“Good. Now as Sherrill has told you—or should have—you all have small chores to see to every day. What can you do?”
“Anything,” Talia replied promptly.
The Housekeeper looked skeptical. “Forgive me, my dear, but that doesn’t seem very likely for someone your age.”
“She’s older than she looks,” Sherrill said. “Thirteen.”
Talia nodded. “They were going to make me get married, so I ran away. That’s when Rolan found me. Keldar said I was ready.”
The Housekeeper was plainly shocked. “Married? At thirteen?”
“It’s pretty common to marry that young on the Borders,” Sherrill replied. “They don’t wait much longer than that back home. Borderers treat themselves and their children just like they do their stock; breed ‘em early and often to get the maximum number of useful offspring. There’s no one true way, Housekeeper. Life is hard on the Border; if Borderers were to hold by inKingdom custom, they’d never be able to hold their lands.”
“It still seems—barbaric,” the Housekeeper said with faint distaste.
“It may well be—but they have to survive. And this kind of upbringing is what produced us a Herald that has a chance of turning the Brat back into a proper Heir. You’ll take notice that Rolan didn’t pick any of us.” Sherrill smiled down at Talia, who was trying not to show her discomfort. “Sorry about talking about you as if you weren’t there. Don’t let us bother you, little friend. Not all of us have had the benefits of what Housekeeper calls a ‘civilized upbringing.’ Remember what I told you about not washing in winter? Housekeeper had to hold me down in a tub of hot water and scrub me near raw when I first got here—I was a real little barbarian!”
Talia couldn’t imagine the immaculate and self-assured Sherrill being held down and scrubbed by anyone—still less could she imagine Sherrill needing that kind of treatment.
“Talia, can you cook or sew? Anything of that nature?”
“I can cook, if it’s plain stuff,” Talia said doubtfully. “Only the Wives did feasts; they were too important to be left to us. My embroidery isn’t any good at all, but I can mend and sew clothing and knit. And weave and spin. And I know how to clean just about anything.”
The Housekeeper suppressed a chuckle at the exasperated tone of the last sentence. That tone convinced her that Talia probably was capable of what she claimed.
“It’s so unusual that our students have as much experience in homely tasks as you do, that I think I’ll alternate you as cook’s helper and in the sewing room. There’s never any lack of tears and worn spots to be mended, and there’s generally a dearth of hands able to mend them. And Mero will be overjoyed to have me send someone capable of dealing with food for a change.” She handed Talia a sheet of paper after consulting one of the books on her desk and writing in it. “Here’s your schedule; come see me if it’s too hard to fit in among your classes and we’ll change it.”
Sherrill led the way back up the stairs to Talia’s new room. Talia examined her new clothing with a great deal of interest. There were loose linen shirts, meant to be worn with thigh-length tunics of a heavier material, something like canvas in weight, but much softer, and long breeches or skirts of the same fabric. There were some heavier, woolen versions of the same garments, obviously meant for winter wear, a wool cloak, and plenty of knitted hose, undergarments, and nightgowns.
“You’ll have to make do with your own boots for a bit, until we have a chance to get you fitted properly,” Sherrill said apologetically, as she helped Talia put the clothing away. “That won’t be for another week at least. It’s too bad—but there’s nothing worse than badly fitted boots; they’re worse than none at all, and Keren will have your hide if you dare try riding without boots. Unless it’s bareback, of course.”
They’d only just finished making up the bed when a bell sounded in the hall outside.
“That’s the warning bell for supper,” Sherrill explained. “Get one of your uniforms, and we’ll go get cleaned up and you can change.”
The bathing room was terribly crowded. Sherrill showed her where everything was located; the laundry chute, the supplies for moon-days, towels and soap—and despite the press of bodies managed to find both of them basins and enough hot water to give them at least a sketchy wash. Talia felt much more like herself with the grit of riding and the last trace of tears scrubbed away. Sherrill hurried her into her new clothing and off they went to the common room.
