Tempest

by Mercedes Lackey

  Despite that, Yerra caught the unconcealed hostility when members of different families would meet one another’s gazes. Animosity crackled through the air like lightning, and dancers kept to their own sides of the square. Odd, since Marli had an uncanny ability to appear wherever fights broke out, ready to slather her own brand of innocent problem-solving over the bickering parties. Maybe she was too caught up with her bridal preparations to put out emotional fires tonight.

  Yerra’s mother stood with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face when they reached her. The rest of Yerra’s siblings waited there, and Father kept his back to the dancers.

  “Everyone is here now?” Mother asked upon their arrival. “Good. We’ll give our congratulations as a family, and then we can all get back to more practical uses of our time.”

  Yerra found herself shuffling along with the rest of her family. Her siblings pressed close together, marching in step as they headed toward the bridal table. Yerra pulled her satchel around to her front and hoped no one noticed the tell-tale warmth and aroma of her hidden offering.

  At the bridal table, the Millers and the Carpenters sat smiling at each other and acting as though they were having as good a time as their guests. Barret perched on a stool in the middle, but the seat beside him had no occupant.

  Yerra’s family approached, and everyone at the table looked at them.

  “We’ve come to make our congratulations to the couple,” Mother ground out with the barest civility. Yerra winced.

  The bride’s mother stood and gave them a pinched expression of forced apology. “Marli is not feeling well and is still composing herself in her room. I hope you’ll understand when we ask you to delay your joy for her until she can be here to receive it.”

  “The girl has kept herself locked away all evening. How long does she expect us to wait? My own girls can’t afford to waste the whole night when they have work at home to return to.”

  Out in the main square, some partygoers were lighting the lamps as the sun finally sank below the horizon. Yerra stifled a sigh. She didn’t have time to wait out an argument between her mother and Marli’s. The desire to look over at the table of food and see if anyone had noticed the space where her stolen pie once sat tickled at her eyes. The urge to dash straight for the Waystation and the waiting Companion prickled at her heels.

  Marli’s mother held her stance. “She will join us once she’s feeling better. She wouldn’t miss her own engagement celebration, you know.”

  Yerra’s sister giggled beside her. “I think she’s already been celebrating her engagement. Come down with the child-sickness, I’ll bet.”

  The comment set the other girls tittering with laughter, and Barret’s face flushed red, though he said nothing to confirm nor deny the accusation.

  Yerra’s mother stepped forward. “If the girl can’t even turn up to a party in her own honor, my girls won’t pay the price. We offer our congratulations to the groom.”

  She swept into a curtsy that fluttered with angry flourishes, and Yerra’s sisters rushed to follow suit. Yerra ducked her head.

  Behind the bridal table, every person currently related to Marli leapt to their feet. Their faces twisted in as wide a variety of shock and fury as Yerra had ever seen. Her family’s insult to theirs would not go unchallenged.

  Yerra winced and squeezed her satchel. The strap squeaked in her sweaty fist.

  “How dare you ignore our daughter!” came the outraged cry. More followed, of a less than polite nature.

  Yerra’s family spat back as good as was sprayed over them, and Yerra hunched her shoulders in an attempt to block their screeches out. Nothing reminded her of how little she cared about these ridiculous fights than when one cropped up like this.

  But tonight Yerra felt something from the battle. Anger of her own simmered inside her, frothing against her ribs as the sky grew darker. In her head, she pictured the flash of white she’d seen fading away and heard the soft bell chimes of a Companion’s hooves cantering off, sick of waiting.

  Yerra sidestepped between two of her sisters. Once the fight got into full swing, she would duck out and finally make her escape.

  At the bridal table, the groom’s family had joined the fray of insults, leaping to defend their soon-to-be daughter. Barret stood on his stool now, his hands waving above his head as he tried in vain to get the attention of all three families.

  “Please,” he cried, “Marli wouldn’t like any of this. Stop fighting, at least for her engagement!”

