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frightened children and give them warmth, reassurance, and the certain knowledge that they are in a place where they belong and have friends.
Dirk, you have demonstrated that over and over in training Gifts— the way you brought Griffon along, giving him confidence without once making him feel that his Gift was a frightening or dangerous one, was nothing short of masterful— and look at the result! He trusted you so completely that he linked with you without asking the why or wherefore; he trusted you enough to follow your directions exactly, and now Griffon is the unsung hero of the Battle of Demons. That kind of ability in a teacher is much rarer than scholasticism, and it's one we need. So let's hear no more about 'preferential treatment,' shall we?"
Dirk sighed with relief, and his arm tightened around Talia. She thanked Elcarth with her shining eyes; no words were necessary.
"That isn't quite all. You'll also be working with Kyril— Dirk on a regular basis, Talia as time permits. This is the first we've ever heard of the Companions augmenting anyone's abilities purposefully except in chronicles so old we can't winnow fable from truth; we'd like to know if it's something that any Herald can take advantage of, or if it's something peculiar to you two and Elspeth, or even if it's peculiar to your Companions. Before Kyril's through with you, you may wish yourself back in the field again!"
They laughed a little ruefully; Kyril drove himself mercilessly in the cause of investigating Heraldic Gifts, and would expect no less from them.
"Last of all, I bring your wedding gift from the Circle; the next two weeks are yours to do with as you like. We can all get along without either of you for that long. Talia still has to have her sessions with the Healers, of course, but barring that— well, if you should choose to vanish on a few overnight trips, no one will come looking for you. After all, Talia, you may not be able to walk, but you can certainly ride! Just make sure you schedule everything with your Healers. The last thing I need or want is to have Devan after my head! That man can be positively vicious!"
Talia laughed, and promised; she could tell by the speculative glint in Dirk's eyes that he already had a destination or two in mind. They traded a 296
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few more pleasantries with Elcarth, then the Historian— Dean no longer, and that would take some getting used to— took himself off.
Dirk shook his head. "I never, ever pictured myself as a teacher," he said quietly. "That was always Kr—"
He choked off the end of the name.
"That was what Kris wanted," Talia finished, watching him. "You've been avoiding speaking about him, love. Why?"
"Fear," he replied frankly. "Fear that I'd hurt you— fear I'd be hurt myself.
I— I still don't really know how you felt about each other—"
"All you ever had to do was ask," she said softly, and drew him into rapport with gentle mental fingers.
After a moment he raised his eyes to hers and smiled. "And you said emotions don't speak clearly. So that's how it was?"
She nodded. "No more, no less. He tried to tell you, but you weren't hearing."
"I wasn't, was I?" He sighed. "Gods— I miss him. I miss him so damn much..."
"We lost more than a friend when we lost him," she said, hesitating over the words. "I think— I think we lost a part of ourselves."
He was silent for a long moment. "Talia, what happened after he died?
You said some very strange things when you answered my call and came back to us."
She shook her head slightly, her brow wrinkled in thought. "Love, I'm not sure. It's not very clear, and it's all mixed up with pain and fever and drug-dreams. All I can tell you for certain is that I wanted to die, and I should have died— but something kept me from dying."
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"Or someone."
"Or someone," she agreed. "Maybe it was Kris. That's who my memories say it was."
"I have a lot to thank him for, and not just that," he said thoughtfully.
"Hm?"
"You learned from him about loving before those beasts hurt you."
"It helped," she said, after a long moment of thought.
"Loveling, are you ready to go through with this?" he asked after a pause.
"Are you sure?"
For answer she kissed him with rapport still strung between them. When they came up for air he chuckled, much more relaxed.
"Hedonist," he said.
"At least," she agreed, wrinkling her nose at him, then sobered again.
"Yes, there are scars— but you have them, too. The wounds are healed—
I'm not the only Healer of minds, you know— just the only one that's a Herald as well. Rynee— she's very good, as good as I am. Besides, I refuse to let what happened ruin what's between us— and really, all they did was hurt my body, they didn't touch me. What happened to you was worse— Naril raped your soul."
"That's healed, too," he said quietly.
"Then leave it in the dead past. No one goes through life without picking up a scar or two." She nestled closer to him as someone else came to offer their congratulations.
Then suddenly sat up. "Gods!"
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"What?" Dirk asked, anxious until he saw that there was no sign of pain on her face. "What is it?"
"Back on my internship— that business with Maeven Weatherwitch— she ForeSaw something for me, and I couldn't even guess what she meant, then. Now I know! She said that I would see the Havens but that love and duty would bar me from them— and—"
She faltered.