Supper proved to be a noisy, cheerful affair. Everyone sat at long communal tables, students and adults alike, and helped themselves from the bowls and plates being brought from a kind of cupboard in the wall. It seemed much too small to have held all that Talia saw emerging from it; Sherrill saw her puzzled look and explained over the noise.
“That’s a hoist from the kitchen; the kitchen is down in the basement where Housekeeper’s office and the storerooms are. And don’t feel too sorry for the servers. They get to eat before we do and Mero always saves them a treat!”
Talia saw several figures in Herald’s White interspersed among the student gray.
“The Heralds—are they all teachers?” she whispered to Sherrill.
“Only about half of them. The rest—well, there’s Heralds just in from the field, a few retired from duty who choose to live here and don’t care to eat with the Court, and a couple of ex-students that have just gotten their Whites that haven’t been given their internship assignment yet. There’s also three Heralds on permanent assignment to the Palace; to the Queen—that’s Dean Elcarth; to the Lord Marshal—that’s Hedric, and we don’t see him much; and the Seneschal—that’s Kyril, and he teaches, sometimes. They almost always have to eat with the Court. There ordinarily would be a fourth, too, the Queen’s Own, but—” She stopped abruptly, glancing at Talia out of the corner of her eye.
“How—what happened to him?” Talia asked in a small voice, sure that she wasn’t going to like the answer, but wanting badly to know anyway. The Queen had said—as had her tales—that being a Herald was dangerous, and there had been something about the way people had spoken about the former Queen’s Own that made her think that Talamir had probably encountered one of the dangers.
“Nobody seems to be sure. It could have been an illness, but—” Sherrill was visibly torn between continuing and keeping quiet.
“But? Sherrill, I need to know,” she said, staring entreatingly at her mentor.
Her urgency impressed Sherrill, who decided it was better that she be warned. “Well, a lot of us suspect he was poisoned. He was old and frail, and it wouldn’t have taken much to kill him.” Sherrill was grim. “If that’s true, it didn’t gain the murderers anything. We think the reason he was eliminated was because he was about to convince Selenay to send the Brat out to fosterage with some family that wasn’t likely to give in to her tantrums. I guess you don’t know—the law is that the Heir also has to be a Herald; if the Brat isn’t Chosen by a Companion, the Queen will either have to marry again in the hope that another child will prove out or choose an Heir from those in the blood who are Chosen. Either way, there would be an awful lot of people maneuvering for power. Poor Selenay! Any of the rest of us could just choose a partner and go ahead and have as many children as needful, without bringing a possible consort and political repercussions into it—but there it is, she’s the Queen, and it has to be marriage or nothing. It’s not a nice situation.” Sherrill regarded the tiny, frail-seeming girl at her side with sober eyes. She was beginning to have a good idea why Elcarth wanted Talia weapons-trained so early.
Talia thought Sherrill had a talent for understatement. Her revelations concerning the former Queen’s Own frightened Talia enough that the rest of her speech—which rather bore out the Holderkin assertions of the immorality of Heralds—passed almost without notice. “What about the—the people who poisoned Herald T-T-Talamir?” she stuttered a little from nervousness. “Would they—am I—would they try to—hurt me?” As she looked into Sherrill’s
eyes, watching for the signs that would tell her if the older girl was speaking the truth, she could feel her hands trembling a little.
Sherrill was a little surprised at Talia’s instant grasping of the situation—and hastened to reassure her. Those big brown eyes were widened with a fear even Sherrill could read. “They won’t dare try that particular trick again, not with the suspicions that have been raised. What they probably will try and do is to make life unpleasant enough for you that you give up and leave. That’s one reason why I warned you about the Blues. They might get orders from their parents to harass you. You should be safe enough with us, and I’m fairly sure you’ll be safe with the Bardic and Healer students, too.” Sherrill smiled down at Talia, who returned the smile, though a bit uncertainly. “Talia, if anyone bothers you and you think you can’t handle them, tell me. My friends and I have taken the scales off the Blues a time or two before this,”
Maybe. Talia wanted to trust her—desperately wanted to fit in here, but even of her kin only two had ever proved willing to back her against others. Why should a stranger do so? She ate in silence for a while, then decided to change the subject. “How many students are there?”