  Yerra rolled her eyes. At least he was a good complement to Marli, if he agreed with the girl’s ideals, but good luck to both of them in getting anyone in this town to agree with one another. For all the townsfolk hated outsiders, they hated each other just as much, if not more. No matter what Marli had ever done to prevent them, the bickering and fighting carried on as usual.

  But Barret kept trying, raising his voice until finally he let out a bellow that rivaled the blacksmith’s. Every head in the crowd and at the table wrenched around to stare at him.

  Yerra slipped away as he spoke, but she forced herself to focus on the continuing debate behind her, made herself listen to the way it thrummed through the crowd and built into a crescendo of pitiful bitterness that chased after her even as the ripening wheat rustled around her in a secluding embrace.

  She never wanted to forget the small place she came from when she left for Haven. It would help her keep things in perspective when she dealt with serious Herald business.

  • • •

  Night descended like a thief dropping from the trees, but Yerra had come to the Waystation outside of town many times under the cover of darkness, and she knew the path intimately. She would not stumble over some protruding root or startle at the sound of night creatures going about their business.

  Besides, there could be nothing to fear of a forest with a Companion waiting somewhere in it.

  The light sweet perfume of a night blossom drifted on the breeze that fluttered the leaves. An owl hooted somewhere above Yerra’s head. Dirt still damp from the rain two nights ago softened her footsteps. She shifted her satchel so the strap didn’t bite so hard into her shoulder, and the adjustment sent another waft of berry scent floating into the warmth of the night.

  Yerra took a deep breath, letting the familiar forest soothe her nerves. The ridiculous rivalry between her family and the Carpenters, not to mention the tensions running throughout the entire community because of that rivalry, had keyed her up so she was about ready to lash out at someone. Though she didn’t care one bit about the fighting, she couldn’t avoid the effect of all that misguided energy flying around back there. It piled on top of nerves already jangling from the prospect of meeting a Companion to turn her into something of a wrung out mess as she’d made her way through the wheat fields.

  Now the enveloping darkness of the forest came into her through all her senses, cooling the heat of her anger, calming the tumult of the frustration dancing within her. In this place she could be herself. Alone on the path to the Herald’s Waystation, she could unwind herself from the small-town farm girl into what she knew herself to be in truth: a daughter of Valdemar.

  And she was ready to serve her real mother any way she could. She’d been ready from the one and only time she’d seen a Herald and his beautiful Companion. Unfortunately, his ruling in favor of the Carpenters had only fanned the flames of hatred between the two families. Yerra didn’t understand the argument. Their property had a stream of clean water running through it, and they had no need of a well.

  The Waystation lay a way into the forest, a suitable distance from town, so that any passing Herald would not be a burden on any one family, but close enough to get into town quickly should the need arise. Not that the need ever arose in this town, and even if it did, the Herald would find no welcome awaiting any attempt to provide aid.

  To Yerra, the
distance made for a pleasant bout of exercise and a chance to clear her head.

  Once she passed the old oak up ahead, she would be within sight of the Waystation. She came up beside the tree, her fingers outstretched to brush against the trunk as she always did. She’d been out here so often that the patch of bark had worn smooth under her touch. Every time, she pretended to draw power from it, power that she would return by putting it into the care of the station. She knew her efforts were not in vain whenever she would return to discover the supplies depleted or a piece of the station that needed repair. Heralds used her station as they passed through on their way to other, more receptive towns.

  Fallen leaves crunched under her feet as she rounded the trunk, and the Waystation came into view through the branches of the trees ahead. Its simple wood and plaster structure didn’t exactly blend into the forest, but the underbrush grew right up against it, and the foliage curled along its walls in a welcoming embrace. A stack of firewood stood under a protective roof on the side nearest Yerra. The pile had shrunk since the last time she’d been here.

  Light spilled from the window and open door to lie in flickering patches on the ground. Yerra froze, her fingers still pressed against the old oak.

