Finding the Way and Other Tales of Valdemar

by Mercedes Lackey

  Marlys was not lonely at all. The presence inside her head was silent, but she could never forget that he was there.

  For no reason she could think of offhand, she changed out of her wedding clothes into much more practical garments, putting on the divided skirt and the sturdy boots that she wore to ride. Then she wandered down to the stable, where a silver light illuminated the sleeping horses and the Companion, who was not asleep at all.

  He was saddled and bridled. Marlys had had nothing to do with that, but there he was.

  She felt a pang. So: it was time. He would go to his Chosen. And she—

  :Ready?: he asked her.

  She had not been expecting him to say that. And yet she had. “What would I be ready for, except a good night’s sleep?”

  :You know,: he said.

  “I’m not the one,” she said. “I’m too old. I have no hankering after adventure. I look like a corpse in white.”

  :You do not.: He came out of the stall, his hooves ringing faintly on the packed earth of the floor. The bells on his saddle and bridle rang more softly still, hardly more than a shiver in the air. He blew warm breath in her face, and lowered his head into her hands. :Are you going to waste time arguing, or will you have some sense and get on my back? We can make good time on the road tonight, and be well on our way by morning.:

  “On our way where? Haven? The Collegium?” Marlys choked on the word. “What in the world would I do in a classroom full of children a third my age?”

  :Study,: he said. :Learn. Teach. Be a wonder to them as you are to the rest of us.:

  “I am not—”

  :Mount,: he said. :There’s water and food in the saddlebags, and a change of clothes for you. If there’s anything else you’d like to take—:

  “Take? I’m not even going.” But Marlys’ boot was in the stirrup, and she was swinging astride, because there was no resisting the lure of that saddle or that broad white back.

  The saddle fit her as well as the one her son-in-law the saddler had made for her. The Companion fit her even more perfectly. The height and breadth of him, the swoop of his proud white neck, the way he moved with both power and grace, they were all just right. Like his voice in her head, and his presence that she could not imagine living without, even while the practical side of her counted up the many reasons why this was completely, utterly impossible.

  :That’s why it’s worth doing,: her Companion said.

  He was hers. Improbable as that might be. “We’re both out of our minds,” she said.

  :It’s what we are,: said Kellen. His amusement, washing over her, made her laugh.

  She had never done anything like this before, even when she married Pitar. Just mounting up and riding away—

  “What about the birds? The dog and the cats? The horses? The farm? The family? I can’t—”

  “I can,” Ginee said.

  She was there in the stableyard instead of in her marriage bed where she belonged. Her hair was braided so tightly it must have hurt, and her face had the same look to it. But there was no mistaking the set to her chin. “You go on. We’ll do what needs doing. There are plenty of us, and we’ve been piling it on you for long enough. We’ll manage.”

  “But—” said Marlys.

  “Go,” her daughter said. “I’ll tell everybody.”

  “They’ll never believe you.”

  “Maybe not at first,” said Ginee, “but they will.”

  If Ginee set her mind to it, they would. Marlys spread her hands. “All right, then. This is the craziest thing I ever heard of, but it seems I don’t have a choice.”

  :You don’t,: Kellen said.

  She slapped his neck so hard her hand stung. He did not even flinch. “I hope you’re not sorry you did this.”

  :I’m not now,: he said, :nor will I ever be.:

  The truth in that rang so deep it made her bones hum. She bent down from his back to hug Ginee; there were no tears on either side, because they were not a teary family, but they both sniffed hard.

  “Be good,” Marlys said. “Tell Brenna.”

  “I will,” said Ginee.

  Either Marlys left now or she never would. Kellen shifted under her, gathering himself.

  She could stop him. She still had that much control.

  Now, she said silently. Go.

  He launched like a shot from the sling, but so smoothly she barely rocked in the saddle. Three long strides and he was out of the stableyard. Three more and the road rang beneath his hooves. It was only a country track, but it joined soon enough with the road out of Emmersford, and that met the road south toward Haven.

