[djo]

Here it is, another long one: Vanheim turn 9:


In which Pherios writes home, and Quellian Ji speaks up.


Vethru

"Is this report accurate?" asks Rilia. She's one of the sharper minds on the Konella Koreia in the area of foreign policy. They don't listen to her much. Apparently one of her ancestors pissed off one of their ancestors.

"As far as I can tell," I say. The diplomats we sent to Man were old school. Very loyal, very trustworthy. And certainly lacking the imagination to come up with what she's just read.

"Wow. What are we going to do?"

"Figure out what this Selena is. Stupid, psycho, or just very, very green."

"Some of the Jarls will want you to take back Stone Grave Mountain."

"Back?" I say.

She smiles. "In a historical sense."

I snort. They have no idea of what historical really means. Historical doesn't mean, my grandfather lived here. It doesn't even mean, my great-great-grandfather's ancestors lived here. Because after a few thousand years, anyone, everyone can say that. People are like water; you can try to dam them up, but they're going to burst out and wash over everything until you can't tell the difference between rivers, lakes, and streams. My land, my ***.

As for me, the only use I have for real estate is to sell it. I mean, who wants to deal with tenants, anyway?

I suppose I should be tolerant; until I arrived, the Vans believed they had the monopoly on long memories. "Has she taken Copos?"

"Not as far as we know. Is it important to us?" she asks.

She's smooth. She manages to ask me, indirectly, just what are you after, while hiding it in a reasonable question about foreign policy. No wonder she's a diplomat.

"Let's keep her off balance," I say. "Let's be nice. She threatens war, so we'll send her gifts. Find her some nice jewelry, and a couple of paintings. And throw in one of those sapphires we've been mining. She'll like that."

"Right away," Rilia says. "And why don't we send a higher ranking party? Old Emeikos says he won't go back to Man anyway."

"Good idea. Let's send a woman. Do we have anyone from Alteion with some tact?"

"How about Mirima? She's awfully hard not to like, and she's pretty shrewd."

"OK. Put a couple Valkyries in her guard, too. And make sure a description of Selena gets to Pherios and his crew. She's going to be in our future, one way or another."

After Rilia leaves, I talk to Ji.

"Your sources know where this 'Ralph' is?"

"I can put a letter on his desk, boss."

"Good." I get out some paper and a quill.

Ji asks, "Is she right? Does she have blessed, invisible wardens? Because I swear, I can't find the Vans when they're on maneuvers, and if the wardens are anything like that, we're in trouble!"

"No. She's overconfident. She has wardens, but the Vans are better. They're quieter than wardens out in the field, and in friendly territory, they're impossibly good." I think a minute. Could she be that uninformed? Maybe she is just inexperienced. I finish my note to Ralph with that in mind. "It'd be an unpleasant war. No front lines. Guerilla attacks everywhere."

"Ick," says Ji. "With our upstanding, straight-arrow Vans? We are in trouble."

"Not at all," I say. "I've been reading their history. You'd be surprised what they've done in the past. And the others, you've seen them. No, dirty war suits us. You'll see. Operation Maros Gallupeidi kicks off next month."

"Maros Galliwhatia? What's that mean?"

I smile. " 'You have something I want.' "


Pherios


We separated. She stepped back, and I slowly let go of her hands. "Be careful," I said.

"I will," she replied. "Don't worry. I'll see you in a couple days."

After the door closed, and my heart slowed, I sat down to write.



Dear Mom,

Think you very much for the package. Winter has arrived, and the socks and scarf are already keeping me warmer. The cookies arrived in good shape. Sometimes I'm so busy they are all I have time to eat!

I'm sorry I haven't written sooner, but sometimes it seems that even though I'm very busy, there is nothing interesting to say. But this time I have news. I've met someone. Her name is Galameteia of Lunetellerion. I think you know her mother, Thumesteia. I first met Galameteia last month...



She stood up when I walked in. It was her. It was obviously her--I had only seen her once, from a distance, but I would recognize her anywhere. She stood right before me, in the little turret where I study, and the only thing I could say was, "Oh!"

"Pherios of Alteion?" she asked. The uncertainty felt out of place in her voice. She was a beautiful Valkyrie, proud, poised.

"You're here! I've been looking for you."

"Me? But I've been looking for you. Of course--you're a seer. But...if you're a seer, why are you surprised to see me?"

It wouldn't be the last time her quick intellect would trip me up. "Because...because...well, how did you know where to find me?" I asked her.

"Vethru sent me. I'm Galameteia of Lunetellerion, of Vethru's Black Wings."

