Finding the Way and Other Tales of Valdemar

by Mercedes Lackey

  “Trin tells me I’m being rude,” he said, his words slow, as though finding and forming them was an effort. “Shia, this is Trinelan—but everyone calls her Trin.”

  Teo’s Companion stepped daintily forward, lowering her head so that Shia could brush her soft nose. :Welcome to Haven,: she Mindspoke, to Shia’s astonishment, then shook her head at Eodan. :We don’t often Mindspeak anyone other than our own Chosen, but if you ever need to talk sense, I will be happy to oblige. This one is not known for sense.:

  “I will bring you up to the Dean of the Collegium.” Teo’s voice was still a little dry, but otherwise he seemed restored to his usual sunny self. “Herald Kindo and I leave for my internship on Circuit tomorrow, so Dean Merchan will find a Trainee to show you everything you need to know.”

  “Kernos and the Bright Havens know we need Healers more than ever! And what happens? This mere colt, not even five years old, goes haring off and brings back a girl with a strong Healing Gift and more herbcraft than most second-year students! To be a Herald!” The head of the Healers’ Collegium paced the floor, her gestures sharp and angry. “I’d like to give him a piece of my mind. And as for the Healer at Torhold, well, I’ve already sent a letter demanding an explanation. How he missed testing this girl for the Gift after she became the herbalist for the entire town of Breyburn is beyond me!”

  “Sereth, please,” Herald Merchan, Dean of the Collegium, was finally able to get a quiet word in edgewise. “Her Healing Gift and Empathy are not her only Gifts—her Mindspeech with her Companion is quite strong, as well. And that is not so common as some would believe.” He held up a hand to forestall another outburst. “The King’s Own also told me his Companion believes she has a touch of Foresight, linked with her Healing Gift.”

  “All the more need for her to be in Healers’! Someone who knows what injuries will happen beforehand would be a godsend!”

  “I rather suspect her Gift isn’t quite like that, although I can’t say how it is. All we can do is trust her Companion. Companions do not Choose wrongly, Sereth, even if they are shockingly young. We may not understand their choice until later, but they are never wrong.” Merchan watched the older woman finish her energetic round of his office. It didn’t take her long, as most of the room was buried under piles of books and scrolls.

  Healer Sereth rounded the corner by the door one more time and brought herself up short. “I know.” She sighed. “But for a Healer to have been Chosen—it frightens me to think what that might mean for the Karsite border. Companions always Choose someone with the right combination of Gifts at the moment they are needed.”

  “A Herald who can Heal—yes, it does exercise the imagination. But we know that a Healer can’t keep up with a Herald.”

  Sereth’s shoulders slumped. “I didn’t want to give the approval, you know I didn’t. But . . . ”

  “But Healer Kevrel was so desperate to be involved, to do something after the abduction of his family, and the unmatched Companion was so willing to help after the raid . . . ”

  A long silence stretched between them, each mourning the loss of one of their own—four years had not made it any easier to think of.

  Life in the Collegium soon settled into something of a routine for Shia, although because of her older age and active Gifts, she split her time between the usual classes of a first-year Trainee (history and basic schooling, riding, and combat training) and lessons in Mindspeech (which she wasn’t very strong with, other than with Eodan and a few Heralds). And, of course, every day she spent a long period of time in the Healers’ Collegium, learning to use her Healing Gift and expanding her herb craft. This was where she shone, for her knowledge of the mountain herbs was more extensive than any of her teachers expected, and her experiments in Breyburn with growing herbs indoors over the winter season impressed Revyn, the Herbalist-Healer. She spent many extra hours in the Collegium sunhouses, tending the vast array of plants. Any time left over was spent down in Companions’ Field with Eodan.

  In fact, the first part of Shia’s training passed in a busy daze, until the day she felt a strange hollow feeling in the bottom of her stomach. In Breyburn, before Eodan had come through the massive winter rains to Choose her, she had several times felt that same sinking sensation—and in each instance there was a simultaneous attack by the mercenary bandit that had plagued the village that year.