  Someone was using the Waystation right now. A Herald had taken some of the firewood Yerra had cut and now had a fire going.

  And if a Herald was here, that meant the Companion she had seen could not be here to choose her.

  Disappointment built thick in her throat, and she swallowed several times. She’d been so sure tonight would be her last in her hometown. She’d considered herself already halfway down the road to Haven, and having to rein her imagination in and plod back toward home stung like the lash of her father’s belt.

  Blinking against the burn in her eyes, Yerra drew her hand away from the old oak. She swallowed again. Soft sobs drifted through the trees, and it took Yerra a few breaths to realize the sounds weren’t coming from her.

  The Herald in her station was crying.

  Yerra’s heart beat faster. The Herald needed help. Shaking herself, Yerra forced her disappointment to the back of her mind and pulled her thoughts back toward station upkeep. She may not gain a Companion of her own tonight, but she could do something to help a Herald in need. That would have to be enough.

  “Hello?” she called. Thank goodness her voice didn’t waver around the lump in her throat. “Is everything okay?”

  A sharp gasp came from inside, and the sobbing cut off. As Yerra approached the entrance, the heavy wooden door wrenched itself closed. The rock that had held it propped open clattered over the ground, flung away into the bushes.

  Yerra stared. Her jaw dangled, and she closed it with a snap. She knew Heralds had strange powers, but she’d never seen anything move on its own like that!

  The sobs had resumed, though their choked rattling made it obvious the Herald was trying to stifle them. Yerra padded along the path, angling for the window in the rear. She tried to be quiet, hoping the Herald wouldn’t realize she hadn’t turned away, but as she drew almost close enough to peer inside, the shutters shook themselves free of their restraints and slammed closed.

  Yerra watched the dust drifting down to the curling ivy below the window. Soft rays of moonlight filtered through the canopy to spark off the motes.

  She’d caught a flash of white inside the Waystation just before the window closed.

  Hot determination swept through her. The Herald must have heard about the reception she could expect from the people in this town and probably thought Yerra had come to spew hatred at her while she was injured or sick. The realization made Yerra’s fists curl up, and she stomped back to the front of the station.

  “I’m here to help you,” she said as she approached the door. She tugged on the handle, but the door didn’t budge. “I’m the one who keeps this place in good condition. I’m not like everyone else in town. Please, I . . .”

  She trailed off as she heard the soft whicker of the Companion inside. No response came from the Herald, but the crying had ceased.

  Yerra gave another gentle pull on the door. It remained closed, but at least the shaved plank bent a little at her pressure. She made herself relax and let the calm of the forest seep back into her.

  “I promise you, I live to serve Valdemar and her Heralds. I won’t let the townsfolk know you’re here.”

  Yerra held her breath and strained her ears. Her heartbeat thudded in the silence.

  Finally, after a soft scrape of movement, light footsteps approached the door. Yerra let go of the handle. The pie in her satchel bumped against her thigh when she took a step back. At the reminder of her stolen offering, she plunged both hands into it and removed the pie, still wrapped in her handkerchief.

  She held it before her with a smile she hoped didn’t reveal any of her still-churning disappointment and waited as the door creaked open. Light spilled out, momentarily blinding as Yerra’s night vision adjusted.

  Marli stood framed in the open doorway. Yerra took in the dirty tracks of tears on the bride-to-be’s face and the way her shoulders quivered. The girl gripped the doorframe hard enough her knuckles were as white as the Companion curled on the floor behind her.

  The girls stared at one another, both speechless. A snort from the Companion broke their silence.

  “Oh, Yerra,” Marli said. “What am I going to do?”

  • • •

  The few touches Marli had made to the Waystation—the flickering fire, the neat stack of wood beside the hearth, the bed she’d dragged over for Yerra to sit on—lent the place a homier feel than Yerra had ever been able to achieve.

