now knew that she would not hurt her. Derik peered around the cleared path to see if she was all right, looking very odd with one sleeve ripped off.

Her more cat-like feelings receded; her intelligent human feelings returned. With a sob, she threw herself at Talia, hugging the Herald desperately, still convinced someone would throw a pan at her.

:Why did they do that? What did I ever do to them?: Dawnshadow asked, sobbing into the Herald's Whites shamelessly. Talia returned the hug with one arm, patting the Changechild's tousled dark hair comfortingly.

"Nothing, nothing," Talia told her softly, helping the Changechild to her feet. "Come on…mount your Companion now, let's go to Haven to get yourself fixed." Talia carefully cleared the path further, leading Dawnshadow (who was limping on a broken leg) to Kyrrith. Dawnshadow let go of Talia's arm and hugged the equine-like's neck, and Kyrrith nuzzled her head.

:Kyrrith…I never did anything…tell them I never did anything, I did not mean to…:

:Shh, beloved. You're safe now – the Heralds are here.:

:Safe. Cat-girl is safe now,: Kestri echoed reassuringly, rearranging her wings.

"Well, what are all of you standing around for?" the female standing next to Derik shouted, sounding indignant and having the same tone of voice that Derik had whenever he was joking…or had on all the time, depending on his mood. "Get a move on before you all burst into flames because your victim's angry at you!"

The crowd was suddenly bustling again, though were silent as they retreated. Kyrrith carefully led Dawnshadow, Snowsong, and Kestri after the Heralds, who were leading the way to Haven, their Whites like guiding beacons.

"But she's a demon!" the merchant cried despairingly, looking around for anyone who would support him, still holding what remained of his incense sticks and waving them in the air. "How could you Heralds save the demon? We almost killed her!"

And then the strangest thing happened – the incense sticks flew straight out of his hands and into the sky above his head, waving before bursting into a vanilla-scented flame. The fire extinguished just as the ashes of the incense sticks fell, peppering the merchant with the odor of smoke.

Syrkaderik and Kuriana snickered at the merchant's dumbfounded face and continued quickly after Talia and Griff.