Valdemar Books

by Lackey, Mercedes

  Talia was by no means well; she was healed enough to spend an hour or two undrugged, but no more than that. She was propped up on her little couch, positioned under her window. She wore bandages everywhere except her head and neck; her ruined feet were encased in bootlike contraptions. She was nearly as white as the uniform she wore. Elspeth sat next to her, with one eye on her at all times.

  Lord Gartheser (predictably) was the first to speak. “What has been going on here?” he snapped angrily. “What’s all this nonsense about Orthallen being a traitor? I—”

  “It is not nonsense, my lord,” Talia interrupted him quietly. “I heard it from his co-conspirators, and his own actions when confronted merely with their names proves his guilt.”

  Simply, and without elaboration, she told the whole story of what she and Kris had learned about Ancar, of the massacre at the banquet, of Kris’ death, and her confrontations with Hulda and Ancar.

  When she paused, obviously tired, Elspeth took up the tale, relating what Talia had told them after Dirk had brought her back, and the scene with Orthallen.

  Lord Gartheser sat silently through it all, mouth agape, growing paler by the moment.

  “So you can see, Councillors,” Elspeth finished, “why my very first act as regent must be to ascertain your loyalty under Truth Spell. Kyril, would you be willing to administer to your fellow Councillors? I have only one question to put to all of us—where and with whom do your first loyalties lie?”

  “Certainly, Elspeth,” Kyril replied, nodding his gray head toward her obediently. “And Elcarth can administer the test to me.”

  “But—I—” Gartheser was sweating profusely.

  “You have some objection, Gartheser?” Lady Cathan asked with honeyed sweetness.

  “I—uh—”

  “If you prefer not to take the test, you could resign your position—”

  Lord Gartheser looked from face to face, hoping for a reprieve, and found none. “I—Lady Elspeth, I fear the—the stress of my position is too much for me. With your leave, I should prefer to resign it.”

  “Very well, Gartheser,” Elspeth said calmly. “Does anyone else object? No? Then, my lord, you may leave us. I would suggest you retire to your estates for the quiet, peaceful life you have so richly earned. I do not think, given the stress you have been through, that it would be wise to entertain many visitors.”

  She watched Gartheser rise and stumble out the door with an impassive expression not even Selenay could have matched.

  “Kyril,” she said when he was gone, “you may begin with me.”

  “And after Elspeth, I should like to be tested,” Hyron said, shamefacedly, “being as I was one of Orthallen’s stronger supporters.”

  “If you wish. Kyril?”

  The testing took a very short time; not surprisingly, all passed.

  “Next, we have two Council seats to fill, speaker for the North, and speaker for the Central districts. Any suggestions?”

  “For the Central, I would suggest Lord Jelthan,” said Lady Kester. “He’s young, he’s got some good ideas, but he’s been lord of his holdings for nearly fourteen years—his father died young.”

  “Anyone else? No? And the North?”

  No one spoke, until Talia’s whisper broke the silence. “If no one has any other notions, I suggest Mayor Loschal of Trevendale. He’s quite able, he knows the problems of the North intimately, he has no private axe to grind that I am aware of, and he has enough years to balance Lord Jelthan’s youth.”

  “Any other suggestions? So be it—Kyril, see to it, will you? Now, the other matter facing us is Hardorn and Ancar. We are going to have to increase the size of the Guard; that means a tax increase—”

  “Why? We beat them, right soundly!”

  “There’s no need—”

  “You’re starting at shadows—”

  “I know for a fact your mother gave you no such

  “Quiet!” Kyril thundered out over the bedlam. When they stared at him dumbfounded, he continued, “The Herald wishes to speak, and she can’t be heard over your babble.”

  “Elspeth is right,” Talia whispered wearily. “I know Ancar better than any of you. He’ll be back at us, again and again, until one of our lands lacks its leader. And I tell you, this kingdom is in more danger now than we were before the battle we just won! Now he knows some of what we can do, and what kind of strength we can raise at short notice. The next time he comes for us, it will be with a force he deems overwhelming; we must be ready to meet that force.”

