They again left before dawn, rising before any of the other guests of the inn, breaking their fast with hot bread and milk before swinging up into their saddles and resuming the journey.
Talia, having found no answers within, began resolutely turning her attention without. The sides had begun clearing, and by late morning they were able to roll up their cloaks and fasten them behind their saddles. When birds began voicing their songs, her spirits finally began to lighten. By noon she had managed to regain enough of her good humor to speak normally with Kris, and the whole mess she’d left behind her began to assume better proportions. She was still conscious of a faint foreboding, but in the bright sunlight it seemed hardly more than the remnants of her nightmares.
Toward midday Talia suddenly perked up and became more like her old self, for which Kris was very grateful. Riding next to a person who strongly resembled the undead of the tales was not his idea of the way to make a journey.
Diplomatic missions were not entirely new to Kris, though he’d not been senior Herald before. This was Talia’s first stint as an envoy, and they really needed to talk about it while it was possible to do so unobserved.
Kris was relieved by her apparent return to normal, and ventured a tentative prompting. She responded immediately with a flood of questions, and that was more like the Talia he knew, but he could not help but note (with a feeling of profound sympathy) her dark-circled eyes. While he was no Empath, he knew her sleep must have been scant.
By the time they reached the Border itself at the end of a week of hard riding, things were back on their old footing between them. They had discussed every contingency that they could think of between them (ranging from the possibility that Ancar should seem to be perfect in every way, to the possibility that he was a worse marital prospect than Selenay’s late consort) and talked over graceful ways to get them all out if the latter should be the case. Kris was fairly sure she was ready to face whatever the fates should throw at her.
As they rounded a curve, late in the afternoon of the fourth day of the journey, Talia got her first sight of the Border. The Border itself, here where two civilized and allied countries touched, was manned by small outposts from each Kingdom.
On the Valdemar side stood a small building, a few feet from the road, and a few feet from the simple bar that marked the Border itself. It served as dwelling and office for the two pairs of Guardsfolk stationed there. The pair on duty were checking the papers of an incoming trader; they looked up at the sound of hoofbeats, and grinned to see the two Heralds. The taller of the two left the trader’s wagon and took down the bar for them, waving them through with an elaborate mock bow.
A few lengths farther on was a proper gate, marking Alessandar’s side of the Border. It was manned by another pair of guards, this time in the black-and-gold uniforms of Alessandar’s army. With them was a young man in a slightly more elaborate uniform; a Captain of Alessandar’s army.
The Captain was young, friendly, and quite handsome; he passed them in without more than a cursory glance at their credentials.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” he told them, “but I truly didn’t expect you here this soon. You must have made very good time.”
“Fairly good,” Kris replied, “and we started out a bit sooner than planned. We’ve been out in the field for the last year or so. Field Heralds are used to being ready to go at a moment’s notice.”
“As opposed to folks with soft bunks at Court, hm?” the Captain grinned. “Same with us. That lot stationed at Court couldn’t have a half-day of maneuvers without a full baggage train and enough supplies to feed a town. Well, I do have some basic orders about what to do with you ...”
“You do?” Talia said, raising her eyebrows in surprise.
“Oh, it isn’t much—just wait until you arrive, then inform the capital.”
Talia recalled then what Selenay had said, that Alessandar was rumored to have some new system of passing messages swiftly. She also remembered that Selenay had asked her to find out what she could about it.
Evidently Kris had gotten similar instructions.
“Now how are you going to get further instructions about us in any reasonable amount of time?” Kris asked. “I know the nearest authority is several days away on horseback, and you don’t have Heralds to carry messages quickly.”
The young Captain smiled proudly. “It’s no secret,” he replied, his brown eyes frank. “In fact, I would be honored to show you, if you aren’t too tired.”
“Not likely—not when you’re offering to show us what sounds like magic!”
The Captain laughed. “From what I understand, you’re fine ones to talk about wonders and magic! Well, one man’s magic is another man’s commonplace, so they say. Come along then, and I’ll show you.”
Out of courtesy to him, since he was afoot, Talia and Kris dismounted and walked with him up the packed-gravel roadway to his outpost; a building much bigger man the one on the Valdemar side, and shaded on three sides by trees.
“Will it interest you to know that I may very well get my orders within a matter of hours, if someone is found of high enough rank to issue them before the sun sets?”
“That’s amazing! We can’t even do that,” Talia replied. “But what does the sun setting have to do with it?”
“You see the tower attached to the outpost?” He shook dark hair out of his eyes as he pointed to a slim, skeletal edifice of gray wood. This tower rose several feet above the tree tops, and was anchored on one side to the main barracks of the Border station. It had had both of them puzzled since it seemed to have no real use except perhaps as a lookout point.
“I must admit we were wondering about that,” Kris told him. “Are forest fires that much of a danger around here? I wouldn’t have thought so, what with all the land under cultivation.”