Then she explained. Recently, whenever she painted, her mind was filled with images that she was compelled to put on canvas. Strange, alien images that she couldn't believe came from within her. At first, she put up with it, even welcomed it.

"I thought I was becoming inspired," Galameteia said. "Artists are supposed to have a unique vision, aren't they?"

But the visions invaded her dreams, and then her waking hours. She found the only way to banish them was to capture them in oil. So she did, flying with the army by night, painting by day. It was working, until one day, when hearing about the battle at Namor, she realized that she had already painted it.

"I couldn't believe it! I thought I had painted something abstract, a fantastic landscape, you know? But when I looked at it again, I knew. It was there, and I painted it weeks beforehand. Everything. I saw the battle, our victory, and the strange desert the Prophet discovered. I couldn't sleep. I didn't sleep for three days, until I told my lieutenant. She brought me to Vethru. And he sent me to you."

So I tried to help her understand what she was seeing, and how to live with it. I told her how I saw omens in the sky since I was young. How confusing I found them, until I learned to study them. "It's been getting worse for me, too. The omens used to come mostly when I looked for them. Now they arrive without warning, while I sleep, while I walk. " I told her that the anxiety ebbed once you understood what you saw. "The vision isn't what you're looking at. It's the impression it makes in your mind. The raven is just a raven, even if I see it flying with seagulls, until something in my mind says, 'Three huskarls will die in battle today.' That's when it becomes an omen. And that's when the vision leaves me alone."

"But then you're left with the knowledge..." she said. I nodded. She understood. Which was worse, frightening images, or dreadful certainty?

I told her why I had been looking for her. "I've seen danger following you. You're out searching for something, and darkness pursues you. You've got to be careful. What are you doing with the army, exactly?"

"I can't tell you," she said. "I'm sorry. Vethru's orders."

She showed me her paintings. I didn't see much information in them, but I didn't expect to. The prophecy would be in her mind. The birds are just birds.

As art, however, they were striking. I had never seen such vivid chaos on the canvas. The colors of one of them reminded me of a storm-tossed sunset. The shapes of another evoked the spring icepack breaking against the rocks in the coves of the gorge.

We reached a swirl of uneven purple that could have been an earthquake seen by moonlight, when her eyes widened, and she gasped. "Wing and spear!"

"What is it?" I suddenly saw the lonely egret soaring before the storm again.

"You," she whispered. "It's you."

From that time, we became hard to separate, each of us fearing for the other's life. It was a strange, awkward relationship at first. Over time, though, we found the company of someone else who understood bound us together more than our fears. Our visions began to trouble us less, and the information we gave to Vethru improved. My uncle said that not a single Van has died in the war.

But her job is dangerous; she flies into the night on missions she can't tell me about. I stay and wait, like tonight. Trying to write to my mother.

I didn't want to burden her with my fears. I didn't think she'd understand, but she would want to try, and it's hard to talk about. So instead I wrote a little more about how I met Galameteia because we both work for Vethru. I wrote that I often see Galameteia when we are both in the city. I told my mother that I like Galameteia very much, and it made me happy, because it was important, and it was true, and I could share it with her. The rest, I left out. I closed the letter by promising to write again soon, and I sealed it and set it aside.

I opened a window to get a better look at the sky. As much as it pained me, I couldn't stop looking for omens. There was a gull sitting on the ledge. I realized it had been there a few minutes. It hadn't flown away when I opened the window. I waited for another moment, then I said, "Well, do you want to come in?"

"I thought you'd never ask," the bird said, and it hopped into my room and fluttered nearer to the fire. "Was that a guess, or did you figure it out?"

"A little of both," I said. "I've seen you before. And not just with Vethru. I saw you in a dream. "

I swore the bird shuddered. "Yeah, that was me, but I didn't write the script. Quellian Ji, at your service," he said, and he gave me a little bird bow. "Hey, kid, I hate to drop in and run off, but I wasn't planning to have this conversation tonight. I was just checking in on your Valkyrie. The boss wanted to make sure she got out on time tonight. "

"You know where she's going?"

"Yeah, I'm going, too. No, I can't tell you where, and boss says, stop asking. He'll tell you in time." Ji looked uncomfortable. "Uh, while I'm here...if you've got a second..."

"What is it?"

The gull's voice softened. "Do you see anything ahead for us? In the next few days? Just between you and me."

I was going to say nothing, but a sudden swirl of wind drew my gaze to the window. It hit me then, hard--it dropped like a stone into my stomach. I swallowed.

"Kid? Are you all right? What do you see?"

"Falling leaves," I said.