Moving Targets and Other Tales of Valdemar

“Oh ... that’s true. Don’t worry about us, sun-ray. And, girlie,” he said, glancing at Sosha, “sorry I scared you.”

She lifted her chin and stared back at him, struggling to keep her face expressionless. The two assassins nodded farewell, turned, and left the field. Only when she could no longer see them in the gathering darkness did she allow tears to roll down her cheeks.

“Now, now ... you’ll be all right.” Beckor put an arm around her shoulders. “They’ll be gone soon.” He lowered his voice. “Where’s Torgon?”

“Up in the hayloft,” she replied, matching his hushed words. “I warned him.” A shift in the evening breeze made her gag. “Lord of Light! What be in that grave?”

“Besides Torgon’s boots, tunic and breeches?” A small smile tugged at Beckor’s face. “Rotted vegetables, meat that’s gone bad ... anything vile I could find to fill them with. You see, Sosha, ofttimes we see what we expect to see, even when it’s something else.”

Relief descended like a flood. She wiped at her tears and, ignoring propriety, hugged the priest.

His smile broadened. “Let’s cover this up and then I’ll walk you home.”

After the two assassins had ridden out of Sweetwater, Beckor joined Sosha in her barn. Holding a shielded lamp in his hands, he watched Torgon slowly climb down the ladder, favoring his left side in his descent.

“For what you’ve done for me, sun-ray,” Torgon said, after Beckor had explained all that had happened, “I can’t thank you enough.” He turned to Sosha. “And you ... you were very brave. My undying thanks to you also.”

Beckor noticed how their eyes met and held. He remembered his dream. Keep these two together, the Firecat had said.

Somehow he knew his plan, played out to perfection this evening, was but one step in a journey Torgon and Sosha would make together. And in the darkness of the barn, he could have sworn he saw a large golden cat smiling.

Author’s note: Read “The Cat Who Came to Dinner” in the anthology Sun in Glory and Other Tales of Valdemar, edited by Mercedes Lackey, which tells the story of Torgon and Sosha’s son Reulan and his own experience with a much more talkative Firecat.

The Power of Three

by Brenda Cooper

Brenda Cooper’s novels include

The Silver Ship and the Sea, Reading The Wind

, and, with Larry Niven,

Building Harlequin’s Moon

. Brenda’s short fiction includes multiple fantasy stories set in the mythical High Hills, an alternate Laguna Beach, CA, and harder science fiction that has appeared in

Analog Science Fiction

,

Isaac Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine

,

Strange Horizons

, and

Nature Magazine

. Brenda’s very honored to be included in these anthologies, as she’s whiled away many pleasant hours in Valdemar and shared the Valdemar books with countless others. What a treat!

Bard Breda focused on the fight in front of her. In the center of the outside practice rink attached to the salle, two young women wearing worn practice armor sparred with dented practice staffs. Two matching faces wore rivulets of sweat down their foreheads and cheeks, and more sweat glued matching fire-red hair to the slender napes of two necks. For every blow Rhiannon struck, Dionne parried and sent another, which Rhiannon parried. Neither had any advantage over the other, not in quickness, speed, or strength.

Morning sunshine illuminated the two fighters and the two watchers alike. The first of the season’s swallows labored around them, chattering over stray bits of straw for their nests. The twins’ staffs made loud thunks as they struck each other fairly and well, over and over.

Breda cleared her throat to gain attention from Gavin, her counterpart from the Healer’s Collegium. “Do you see why I brought you here? They’re mirrors of each other. Can’t stand to be apart for longer than a class period, and we’ve let them live that way. We even let them share a room when they first got here, and somehow no one thought to separate them. Other Bardic students don’t room with Healers.”

Gavin smiled. “Because you all make too much noise.” The Master Healer shook his head. “They seem healthy enough.”

“Here, where it’s safe. But just last week the Arms-master told me that together they can beat any other pair from their year-groups, even the healers, and yet neither of them can best another single fighter.”

Rhiannon and Dionne stopped together and, as if on cue, took great gulps of air.

“They even have the same cuts and bruises,” Breda pointed out. Both girls sported purpling bruises on their forearms from failing to block with their staffs, and each had matching scabbed-over bramble cuts on their calves.

Gavin grunted. “When they came to the Collegium, their mother said that if one of them fell, to just wait and call the Healer after they’d both fallen. That’s not unusual for twins. We’ve seen it before.”