  This feeling had started one morning just as winter began to ease its grip on Haven. It developed as a slight twinge, unlike the sharp throbbing she had felt before. Eodan felt the same unease, but none of the other Companions, not even Domar, the King’s Own’s Companion, shared it.

  :Domar said that if something were wrong that would affect Valdemar, the Heralds, or the Companions, we would all know or feel it.:

  Shia leaned her head against Eodan’s flank. Her afternoon classes were over, and she had seized the few minutes before she started her kitchen duties to run to Companions’ Field. :But it’s stronger each day. And it seems, I don’t know, somehow to the east.: Eodan nodded in agreement.

  :Maybe Domar is wrong. Maybe . . . : Shia’s body trembled and she grabbed Eodan’s mane for support as the feeling of wrongness sharpened and blossomed into something hard and certain.

  “Teo,” she whispered. “Something’s wrong with Teo. I have to find out . . . ” She was gone before she even finished the sentence, racing from Companions’ Field to the Collegium, while Eodan galloped toward the stables.

  “If something were wrong, Herald Trainee, we would know already. Herald Kindo is a powerful Farspeaker—that’s why he and Herald Teo were assigned to that part of the Iftel Circuit.” Dean Merchan frowned down at her.

  “But what if he were sick himself, in fever-dreams?” At this point, Shia didn’t care if her persistence annoyed him—she had to make him understand.

  The Dean’s door was flung open, and Healer Sereth burst into the room. “I was trying to cross over to Bardic to test this boy they think has Songhealing, and a Companion positively herded me over to Herald’s. Yours, I assume?” Sereth glowered at Shia. “What is the meaning of this?”

  Merchan opened his mouth to answer, but stopped before he could form a word. His face took on the listening expression that came over most Heralds when their Companions Mindspoke to them.

  “I’m sorry,” Shia said, “but I have to go. You have to let me go—something’s wrong in the east.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?” Sereth glanced over at Merchan, but he was still listening to his Companion, his eyes widening.

  “Teo—Herald Teo—something’s gone wrong and he needs me.”

  “How do you know that?” Sereth demanded, but Shia couldn’t find words to describe the bone-deep certainty within her.

  The Dean cleared his throat. “I don’t know how, Healer Sereth, but something does seem to be wrong on the Iftel border. The King’s Own’s Companion just received a call for help from the intern’s Companion. There is a plague or contagion of some sort in Norflank, and they’ve quarantined themselves. The senior Herald is very ill, the town’s Healer has succumbed, and Iftel’s borders are closed, even to those who might otherwise pass through them.” The Dean scrutinized Shia. “Perhaps this is that strange Foresight of hers.”

  In an instant, Sereth’s mood changed from infuriated to determined, like a general planning for combat. “A plague, a contagion? Did the Companion tell what form it took?” She didn’t even wait for the Dean to respond before she began pacing the room. “Local Healer gone, no knowing where the nearest Healer is or how Gifted. There are other border towns, but usually only one strong Healer works with several. Bright Lady, why do these things always happen on the borders, where it will be weeks before we can get enough Healers out there? Even if we send a few riding ahead, we’ll need to pack carts, we need the abbreviated copies of the tomes of Healing, all the medicinal stores we can spare . . . ”

  “I have to go,” Shia repeated. “I need to go now.”

  �
�No!” The Dean and the head of the Healers’ Collegium spoke in resounding unison.

  “You’re barely a Herald Trainee, much less a Herald. You cannot just up and leave and . . . ” Merchan was drowned out by Sereth.

  “You’ve just started Healer’s training. What makes you think you could succeed where a full Healer failed?”

  “This.” Shia reached into her belt-pouch and held up a spray of leaves that she didn’t remember plucking when she was in the house that morning. “I’m not saying that I could succeed, but with this, I may slow it down. It might be enough to give Norflank more time. To give you more time.”

  Sereth reached out and brushed her fingers over the leaves. “What is that? It looks like mountain pirimora, but the color is wrong.”

  “Healer-Herbalist Revyn has encouraged me to experiment with mixing plants. This is a cross of mountain pirimora and the desert anejja that we traded for with the Shin’a’in. Both are good at stalling infections, and I hope this will be stronger than either. My first plants have just reached maturity.”

