Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, places, etc. created by Mercedes Lackey.

CHAPTER 3: Myndira

"Toril," Myndira said. "Welcome to your new home."

Toril swiveled his head around to stare at Myndira, as if to say, "This is a joke, yes?"

"I'm afraid this isn't a joke," she told him. She didn't reply to Toril's offended posture, but rather to his disgusted thoughts. 'Dira adjusted her lenses, settling them more firmly on her nose, and looked around at her newly-inherited property. "Acres and acres, and it's all mine," she muttered under her breath. She took a deep breath, taking in the dilapidated signal tower and ramshackle old barn. She observed the sad condition of the front yard and the stable's collapsing roof. "Suddenly that old joke doesn't seem so amusing anymore." She sighed. Toril followed her gaze to the stable and sent a wave of mutual feeling along with an image of vicious, teeth-gnashing rodents.

:Look Toril, I know that there probably will be rats. I'll just have a "chat" with them, all right: 'Dira didn't as much mindspeak the words as send her part-Shin'a'in mount a set of pictures and emotions. Toril sent back a flood of reassurance and confidence in his human friend's abilities. 'Dira gave a half-hearted smile. At least Toril had trust in her abilities. She grounded and centered, then partially opened her shields.

And immediately sensed every single four-legged creature in the surrounding area.

Oh, dear.

'Dira reinforced her shields, spinning out the threads into a strong, yet flexible barrier. She couldn't completely block out every animal's mental presence, as the strength of her animal mindspeech was enough to rival that of any member of the Heraldic Circle. But 'Dira didn't mind.

Sometimes I think I get along better with animals than I do with humans. And it was true. The majority of Myndira Lyall's friends were animals. Myndira was on friendly terms with just about every type of animal, excluding the two-legged variety. In that sphere, however, 'Dira had little luck. She didn't make friends easily. Her differences, no matter how much she tried to conceal it, had worked against her during her last few years as one of the "Blues," or unaffiliated students. She'd kept apart even from the Heraldic trainees, some of whom shared her Gifts. She'd only made acquaintance with the Heralds long enough to have her mindspeech trained and to receive several lectures on the "moral behavior" expected of Gifted persons in the land of Valdemar. She had feared the lectures she would have received, had her animal mindspeech been even stronger than it was. Not that it was a particularly feared Gift; but that strength would have warranted further training sessions. Any more mind-to-mind work, and she feared the consequences.

Some of the Collegium instructors had expected that Myndira would be Chosen. After all, 'Dira was a dedicated and well-received, not to mention Gifted, student, descended from the mixed bloodlines of the gentry and nobility. They'd been surprised when 'Dira had completed her training as scholar without being Chosen. 'Dira hadn't lifted a brow. She knew that she wouldn't ever be Chosen. Even the Heralds, for all their kindness, wouldn't want to include her among their ranks. Too many allowances would have to be made. Even the endless benevolence possessed by the Companions had its limits.

And she was allergic to pain. Or so she had politely informed an exasperated Herald-Captain Kerowyn when asked why she hadn't attended her Weapons classes the ninth time in a row.

No, it was time to walk her own path, even if she must leave everything behind without explanation. She hadn't explained why she'd taken to studying politics and history at the Collegium instead of engineering and mathematics. And she certainly hadn't explained why she had accepted the "delightful property" left her by her uncle. She'd tried explaining once, and where had it gotten her? Only her grandfather and late uncle ever understood her, and her grandfather had expressed his heartbreak at her departure, promptly followed by a warm hug for good luck. And that was all she needed.

Grandfather didn't entirely see the need, the saint, but she knew why she had taken this bit a land in some godsforsaken corner of Valdemar.

Freedom. That's what this place meant to her. Freedom to be herself, without consequences…

She started to smile. This might work out. She wasn't a complete fool; the remainder of her inheritance had been invested in several financial endeavors and, as operator of a signal tower, she would receive compensation from the Council. She would also earn money from her scholarly work; make a name for herself as a historian. Yes, this could work out, after all.

