Valdemar Books

by Lackey, Mercedes

  “I’m not sure I ought to discuss it with you,” she said reluctantly.

  “If not me, then who?”

  She looked at him measuringly. “I don’t know ....”

  “No,” Kris said, just a little hurt by her reluctance. “You know. You just aren’t sure you can trust me. Even after all we’ve shared together.”

  She winced. “Disconcertingly accurate. I thought bluntness was my besetting sin.”

  Kris cast his eyes up to the heavens in an exaggerated plea for patience, squinting against the bright sunlight. “I am a Herald. You are a Herald. If there’s one thing you should have learned by now, it’s that you can always trust another Herald.”

  “Even when my suspicions conflict with ties of blood?”

  He gave her another measuring look. “Such as?”

  “Your uncle, Lord Orthallen.”

  He whistled through his teeth, and pursed his lips. “I thought you’d left that a year ago. Just because of that little run-in you had with him over Skif, you see him plotting conspiracy behind every bush! He’s been very good to me, and to half a dozen others I could name you, and he’s been invaluable to Selenay—as he was to her father.”

  “I have very good reasons to see him behind every bush!” she replied with some heat. “I think trying to get Skif in trouble was part of a long pattern, that it was just an attempt to isolate me—”

  “Why? What could he possibly gain?” Kris was fed up and frustrated because this wasn’t the first time he’d had to defend his uncle. More than one of his fellow Heralds had argued that Orthallen was far too power-hungry to be entirely trustworthy, and Kris had always felt honor-bound to defend him. He’d thought Talia had dismissed her suspicions as irrational months ago. He was highly annoyed to find that she hadn’t.

  “I don’t know why—” Talia cried in frustration, clenching her fist on her reins. “I only know that I’ve never trusted him from the moment I first saw him. And now I’ll be co-equal in Council with Kyril and Elcarth, with a full voice in decisions. That could put us in more direct conflict than we’ve ever been before.”

  Kris took three deep breaths and attempted to remain calm and rational. “Talia, you may not like him, but you’ve never had any problems in keeping your dislike out of the way of your decision-making that I’ve ever seen—and my uncle is very reasonable ....”

  “But I can’t read the man; I can’t fathom his motives, and I can’t imagine why he should feel antagonism toward me—but I know he does.”

  “I think you’re overreacting,” Kris replied, still keeping a tight rein on his temper. “I told you once before that it isn’t you that’s offended him—assuming that he really is offended—but because he’s probably feeling like a defeated opponent. He expected to take Talamir’s place as Selenay’s closest advisor when Talamir was murdered.”

  “And cut out the role of Queen’s Own?” Talia shook her head violently. “Havens, Kris; Orthallen is an intelligent man! He can’t have imagined that was possible! He hasn’t the Gift, for one thing. And I am not overreacting to him.”

  “Now, Talia—”

  “Don’t patronize me! You’re the one who was telling me to trust my instincts, and now you say my instincts can’t be trusted, because they’re telling me something you don’t want to believe?”

  “Because it’s childish and silly.” Kris snorted.

  Talia took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Kris, I don’t agree with you, but let’s not fight about it.”

  Kris bit back what he wanted to say. At least she wasn’t going to force him to stay on the defensive. “If you want.”

  “It—it isn’t what I want. What I want is for you to believe and trust in my judgment. If I can’t have that—well, I just don’t want to fight about it.”

  “My uncle,” he said carefully, trying to be absolutely fair to both sides, “is very fond of power. He doesn’t like giving it up. That in itself is probably the reason he’s been displaying antagonism toward Heralds and you in particular. Just be firm and cool and don’t give an inch when you know you’re in the right. He’ll settle down and resign himself; as you said, he’s not stupid. He knows better than to fight when he can’t win. You’ll never be friends, but I doubt that you need to fear him. He may be fond of power, but he has always had the best interests of the Kingdom at the forefront of his concerns.”

