“Look, there isn’t anything either of us can do here at tile moment, right?” Kris threw his saddlebags over Tantris’ hindquarters and fastened them to the saddle’s skirting. “Elspeth won’t talk to you, and Dirk can’t. So you might as well be doing something useful—something different. There won’t be anybody who’s going to need you during the few weeks we’ll be gone, will there?”
“No, not really.” Talia had been very busy this past evening; her lack of sleep was apparent from the dark circles under her eyes. “Destria is doing fine; anything she needs now Vostel is more than competent to give her. I talked to Alberich; he took me to see Kyril. They promised me that they’d keep an eye on your uncle—I’m sorry, Kris ....”
“Don’t apologize; I’m just a little surprised you managed to convince Kyril he needed watching. Tantris, stand, dammit!”
“I didn’t, really, Alberich did.”
“Huh. Alberich? Nobody convinces him of anything; he must have had reasons of his own to agree with you.” He digested this in silence for a moment. Tantris shifted over another step.
“Alberich is going to have a word or two with Elspeth, too,” she continued after the silence had become a little uncomfortable. She ran her hands down Rolan’s legs to confirm that the bindings on his pasterns and fetlocks were firm. “And Keren promised to beard Dirk in his lair as soon as she can bully her way past the Healers. So did Skif.”
“Skif said as much to me. Poor Dirk, I could almost feel sorry for him. He’s not likely to get much sympathy from either of those two.” Tantris’ bridle bells tinkled as he shifted again.
“Sympathy isn’t what he needs,” she replied a little waspishly, straightening up. “He’s been wallowing in self-pity long enough ...” her voice trailed off, and she concluded shamefacedly: “for that matter, so have I.”
“Work is the best cure I know for self-pity, little bird,” Kris said, self-consciously. “And—hey!”
With that last step Tantris had managed to shift over far enough that Kris and Talia were trapped between the two Companions, breast-to-breast.
:Kiss and make up, brother-mine. And be nice. She’s having a hard time.:
Kris sighed with exasperation, then looking down at Talia’s wistful eyes, softened.
“It’ll be all right, little bird—and you have every reason to feel sorry for yourself.” He kissed her softly on the forehead and the lips.
She relaxed just a little, and leaned her head for a short moment on his shoulder. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve a friend like you,” she sighed, then took hold of herself. “But we have a long road ahead of us—”
Tantris had moved away so that they were no longer trapped, and Kris could hear him laughing in his mind. “—and we’ve got a limited time to cover it,” Kris finished for her. “And since my Companion has decided to cooperate again, wrought to get moving.” He gave Tantris’ harness a final tug and swung into the saddle. “Ready to go?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
They took with them only what Tantris and Rolan could carry. They needed to carry no supplies; they would be housed and fed at inns along the way until they reached the Border, and thereafter would be using the hostels of King Alessandar. They also needed to bring a minimum in the way of personal belongings. The Queen and her entourage would be following at a pace geared to her baggage train, and they would bring whatever might be required for the term of official visits. Selenay and Alessandar were long-time allies; he and her father had been that rarest of things among rulers—personal friends. Although it was a slim chance, the possibility of Elspeth being willing to make a marriage with Alessandar’s own heir was not to be dismissed offhand. Alessandar had not been discouraged by Selenay’s initial reply to his offer—rather he had urged this visit on her, so that she and Elspeth could see Ancar for themselves. He had argued convincingly that such marriages took years to arrange; even were they to agree now, Elspeth would be past her internship when it became a reality.
Since Selenay had not seen the young man since he was an infant, on the occasion of his naming and her last state visit, she agreed. This would be the ideal time for such a visit. Since the Collegium was about to go into summer recess, she could bring Elspeth with her. She was still determined that Elspeth would not be forced into any marriage unless the safety of the entire realm rested on it. She was equally determined that any young man that Elspeth chose, be he royal or common, would at least be of the frame of mind to agree with the principles that governed her Kingdom. If possible, he should be of Heraldic material himself. Ideally, Elspeth’s consort would be someone who was either Chosen already or who would be Chosen once he was brought to the attention of the Companions. If this came to pass, it would fulfill Selenay’s highest hopes, for the Heir’s consort would be co-ruler if also a Herald.
