Tempest

by Mercedes Lackey

  • • •

  Bassyl stood in a large press of people, trying to look inconspicuous and yet remain aware of everything around him. Jocelyn stood in front of him and held his hand, her grip loose and relaxed compared to his tight and flexed fingers. Hansa sat next to him, staring ahead at the main square as if the press of bodies did little to impede her vision.

  They were near the center of the capital, where all the roads converged like rays of the sun to a central point. A statue of Vkandis stood in the center of that point, standing tall and imposing, easily visible above the heads of the throng. Temple Guards were scattered throughout the crowd. Bassyl knew there would be no way for them to recognize him, but he kept his distance nonetheless.

  :I must leave you now. Have faith for just a little while longer. A new age is coming. You will be safe.:

  Bassyl looked down to ask Hansa more questions, but she was already gone. He spun around, trying to catch a glimpse of the orange-tipped tail and see where the animal went. Everywhere he turned, he only saw more people.

  A sudden gasp fell over the crowd, echoed by thousands of voices. Bassyl turned back to the center, and his mouth hung open in shock as the statue of Vkandis came alive and bent forward. It was a miracle. He stood up on his toes, struggling in vain to see over the crowd and determine what was happening. A low rumble permeated the crowd as people reacted to the spectacle.

  Bassyl turned his attention down as Jocelyn yanked on his hand several times.

  “Hansa says it’s the dawning of a new age. Solaris will protect us now.”

  BloodLines

  Phaedra Weldon

  “No Karsite blood will rule Bell’s Valley!”

  That was the first coherent sentence Herald Ryvik heard as he and his Companion Myriil rode into town.

  They had been sent by the Queen to settle a dispute over the election of a mayor for the mountain town. It seemed such a trivial thing to Ryvik. Why not handle this themselves? Do what other towns and cities did—have an election. Use the system of voting. But instead, one of the founding families of Bell’s Valley had petitioned to have the acting mayor removed. Ryvik hadn’t been told why, but that opening statement gave him a pretty good clue.

  A blood dispute. Not a simple thing. And having just completed a full circuit for the Crown, Ryvik’s attitude about being diverted from his journey back to Haven was less than friendly. He’d been looking forward to sleeping in his own bed, eating three square meals a day, cooked in the fine Collegium kitchens, as well as having time to repair his lutes and possibly compose a new set of songs. Even Myriil had talked of longing to run in the fields with her kith and catch up on the local gossip.

  Yet the Queen’s missive had explained why he had been selected, instead of some newly commissioned Herald. The acting mayor of the town was a childhood friend of Ryvik’s, Sves Harshard. They’d spent much of their younger days together before Ryvik was Chosen and taken to Haven. Through the years they had kept in touch with one another through correspondence, and the Queen thought it best he be the one to settle the dispute.

  Ryvik didn’t have the heart to tell her that he and Sves hadn’t communicated in several years. With his lessons and circuits as a Herald, there simply hadn’t been time. In fact, he’d been surprised that Sves was living in Bell’s Valley. Ryvik had thought he still lived in Bakerston.

  The prospect of reconnecting with his old friend lightened Ryvik’s mood as he approached the town, but it darkened upon hearing the blood feud declaration. People ran past him, some stumbling back when they beheld him in his dress Whites and spotted the brilliant white Companion beneath him. To others, Myriil would seem like an exotic horse. But Companions were nothing of the sort.

  But to Ryvik, Myriil was someone he couldn’t live without from the day she Chose him. She would always be a part of him.

  Ryvik jumped down before his Companion came to a stop and reached out for a young man as he hesitated in his run past. “Good sir, what is happening?”

  “It’s the new mayor, sir. He’s trying to calm the people and reassure them, but it seems the protestors aren’t going to back down.” With that, he bowed and continued on.

  :I have a bad feeling about this.: His Companion’s voice spoke in his mind.

  “So do I,” he replied as he pulled his lute from the saddle. “Stay here.”

