Under The Vale And Other Tales Of Valdemar v(-105

by Mercedes Lackey

  Up on the hill, a voice called, “Alrek?”

  Kaylene pushed past Wil, shoving Elene’s box back into his hands. Wil turned to see the Bard slowly making her way up the hill, a Companion beside her.

  :Vehs?:

  :It’s him.:

  “Alrek,” Kaylene said again, hoarsely. She stumbled forward and wrapped her arms around the Companion’s neck, weeping.

  :I am sorry,: an unfamiliar mind-voice said, and by the startled look on Lelia’s face, Wil guessed that they all heard it. :I did not protect her. I did not bring her home.: Lelia looked down and away, tears on her cheeks. :I am so sorry.:

  “You brought her home plenty of times.” Kaylene stepped back. “And you brought yourself home.” She stroked his cheek. “That’s more’n I had before.”

  The Companion sank to his knees, Kaylene kneeling beside him. “It’s all right,” she whispered, over and over. “Oh, dearie, I know you did your best.”

  :I did not protect her.:

  :Alrek,: Wil Mindspoke to him.

  The Companion looked up, agony in his eyes.

  :Why have you been following me?: Wil asked.

  :She—: Alrek bent his head. :I don’t know why, but she . . . is near you, somehow. I feel my Chosen watching over you! She—: The Companion keened, a low, soft sound that broke Wil’s heart. :I killed her!:

  Wil glanced at Kaylene. Alrek had not projected their conversation to her, for which Wil was grateful. As much as anyone could, he understood the why of it all now. But Kaylene did not need that burden.

  Reaching out with his mind, Wil showed the grief-crazed Companion what he himself had Seen, night after night—what only a strange twist of Foresight could know. Threads of time not as they would be woven, but as they had been.

  Elene in the water—fumbling for her belt knife—the weight of the log—sawing at the lead line until it broke—

  The water carrying her away . . .

  The Companion shuddered, then sighed. His head came to rest on the grass, his eyes closing.

  “Go on,” Wil said, softly. “She’s waiting.”

  With Vehs and Wil’s permission, Kaylene took a lock of Alrek’s white hair. She tucked it into the carved box, alongside Elene’s things.

  All of Boarsden came to bury the Companion. The sun was heading for the west by the time Wil and Lelia left, the Bard riding behind him, thin arms circling his waist.

  :Chosen,: Vehs said.

  :Hm?:

  :You should really visit your father sometime.:

  Wil stiffened. :Maybe someday.:

  “What’s wrong?” Lelia asked.

  “Nothing,” Wil replied, making a conscious effort to relax his shoulders. “What are they feeding you in the Palace? Water and moonbeams? You’re practically all bones.”

  “Moonbeams? Bright Lady, no. Too fattening.” But the jest sounded faltering at best, and he wondered.

  They spent the night at the inn. Lelia was departing early. There was no talk of singing tonight; Wil had a feeling he wouldn’t need it anymore.

  :How often does this sort of thing happen, Vehs?: Wil asked.

  :A Companion surviving his Herald? Not often. The shock alone . . . I don’t know how Alrek endured it.:

  :Promise me you wouldn’t do something like this. Please.:

  Vehs went quiet. Then, :Do you jest? After putting up with a Chosen like you, I’ll be galloping for the Bright Havens when my time comes!:

  Wil snorted, set his empty cup aside and headed for the stairs.

  :That’s truly morbid.:

  :Be glad I don’t take a head start!:

  :Yes, yes,: Wil thought, smirking as he opened the door to his room. :I’m such a burden on—:

  Lelia was curled up on his bed. She opened an eye as he entered and smiled.

  Wil stood very still, finding it suddenly hard to breathe.

  :Good night, “Vanyel,”: Vehs murmured.

  “So. I was thinking,” Lelia said.

  “Yes?” Wil managed.

  Lelia pushed back the covers. “To the hells with our professional relationship.”

  He groped for words and finally said, “This wasn’t what I meant by tucking me in.”

  She laughed, and she was still laughing as he kicked the door shut behind him and went to her.