  “I wish I could feel as confident about that as you do.” She sighed, then shifted in her saddle, as if trying to ease an uncomfortable position.

  Kris began to make a retort, then thought better of it, and grinned. At this point a change of subject was called for. “Why don’t you worry about something else—Dirk, for instance?”

  “Beast.” She smiled when she saw he was laughing at her.

  “So I am. I’m sure he’ll tell me the same. Oh, well, the best thing you can do for that little trouble is to let affairs take their natural course. Soon or late, he’ll come to the point—if I have to push him myself!”

  “Callous, too.” She pouted mischievously at him.

  “Believe it,” he replied agreeably. “I’m going to enjoy teasing the life out of both of you.”

  Talia schooled herself to remain calm. As she had told Skif, there was nothing to be done right now. There were other things she wanted to find out before she took that Council seat in the morning, too—like whether the rumors that she had “misused” her Gift to manipulate others were still active. And who was keeping them active, if they were. At this point, it was a bit too late to try and find out who had originated them.

  As they approached the outer city and its swirling crowds, she was made aware of just how much more sensitive her Gift of Empathy had become. The pressure of all those emotions ahead of her was so strong she found it hard to believe that Kris could be unaware of it. She wished, not for the first time, that her Gift included Mindspeech; it would have been comforting to consult with Rolan the way Kris could with Tantris. She’d forgotten what living around so many people was like—and having had her Gift go rogue on her had made her more sensitive than she had been before she left. It wasn’t going to be easy to stay tightly shielded day and night, but her enhanced perception was going to demand just that. She felt a flicker of reassurance from Rolan, and smiled faintly despite her anxiety.

  They made their way down the increasingly crowded road into the outer city, outside the ancient defensive walls, which had sprung up over several generations of peace. The inner city held the shops, the better inns, and the homes of the middle class and nobility—The outer was given over to the workshops, markets, rowdier hostels and taverns, and the homes of the laborers and poor.

  The crowds of the outer city were noisy and cheerful. As when she had first ridden into the capital, Talia found herself assaulted on all sides by sight, scent, and sound. The myriad odors of cookshops, inns, and food vendors vied with the less savory smells of beasts and trade.

  The pressure of all the varied emotions of the people around her threatened to overwhelm her for one brief moment, until she firmed up her shields. No, she thought with resignation, this is not going to be easy.

  The road led through a riot of color and motion, and the noise was cacophonic, confusion without mirroring some of her own confusion within.

  The leather-workers kept to a section here, outside the North Gate, and both Talia and Kris were caught off guard by a puff of acrid, eye-burning fumes that escaped from a vat somewhere nearby.

  “Whew!” Kris gasped, laughing at the tears in his eyes and Talia’s, “Now I remember why Dirk and I usually backtracked around to the Haymarket Gate! Oh, well, too late now!”

  The brief pause they made to clear their vision gave her a chance to finish making her shielding automatic. Back in their Sector—once she’d gotten her shields back—she’d tended to leave them down when it was only the two of them together. Shielding expended energy, and at that point she hadn’t any to spare. Now she put in place the safeguards that would ens
ure that her shields stayed up even when she was unconscious—and felt a brief surge of gratitude to Kris for having re-taught her the right way to shield.

  Kris kept a careful eye on her as they made their way through the crowds. If she were going to break, now would be the time, under the pressure of all these emotions,

  :I wasn’t worried.:

  :You weren’t, hm? Maybe I should ask her to favor you with one of those emotional backlashes:

  :No, thank you, I had one. Remember? Rolan nearly brained me.: Tantris’ sending took on a serious coloration. :You know, you really shouldn’t tease her about Dirk. Lifebonds aren’t easy to bear when the pair hasn’t acknowledged it.:

  Kris looked at his Companion’s back-tilted ears in astonishment. :You re sure? I mean, she certainly shows every symptom of lifebonding, but—:

  :We’re sure.:

  :Do you by any chance know when—?: he asked his Companion.