Besides preceding their Monarch and making certain all was in readiness for her, Kris’ and Talia’s primary duty was to examine the proposed bridegroom—and to determine how his own people felt about him—for themselves; and then give Selenay their opinions of his character. It was no small trust.
This was all in the back of Talia’s mind as they rode away in the darkness before dawn. Troubling her thoughts was her feeling that, in spite of the importance of this mission, she was running away from unfinished business by accepting it.
She had labored for hours over the simple note to Elspeth, tearing up dozens of false starts. It still wasn’t right; she wished she’d been able to find better words to explain why she had overreacted, and nothing she could say would unspeak some of the hurtful things she’d said. The incident was evidence that she and Elspeth had drawn apart during Talia’s interning, and the rift that had come between them needed to be healed, and quickly. She couldn’t help but berate herself for not seeing it when she’d first returned.
Then there was Dirk ...
She couldn’t help but think she was being cowardly. Anyone with any courage at all would have remained, despite everything. And yet—what could she truly do back there besides fret? Kris was right; Elspeth would refuse to speak with her, and Dirk was out of bounds in the Healers’ hands.
It seemed appropriate that they rode away through darkness, and that the sky was so gloomy and overcast there was no bright dawn at all, merely a gradual lightening of the dark to gray, leaden daylight.
Kris was not very happy with himself at the moment, :I haven’t been doing too well by my friends lately, have I?: he sent to Tantris’ backward-pointing ears.
:No, little brother, you haven’t,: his Companion agreed.
He sighed, and settled himself a little more comfortably in the saddle. Now that he looked back on it, there were things he should have done. He should have told Dirk right off about the way Talia felt—about Dirk, and about himself. When Dirk started acting oddly, he should have had it out with him. He should never have let things get to the point where Dirk was leaning on the bottle to cope.
Lord and Lady, I’d be willing to bet gold he thinks its me Talia’s in love with. Gods, gods, I’ve been tearing his heart and soul into ragged bits and I never even noticed. No wonder he picked a fight with me, no wonder he was drinking. Ah, Dirk, my poor brother—I did it to you again. How am I going to make it up to you?
Then there was Talia. He should have believed that Talia wasn’t indulging in a grudge. He should have known, what with all the time he’d spent with her, that she wasn’t inclined to hold grudges, even though she wasn’t inclined to forgive a hurt too easily. He should have believed that her feeling about his uncle was rooted in fact, not dislike. Alberich obviously believed her—and the Armsmaster was hardly noted for making hasty judgments.
:Might-have-beens don’t mend the broken pot,: Tantris said in his mind. :Little brother, why didn’t you do these things?:
Good question. Kris thought about that one while the road passed under Tantris’ hooves. There weren’t many folk out this early, so they had the road to themselves, and ther
e was nothing to distract him.
One thing at a time. Why hadn’t he done anything about Dirk?
He came to the sobering conclusion that he hadn’t done anything because he hadn’t seen the problem until Dirk was drinking himself to sleep every night. And he hadn’t seen it because he was so pleased with himself for the completion of a successful assignment on his own—so wrapped up in a glow of self-congratulation—that he hadn’t noticed anything else. He’d been like a child on holiday; selfishly intent only on his own pleasures now that the onerous burden of school was done with for the nonce. Teaching the classes in Farseeing was so very easy for him that it was like having no duty at all, and he’d been spending the rest of his time up to his eyebrows in his own pleasures.
:Very good,: Tantris said dryly. :Now don’t go overboard in beating your breast about it. I wasn’t too remiss in enjoying myself, either. It had been a long lime to be out—and Ahrodie and I missed each other. :
:Hedonist,: Kris sent, a little relieved that his Companion was being so reasonable.