Toril stamped his front hoof, mentally nudging 'Dira, who started. Plan later. Take care of greeting the neighbors now. She expanded her mind, acquainting herself with the local fauna. There were small creatures mostly in the surrounding northern woodland. There were a few larger predators, too. Wolves. That's good. She sensed incredulity from Toril, and grinned in response. Toril had been with her for only a month. He had much to learn, 'Dira acknowledged as she sent her message out. Only a slight narrowing of the eyes betrayed her concentration.

She sensed a vague surprise, then apprehension from the stallion as first one, and then several large northern wolves stepped out from the woods, leaping easily over the ruin that may once have been the eastern garden wall. :Calm down, Toril. I invited them.: she sent to the nonplussed horse. Well, that'll teach him she smugly told herself. Toril snorted.

o.o.o.o.o

"Three long flashes, two short, one-short-two-long…."

The Healer cleared her throat. "I believe that's two long flashes, one-short-two-long, then two short, youngling." She chuckled. "But it's close enough. You really pick up on the signal-language quickly, though."

'Dira allowed herself a brief smile and turned toward Healer Ilona. The middle-aged woman grinned back at her. "It's because of my chosen profession, I suppose. I've had to learn several languages, a few with completely different structures. Signal-language is much easier, since, aside from specific symbols, the rest is just translating letters into their signal-code equivalents. But I'm not that confident in my abilities after just a week. I'm perfectly aware that I completely mangled that last attempt."

"Well," Ilona temporized. "Yes, you did."

'Dira had to repress a laugh. Ilona was not just the only villager familiar with the signal-language; she was a master in it. The Healer had served on the Eastern border during the war against Ancar. Because more signal towers had been built due to the war, and because she'd learned the code at the Collegium, the Circle had stationed her in one of the larger border towns to take charge of the local House of Healing. Ilona frequently used the towers to send out for much-needed supplies. During the war, supplies were stretched thin, and the Council could trust Ilona to send for what was strictly necessary. The Healers' Circle decided that Ilona's experience on the battlefield would serve Valdemar best on the northern border, now that the Alliance had been formed and, so long as the Eastern Empire remained preoccupied with its own internal troubles, the greatest threat to Valdemar now came from possible barbarian armies from the north. So Ilona had been sent up to this village, Highglade.

Myndira believed herself to be very, very fortunate in having met the Healer. She felt Toril's agreement; Ilona had given him an apple.

Ilona leaned back in the Transmitter's chair and looked out of the tower window. "Well, I think that's enough for today. But before I leave for my home and the half-dozen patients with head-colds waiting for me, I'd like you to transmit your first message."

'Dira sat up straight in her chair. "Are you certain that a good idea? I've just barely learned the basics. And where could we possibly transmit, so far to the north?"

The healer smiled. "There's a Guard-tower in the next village over that serves as defense for the local area. The two villages are in relatively frequent contact for trade, healing services, and the rare emergency involving bandits and such. The Guard is in constant contact with other villages, and is always prepared for emergencies, so there's always someone on signal tower duty." Ilona adjusted the instruments that controlled the crystal and the mirrors. She turned on the tower lantern, since daylight was fast fading. "Here, I sent 'Hello.'" A few moments later, the receiving mirror was lit in a series of flashes.

"He just responded with the standard greeting, correct?"

Ilona nodded. "Now answer back."

'Dira frowned, concentrating on the controls. Two long flashes, one-short-one-long… She let goof the controls and turned to Ilona.

Who was trying to keep a straight face.

"Out with it, Healer. What, exactly, did I just say?"

"Exactly?" 'Dira nodded. "Well, the direct translation would be 'Beware: The chickens are coming.'" The Healer started to laugh at 'Dira's expression, then 'Dira joined in. They both quieted as the receiver started blinking rapidly.

"What did he say?"

"Exactly? Something along the lines of 'What the hell!' would be a reasonably accurate translation." The two of them looked at each other and burst out laughing again.

"Gods, that was funny!" Ilona declared, wiping at her eyes.

"True, but you should send a reply. Before the poor Guard starts to worry about an invasion or something of the like."