  :Dirk was the first Herald she ever saw: Rolan thinks it might have been then.:

  :That early? Lord and Lady, that would be one powerful bond ....: Kris continued to watch her with a little bemusement as the thought trailed away.

  Tradesmen and their patrons screamed cheerfully at one another over the din of vehicles, squalling children, and bawling animals. Yet for all that the populace seemed to ignore the presence of the two Heralds passing through their midst, a path always seemed to clear itself before them, and someone beckoned them on by a smile or a wave of a hat. The Guard at the outer gate saluted them as they passed through; the Guardfolk were no strangers to the comings and goings of Heralds. They rode through the tunnel that passed under the thick, gray-granite walls of the old city, and the din lessened for just a moment. Then they emerged into the narrower ways of the capital itself. It lacked only an hour until the evening meal and the streets were as crowded with people as Kris had ever seen them. It was not quite as noisy here in the old city, but the streets were just as full. After months of small towns and villages, Kris found himself marveling anew at the crush of people, and the closely-built, multi-storied stone houses. For many months, the chime of bells on their Companions’ bridles had been the loudest sound they heard; now that sound was completely engulfed in the babble around them.

  The streets had been designed in a spiral; no one could move straight to the Palace grounds—as in most older cities that had been built with an eye to defense. Kris led them on a course that wound ever inward. The din died away behind them as they left the streets of shops behind and entered the inner, residential core. The modest houses of the merchant class gradually gave way to the more impressive buildings owned by the wealthy or noble, each set apart from the street by a private wall enclosing the manse and a bit of garden. Eventually they made their way to the inner beige-brick wall surrounding the Palace and the three Collegia—Bardic, Healer’s and Herald’s. The silver-and-blue-clad Palace Guard stationed at the gate halted them for a moment, while she checked them off against a list of those expected to be arriving. Careful records were kept on when a Herald should come in from the field—in the case of those arriving from distant Sectors, this calculation was accurate within a stretch of two or three days; in the case of those arriving from nearby Sectors, expected arrival time was accurate to within hours. This list was posted with the Gate Guard—so when a Herald was overdue, someone knew it, and something could be done to find out why, quickly.

  “Herald Dirk in yet?” Kris asked the swarthy Guardswoman casually when she’d finished.

  “Just arrived two days ago, Herald,” she replied, consulting the roster. “Guard then notes he asked about you two.”

  “Thank you, Guard. Pleasant watch to you.” Kris grinned, urging Tantris through the gate she held open, with Rolan following closely behind.

  Kris continued to watch Talia carefully, feeling a surge of gratified pride as he noted her behavior. The past few months had been living hell for her. Control of her Gift had been based entirely on instinct, rather than on proper training—and no one had ever realized this. The rumors that she had used it to manipulate—worse, that she had done so unconsciously—had pushed her off-balance. His own doubts about the truth of those rumors had been easy for her to pick up. And for someone whose Gift was based on emotions, and who was frequently prey to self-doubt, the effect was bound to be catastrophic.

  It was at least that. She’d lost all control over her Gift—which unfortunately remained at full strength. She’d lost the ability to shield, and projected wildly. She’d very nearly killed them both on more than one occasion.

  We were just lucky that during the worst of it, we were snowed in at that Waystation. It was just the two of us, and we were isolated long enough for her to get back in charge of herself.

  And then she’d met the rumors again—this time circulating among the common folk. More than once they’d regarded her with fear and suspicion, yet she had never faltered in the performance of her duties or given any indication to an outsider that she was anything except calm, thoughtful, and controlled. She’d given a months’ long series of performances a trained player couldn’t equal.

  It was vital that a Herald maintain emotional stability under all circumstances. This was especially true of the Queen’s Own, who dealt with volatile nobles and the intrigues of the Court on a daily basis. She’d lost that stability, but after working through her trial had managed to get it back, and more.

  He managed to catch her eyes, and gave her an encouraging wink; she dropped her solemn face for a moment to wrinkle her nose at him.