  “Just when I thought I’d finally get some peace and quiet,” she said.

  :You’d be bored out of your skull,: her Companion said.

  “Some people like to be bored.”

  He snorted at that and tossed his mane. As she drew breath to curse him for an idiot, he showed her just how fast a Companion could run.

  The wind whipped her long braid straight back behind her, made her eyes stream and her cheeks sting. It emptied her of resistance; as for regret, there never had been any.

  He bucked; she laughed. Maybe she was not so old after all. She bent over his neck, wound her fingers in his mane, and let him carry her away from everything she had ever known—except one thing.

  :And that is?: he asked.

  “Dreams,” she said.

  It did not matter what he thought of that, or even if he understood. It was enough that he knew.

  The road spun away beneath his hooves. The world wheeled from night into dawn. She turned her face to the sky, and filled her eyes with the rising sun.

  Lack of Vision

  Nancy Asire

  The westering sun lay warm on Perran’s shoulders, the day having cooled somewhat since noon. He rolled his shoulders, loosening muscles tight from riding since morning. His horse shook its head, fending off the more persistent flies. Thoughts of return to Sunhame flitted across his mind. This final stop on his circuit would be the last required of a traveling judge, member of the justiciary, eyes, ears and power of judgment bestowed on those chosen by the Son of the Sun to provide adherence to the laws of Vkandis, the laws of Karse. It had been a long circuit this time but, fortunately, none of the cases he had presided over had proved taxing. This last, however, could turn out to be the most vexatious.

  A murder case. He reviewed what he knew about the murder of a man and the capture of the culprit. On the surface, it appeared cut and dried, but Perran knew all too well murder cases seldom turned out to be that simple.

  Berron’s Bend lay only a league in the distance. He could see the buildings of the town, having passed through farmland and well-tended fields on the way. He rode with companions, guards who had authority to bind and return convicted criminals of the worst kind to Sunhame for ultimate justice. Most cases could be easily solved in the villages and towns he visited, but the more serious offenses needed caution.

  Murder. Reasons for that crime were many and varied. He had a broad overview of this case, but could not decide anything until the actual trial. He hoped the evidence would make it easy to prove the charge, but knew from past experience this was often not the way things played out.

  “Settle down, will you?”

  Bred glared at his visitor. He turned and stalked from one end to the other of the small room he was chained in.

  “Did you come here just to gloat?” he snapped. “How am I supposed to settle down? I’m imprisoned for something I didn’t do. How would you feel if you were here, not me?”

  “That’s for the judge to decide,” the visitor said calmly. “You know what we found in the tavern. How can you deny what we saw with our own eyes?”

  “I deny it and I’ll deny it until my last breath!” Bred replied. “I had nothing to do with it! Nothing, you hear me?”

  “So you say. We’ll see how the judge decides. Tomorrow’s trial will come soon enough.”

  Bred snorted and turned a
way from his visitor. It took all his self control not to lash out at the well-dressed man who stood in the doorway. You’re the one who accused me of something I didn’t do, he thought, and now you tell me to settle down? To the Fires with you! I’m innocent!

  The visitor muttered something and closed the door. Bred heard the lock slide in place and lowered his head. Now he could let anxiety show on his face, allow his hands to tremble. Tomorrow. He voiced a small prayer to Vkandis that the god’s justice would avert an all too real fate he saw looming in his future.

  Perran finished the last of his dinner. The tavern had filled with customers, the hum of their voices rising and falling. A nondescript man sat across his table, one who would easily be ignored in a crowd—a man Perran had sent ahead in the guise of a traveler to gather information about the case he would judge the following morning. What he’d learned from his informant raised questions concerning the murder. Citizens of Berron’s Bend were outraged by the incident, though few actually thought the prisoner guilty.

  “So, Levron,” Perran said, leaning forward. “This Bred . . . you say people seem to think him innocent. Even when presented with the evidence?”