The Healer raised a brow, gray-streaked hair falling over her forehead. "Invasion? What sort of invasion?"

"Why, a Changechicken invasion, of course," 'Dira replied innocently. The two barely managed to repress their laughter at that.

o.o.o.o.o

Myndira was still laughing as she groomed Toril. Abruptly she stopped the circular motions of the brush. Toril lipped her affectionately, nudging her to continue. She responded, albeit slowly.

:Toril: she sent, :I think I made a friend today.:

I'm your friend: came the stallion's somewhat indignant response.

'Dira reached up and scratched his ears. :I know that, you stubborn horse.: She tweaked an ear. :But the loneliness has been like a whirlpool. It's been pulling me in for so very long, and I—: She accompanied the "words" with images of a dark, swirling pool. An open mouth, devouring her. Toril responded with alarm and 'Dira had to assure him that she was in no actual danger. She patted the horse and dug around in her pocket for a lump of sugar. And all was right with Toril's world once again.

Lucky horse.

o.o.o.o.o

Akakios walked down the alley, easily avoiding some of the shortcut's more unsavory inhabitants. He knew the streets; until he met his Master in magic, he'd spent more time here than at the Merchant's School and his aunt's townhouse combined. He knew how to handle himself in a street fight, how to avoid trouble, how to stand up for himself—all things he'd learned since before his parents' deaths, before he'd been taken in by his mother's older sister.

His aunt might be wealthy, but his mother had only clung to the edges of respectability. Akakios frowned, his memory stretching, reaching back. They hadn't ever had much, the three of them, but they'd always managed….

He shook his head and shifted his attention to the bundle under his arm. It was a book, an old book of powerful spells. He was still amazed he'd been able to filch it from his teacher's library. Not that it had been easy; he'd had to fool quite of few of the library's anti-theft spells and bolster his own concealment magics.

The corners of his lips lifted; he had his teacher to thank for that particular ability. A blood-adept residing in Haven, using the local magic, had to be an expert at concealment magics, and this particular blood-adept had taught his apprentice well, whether he knew it or not.

But this knowledge had bothered Akakios. It was obvious to him that concealment magics were his teacher's forte, and that, added with the fact that he was primarily a practitioner of blood-magic, greatly puzzled Akakios.

Why was his teacher here? What was his purpose in Haven?

And his teacher, always prone to nervousness, had seemed particularly distraught of late.

Fortunately, the blood-mage's recent preoccupation had allowed Akakios the opportunity to "borrow" this particular book.

Akakios made his way to the better section of the city, entering his aunt's neighborhood. He paused, sensing something, and turned his head, his eyes following his instincts to the Lurynwright house.

He shook his head. It would appear that the recently retired Master Lurynwright was spying through his window again, the old busybody. And, being the neighborhood gossip he was, he would most certainly report to Akakios's aunt that her dear nephew was out wandering the streets at a time when proper young gentlemen ought to be at school.

But this was too great an opportunity for a testing a new spell to resist. Slowly winding threads of energy around himself, Akakios focused on a nearby leyline, which he had already diverted to pass through his aunt's kitchen garden. He thinned his shields and reached for the leyline with mental hands, the spell enveloping him coiling tighter and tighter.

Then he disappeared.

And with a muffled thump! Akakios dropped down two inches onto the floor of his bedroom.

"Ouch!" The spell-book, which had somehow manifested itself separately from Akakios, dropped six inches down onto his head. It fell to the floor, falling open.

Rubbing his head, Akakios crouched down to look at the page. Black eyes widened to see that the book was written in some archaic mixture of Karsite and Shin'a'in. Fortunately, he knew some of both, contrary to what his academic marks in Languages class might indicate.