:Not realty. We’re as close as you and Dirk—in a slightly different fashion. More like you and Talia, really.:
Yes, Talia—it was easy to figure out why he’d been so slow to see her plight. Orthallen was, in all honesty, a politician, a schemer, and power-hungry. Kris had been forced to defend his uncle’s actions to other Heralds more than once, although never against an accusation of deliberate and malicious wrongdoing. Kris knew Orthallen never did anything for just one reason; yes, he might well manage to gain a little more power, influence, or put someone in his debt by the things he did, but there was always a profit for the Kingdom as well. Heralds though—the use of authority for personal benefit bothered them, probably because such usage was forbidden them, both by training and by inclination. Most Heralds weren’t highborn, and didn’t grow up with the intrigue and politics that were a part of the rhythm of Court life. Things Kris accepted matter-of-factly disgusted them. But the fact was that Heralds were very sheltered creatures—except the ones who lived and worked in the Court, or were highborn. Court politics were a reality most Heralds could remain blissfully unaware of, for they dealt only with the highest level of Court life—the Queen, her immediate entourage, and the Seniors—where for all intents and purposes, the politicking didn’t exist. It was at Orthallen’s level, the mid-to-upper level nobility, that the competition was fiercest. And it was very possible he had seen only the political implications of the ascension of the new Queen’s Own. More than possible. Most likely ...
Which meant he’d seen Talia as a political rival to be trimmed down; seen her only as a political rival. Her duties and responsibilities as a Herald—Orthallen probably didn’t understand them, and certainly discounted them as irrelevant. Old Talamir had been no threat to Orthallen, but this quick, intelligent, young woman was.
All of which boiled down to the fact that Talia was likely dead-accurate in reading Orthallen’s motives toward her.
Yes, Kris had dealt with fellow Heralds’ censure of his uncle before. But Talia’s accusations had been different—and he had been as shocked by the idea that a member of his family could be suspected of real wrongdoing as Talia had been that a Herald was accused of it. He’d taken it almost as an attack on himself, and had reacted just as unthinkingly.
:I wish you’d spoken your mind to me before this,: Kris told Tantris, just a hint of accusation flavoring the thought.
:It doesn’t work that way, little brother,: Tantris replied, :and you know that perfectly well. We only give advice when we’re asked for it. It isn’t our job to interfere in your personal lives. How do you think poor Ahrodie was feeling, with her Chosen making a muck of things and not even talking to her, hm? And Rolan can’t even properly talk with his Chosen. But now that you are finally asking—:
:Impart to me your deathless wisdom.:
:Now, now, there’s no need to be sarcastic. As it happens, I don’t like Orthallen either, but he’s never given anyone any real evidence of ill-will before this. All I’ve ever had to go on were my instincts.:
:Which are far better than any human’s,: Kris reminded him.
:Well, don’t blame yourself for not seeing anything,: Tantris continued. :But when someone like Talia insists on a thing, it’s probably a good idea to lay aside your feelings about it and consider it as dispassionately as possible. Now that she’s got that Gift of hers in full control, her instincts in these matters are as good as mine.:
:Yes, graybeard,: Kris thought, his good humor somewhat restored by the fact that Tantris wasn’t trying to make him feel guilty about the mess.
:Graybeard, am I?: Tantris snorted and shook his mane.
:We’ll see about that.: And he performed a little caracole, a half-buck that shook Kris’ bones, and a kick or two before settling back down to his original steady pace.
While Rolan could not Mindspeak Talia as Tantris could Kris, he was making his feelings abundantly clear. It was quite plain to Talia that her Companion thought she was indulging in a good deal more self-pity than the occasion warranted. Perversely, his disapproval made her feel all the sorrier for herself.
Eventually he gave up on her, and let her wallow in her misery to her heart’s content.
The weather, unseasonable for the edge of summer, was certainly cooperating; it was a perfect day for being depressed. The chill, leaden skies threatened rain, but it never quite made up its mind to fall. The few people they met on the roadway were taciturn and scant in their greetings. The threat of rainfall made folk in the villages they passed inclined to stay indoors.