"And?" he prompted, gently.
"That— my greatest joy would be preceded by my greatest grief. Oh, gods— if only I'd known— if only I'd guessed—"
"You could never have anticipated what happened," Dirk replied with such force that she shook off her anguish to stare at him. " No one could.
Don't ever blame yourself. Don't you think that with all the ForeSeers among the Heralds if there had been any way of preventing what happened it would have been done?"
She sighed, and relaxed again. "You're right..." she said, slowly. "You're right."
* * *
The celebrating continued on well past dusk, until at last, by ones and twos, the wedding guests began to drift away. Some were heading for other gatherings— like the one Talia and Dirk knew their fellow Heralds must be having somewhere. Some had more private affairs in mind. Finally Talia and Dirk were left alone, a state with which they were not at all displeased.
She rested contentedly on his shoulder, both of his arms lightly around her, and watched the stars blossoming overhead.
"It's getting chilly," she said at last.
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"Are you cold?"
"A little."
"Well," he chuckled, "They've certainly made it easy for us to depart unnoticed."
"I'm fairly certain that was on purpose. All that cheering was embarrassing enough, without chivaree, too."
"It could have been worse. Think of the flower-bedecked platform! Think of Companions in the High Temple! Think of the life-sized sugar replicas of both of us!"
"I'd rather not!" She laughed.
"Ready to go?"
"Yes," she said, putting her arms around his neck so that he could lift her.
He took her up the stairs to her rooms— now their rooms— this time taking them one at a time, and slowly, so as not to jar her.
To their mutual surprise, they found Elspeth seated on the top step.
"What on earth are you doing here?" he asked.
"Guarding your threshold, oh, magnificent one. It was the students' idea.
We took it turn and turn about since you left this morning. Except for during the ceremony itself that is— we left the staircase booby-trapped then. Not that we're suspicious of anyone, mind, but we did want to make certain no one could get in to play any little tricks while you were gone.
"'The caring heart,'" Talia said softly. "She'll be a good Queen, one day."
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Dirk nudged the door open with his foot, placed Talia carefully on her couch inside, then turned to close it and throw the latch.
"Not that I'm suspicious of anyone," he said with a gleam in his eye, "but a certain earlier performance of yours makes me wish to be certain that we're undisturbed."
"Not quite yet," she said with a smile. "First I've got a bride-gift for you."
"A what?"
"One good custom of my people. The bride always has a gift for her husband. It's over there— on the hearth."
"But—" for a moment he was speechless. "Talia, that's My Lady. She's your harp, I couldn't take her!"
"Look again."
He did— and realized that there was a second harp hidden in the shadows.
He pulled both of them out into the light and scrutinized them closely.
"I can't tell them apart," he admitted at last.
"Well, I can, but I've had My Lady for years, I know every line of her grain. No one else can, though. They're twins, made by the same hand, from the same wood; they're even the same age. No—" she held up a warning hand. "Don't ask me where or how I found it. That's my secret.
But in return for this one, you'll have to promise to teach me to play My Lady as well as she deserves to be played."
"Willingly— gladly. We can play duets— like—"
"Like you and Kris used to play," she finished for him when he could not.
"Love— I think it's time for one last gift—" and she touched his mind, sharing with him the incredulous joy that had marked Kris' passing.
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"Gods— oh, gods, that helps... you must know how much that helps," he managed after a moment. "Now if only— I wish I could know for certain that he knows about us— about now."
He lifted her from the couch to move to the bedroom.
"If I were to have one wish granted, that would be mine, too," she replied, her cheek resting against the velvet of his tunic. "He told me once that it was his own dearest wish to see the two people he loved most find happiness with each other—"
She would have said more, but a familiar perfume wreathed around her, and she gasped.
"What's wrong? Did you hurt something?" Dirk asked anxiously.
"There— on the bed—"
Lying on the coverlet, in the middle and heart-high, was a spray of the little flowers known as Maiden's Hope. Dirk set her down on the bed and she picked it up with trembling hands.
"Did you put this here?" she asked in a voice that shook.
"No."
"And no one else has been here since we left—" In hushed tones she continued: "When Kris gave me this ring, it was around a Midsummer bouquet of those flowers. I'd never smelled anything like them before—and he promised he'd find some for my wedding garland if he had to grow them himself— but I've never seen them anywhere around here—"
"There's more to it than that, little bird," Dirk said, taking the flowers from her and regarding them with wondering eyes. "This flower only blooms for the week before and after Midsummer. We're well into fall. They can't be grown in hothouses. People have tried. To find even one bloom, much less as many as this, would take a miracle. No human could do it."