  Chapter 10 - The Bride’s Task - Michael Z. Williamson and Gail L. Sanders

  Keth’re’son shena Tale’sedrin was learning weapons work: the sword. This would have been useful to know for his journey to Valdemar, but his people were warriors from horseback and with the bow–not with the sword and dagger and on foot. He stepped aside from a sweep, blocked and countered, but his teacher parried that and beat back at him.

  :But no knowledge is ever wasted, Chosen. You won’t always have a horse to hand. What if I were injured? Just because your people haven’t done something before, it doesn’t mean that it’s not a valid way to do things.:

  Keth’ replied, :I know, “There is no one true way.” But it’s taking some getting used to. Traditions have always played a strong role in the life of a Shin’a’in; they had to.:

  :Right now, you need to pay attention to your role here, or the weaponsmaster is going to give you the “traditional” bruises.:

  :You know, I would probably be doing something like this at home as well. I wonder how Nerea is doing with her lessons; she was always better with the bow than me.:

  :You miss her.:

  :Did you really expect that to change? We are pledged. She’s why I work so hard at these lessons. I only hope that she’ll wait until I can return. I’m not sure she understood why I had to come up here when I wasn’t sure myself.:

  Yssanda was silent.

  “There’s a herd of horses in the Palace courtyard,” one guard said.

  “Why is there a herd of horses in the courtyard?” asked the other.

  “I don’t know, but isn’t that a Shin’a’in on the back of one of them?”

  “Sure looks like it. Heya, it’s a girl! And look, she’s getting down.”

  “Do you think we should tell somebody?”

  Sergeant of the Guard Selwin spoke loudly behind them, “Yes, you halfwits, I think you should tell somebody! You, Rolin, go get Herald Captain Kerowyn. At a run! You, Vark, suggest to the young lady that she should stay outside the Palace door.”

  “Yes, sir!” the two guards saluted in unison and moved with a sense of purpose.

  Shaking his head, the young guard sergeant moved toward what seemed to be an escalating argument. The burly guard was having an increasingly difficult time with the slim Shin’a’in, who seemed determined to simply get through that door. He’d managed so far without actually laying a hand on her, but it didn’t appear that was going to last very much longer. She wasn’t so much aggressive as persistent.

  Moving past the string of exceptionally quiet and serene horses, Selwin came within range of a contrastingly loud and agitated Shin’a’in girl.

  “She doesn’t speak Valdemaran, sir!”

  “I’m gathering that impression. Let’s see what I can do.” He strained to remember a bit of the language.

  In very slow and careful Shin’a’in he said, “Please hold, coming someone who speaks language.”

  The young girl nodded briskly and moved back to reassure her riding horse. Selwin wasn’t sure who needed the reassurance more, the horse or her.

  Herald Captain Kerowyn didn’t take long to arrive, which was all to the better as far as Sergeant Selwin was concerned. He wasn’t a diplomat and very much preferred going back to his post near the main gates. He simply briefed Kerowyn on what had happened so far, saluted, and then gestured the guards to head back to the gate.

  Striding forward, Herald Captain Kerowyn gave the impression of impatience. She didn’t hide it. It might help speed this encounter.

  :What happened to Shin’a’in staying on the Plains, where they belonged?:

  :What happened? The Mage Storms happened and erased the tasks the
Shin’a’in had been given by their Star-eyed.:

  Kerowyn really hadn’t needed the rejoinder to what had been a rhetorical question, but trust Sayvil to make sure her opinion was heard–needed or not.

  “Welcome to Haven. I’m Herald Captain Kerowyn. What brings you here so far from the Plains?”

  “My name is Nerea shena Tale’sedrin. I’m here looking for my pledged, Keth’re’son shena Tale’sedrin. The Clan Elders said that he had come up here for training in his ‘Gifts.’ ” Her skepticism in the need for such training was obvious. “They gave me permission to bring his Clan share up here to him when the Tale’sedrin came up for the Bolton Fair. Where is he?”