  “Then we send a full Healer with it.”

  “But a Healer can’t travel as fast as a Companion,” Shia argued. She was unprepared for the stunned expressions the two turned on her before looking at each other.

  “Kevrel,” Sereth murmured, in almost the same breath that Merchan whispered, “Dameo.”

  “But this isn’t the same at all! This isn’t a dangerous rescue, and Healer Kevrel was not bonded with the Companion who volunteered to carry him.”

  “How do you know about it? Few outside the Palace and the Collegium knew about that ill-fated attempt,” Merchan asked.

  “Eodan told me. I think he meant it as a lesson—although I’m still not sure whether it was a lesson in doing something bold or not doing so.” Shia’s lips curved in a wry smile. “Either way, this is a very different situation—and I believe I’m the best one for it.”

  The Dean and Sereth studied her for a long, reflective moment.

  “I think she might be right,” Merchan said, tapping a finger on his chin. “She is, after all, several years older than the usual first-year.”

  “And she’s got solid herbcraft, even if her Healing Gift is mostly untrained.”

  :Is that agreement, then? It took them long enough. Our gear will be ready at first light tomorrow morning, Chosen—that should be enough time for you to prepare what you need from the sunhouses.:

  The East Trade Road flew by under Eodan’s heels, although it was still days of hard riding before they even turned onto the road toward the border with the shadowy land of Iftel. Now that she was doing something, the warning sensation had abated to a faint throb of wrongness, and all of Shia’s attention was given to staying in the saddle—especially when Eodan started to leave the road to shorten the journey, cutting through areas impassable for any but a Companion and Herald. He even showed her mind-pictures of how to sit to balance her weight for him as he zigzagged down snow-covered slopes, and sometimes she knew as soon as he did when the footing was uncertain and how she should shift to help him stay upright. Up in the hills, winter still clung stubbornly, and Shia was glad of the well-stocked Waystations when they stopped each night. As the days wore on, the two of them started to share less and less Mindspeech, as every bit of energy was focused on maintaining the brutal pace.

  :Chosen, I can Mindspeak Trin.: Just after dawn that morning, after more than a week of long days of travel, the two had raced past a tiny hamlet between Hunterston and Norflank, astonishing a few early risers. :She says we’ll be there within a candlemark. Herald Kindo is very ill, but Herald Teo is not as bad. Most of Norflank has been sick to some degree, and it seems at least one person has died each day since the Healer succumbed. She said it starts on the skin, but then spreads through the body, with great boils and fever. Once it gets into the lungs, they start coughing and it isn’t long before the end. Some few have recovered from the skin infection without it spreading.:

  :Can you Mindspeak Domar, so he can relay the information to the Companion traveling behind us with the rest of the Healers?: Shia built a little wall in her mind around the fear that had sprung up at the confirmation of Teo’s illness. Dwelling on it would not help him or the people of Norflank.

  :I can’t reach him alone. Mindspeech isn’t always reliable this close to Iftel. That’s why Herald Kindo was on this circuit, because his Gift is so much stronger than most. When we reach Norflank, Trin and I should be strong enough together.:

  Eodan put forth an extra burst of effort as they rounded the last curve of the road and saw the town walls nestled in the valley ahead of them. He galloped to the main gate and pulled up before the guardhouse, his flanks heaving, sweat dulling his coat.

  :Why is no one posted, Chosen?:

  Shia slid off Eodan’s back, her knees wobbling from strain, and knocked at the guardhouse door.

  After several long minutes, a window on the second floor opened a crack. “No one gets in or out, order of the town council,” a raspy, weak voice called down.

  “I’m here on Herald’s business,” Shia cried back. The window creaked closed, and there was silence.

  Her hands clenched into fists, Shia pounded at the gate. “Let me in! I’m here to help!”

  To her relief, her answer was a trumpeting neigh and the sound of hooves approaching the other side of the gate, followed by wood scraping on wood.