  She plucked at the blanket covering the bed, recognizing it as one she’d taken after her sister discarded it. Marli had straightened it and smoothed the wrinkles of Yerra’s inexpert bed dressing before returning to sit on the floor, curled absently against her Companion’s side. She’d introduced him as Taren.

  Yerra stifled the prickle of jealousy. “I thought you were ill.”

  “I had to tell my mother something so she wouldn’t come looking for me. I couldn’t keep this a secret if I went to the celebration.”

  “The other girls think you are with child,” Yerra blurted. Anguish spread across Marli’s face anew, and Yerra wished she could un-share the speculation.

  “Barret and I have not . . . we are not . . .”

  Yerra rushed to cover Marli’s stuttering. “It’s okay, I understand. Not that Barret himself is objectionable, but I wouldn’t want to get married, either.”

  But fresh tears welled in Marli’s eyes, and Yerra knew she’d said the wrong thing again.

  “I do want to get married. I love Barret more than anything, and I was so looking forward to being his wife, to helping with the mill. I wish I were with child. We wanted to wait and have a proper marriage. But now . . .” Marli turned her gaze to the clean-swept stone floor. “I don’t want to leave home, Yerra. But what will everyone say? My family are the only ones who tolerate Heralds, and everyone else hates them outright.”

  Beside her, the Companion Taren whuffled at her shoulder, a gentle caress obviously meant to provide comfort.

  Yerra forced her fingers to unclench and smoothed the new wrinkles she’d put in the blanket. The effort of meshing her old image of Marli, quiet, homemaking, and obedient, with the idea of her in Herald’s Whites, left her trembling. Her own face replaced Marli’s in that mental picture all too easily.

  How could Taren have chosen Marli?

  “I don’t know. When I went to fetch water, he was waiting for me beside the well,” Marli answered.

  Yerra cringed. She hadn’t meant to ask her question aloud. But the answer she’d received sent a whole new streak of bitterness through her. That stupid well, the one she’d never cared about before but that had their families so tied up in knots.

  If the Herald h
ad declared differently, Yerra could have been the one fetching water today.

  She drew her gaze to the Companion, knowing the reproachful twist of her own face wouldn’t impress him and yet unable to stop herself. He met her with his own deep blue stare. Afraid to blink, as if doing so would break the communication between them, Yerra shivered. She thought if she strained hard enough, she could hear a voice speaking into her head, the way she’d heard some people were able to do.

  But she was deceiving herself, and the effort left her with nothing but a pounding headache and a sinking heart. She had no mental ability of her own that would attract a Companion to Choose her. Whereas Marli . . . well, she’d done that trick with the door earlier, and the window shutters. And Marli always seemed to appear whenever conflict arose in town, ready with a soothing smile and a suitable solution for everyone.

  As Yerra lowered her gaze to look through the floor, a truth emerged from deep inside her, as though dragged up by Taren’s lingering eyes.

  Her work in tending the Waystation had never been for the duty to Valdemar she claimed. She’d merely been hoping to place herself in an advantageous spot, a place where she might have a good chance of presenting herself to a Companion. Even earlier this evening, when she realized a Herald waited in the station, she’d hoped to be repaid for her help with a ride to Haven.

  Her fingers tightened on the blanket once more, and hot tears splashed onto her lap. To her horror, the bed dipped beside her, and Marli’s arms curled around her shoulders. How selfish was she to accept Marli’s comfort when the bride-to-be had her own pain to grapple with?

  Shuddering and sniffing, Yerra pushed away from Marli’s embrace. She tried to do so gently, but had no idea if she succeeded. Her wrist scrubbed across her eyes, and she turned toward Marli.

  “Sorry. This isn’t about me. What . . . what do you want to do?”

  Marli’s shoulders sagged. “I want to make this town a happy place again. Like it was when we were little girls. I can see things happening elsewhere, and I keep an eye out for fights springing up. And I want to marry Barret, but I also want to be with Taren, now that he’s in my life.”