  “And that means a larger Guard; taxes to support it—”

  “And your help, Councillors. Bard Hyron, the help of your Circle especially,” Talia continued.

  “My Circle? Why?”

  “Because, as you ably demonstrated with Griffon, the Bardic Circle is the only source of information we have on old magic.”

  “Surely you overestimate these mages—” Lady Wyrist began.

  “Look here and tell me I overestimate!” Again Talia pulled gown and bandage from her shoulder to display the handprint-brand, still livid and raw-looking. “I will bear this mark until the day I die, and this was just a parlor-trick for Hulda!” Lady Wyrist paled and turned her head away. “Ask the widows and children and widowers of those slain by demons if I overestimate the danger! I tell you now that what Ancar brought with him is likely to be one of his lesser mages—he would not risk the greater in battle. And Hyron, your Circle alone preserves the tradition of what we can expect and how we can defend against it. If, indeed, we can.”

  “We can,” Hyron said thoughtfully. “It’s in some of the chronicles from Vanyel’s time—when the Gifts were superseding the mage-crafts. It may be that you Heralds and your Companions are all that will be able to guard us from Ancar’s magicians.”

  “Sounds like a rare good reason to have them by us, if you ask me,” said Lady Kester wryly.

  “And we’ll need you and your Circle for your traditional reason as well,” Elspeth said, smiling at Hyron. “Especially if we’re not to end up conscripting for the Guard.”

  “Rousing patriotic fervor and spreading tales of what’s happened and what we can expect? Aye, Lady Elspeth, as always, the Circle is yours to command.”

  “And keeping the spirits of our people high.”

  “Ever in your service—”

  Elspeth took a quick glance at Talia, as she lay back on her pillows, face pinched and drained. “If there’s no more business at hand?”

  “None that can’t wait,” said Lord Gildas.

  “Then I think we’d best dismiss, and let the Healers see to Talia.”

  As the Councillors filed out, Skif slipped in, Healer Devan and Healer Rynee with him.

  “Little sister, Dirk’s waiting downstairs—” Skif began.

  Talia’s face crumpled, and she began to cry. “Please—not now—I’m so tired ....”

  “Listen to me—listen—” He caught one of her hands in his own and knelt beside her couch. “I know what’s happening to you, I understand! I’ve seen you trying not to wince away when he touches you. I’ve talked him into going home to tell his parents about you; I’m going with him. By the time we get back, you’ll be fine again, I know you will. Now gather your courage and give him a wonderful good-bye to keep him going, eh?”

  She shuddered; he wiped her tears, and she relaxed. “Is that why you brought Rynee?”

  He chuckled. “You’ve got it. She’ll give you a little mental painblock, as it were. Let her work while I fetch Dirk.”

  She was able to do all Skif had asked and more, but when the two of them left, she crumbled again.

  “Rynee, am I ever going to be able to—be whole again? I love him, I need him—but whenever he touches me, I see Ancar and Ancar’s guards—”

  “Hush, now, hush,” Rynee soothed her as if Talia were twelve years her junior instead of four her senior.

  “It was fine at first, but after the battle it started to build every time a man touched me
, and it was worse than that when the man was him! Rynee, I can’t bear it, I can’t bear it!”

  “Talia, dear friend, be easy. Yes, you’ll be fine, just like Skif said. It’s just a matter of Healing, inside instead of out. Now sleep.”

  “Will she Heal?” Devan looked at Rynee somberly, as Talia dropped into Healing-trance.

  “She will,” Rynee replied serenely. “And it’ll be mostly her own doing. You’ll see.”

  “I pray you’re right.”

  “I know I am.”

  Twelve

  Skif took the tower stairs at a run, though for all the sound he made, no one would ever have known there was anyone on the stairs at all. He’d been back from the North for several hours now, and he was more than impatient. “You can’t see Talia yet,” they’d told him. “She’s with the Healers every morning, and they’ve left orders that they’re never to be disturbed.” Well, all right, but that didn’t make a fellow any less twitchy, not when he was worried about her. He’d determined to get up to her room as soon as he’d finished lunch; he’d all but bolted his food and nearly choked as a consequence.