  “Aye,” the man replied, finishing his tankard of ale. “Most of them can’t imagine him guilty. He works for the town blacksmith and has never been in trouble of any kind. They say he’s generally soft-spoken and courteous to everyone.”

  “Too much drinking can bring out the worst in anyone,” Perran commented. “And he was found in this very tavern with the murder weapon on his table.”

  “True. But he claims he was sleeping when the murder was committed.”

  “Were the any witnesses?”

  Levron shook his head. “Not unless you count the blind man who lives in a small room at the back of the tavern. He was in the common room at the time.”

  Perran frowned. This wasn’t going to be a pleasant trial. The man who accused Bred of murder was one of the more important citizens of Berron’s Bend, a merchant who had profited greatly from the trade that passed through the region. He had a wife and daughter . . . a girl who was, by all reports, a beauty.

  Perran leaned back in his chair, stared at the ceiling, and thought longingly of his return to Sunhame. Complications arose wherever his circuit led, but this trial wasn’t going to be easy. Not easy at all.

  Bred kept his head up as he was led into the large meeting room that had been set aside for the trial. The chains that bound his wrists and ankles rattled as he walked. The judge, clad in somber robes, the chain of his office glinting in the sunlight, sat at a large table at the far end of the room. On either side of him stood two burly men, fully armed. Bred’s accuser, Tolber, sat to one side of the table, with onlookers crowding the back of the room. As usual, nothing happened in Berron’s Bend without an audience.

  Nothing, save the murder he was accused of.

  During the days he had been held, chained in the darkened storeroom, he’d reviewed what had happened the night of the murder. None of it made any sense. And now, he would be judged for a crime he knew he had not committed. With the trial under way, he barely controlled a shiver of apprehension.

  One of the guards pulled out a chair facing the judge and motioned Bred to sit. He complied and met the judge’s eyes.

  “This court of judgment is now called to order. Let me remind everyone present that what you say is given under oath to Vkandis. Now, let us proceed. State your name,” the judge said, looking at Bred.

  Bred stood and briefly bowed his head. “Bred, your lordship.”

  “Bred, you’ve been accused of the murder of Wylden, who was found stabbed to death in the tavern. You were found with the murder weapon on your table. How say you? Innocent or guilty?”

  “Innocent, your lordship,” Bred replied, squaring his shoulders. He wanted to say more, to protest the entire proceeding, but had decided he would try to answer only direct questions. The less he said, the less chance of being misunderstood.

  The judge glanced over at Tolber. “As accuser, you may make your statement first. Your name?”

  Tolber stood. “Tolber, your lordship.”

  “Your profession?”

  “Merchant, your lordship.”

  “Tell me what you saw.”

  Tolber grimaced. “It was horrible, your lordship. I’d gone to the tavern to meet an associate of mine, a fellow merchant. It was late, but he’d arrived after dark and I wanted to confer with him about goods he carried.”

  “How late?”

  “Quite late. Most folk had retired for the night.”

  “Was the tavern keeper awake?”

  “Not that I could tell. He lives behind the common room. There’s a bell on the door that, when the door is opened, alerts of latecomers.”

  “I see. Continue.”

  “When I entered the tavern, the man I was to meet had already gone to his room, no doubt weary after his travels. It was then I saw the body.” He licked his lips, drew a deep breath and continued. “Wylden was lying in a pool of blood. The prisoner was passed out on the table he was sitting at. I saw the knife beside him on the table.”

  “And what did you do?” the judge asked.

  “I immediately went to the authorities here in Berron’s Bend and took them back to the tavern. They shook the prisoner awake, bound him and imprisoned him.”

  Bred stared at Tolber, rage beginning to cloud his vision. He couldn’t lose his temper now, of all times. How could he have possibly murdered someone and have absolutely no memory of it?