  They passed the end of the Guard barracks and neared the black iron fence that separated the “public” grounds of the Palace from the “private” grounds and those of the three Collegia. Another Guard stood at the Gate here, but his position was mainly to intercept the newly-Chosen; he waved them on with a grin. From here the granite core of the Palace with its three great brick wings and the separate buildings of the Healer’s and Bardic Collegia was at last clearly visible. Kris sighed happily. No matter where a Herald came from, this place, and the people in it, were his real home.

  Talia a felt a surge of warmth and contentment at the sight of the Collegium and the Palace—a feeling of true homecoming.

  Just as they passed this last gate, she heard a joyful shout, and Dirk and Ahrodie pounded up the brick-paved pathway at a gallop to meet them. Dirk’s straw-blond hair was flying every which way, like a particularly windblown bird’s nest. Kris vaulted off Tantris’ back as Dirk hurled himself from Ahrodie’s; they met in a back-pounding, laughing, bear hug.

  Talia remained in the saddle; at the sight of Dirk her heart had contracted painfully, and now it was pounding so hard she felt that it must be clearly audible. Her anxieties concerning Elspeth and the intrigues of the Court receded into the back of her mind. She was tightly shielded; afraid to let anything leak through.

  Dirk’s attention was primarily on her and not on his friend and partner. Dirk had been watching for them all day—telling himself that it was Kris whose company he had missed. He’d felt like a tight bowstring, without being willing to identify why he’d been so tense. His reaction on finally seeing them had been totally unplanned, giving him release for the pent-up emotion in the exuberant greeting to Kris. Though he seemed to ignore her, he was almost painfully aware of Talia’s presence. She sat so quietly on her own Companion that she might have been a statue, yet he practically counted every breath she took.

  He knew that he would remember how she looked right now down to the smallest hair. Every nerve seemed to tingle, and he felt almost as if he were wearing his skin inside out.

  When Dirk finally let go of his shoulders, Kris said, with a grin that was bordering on malicious, “You haven’t welcomed Talia, brother. She’s going to think you don’t remember her.”

  “Not remember her? Hardly!” Dirk seemed to be having a little trouble breathing. Kris hid another grin.

  Talia and Rolan were less than two paces away, and Dirk freed an arm to t
ake Talia’s nearer hand in his own. Kris thought he’d never seen a human face look so exactly like a stunned ox’s.

  Talia met the incredible blue of Dirk’s eyes with a shock. It felt very much as if she’d been struck by lightning. She came near to trembling when their hands touched, but managed to hold to her self-control by a thin thread and smiled at him with lips that felt oddly stiff.

  “Welcome home, Talia.” That was all he said—which was just as well. The sound of his voice and the feeling of his eyes on her made her long to fling herself at him. She found herself staring at him, unable to respond.

  She looked a great deal different than he remembered; leaner, as if she’d been fine-tempered and fine-honed. She was more controlled—certainly more mature. Was there a sadness about her that hadn’t been there before? Was it some pain that had thinned her face?

  When he’d taken her hand, it had seemed as if something—he wasn’t sure what—had passed between them; but if she’d felt it, too, she gave no sign. When she’d smiled at him, and her eyes had warmed with that smile, he’d thought his heart was going to stop.

  The dreams he’d had of her all these months, the obsession—he’d figured they’d pop like soap bubbles when confronted with the reality. He’d been wrong. The reality only strengthened the obsession. He held her hand that trembled very slightly in his own, and longed with all his heart for Kris’ silver tongue.

  They stood frozen in that position for so long that Kris thought with concealed glee that they were likely to remain there forever unless he broke their concentration.

  “Come on, partner.” He slapped Dirk’s back heartily and remounted Tantris.

  Dirk jumped in startlement as if someone had blown a trumpet in his ear, then grinned sheepishly.

  “If we don’t get moving, we’re going to miss supper—and I can’t tell you how many times I dreamed of one of Mero’s meals on the road!”