"Demon summoning?" Now this was interesting. Akakios knew that his teacher never used such spells, at least not any as powerful as these. "These spells are ancient," the blood-mage had once explained to his curious apprentice. "They may have been saved and preserved in these books, but even today's most powerful mages can only hope to use watered-down versions of the safest spells written here. Even the Sorcerer-Adepts who created these spells used them rarely, if at all. Most of the spells in this book are strictly theoretical. They're dangerous boy, very dangerous. And no matter your other faults—of which you've a great many, dear apprentice—stupidity isn't one of them. So don't go around experimenting with these kinds of magics. Now, we will be looking at a modified Gate-spell, useless as it may be these days without a large enough blood-sacrifice to make up for the depleted nodes and leylines. Little chance of being able to do that with Heralds and the like poking their noses into…"

Although Akakios had been at pains not to mention that mages had only recently been able to practice magic within Valdemar at all, much less with the help of sacrifices, the blood-mage had certainly been correct about one thing: Akakios had absolutely no intention of experimenting. He might be brash, reckless and lacking in several of the better virtues, but Akakios D'Redgrayve was no fool. He had no desire to raze the entire neighborhood to the ground on a whim.

On the other hand, he was extremely curious. So he sat down cross-legged on the bed and began to flip through the ancient codex, starting with the first spell.

He read it, then turned a page. Then another, and another, a frown of concentration beginning to form on his face.

This is interesting...

His teacher had claimed that these magics were too complex and dangerous, and Akakios could definitely see that they were dangerous—why would anyone want to open a portal into the Void, anyway?—but they weren't too difficult for him to understand. He flipped to a page on demon-summoning.

Demon-summoning had been practiced by the Karsite Black-robed priests before Solaris came into power, and that particular spell Akakios had learned. It was a clumsy spell and very risky, especially since it involved coercion-spells. It was, at its foundation, a Calling-and-Coercion spell, and took vast amounts of blood energy to Call even one demon. Added to that was a powerful coercion-spell which, if broken, would almost certainly result in the death of the mage involved if the demon turned on its own master. After that the demon would be loose, ravaging the mortal plane until it was either killed or it slipped back to the Abyssal plane on its own.

It was an unwieldy spell, truth be told, and one that Akakios had never seen his teacher use, least of all used it himself.

But this book contained other demon-summoning spells. And they didn't follow the standard Calling-and-Coercion pattern. In fact, they seemed more like a Gate-Spell, Akakios realized. According to the various mages from whom the spells had originated, these magics were strictly theoretical, untested, and extremely complex. Akakios frowned at that, and carefully re-read the formulas, translating the archaic script while mentally calculating the magical equations involved.

They seem clear enough to me, even without a Shin a' in or Karsite dictionary as reference. Very much like a Gate-Spell, actually. But, rather than cutting through the Void, these particular spells created a portal into the Abyssal plane itself. What was missing from these spells was a Summoning mechanism. Akakios's eyes brightened. He could do that; he wanted to innovate and add to these ancient spells. He could already think of some ideas.

Coercion spells aren't a good idea. If you could somehow convince the demons to come help you… Help do what, exactly, is the real question though. I'll bet that being able to call upon your own private army of powerful demons would come in handy for many situations. Especially when you're moving your furniture around. No, that's stupid. But it also depends on the type of demon you summon, too. Those standard summoning spells the Karsite Sun-Priests used would attract only those demons who wanted to be called upon to cause havoc and pain. Most Abyssal creatures feed on pain and death energy—at least those we know about—but I wonder if they're all driven by the same intentions…

He stayed up all night, thinking over the Summoning mechanism and drawing on sheet after sheet of costly paper with his charcoal pencils, working throughout the early morning hours. Finally satisfied, he made his way to the bed. The only thing left to work on is the energy-source. I know that blood-magic is the key, but somehow I think you could find an alternative source. But for some reason I don't think I can use nodes or leylines for this spell. The natural fluctuations would create terrible backlash…

He started to crawl under the sheets, only to remember that he had lessons with the blood-mage this morning. Sighing, Akakios made his way to the window and opened it, hoping the fresh air would inspire him with a reasonable excuse. He blinked; the entire city was covered in a thick blanket of late winter snow. Yes, that'll do well enough for an excuse. He was turning back to the bed when a strong breeze blew through the open window, causing papers to blow off his desk and rifling through the pages of the spell-book. Akakios stared down at the spell revealed.

"Spell-crafted weapons?"