Because they were traveling light, they would make the best possible time to the Border, even though they would be stopping to rest at night. According to Kyril, it was probable that they would proceed still on their own as far as the capital, since the Companions would be able to make far better time than any steeds the King could send with an escort. Which meant, given the probable speed of Selenay and her entourage, they would have several days at least to assess the prince and the situation before one of them rode back to meet the Queen on the Border.
That likeliest would be Kris; Talia, as Queen’s Own, was the better choice for envoy. Although her reason acknowledged the wisdom of this, her emotions rebelled, wanting it to be her who made that first contact with Selenay—and with Elspeth—and possibly, with Dirk, if he were well enough by then.
Nothing was going as she would have chosen; and on top of it all, she had been experiencing an odd foreboding about this trip from the moment Selenay mentioned it. There was no reason for it, yet she couldn’t shake it. It was as if she were riding from bad into worse, and there was no way to stop what was coming.
Talia remained turned inward, determined to control her own internal turmoil by herself. Weeping on Kris’ shoulder would accomplish nothing. Rolan was a solace—but this was a matter of dealing with her own emotions and her own control. A Herald, she told herself for the thousandth time, was supposed to be self-sufficient, able to cope no matter how difficult the situation. She would, by the Havens, control herself—there was no excuse for her own emotional weakness. She had learned to control her Gift—she would learn to school her emotions to the same degree.
The hard pace they were setting left little opportunity for conversation, but Kris was very aware of her unhappiness. Talia had told him in detail about the confrontation with the Heir as they were saddling up. He was sadly aware that there was little he could do to help her; it was extremely frustrating to see her in such emotional pain and be unable to do anything constructive about it. Not long ago, he would have fled the prospect of emotional demands. Now in the light of this morning’s introspection his sole regret was that he could not find some way to help.
When she’d lost control over her Gift, there had been something he could do. He was a teacher; he knew the fundamentals of training any Gift, and he had Tantris and Rolan to help him with the specifics of hers. Now ...
Well, maybe there was o
ne small way in which he could help her. If he talked to his uncle, perhaps he could make him understand that Talia was not a political threat. With that pressure off, the problem of dealing with Elspeth and Dirk might assume more manageable proportions.
They stopped for a brief lunch at an inn, but mindful of the time constraints they were under, they ate it standing in the stable-yard.
“How are you doing so far?” he asked around a mouthful of meat pie.
“I’m all right,” she replied. She’d already bolted down her portion so fast she couldn’t have tasted it. Now she was giving Rolan a brisk rubdown, and was putting far more energy into Rolan’s currying than was strictly necessary.
“Well I know you haven’t ridden much at forced pace; if you have any problems, let me know.”
“I will,” was her only reply.
He tried again. ((I hope the weather breaks; it’s bad for riding, but I would think it’s worse for crops.”
“Uh-huh.”
“We’ll have to ride right up until dark to make Trevale, but the inn there should make up for the ride. I’ve been there before.” He waited. No response. “Think you can make it that far?”
“Yes.”
“Their wine is good. Their beer is better.”
“Oh.”
“Their heartbeats have two tails.”
“Uh-huh.”
He gave up.
They stopped long after dark when Kris was beginning to go numb in his legs, and staggered into an inn neither of diem really saw. The innkeeper saw that both of them were exhausted, and wisely kept his other customers away from them, giving them a table right on the hearth and a good dinner.
The inn was a big one, and catered to traders, carters, and other mercantile travel. The common room was nearly full, and noisy enough that Kris did not attempt conversation. Talia was just as glad; she knew she wasn’t decent company at the moment, and she rather hoped he’d ignore her until she was. After a meal which she did not even taste and choked down only because she needed to fuel her body, they went straight to their beds. She was able to force herself to sleep, but she could do nothing about her dreams. They were tortured and nightmarish, and not at all restful.
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