  :What are you going to do?:

  “What I was sent here to do.” With a wink at her, he ran with the crowd to the center of town.

  :Maybe you shouldn’t interfere?:

  “Too late!” he called back as he slung the lute over his shoulder. He spotted a raised dais in the center of the town’s square. Standing upon it were several people dressed in official looking robes, and between them was Sves.

  The years hadn’t changed him much. He was taller and maybe a bit more weathered. But, then, so was Ryvik. Sves still wore his blond hair long and pulled back from his face. He wasn’t dressed as fancy as the others, and Ryvik couldn’t imagine his old friend dressed like them at all. He was pretty sure time and experience had molded them into two different people these days. Would Sves even recognize him?

  “Close your mouth!” said a voice in the crowd. “There’s no proof of yer accusations!”

  “I have all the proof I need,” yelled a tall, dark-haired man with a scar that ran down the right side of his neck. He was close to the stage . . . closer than Ryvik was comfortable with. He could feel waves of anger and resentment flowing off him. Whatever this man believed, he did so with absolute certainty. Unwavering conviction.

  Always a bad combination.

  Ryvik threaded his way through the crowd, his Whites clearing a path as he heard whispers.

  “A Herald has come!”

  “Let the Queen’s Herald through!”

  Ryvik made it to the podium just as someone screamed, “Don’t do it!”

  Unsure what the warning was for, he dove at Sves, his friend’s eyes widening in recognition just as something very hard and very unrelenting struck the back of Ryvik’s head.

  Pain exploded behind his eyes as he tackled Sves out of the way. He landed on top of his old friend, then lacked the strength and coordination to move himself off as his vision darkened and he heard Myriil scream.

  :Ryvik!:

  • • •

  Myriil was the first to greet him when he woke. :Don’t you ever terrify me like that again!:

  “Och . . . not so loud, luv,” he said, putting a hand to his forehead before opening his eyes.

  :You scared us all!:

  “I’ll live. It is the Queen’s command.” Ryvik tried to push himself up onto his elbows, but hands pushed him down as he cracked his eyes open.

  Sves leaned over him with that all too familiar worried look Ryvik remembered from their childhood. “You scared me half to death.”

  “Only half?” Ryvik pushed his old friend back to give himself air, almost smiling at the way Sves’s declaration echoed Myriil’s.

  “The town came together when they realized someone had nearly killed one of the Queen’s Heralds.”

  “I doubt that rock was intended for me.”

  “You would be right.” Sves shook his head as his gaze roamed over Ryvik. “You haven’t changed. Though I think your hair’s more silver now. Old age already?”

  “I am younger than you, remember?” Ryvik put his hand to his shoulder-length silver tresses. His mother’s hair had also been this color, something she said had always been rare in her family, and the thing that her own people had used as a sign that she was magic and must be burned. So her only son had bore the mark as well, but only after their escape from Karse to Valdemar. His hair seemed washed out in contrast to Sves’s yellow blond. “And I’m fine—just a headache.”

  “That rock split your head open—and don’t mess with those bandages.” He slapped a
t Ryvik’s hand. “The Healer will have my head.” He sat back. “It’s been a long time, Ryvik.”

  “I know. And I’m sorry. But I’ve been on circuit ever since I was able. As of yesterday, I had been looking forward to a nice, long rest at Haven,” he arched a brow at Sves. “Yet for some reason, the Queen thought it best I come here and mediate some dispute . . .”

  “Oh, Ryvik,” his old friend looked sad as he sat in a chair by the bed. The window behind him was open to the cool mountain breeze, and Myriil stuck her head in to gaze at Ryvik with her large, purple eyes. “I had no idea they’d send you . . . were you off circuit?”

  “Aye. Bakerston was my last assignment, and I was on my way home when I received the missive in Tindale. So,” he scratched at his bandaged head. “What’s going on? That mob? The shouts of Karsite blood? When did that become a problem out here?”