“Oh, it’s not a firetower, though that’s where the design is from.” The young Captain laughed. “Come up to the top with me, and I’ll show you something to set you on your ears.”
They followed him up the series of ladders that led to the broad platform on the top. Once there, though, Talia didn’t see anything out of the ordinary—just two men in the black uniform tunics of Alessandar’s army, and an enormous concave mirror, as wide as Talia was tall. Although it was not quite perfect, its surface a bit wavering, it was an impressive piece of workmanship. Talia marveled at the skill that had gone into first producing and then silvering such an enormous piece of glass.
The mirror stood on a pivoting pedestal, and as they watched, one of the two men turned it until it reflected a beam of the westering sunlight at the southwestern corner of the platform. When he’d done that, the second man picked up a smaller mirror about three handspans across and took his position in the beam of reflected light.
That was when Talia realized just how they were going to pull off the trick. It was a very clever variant on the old scheme of signaling across distance by means of the sun flashing off a reflective object. It was clever because in this case there was no need to hope that the sun was in the correct position when you needed to send a message.
The Captain smiled broadly as he saw understanding in their faces. “It was the idea of some savant in Ancar’s entourage. We started building these towers last year at all the outposts; when we realized how useful they are we sped up the building and put towers up as fast as we could get the mirrors for them. We have relay towers all across the Kingdom now,” he continued, with cheerful pride. “We can transmit a message from one end of the Kingdom to the other in a matter of hours. That’s rather better than you Heralds can do, from what I understand.”
“That’s quite true, but anyone who knows your code has no trouble in learning the content of any messages you send,” Kris pointed out. “That makes it a bit difficult to keep anything secret, doesn’t it?”
The Captain laughed. “In that case, the couriers need never fret that there will be no job for them, true? Solan,” he addressed the man holdin
g the smaller mirror, “tell them down the line that Queen Selenay of Valdemar’s two envoys are here, and waiting for instructions on how to proceed.”
“Sir!” The signalman saluted smartly, and carried out his orders. In the far distance the Heralds could just barely make out what might be the top of another tower above the treetops. Shortly after their man had completed his message, a series of flashes winked back at them from this point.
“He’s repeating our entire message back to us,” the Captain explained. “We started this check after a few too many misreadings had caused some serious tangles. Now if he’s mistaken any of it, we can correct him before he sends it on.”
“Sir. Message correct, sir,” the signalman replied.
“Send the confirmation,” the Captain ordered, then continued his commentary. “Now the closer you get to any of the major cities, especially the capital, the more men we have on each tower. That makes sure that several incoming messages can be handled at once. If the originator doesn’t get confirmation, he assumes that there was a momentary jam-up, and keeps sending until he does.”
“It’s really brilliant,” Talia said, and she and the Captain exchanged a grin at her pun, “but what do you do on cloudy days or at night?”
He laughed. “We go back to the old, reliable courier system in bad weather. We back it up by making our posting stations part of the tower system, so as soon as the clouds break or the sun rises, the message can be relayed. Even when conditions have been at their worst the towers usually still manage to beat the courier. At night, of course, we can signal with lanterns, but that won’t be of any help in this case, since no one is going to want to trouble envoys with orders after they’ve presumably retired. That’s assuming anyone highborn enough to issue those orders is willing to take the time to do so after the sun sets!”
They followed him back down the ladders. Once back on the ground, since neither of them showed any signs of fatigue, he gave them a tour of the post that lasted until darkness fell. Talia was intrigued, and not just by the signal towers. This was more than simply a Border-guard station; there was a company of Alessandar’s army on permanent duty here. When not patrolling the road for bandits or standing watch on the relay tower, the men (there were no women in Alessandar’s army) performed policing functions for local villages.
It was an interesting contrast to the Valdemar system, where Selenay’s soldiery was kept in central locations, and shifted about at need. But then, Alessandar had a much larger standing army.
In addition to the army company, there were four Healers—all women—permanently assigned here. There were three buildings, not including the tower; the barracks, the Border station where the Healers lived and where Customs checks were made and taxes collected from those passing across the Border, and a kind of all-purpose building that included the kitchen and storage facilities.
“Well,” the Captain said with resignation, when the tour was over and no one had appeared from the tower with a message. “It looks like the folks at the other end couldn’t find anyone with enough authority to issue orders about you before it became too late. That means you’ll have to spend the night here—unless you’d rather recross the Border?”
“Here will be fine, providing it’s no imposition,” Kris answered.
The Captain looked doubtfully from Kris to Talia and back again, and coughed politely.
“I haven’t got private quarters for you,” he said a bit awkwardly. “I could easily find you space in the barracks, of course, and the young lady could take a bed with the Healers, since they re all women. But if you’d rather not be separated ....”
“Captain, Herald Talia and I are colleagues, nothing more.” Kris looked sober enough, but Talia could read his amusement at the Captain’s embarrassment.
