Storm Warning - Mercedes Lackey [112]
But there was some measurable progress. An’desha did start looking at some of the older memories. He was already past the life of a strange creature that had called himself simply “Leareth” (which meant “Darkness” in the Hawkbrother tongue), a time that seemed to be several centuries ago.
And Firesong was a great deal happier with him, at least according to An‘desha. An’desha carried some of his confidence back into his lessons with the Adept, and was making more and steadier progress toward using those powers he carried, instead of wishing them gone.
Success gave An’desha further courage to look farther and deeper into those dark memories, and to face what lay there.
And, just as important, An’desha was able to look at the terrible things in those memories and acknowledge, without flinching, that the hateful or jealous things he felt (and did not act on) could be considered a faint, far shadow of the dreadful things that the one who had been Falconsbane had done.
And Ulrich pointed out something that Karal had wondered about. The farther back those memories went, the more human, rather than less, that entity became. And the more “reasons” and excuses he made up to justify the unjustifiable.
Ulrich made no conclusions in Karal’s hearing about the pattern, but it certainly left him wondering what it meant, and trying to come to a few conclusions of his own. He continued to read those ancient notebooks that Ulrich had given him, and found more than one place in the text that sounded familiar. Then he realized that Ulrich had been quoting extensively from these very texts when he had given An’desha that little speech about doing deeds in the name of the Light.
He was reading in his room, puzzling through another Valdemaran history that Alberich had recommended, when Ulrich cleared his throat from just outside his open door. He looked up, quickly, and sat straight up on his bed. His master wore an unusually serious expression, and his robes were not only immaculate, he was wearing one of his formal outfits, robes of heavy ebony silk that shone with full magnificence.
“I dislike ordering you out of your own room, Karal,” his mentor said apologetically, “But I have only just arranged a meeting with someone very important, who wishes to discuss matters of a sensitive and theoretical nature. And if—”
“If I’m here, your important person won’t talk, because I might overhear something. Yes, sir.” Karal put a marker in his book and quickly got to his feet. “Since these discussions are theoretical, you won’t need a record of them. I’m certain I can find something to occupy my time between now and—say—dinner? I’m already dressed for it, so I won’t need to return.”
“Excellent, and thank you.” Ulrich stood aside to let him leave, with no further comment. Karal had been expecting something like this for the past few days; negotiations between his mentor and not only the Valdemaran government, but the Rethwellan government as well, had gotten to the point where some significant gains could be made. That meant private, one-to-one meetings, where both parties could discuss possibilities in total confidence and privacy.
As he walked down the wood-paneled hallway with a friendly nod to the guard patrolling there, he realized that he was, for once, completely at loose ends. An’desha would be with Firesong, in his magic-practices. There was no use going into the garden to be snubbed by the young nobles there—and it was snubbing,