  “Oh, it’s been a problem for a long time,” Sves said, his voice was low and his attention on the open window. “Can she keep an eye out for us?”

  Ryvik looked at his Companion. :Can you make sure no one’s listening?:

  :Of course. I can do that just standing here. Continue. And don’t argue with me. I’m not letting you out of my sight!:

  Frowning and smiling, he looked back to Sves. “Believe me, she’s watching out for us.”

  “I’ve always been a little jealous of that.” Sves’s eyes hadn’t left Myriil. “Your being able to talk to her. Having such a fine horse.”

  :You really should correct him—:

  “Myriil’s not a horse,” Ryvik said. “As I’ve told you before.”

  “Yes, you have.” He turned his gaze back to Ryvik. “The campaign to make Bell’s Valley a place for the pure blooded started a few years ago, just after Lord Doreen was killed.”

  “Killed?”

  “By Karsite soldiers. He’d learned about some poaching going on between our border and the Comb. He said he sent word for the Queen’s aid, but when no response came, he took a small group of local militia there to see.” Sves lowered his head. “They were ambushed and killed. I’m afraid Lord Doreen’s only son, Taven, didn’t take the news well. He’d left Bell’s Valley to join the Queen’s army, but when word of his father’s death reached him, he asked to be discharged and returned to take over his father’s holdings. The Doreen family is the larger of the founders here.”

  “So . . . I’m guessing he blames the Karsite people for his father’s death.”

  “Yes. And anyone with Karsite blood. The truth is, he wants the job of mayor.” Sves shrugged. “It’s rumored he’s building a small army of soldiers, assassins really, to infiltrate the closest Karsite town and seek his revenge.”

  “The Queen would never allow that,” Ryvik hissed.

  “I know. But how can she stop what she doesn’t know about? Mayor Foreland was able to keep Taven’s opinions to a dull roar, but after his death last month, Taven started making noises about becoming ayor. About how only those with the purest of Valdemaran blood should rule the Valley.” He gave a long and haggard sigh.

  “So how is it you’re the acting mayor?”

  “Because I was picked to be, by Foreland. He was a good friend, though not as literate as he should be. I helped him fashion letters, direct commerce . . . I practically ran everything. And those working with him knew this. So as the town’s electoral staff, they put me in this position until we could settle on a vote for the new mayor.”

  “And you think Taven’s going to win.” Ryvik watched Sves’s hands as he clutched at the sheet covering Ryviik’s knees.

  “I think Taven is going to cheat. And then he’s going to take the land of everyone he believes has Karsite blood, and you can bet those are going to be the ones who don’t support him.”

  “Wait . . . a mayor can’t just usurp a landowner’s rights,” Ryviik’s attention focused on Sves’s face. “He’d have to be granted sovereignty by the Queen.”

  “True, but a dictator can. Ryvik, he’s already convinced over half the town that Foreland’s death was the first in a small-scale invasion by the Karse to seek revenge on every deserter that came across that border and escaped the Sunpriests.”

  “But . . . that’s ridiculous.” Ryvik leaned back onto the bed and felt a twang behind his eyes.

  :You need to rest.:

  :I need to do my job and stop whatever nonsense this is before this Taven causes a war where there shouldn’t be one.:

  “I know that,” Sves said.

  Ryvik pulled at his lower lip. “How is he convincing the townspeople to side with him?”

  “He swears he has access to the town’s ledger. The birth records? And he’s been saying that once he’s mayor, he can take their land and give it to the more deserving.”

  Oho. Ryvik arched a brow. Taven was bribing his supporters. Believing he could have the power to take the land of one and give it to someone else for their support. Ingenious, in an evil way. But easily thwarted. “Does he have access?”

  “I think he does. When I first heard he was doing this, I went into the records room and found it’d been looted. Everything is gone.”

  “And he has it.”

  “Ryvik,” Sves stood in frustration and started pacing. “Those records were kept as a means of showing the town how far they’d come. They were not meant to be used to spread hatred and deception.”