  :Step aside, Chosen,: Eodan warned, then shouldered past her to throw all of his weight against one edge of the gate. It parted a crack, and he moved back and pushed again, until he had widened the opening enough that he and Shia could slip through to meet the other two Companions.

  “Trin, help me. Where are the town Healer’s records and stores?”

  The older Companion gave her an affronted look, and from the tossing of Eodan’s head, there were clearly words being exchanged.

  :Mount up,: Trin replied, ignoring the other two. :I’ll take you.:

  Grasping a double-handful of mane, Shia pulled her groaning body onto Trin’s bare back. Trin waited only until she was settled before loping down the deserted main street of Norflank.

  :They’re using the town hall as an infirmary,: she Mindspoke, nodding at the large building on the left. :That’s where most of the sick folk are. The remaining healthy and the least ill, like the guardsman, are trying to stay apart. The worst are up at the Healer’s buildings—that’s where—:

  “Where Herald Kindo is. And Teo?” Shia no longer bothered to hide the strain and fear in her voice.

  :No. It hasn’t spread to his lungs yet.: The Companion’s own pain and worry shaded her Mindvoice. She pulled up before the door of a small building. :This was where the Healer lived. The larger building behind is the regular infirmary. The smaller is his herbroom, but I don’t think that much is left there.:

  Shia slid off Trin’s back, her muscles protesting, and, testing the door, swung it open. “I promise you, Trin, I will do everything I can to save him. To save both of them, if I can. Herald Kindo’s Companion must be . . . ”

  :Sjien is almost as exhausted as Eodan—since he became fevered, she has been spending all her energy Shielding him and blocking his Gift so he doesn’t broadcast half-insane Mindspeech from here to Haven. I could barely tear her away long enough to help me reach Domar, when Teo and I couldn’t get through the Iftel border—and Teo started to show the boils.: Even as she spoke, the other two Companions trotted up behind her, and Shia could see the older Companion looked distracted and somehow wan. Ignoring Shia, she moved out of sight around the back of the house, to the larger infirmary building.

  Going to Eodan, Shia removed his tack, tucking each piece inside the door of the Healer’s house, her herb-packs to one side. “Is there stabling for you two, someone to groom out Eodan?” Trin tossed her head in a nod, and Shia sighed with relief.

  “I’m sorry to leave you to someone else, Eodan, but you two need to get as much information to Domar as possible while I find this
Healer’s notes, and see what I can learn.” When Trin led Eodan back down the road toward the town hall, Shia closed the door and faced the room. Digging a tinder out of her packs, she lit a lamp in the fading daylight and started to explore.

  A candlemark later, having found the Healer’s notes, she visited the two infirmaries. Things were not quite as bad as she had feared, although the progression of the illness was serious enough. The town had a midwife and two others who had assisted the Healer as they could. The midwife and one of the assistants were ill now themselves, but Curana had been a lucky survivor of the boils, and it was she who now had the care of the remaining patients, dosing them with the last of the Healer’s sleeptea and feverdraw. Her relief on seeing Shia was clear, although she eyed Shia’s Grays with surprise. Most of the sick, including Teo, were asleep, some tossing in fevered dreams. Herald Kindo was one of the worst—his breathing was faint and ragged; the boils had spread to cover his chest and neck; and despite being unconscious, his pain was obvious. He had been placed in a makeshift room at the back door to the infirmary, so his Companion could nose in and out at will. Now she lay on the floor beside his low cot, her head resting on a pillow to brush against his arm. Even in his delirium, his fingers were woven into her mane.

  Somehow certain that no one was likely to perish that night, Shia returned to the Healer’s rooms to study his notes—and begin adding her own.

  The next day dawned bright, with spring warmth, and Shia took that as a good sign. She had spent much of the night reading through the Healer’s notes, concentrating on his descriptions of the symptoms and what his Healing Sight had shown him as he had attempted to treat them. She hoped the Healers who were following her would understand his speculations on the source of the illness, for much of it was beyond her. She had also set some of her dried leaves to steep overnight, hoping that a longer preparation time would increase their potency. With the dawn, she drained them off into two clean-boiled flasks, carefully saving the leaves for reuse, if necessary.