“About sixty in Healer’s, forty in Bardic, and with you, exactly fifty-three in Herald’s Collegium. The number of Blues varies; there’s never less than twenty, not often more than fifty. I couldn’t tell you the exact number right now, you’d have to ask Teren. He’s Elcarth’s assistant, and y6u’ll have him as your first instructor tomorrow.”
“How long does it take to become a Herald?”
“It varies; around five years. Usually we arrive here when we’re about your age, most of us get our Whites at eighteen; I’ll probably earn mine next year. I’ve seen younger Chosen, though, and Elcarth wasn’t Chosen till he was nearly twenty! And Havens! Elcarth made up for being Chosen so late by being made full Herald in three years! After you get your Whites, there’s a year or year and a half internship in the field, partnered by a senior Herald. After that, you’re usually assigned out on your own.”
Talia thought about this for a while, then asked worriedly “Sherrill, what—how do I learn what I need to do?”
Talia was so earnest that Sherrill laughed sympathetically. “You’ll learn, don’t worry. You’ll have Orientation class first. We’ve had four more Chosen in the past month, and they were only waiting for Rolan to come back before starting it. For the rest—you’ll be placed in your classes according to where the Dean feels you fit in, which means you may be taking some classes with me, and some with beginners.”
Talia smiled suddenly, “In other words, you throw the baby into the River and see if she learns to swim quickly!”
Sherrill laughed again, “We aren’t quite that extreme! Are you finished?”
Talia nodded, and they carried their implements to the hoist inside the cupboard. “I’ve got dishwashing tonight, so I’ll have to leave you on your own,” Sherrill continued, “Will you be all right alone, or would you like me to find someone to keep you company?”
“I—I’ll be all right. I would like awfully to see the Library if you don’t think anyone would mind.”
“Help yourself, that’s what it’s there for. Just remember not to wait too long before you take your bath, or all the hot water will be gone. I’ll come by for you in the morning.”
Sherrill clattered down the stairs and Talia climbed cautiously upward.
Sherrill was grateful that dishwashing took so little time, and equally grateful that Mero let her off early when she told him that the Dean needed to speak with her. Elcarth would not have given her the signal he had—in fact, he would have said what he intended to openly, in front of the child—had he not felt that there were things he needed to discuss with Sherrill that he would rather Talia were not privy to.
As she had pretty much expected, Sherrill found him waiting for her in the cluttered little room attached to his suite that served him as an office of sorts. It was hardly bigger than a closet, and piled high with everything under the sun, but he would never move to anything more spacious, claiming the clutter would “breed” to fill the space if he did so.
“Any problems getting away?” he asked, removing a pile of books and papers from one of the chairs, a comfortable, padded relic as old as Elcarth.
“I had dishwashing—it made a convenient excuse. Right now Talia’s probably having raptures over the Library,” Sherrill replied with a half-smile, taking her seat as Elcarth perched himself behind a desk heaped with yet more books and papers.
“Good; can I take it as given that you don’t mind being her mentor? She needs one rather badly, and you’re the only student with the kind of background that’s close to her own.”
“Poor little thing—no, Dean, I don’t mind at all. Although I don’t think my background is all that close,” Sherrill frowned slightly, thinking about the little that Talia had allowed her to learn. “You know Evendim clans, we’re all noise and push, and we’re almost incestuously close. I got the feeling she’s been sat on so much that now she’s afraid of being punished for breathing—and I got the feeling nobody’s ever bothered to give the poor thing a little love. She holds everything inside; it’s hard to read her, and I don’t recall much about Holderkin from class.”
“There you’ve hit it. The fact of the matter is that we just don’t know that much about Holderfolk. They’re very secretive; they keep almost totally to themselves and they don’t encourage long visits or curiosity from strangers. Until we heard Talia’s story, we didn’t even know that they don’t tell their children about Companion’s Choice!”