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They looked from the flowers to each other— and slowly began to smile; smiles that, for the first time in weeks, had no underlying hint of sadness.
Dirk took her into his arms, with the flowers held between them. "We've had our wish— shall we give him his?"
She carefully reached behind her, and inserted the blossoms into the vase on her nightstand.
"Yes," she breathed, turning back to him, and beginning to touch him with her rapport even as she touched her lips to his, "I think we should."
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Appendix
Songs
of
Valdemar
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Her Father's Eyes
Lyrics: Mercedes Lackey
Music: Kristoph Klover
(Selenay: Arrows of the Queen)
How tenuous the boundary between love and hate—
How easy to mistake the first, and learn the truth too late—
How hard to bear what brings to mind mistakes that we despise—
And when I look into her face, I see her father's eyes.
He tried to steal away my throne— he tried to rule my life—
And I am not made to forgive, a cowed and coward wife!
My love became my enemy who sought his Queen's demise—
And when I look into her face, I see her father's eyes.
Poor child, we battled over her as two dogs with a bone—
I should not see his treachery in temper-tantrums thrown—
I should not see betrayal where there's naught but childish lies—
But when I look into her face, I see her father's eyes.
Now how am I to deal with this rebellion in my soul?
I cannot treat her fairly when my own heart is not whole.
I truly wish to love her— but I'm not so strong, nor wise—
For when I look into her face, I see her father's eyes—
Only— her father's eyes.
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First Love
Lyrics: Mercedes Lackey
Music: Frank Hayes
(Jadus: Arrows of the Queen)
Was it so long ago now that we met, you and I?
Both held fast in a passion that we could not deny?
If my hands gave you life, then your voice woke my heart—
From such simple beginnings, how such wonder may start!
Chorus:
Through my long, empty nights, through my cold, lonely days, How you comfort and cheer me, delight and amaze—
And your soft silver voice could charm life into stone—
My sweet mistress of music, My Lady, my own.
With your sweet song to guide me you have taught me to care How to open my soul to both love and despair
Though you're wood and bright silver, and not warm flesh and bone I think no one here doubts you've a soul of your own.
And I know my own journey will too soon reach its end—
I must leave you with one I am proud to call friend.
How she opened my life when she opened my door!
Give her comfort, my dear one, when I am no more.
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Holderkin Sheep-Song
Lyrics: Mercedes Lackey
Music: Ernie Mansfield
(Talia: Arrows of the Queen)
Silly sheep
Go to sleep.
We will watch around you keep
Though the night be dark and deep
Nothing past us dares to creep
Go to sleep.
Wooly heads
Have no dreads
Though we'd rather seek out beds
And our eyes are dull as leads
And we long for hearths and Steads
Have no dreads.
Do not fear
We are here
Though this watch is lone and drear
Lacking in all warmth and cheer
Till the morn again draws near
We are here.
In the night
Stars shine bright
And the moon is at her height
Lending us her little light
Nothing comes to give you fright
Stars shine bright.
With the day
We'll away
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Leaving you t
o greet the day
Other shepherds watch you play
Keep you safe from all that prey
We'll away.
Silly sheep
Go to sleep.
We will watch around you keep
Go to sleep.
Go to sleep.
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It Was a Dark and Stormy Night
Lyrics: Mercedes Lackey
Music: Leslie Fish
(Talia: Arrows of the Queen)
It was a dark and stormy night— or so the Heralds say—
And lightning striking constantly transformed the night to day The thunder roared the castle round— or thusly runs the tale—
And rising from the Northeast Tower there came a fearful wail.
It was no beast nor banshee that, the castle folk knew well, Nor prisoner in agony, nor demon trapped by spell, No ghost that moaned in penance, nor a soul in mortal fright—
'Twas just the Countess "singing"— for she practiced every night.
The Countess was convinced that she should have been born a Bard And thus she made the lives of those within her power hard.
For they must listen to her sing, and smile at what they heard, And swear she had a golden voice that rivaled any bird.
The Countess was convinced that she had wedded 'neath her state And so the worst lot fell upon her meek and mild mate.
Not only must the Count each night endure her every song But suffer silent her abuse, be blamed for every wrong.
It was a dark and stormy night— or so the Bards aver—
And so perhaps that was the reason why there was no stir When suddenly the "music" ceased; so when dawn raised his head Within the Tower servants found the Countess stiff and dead.