  “It’s also illegal to use those records for personal gain.” Ryvik was pretty sure Taven intended to keep a lot of the Holder’s lands for his own use, especially any settlements close to the border where his father died. “Is it possible to have a town meeting tonight? Bring everyone together so I can speak on behalf of the Queen? I was sent here to mediate, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “Well,” Sves said. “We can try, but I’m more than sure Taven and his people will try to stop you.” Sves’ eyes narrowed as Ryvik noticed his friend’s hands become tight fists. “He was the one that threw the rock.”

  “You’re sure of this?”

  “Yes. Several of those who don’t support him saw him do it. His own wife warned him not to.”

  Was the wife the one whose voice Ryvik heard before he was struck? It was possible. “You can’t bring him up on charges, can you?”

  “I tried. We were waiting to see if you lived. You’ve been unconscious over a day, Ryvik.”

  Ryvik blinked and leaned back in the bed. “A day?”

  :I told you! You scared us half to death!:

  “Taven hasn’t been seen since, and though the local law has been to his house, he’s not there. We were waiting to see if he would have be brought up on charges of murder.”

  “Because then the Queen would get involved,” Ryvik said slowly. “Sorry to disappoint, Sves, but I’m very much alive.”

  “I didn’t want you dead!” Sves looked as if he were about to cry.

  Ryvik grabbed the sheet Sves had been been clutching. His hand locked on the thick weave as his Fartouching gift instantly gave him images of things . . . events that might be experienced by Sves . . . and very recent ones. Ryvik assumed he was looking through Sves’ eyes at a tall, angry young man with close-cropped dark hair. Ryvik had seen him in the crowd. Imposing. Overbearing. A soldier with rank. And power. He couldn’t hear the words spoken, but he could infer the context. Sves stood in a corner of the room, and this man was slamming his hand on a desk strewn with paper. Mayor’s office? This man’s home? Then he saw a book, one he recognized as crafted by the publishers in Haven. He knew the workmanship . . .

  And it was new. It contained a stack of pages inside, easily set in and gathered through an ingenious series of interlocking hinges threaded together by a removable shaft the diameter of a hairpin.

  Abruptly the book slammed down and the Gift released him. Ryvik was on the floor on all fours, and Sves was at his side, picking him up and helpi
ng him back in the bed.

  “What did you see, Ryvik?” Sves was talking to him. “I didn’t know you still had that Gift. What did you see?”

  It wasn’t the head wound that had him now but the exhaustion from his Gift. He wasn’t the weakest Herald with Fartouch, but he wasn’t the strongest. He never knew for sure whose eyes he looked through, nor could he hear in his visions. But he could see.

  And what he saw . . . made no sense. And then he was deep asleep again with Myriil’s soothing voice in his mind. :Rest, my love. I will watch over you as I think of what you saw.:

  “I . . .” Ryvik said aloud softly, speaking to his Companion. “I don’t know what it means.”

  :No . . . but it is our duty to discover that meaning. I have faith in you, Ryvik. And I am here, no matter what the answer may be.:

  • • •

  Sves had a thick stew ready when he awoke, with vegetables, potatoes, and a soft meat. The fresh-baked bread was perfect, and the sweet butter was whipped to perfection.

  Once he was finished, Sves set out to call the town meeting for that night so the Herald could speak for the Queen. After all, he was called in an as mediator, so . . . best to just get it started.

  He watched Sves leave the kitchen and sat at the table, sipping his tea.

  :We’re not staying here, I hope.:

  “You are.” He pushed his chair back and rinsed his cup out in the sink. “I’m going to have a look at this library.”

  :You saw it?:

  “Yes I did.”

  Ryvik moved back to his room and rummaged through his pack, noticing someone else had already done the same. He wasn’t missing anything, but it was still disheartening. “There weren’t enough records in that ledger to account for the age of this town.”

  :So you think there are more records there? What if this Taven already has them?:

  “Then I won’t find any. But if what I saw in that vision was true . . .”