“They what?” Sherrill was shocked.
“It’s quite true; she hadn’t the vaguest idea of what it meant when Rolan Chose her. I’m fairly certain she still isn’t entirely aware of what his true nature is. This is what I need to talk to you about. You’re going to be dealing with a child who seems to have had a very alien upbringing. I can make some educated guesses; she seems to be afraid of men, so I can assume she tends to expect punishment from them. That would fit in with what I do know about Holderfolk; their familial life is patriarchal and authoritarian. She seems to be constantly repressing her emotions, and again, that would fit in with what I know of her people. They frown on any sort of demonstrative behavior. At the same time, she always seems to be—almost at war with herself—”
“Holding herself back, sir?” Sherrill offered. “As if she wanted to make overtures, but didn’t quite dare? She seems to be wary all the time, that much I can tell you. I doubt that she trusts anyone at this point, except maybe Rolan.”
“Exactly. The first moves are always going to have to be yours, and I think she’ll continue to tend to keep her feelings very much to herself,” Elcarth replied. “It’s going to be up to you to discover if there’s anything bothering her, because shell never tell you on her own.”
“Gods,” Sherrill shook her head. “Just the opposite of my people. I don’t know, sir; I’m more used to dealing with folk who shout their minds and hearts to the world. I’m not sure I’m good enough to read the signs of trouble, assuming she’ll give me anything to read.”
“Do your best, that’s all I ask. At least you both came from Border Sectors; that will be a bond.”
“Why are you turning her over to Alberich so early?” Sherrill asked curiously. “I realize why she’d best learn self-defense as soon as possible, but I should think, with the kinds of insecurities she seems to have, that he would be the lost person you’d want to expose her to. I mean, Jeri would be a much less threatening figure to deal with.”
“I wish there were some other way, but she knows absolutely nothing about self-defense; I know that Jeri is very good, but she isn’t the kind of experienced teacher Alberich is. He’s the only one likely to be able to teach her with the speed that’s necessary. If a mob of troublemakers should corner her—or, Bright Lady forbid it, someone should decide that a knife in the dark solves the problem of the new Queen’s Own
turning up ....
He let the sentence trail into silence.
“And I can’t be with her all the time. Well, I hope he gentles his usual routine with her, or she may drop dead of fright on the practice field and save an assassin the trouble.” Sherrill’s tone was jocular, but her eyes held no amusement.
“I’ve already spoken with him, and he’s not as unsympathetic as you might think. He was my year-mate, you know. I have reason to believe he’ll be quite soft-handed with her.”
“Alberich, soft-handed? Really? Tell my bruises that some time, sir.”
“Better bruises now than a fatal wound later, no?” Elcarth grinned crookedly. “I could wish one of Talia’s year-mates was another girl; I could wish we had someone more likely to understand what she won’t let us see. You’re the closest I could come. Well, that’s all I have to tell you. It isn’t much—”
“But it’s a start. Take heart, Dean. Companions don’t Choose badly, and look how long it took Rolan to find her. She’ll manage. And I’ll manage. Heralds always do.”
At the head of the staircase Talia opened a door that led into a single enormous room filled with bookshelves. There were cubicles containing desks and chairs at the ends of the rows of shelves along the walls. She had been expecting perhaps twice or three times the number of books in her Father’s library—twenty—but nothing prepared her for this. There were hundreds of books here; more than she ever dreamed existed, all colors, and all sizes. It was more than a dream come true—it was a vision of heaven.
Dusk had fallen while they’d been eating, and lanterns had been lit at intervals along the walls. Talia peeked into the nearest cubicle and saw that there were candles on the desk, and a permanent holder affixed to one side of it.
She heard footsteps approaching from the farther end of the library, and she turned to see who it could be, hoping for someone she knew.
“Hello!” said a cheerful tenor. “You’re new here, aren’t you? I’m Kris.”
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