  “Ah.” Suddenly Kerowyn understood both her animosity and her vulnerability. By giving her permission to bring Keth’s Clan share up here to him, the Clan Elders were both telling him that they weren’t expecting him to come back to the Plains and giving him permission to stay where he was. They were also putting the responsibility of telling his pledged this, off their shoulders and onto his.

  :Practical but not very kind of them. This Nerea must have been quite a nuisance.:

  :Yes,: Kerowyn sighed to herself, :And now she’s our nuisance. Sayvil, please tell Dean Teren about the situation out here and ask him to bring the Shin’a’in envoy with him if possible. Have them meet us at the stables.:

  To the girl, she replied, “He is here at the Collegium. But first, we need to get these horses settled and out of the way. If you’ll follow me, I’ll lead you around to the stables. There should be room for them there.” Kerowyn knew better than to offer her any help with this. After all she’d gotten them here from Bolton. It would also keep the girl busy while Kerowyn figured out what to do. The girl followed agreeably enough, since the horses were something she cared for. She did not seem to care for local rules.

  The Companion-relayed message brought Dean Teren down from his office in a rush. From another direction, the Shin’a’in Envoy, Shaman Lo’isha shena Pretara’sedrin, was only a minute behind. The Dean arrived at the stable entrance panting. The Shaman heaved one sigh and had his breath back under control.

  The Dean said, “A Shin’a’in invasion? That wasn’t quite the message, but I gather this matter is important?”

  “Not quite,” Kerowyn said, hiding a smile. “However, we do have a Shin’a’in girl, far out of her area, seeking her pledged, who is one of your students.” She indicated the stables.

  “I see,” the Dean said, and he seemed to grasp the import. He followed her gesture, to where the girl was taking proper care of the horses, including a quick brushing, with an economy born of lifelong experience.

  When Nerea finished watering them at the trough and ensured they had a panful of oats and plenty of hay each, she turned and walked back. She seemed fully aware of the Dean and Shaman, but she waited for Kerowyn to make the introductions. She greeted the Dean with a bow, and spoke formally to the Shaman.

  “Nerea, there are things I must attend to, but the Dean and Shaman will aid you.”

  “Thank you for the introduction, Cousin.”

  “You are welcome.”

  With that, Kerowyn turned and left, intending to find out just who in Bolton let Nerea off her leash with fifteen horses and who there might be missing her.

  Lo’isha shena Pretara’sedrin, Shaman and Shin’a’in Envoy, found himself left with the problem. With Kerowyn gone, he was both translator for the Dean, speaker for his own, and the only possible authority figure the girl might acknowledge.

  Neutrally, he said, “Nerea, you are far from our lands.”

  “As are you, Elder. We both have our reasons,” she replied, with not quite a smile.

  “Yes. You are here for your pledged, I’m told.”

  “I am. If he is to be here, I am to be with him.”

  He recognized her expression now—determination, with a slight challenge.

  Lo’isha translated for Teren. Teren raised his eyebrows.

  “Well, first I suppose I need you to help explain about the training.”

  Lo’isha nodded and translated for Teren.

  Dean Teren twisted his mouth for a moment, apparently in thought, then spoke. “Nerea,” he said, “Mind-magic is much more than empathy for animals. I know you can work with these creatures—” he gestured toward the stables “—better than most people, and it’s a natural talent for you. However, Keth’ is able to do the same to people and objects, whether they want it or not, whether he wants it or not. He and his traveling companions were attacked not far from the city on their way here. His reaction caused unconsciousness for the brigands, and two never recovered properly, being mind-lame since then.” He waited while Lo’isha caught up.

  “Well, good,” she said. “I approve of retribution to such grek’ka’shen.”

  Teren winced slightly at that.

  “Perhaps, but it wasn’t an intentional response. He panicked, they collapsed. This could happen to innocent people, too. Nerea, I understand pledging is something that has been planned for some time. You must understand that his Mind-magic changes things. He needs to learn to control it, for his own safety, and yours, and that of others.” Lo’isha translated.

  She stared right back at Teren, then spoke to Lo’isha. “I understand that. You must understand that our pledge doesn’t change due to side matters. He is alive, he is very much himself, and he is very much mine. I remain with him and he with me. Explain that to him, please.” She gave a single, firm nod. With a raised eyebrow at her firmness, Lo’isha turned and translated for Teren.