  He’d evidently misjudged the timing by a bit, for as he approached the half-open door at the top of the stairs, he’d heard voices inside. He shrank back into a shadow on the landing, and peeked around the corner. From where he was hidden he could see inside the room quite easily. There were two Healers there, both easily identifiable by their Greens, one on either side of a lounge that held someone in Herald’s Whites—Talia, without a doubt.

  He winced inside, for her face was distorted by pain and her eyes streamed tears, although she did not utter so much as a single moan.

  “Enough,” said the Healer on her right; and Skif recognized Devan. “That’s absolutely all for today, Talia.”

  Her face relaxed somewhat, and the woman on her left gave her a look of caring sympathy and a handkerchief to dry her tears with.

  “You really don’t need to be enduring all this, you know,” Devan said, a bit crossly. “If you’d let us Heal you at the normal rate it could all be done quite painlessly.”

  “Dear Devan, I don’t have time, and you know that perfectly well,” Talia replied softly.

  “Then you ought to at least let us work under painblock! And I still don’t understand why you don’t think you have time!”

  “But if you worked under painblocks, I wouldn’t be able to help—and if I can’t help, neither can Rolan. In that case, it would take six of you to do what one does now.” Her voice actually held a touch of amusement.

  “She’s got you there, Devan,” the woman Healer—Myrim, the Healer’s representative on the Council—pointed out wryly.

  He snorted with disgust. “Heralds! I don’t know why we put up with you! If you’re not out killing yourselves, you’re trying to get us to speed-Heal you so that you can go back out and get yourselves ruined that much sooner!”

  “Well, old friend, if you’ll recall—the first time you ever saw me, I was your patient. There’d already been an attempt to rid the world of me, and I was only a student. You could hardly expect this tabbycat to change color after such an auspicious beginning, could you?”

  The Healer reached out and touched her cheek in a spontaneous gesture of affection. “It’s just that it hurts me to have to put you through such agony, dearling.”

  She caught the hand and held it, smiling at him. The smile transformed her from a simply pretty woman (swollen and red-rimmed eyes notwithstanding) to a lovely one. “Take heart, old friend. There are not many more days of this to come; then whatever Healing is left will all be bone-Healing—and you can’t speed that.” She laughed. “As for why I don’t have time, well, I can’t tell you, because I don’t know myself. I only know it’s true, just as true as the fact that Rolan’s eyes are blue. Besides, I know you. I’m a cooperative patient; unlike Keren and Dirk, I do exactly what I’m told. Since you can’t complain of that, you have to find something to be annoyed about!”

  Myrim chuckled, as did Healer Devan. “Oh, you know him far too well, milady,” she said, standing and stretching. “And we will see you on the morrow.”

  They left the room and passed Skif without ever noticing that he was there.

  But Talia seemed to sense that someone was there. “Whoever’s outside, please come in,” she called out. “It can’t be comfortable on that cold, dark landing.”

  Skif chuckled, and pushed the door open all the way, to see Talia regarding him with her head tilted to one side and an expectant look on her face. “I never could fool you, could I?”

  “Skif!” she exclaimed with delight, and held out both arms to him. “I hadn’t expected you back this soon!”

  “Oh, you know me—a box of soap and a spare uniform, and I’m ready to go.” He embraced her very carefully, and kissed her forehead, before sitting on the floor next to her couch. “And where Skif is—seeing as we went to the same destination—can Dirk be far behind?”

  “You tell me.” He was pleased to see her eyes light with carefully contained joy.

  “Well, he’s not. Far behind, that is. He planned to stay one day longer, but if I’m any judge, he’ll have made that up on the road. I wouldn’t be surprised to see him here tins afternoon. Dear heart, I’m glad to see you want him again.”

  Her eyes glowed, and she smiled. “I didn’t fool you either, did I?”