  The judge nodded at Tolber and motioned the merchant back to his chair. Bred stiffened slightly at the judge looked in his direction.

  “And you, Bred. The evidence seems overwhelming here. What is your version of the events that took place that night?”

  Bred kept his shoulders squared and his back straight. “Only this, your lordship. I’m innocent of this crime. I’d worked a long day at the smithy. A large order had come in and we had only a few days to meet it. We worked well past sundown that day. I came to the tavern for my supper and a few ales.”

  “A few?” the judge asked. “How many, Bred?”

  “Two, your lordship.”

  “That’s what all the drunks say,” interjected Tolber.

  “Enough!” snapped the judge, sending the merchant a stern look. “If you only had two ales, Bred, why were you passed out on the table where they found you?”

  “I was exhausted, your lordship . . . tired and full. I knew Wylden. He was a good man. ” He spread his hands, chains rattling. “I’ve never had a quarrel with him. Never a cross word. You must believe me. I’m innocent!”

  Perran leaned back in his chair, steepled his hands and glanced around the room. Bred’s testimony had the ring of truth to it. He’d kept eye contact and displayed none of the nervousness Perran had seen in other murder trials. Granted, he admitted to consuming more than one tankard of ale, but likely he’d imbibed greater amounts at other times and been none the worse for it. He was a big man and probably could hold his liquor easily. Exhaustion had overcome him after a hard day of work. He’d put his head down on the table and gone to sleep.

  “I would speak with the blacksmith,” Perran said.

  A large, bull-necked man stood at the back of the room.

  “Your name?”

  “Colvyn.”

  “All right, Colvyn. Did you work long hours the day of the murder?”

  “Aye, your lordship,” the blacksmith replied. “As he said, we had a large order to fill and had been working our butts off to complete it.”

  A ripple of laughter crossed the room.

  “Thank you.” Perran said, hiding a smile. The blacksmith looked relieved and sat down. Perran glanced at the townsfolk who filled the back of the room. He’d thought the evidence presented before his arrival in Berron’s Bend would ensure this trial to be a quick one. But now, he wasn’t so sure. “I think we’ll stop the proceedings until after the midday meal. I want everyone to rec
onvene two hours later.” He stood and made the circular sign of the Sunlord. “Vkandis support our endeavors here,” he intoned.

  “This doesn’t look good for Bred,” Perran said to the nondescript man who sat across from him at table. “He protests his innocence, but the evidence clearly points to his involvement.”

  Levron shrugged. “I agree, but I think there’s more to this than meets the eye. Someone isn’t telling the truth. It’s either the merchant or Bred. Let me wander around and listen to what people are saying. So far, I’ve attracted little attention. Once the townsfolk accepted me as a traveler who chose to rest here for several days before continuing my journey, they seemed to forget about me. I’ll try to get back to you before you start the afternoon proceedings.”

  “Do so,” Perran said. “I’m inclined to believe as you do. I’ve always considered myself as one who can read those brought before me, and Bred doesn’t act like a guilty person. He’s either innocent as he claims or one of the best liars I’ve been presented with in years. We still have more people to testify this afternoon. See what you can find for me.”

  Bred glanced around as he was led back into the meeting room. Once more, his neighbors and other citizens of Berron’s Bend had gathered to view the trial. Tolber sat in his chair by the judge’s table, and the two guards stood motionless behind the judge. Bred swallowed, lifted his head and tried to calm his beating heart. He bowed to the judge and took the chair facing him.

  “Once again,” the judge said, “I caution anyone present against falsehood. What is uttered here is spoken before me, chosen representative of the Son of the Sun. We shall proceed now.”

  Bred watched the judge’s eyes scan the meeting room as if he was searching for something or someone. Then the judge turned to Tolber.

  “Merchant Tolber, I have further questions of you.”

  Tolber stood, smoothed the wrinkles from his tunic. Bred noticed he had changed clothes during the break for the noon meal, and what he wore now appeared even more costly.