  Teren said, “That is not possible.” The flat tone in his voice almost did not need translation.

  “For you, perhaps not. I assure you it is quite possible for me.” She sounded almost haughty, certainly confident and stubborn, and yet calm. She was like a mountain in storm, while the trees swayed in distress.

  The Dean looked at Lo’isha in controlled exasperation. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand. She understood fully and was unswayed.

  The Shaman placed a calming hand on Teren’s wrist and tried a different tack.

  “It is obvious this is true. Things have not changed for you, and you are on your course. However, have they remained the same for him?” Lo’isha spoke with the authority of a Shaman and brought up exactly what Nerea did not want to hear.

  She flushed slightly.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I haven’t seen him since he left our lands. That is why I am here now. This must be resolved between us.” She almost stamped her foot in emphasis.

  “I don’t disagree. This training, though, is for safety. Consider a fire on the Plains. There’s a reason children are taught to tend a fire carefully. They must know how to judge fuel, to avoid a flare of flames and disaster.”

  Her expression was most put upon.

  “I don’t seek to hinder that. Only to be near him.”

  Inwardly Lo’isha sighed; the girl wasn’t being unreasonable, just stubborn, and adamant, and unswerving in her intent. The Shaman said, “Well, then please let me start by offering a place to stay and clean up from the journey, in the embassy in the Hawkbrother ekele.”

  She widened her eyes slightly.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I will be comfortable with our cousins.”

  “If you wait, I will show you the way. I and the Dean need to discuss how we can arrange this meeting for you.”

  With a frown and flick of her eyes, she said, “You have only to tell me where he is, but clearly that is too simple for this city, with its costumes and rules and gates and castes.” She paused briefly, as if only then aware of her bad manners. “Forgive me. Thank you for your hospitality. I will leave you to your discussion, and I will await your direction, for now.”

  For now, Lo’isha thought. This wasn’t over by far.

  He watched her move a discreet distance away, enough to be in another tent, were there any tents here. She paid attention to some detail of the bricks and moss, and, while not
relaxed, she was not intruding.

  He turned to the Dean.

  Teren asked, “How do we get her out of here?” in a whisper. He glanced over suspiciously at her.

  “I don’t know that we can. It would be up to her and her pledged.”

  “The distance should have made this impossible, especially for one so young.”

  “For our people, they are man and woman grown. You mustn’t mistake her for a child.”

  “I’m not mistaking her for a problem.” The Dean clutched his hands together.

  “No, but you are mistaking her for your problem. I will show her to the ekele. Then we can talk.”

  “Very well, and thank you. Then we can have Keth’ deal with the issue.”

  Teren seemed quite exasperated, and Lo’isha surmised that by “issue” he meant “sending her home.”

  He didn’t think it would be that easy.

  “I will meet with you shortly,” he said. Then he turned, and to Nerea said, “Come then, and I will show you to the ekele.”

  Teren was in his office when Lo’isha returned. He gratefully put aside his writing and said, “Please, have a seat.” Lo’isha sat in the one available chair in the cluttered and paper–filled office.

  “Always one chair not used for storage, I see,” the Shaman offered with a chuckle.

  Teren shrugged and nodded and chuckled back. “It’s my way. If anyone were to straighten my clutter, I’d never find anything again. But as to the other . . . Thank you for your aid in this matter. This is most awkward. Students are unaccompanied, and if they are not single when they commence training, they are by the time they graduate. This is how it is done, and most arrive knowing it. If he’s to be a Herald . . .”

  “You are assuming he will complete the training and follow your chosen path. There are at least two people assuming his fate for him. It seems to me that is a question for him to answer.”

  Teren looked startled at that. “How could he refuse to be a Herald?”

  “Quite easily. Are you asking, ‘Will he be the first to refuse?’ ”

  Teren had no response. He never considered that possibility. There were traditions and cultural assumptions at the Collegium. Those weren’t necessarily the traditions and assumptions of the boy, and they most definitely weren’t those of the girl.