  “Not a bit. That’s why I came up with the notion of sending him home to tell his family in person. I could see all that old fear of men—and worse—building up in you every time he touched you, and you trying not to show it so that you wouldn’t hurt him.”

  “Oh, Skif—what ever did I do to deserve you? You were right; it was horrible, I felt like I was at war with myself.”

  “Dearling, I served a Border Sector, remember? And my old home neighborhood was a pretty rough place. You weren’t the first woman I’ve seen that was suffering the aftereffects of rape and abuse. I know what the reaction is. I take it you’re—”

  “Fine. Better than ever; and half-mad with wanting to see him again.”

  “That’s the best news I’ve had for a long tune. Well, don’t you want to know how it all went?”

  “I’m consumed with curiosity because if I know Dirk, he probably sent his family a two-line note—“I’m getting married. I’ll be there in a week,”—and no further explanation whatsoever.”

  Skif laughed, and admitted that that was just about what Dirk had written, word for word. “And a fine turmoil it sent them into, I can tell you! Especially coming on top of the rest of it—well, let me take it from the beginning.”

  He settled himself a bit more comfortably. “We got to the farm just about a week after we left here, and it was hard riding all the way. Dirk didn’t want to spend any more time traveling than he had to; well, I can’t say as 1 much blame him. When we got there, the entire clan was out waiting for us, since they’d had the children playing lookout ever since his message. Holy Stars, what a mob! You’re going to like them, heartsister, they’re all as mad as he is. They got us separated almost at once; the younglings plying me with food and drink while Dirk’s mother and father dragged him off for a family conference. I could tell that he’d had them fair worried, especially after the last time—that bitch Naril and the way she played with him—”

  “I know all about that. I don’t blame them for being worried.”

  “It didn’t help much that he was still a bit thin and worn-looking, I’m sure. They weren’t easy to convince that everything was all right, because they had him incommunicado for several hours, at least an hour past supper, and we got there just at lunch. The poor youngsters were at their wit’s end, trying to find something to distract me with!” Skif’s lips pursed in a mischievous smile. “And I’m afraid I didn’t help much. I wasn’t cooperating at all. Well, they all finally emerged; Father looked satisfied, but Mother still had doubts in her eyes. They fed us all, then it was my turn to come under fire. Let me tell you, Dirk’s
mother is a lovely lady, and she ought to be put in charge of questioning witnesses; the Troth Spell would become entirely superfluous! By the time she was done with me, she knew everything I’ve ever known about you, including a lot of things I’d forgotten. We were up practically all night, talking; one of the best conversations I’ve ever had. I didn’t mind in the least, she’s such a dear. It was worth every yawn to see the worry going out of her eyes, the more I told her.”

  Talia sighed, and Skif could feel her relief and gratitude as she wordlessly squeezed his hand. “I can’t tell you how glad I was that you insisted on going with him. You’re a good friend to both of us.”

  “Hm—you’ll be even gladder, I think—none of them are going to be able to be here for the wedding. That’s what I meant by ‘coming on top of all the rest of it.’

  “What’s happened?” she asked anxiously.

  “His third sister is having a real problem with this child she’s bearing. She can’t travel, and obviously, her older sisters don’t want to leave her. Needless to say, her mother, as Healer as well as parent, feels obligated to stay. And Dirk’s father’s joint problem is so bad he can’t even take long wagon journeys anymore, never mind riding. I did my best to assure them that you wouldn’t feel slighted or insulted if they didn’t come, given the circumstances.”

  “I’d never forgive myself if they had come, and something had gone wrong at home while they were here.”

  “Well, that’s what I told them. By the next day, we were all good friends, and I was part of the family. Then I had the hardest task I’ve ever faced. They asked me about Kris.”

  He looked at his hands, his voice fogged a little with tears. “I—they loved him, little sister. He was like another son to them. I’ve never had to tell anyone how their son died before.”

  He felt her hand lightly on his shoulder, and looked up. The sadness that never quite left her face was plain in net eyes. A single tear slid slowly down her cheek, and she aid not trouble to wipe it away. He reached up, and brushed it away with gentle fingers.