The Vildecaz Talents: The complete set of Vildecaz Stories including Nimuar's Loss, The Deceptive Oracle and Agnith's Promise by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

performers began their presentation.
    “Papa! Papa!” she called to him.
    “I’m in a hurry, my child,” he answered without turning as he hastened down the corridor. “Do not fear. All will be well.”
    “But Papa – “ She could think of nothing more to say, so she attempted to catch up with him only to be motioned back.
    ”Return to our guests if you would, Erianthee. Else they will be offended that no one of the family is present.” He slowed his walk a little. “Be careful of Kloveon.”
    Erianthee stopped as if transfixed by an invisible lance. “Why do you say so, Papa?”
    He gave her no reply as he increased his pace again, bound for his book-room.
    Erianthee watched him go, and scowled, deep in thought. If only Ninianee were here to help, she told herself, we could get through this more easily. Then she laughed. Ninianee in her Challim-doe form would complicate matters, and sunset would be upon them in less than an hour; there was no use asking her to preside, or keep watch over their father: it would not do to have the Duzna Ninianee turning into a doe before all their guests, or running loose in the Castle. Turning back to the Great Hall, she caught sight of Kloveon standing in the archway as if waiting for someone; she stepped back, hoping he had not seen her, but to her dismay, he smiled at her and offered her a respect. “Mirkal,” she said with great formality to discourage any close inquiry.
    Her efforts made no impact upon him. “Is you father well?” he asked as he approached her, apparently concerned. “I know he is somewhat eccentric, and since he is under scrutiny, he must know how irregular his departure will appear.”
    “I believe he does. He is a bit . . . impulsive about his studies,” she answered as she swept past him through the archway; he followed her without comment, and took his place at the High Table. Erianthee sat down next to Yulko Bihn. “Magsto,” she said, offering him a half-respect. “My father asks you to excuse him, but he is involved in research that cannot be delayed.”
    “Of course,” said Bihn in a tone so condescending that she longed to slap his face.
    The performers did a spectacular juggling-and-tumbling sequence, ending with the sister standing on her brother’s shoulder and tossing up and down between them great glowing hoops of iridescent metal, all done without any apparent spell; the audience applauded, making any comment of Erianthee’s inaudible. As the noise died down, she said, “I must prepare for my Shadowshow. If you will excuse me, Magsto?” She began to move away before he spoke.
    Unfazed by her haste, Bihn waved a languid hand at her. “Will this one be prophetic or simply more folk-stories, as you performed last night?”
    “It will be a more involved story,” she said, knowing she was avoiding an answer.
    At the edge of the dais, she found Hoftstan Ruch waiting for her, his demeanor more nervous than usual. “Duzna.” He respected her.
    “Is something wrong, Hoftstan?” She saw his eyes flick in Dinvee’s direction. “Has she continued her pursuit?”
    “She hasn’t left me alone until we sat down to eat,” he said, sounding harried. “Even with my wife here, that woman continues to plague me.”
    “She’s something of a trial, isn’t she?” Erianthee asked, accepting Hoftstan’s arm as she came down the two stairs.
    “Yes.” He accompanied her to the side of the performing platform. “I have the screen ready. When these two are done, Rimdoch and I will set the stage for you.”
    “Thank you,” she said.
    Hoftstan faltered, clearly trying to make up his mind. “Is your father all right?”
    “I think so,” she said, and added in a lowered voice. “I am guessing he wants to keep away from Bihn as much as he can, so he has gone to his book-room for the declared purpose of tending to urgent studies.”
    “Oh,” said Hoftstan, much relieved. “I suspect you’re right.”
    The applause welled once