“Your arrangements are perfectly fine,” Talia said smoothly. “We’re both used to barracks-style quarters; I promise you that they’re quite a luxury compared with some of the Waystations I’ve spent my nights in.”
Talia had been careful to use “I” instead of “we” in speaking of the Waystations. She saw out of the corner of her eye Kris winking at her to congratulate her on her tact.
“If that’s the case, I’ll escort you to the officer’s mess for some dinner,” the Captain replied, apparently relieved that they’d made no awkwardness over the situation. His attitude made Talia wonder if other guests at this outpost had been less than cooperative, or if it was simply that he’d heard some of the more exaggerated tales about Heralds.
While somewhat restrained by the presence of outsiders, the officers were a very congenial lot. They were terribly curious about Heralds, of course, and some of the questions were as naive as any child’s. If all of Alessandar’s people were as open-handed and content with their lot as these men were, Talia was inclined to think he was every bit as good a ruler as Selenay.
Although Kris got a real bed, Talia had to make do with a cot in the Healer’s quarters. She didn’t mind in the least. The nightmares that had plagued her nightly all the way here had left her so weary she thought that she could quite probably sleep on a slab of stone.
This night, however, the nightmares seemed to have been partially thwarted. That might have been due to the soothing presence of the Healers bedded all around her. After all, she was an Empath; Kris was not. There had been enough bad fortune this spring that it was possible she might well have been picking up the general air of disaster everyone was sharing lately. She’d thought she’d made her shields strong enough to block just about anything, but she had been stressed, and that put a strain on her shielding.
Or the fact that the nightmares went away might have been just because she had worn herself out past the point of being disturbed by them. For whatever reason, she slept soundly for the first time since leaving, and had only the vaguest memories of disturbing dreams in the morning.
Seven
Kris had been deaf, he might have been able to sleep through the noise of the night guards coming in and the day guards getting up. Since he wasn’t, he made a virtue of the inevitable and got up with them. He found Talia, still sleepy-eyed, waiting for him in the mess hall; she’d had the foresight to claim two breakfasts from the cook. Their host put in an appearance just as they were finishing.
“Well, I’ve got your instructions. Fm to give you maps, and you’re not to wait for an escort but to go on to the capital. You’re to check in with relay stations at sunset before you stop for the night.”
“Sounds simple enough,” Kris replied. “I really wanted to get on—not that your hospitality isn’t appreciated, but I’d rather not strain your resources. Just as well we’re not going to have to wait for an escort.”
“I’ll admit I was glad to hear I didn’t need to supply you with one,” their host said frankly. “I’m shorthanded enough, and if half of what I’ve heard is true, none of our beasts could ever hope to keep pace with yours, Byway.”
“It’s true enough,” Kris replied with pardonable pride. “There isn’t a horse born that can match the speed and endurance of a Companion.”
“All right, what you’ll do is follow the main road to the capital—it’s easy enough—and stay overnight at Alessandar’s hostels. They’ll always be on the main square of town; there’ll be a Guardpost nearby, and they’ll look Wee inns. The only difference between a hostel and an inn is that the sign outside will have a wheat sheaf in a crown. Oh—you do speak our language, don’t you?”
“Perfectly,” Kris replied in Hardornen.
“Oh, good—I thought they wouldn’t have sent anybody that didn’t, but you never know—and once you get a few miles off the Border nobody speaks Valdemaren.”
“I can’t say that surprises me too much,” Talia put in, in slow, clear Hardornen. “Once you get a few miles off our Border no one except Heralds speaks yours!”
“Right then, you can be on your way as soon as you’re ready. Here’s your map,” he handed Kris a folded packet “and best of luck t
o you.”
“Thanks,” Kris said, both of them rising and heading for the door.
“And don’t forget,” he called after them as they headed for the stables, “Check in with the relay towers every night. The capital wants to be able to keep track of you.”
The first day passed without incident. Alessandar’s people seemed as content as Selenay’s; they were friendly, and looked quite prosperous, at least from a distance.
“Isn’t there supposed to be a village along here soon?” Talia asked around noon.
Kris pulled the map they’d been given out of his beltpouch and consulted it. “Assuming I haven’t been misreading this—let’s see if we can find a native.”
One more turning of the road brought them to a grove of trees in the road-side corner of a fenced field. Beneath those trees was a group that could have been exchanged for farmers of Valdemar without anyone noticing the difference. They were stolidly munching their way through a dinner of thick, coarse bread and cheese, but when one of them noticed that the two Heralds were approaching them with purpose, he stood, brushed crumbs off his linen smock, and met them halfway.
“Eh, sir, and can I be of any help to ye?” he asked, as friendly as the Captain had been.
“I’m not quite used to this map,” Kris replied, “And I wonder if you could tell me how far it is to Southford?”
“That be just a league or so a-down the road; there’s that hill yonder in the way, or ye could see it from here.”
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