:Thank you both so very much. Leave the rest to the other Healers, the Companions, and the Heralds.:
The lamps had burned out. A faint light streamed through the opening where Layelle had been. The Companion slowly trudged out of sight toward Companions’ Field, head held as high as it could be considering she’d been just as busy as the two Healers. Serril could barely keep his eyes open, but he knew that he needed to take Jayin immediately to the Dean and request–no, demand–that she be given her Greens immediately. Investiture and graduation were formalities at this point, in his opinion. He was about to say so when the woman on the bed opened her eyes and inhaled slowly.
“Pain’s goon.” The Herald’s voice was creaky, low, and the she swallowed carefully. “Yuz’r gud fer som-mat.” Before she could say any more, Jayin laid a careful hand on their patient’s forehead.
“Of course we are,” the soon-to-be-Healer said with a note of pride singing through her obvious fatigue. “We have to be. Our work doesn’t stop with just healing.” Ignoring the surprised snort, she stood and wavered a moment before catching her balance. “Let’s go tell the Dean, get my Greens, and then–then maybe I can sleep.”
They supported each other all the way to the Dean’s office.
A Leash of Greyhounds
Elisabeth Waters
The greyhounds were upset. There was blood, which wasn’t surprising because Shantell’s husband, Lord Kristion, and his friend Teren had taken the dogs with them when they went out hunting, but there was something wrong . . .
“Lena,” Lady Shantell said gently. “You’ll never finish your embroidery if you just sit there staring at nothing. Besides, it’s rude.”
It’s the wrong blood . . . Lena shivered. “I apologize,” she said aloud. “It’s very kind of you to teach me to embroider.”
“Your mother would have wanted me to,” Shantell said simply.
That’s probably true, although I don’t remember her all that well. It is kind of Lady Shantell to invite me to stay at her home and to try to teach me the things a young lady should know. Just because she was a friend of my mother’s doesn’t mean that she’s obliged to do anything for me. And it certainly isn’t her fault that I’d rather be back in Haven at the Temple. I’m glad that I’ll be going back next week; I miss the animals there—and the people. Lena bent her head and concentrated on the embroidery. Whatever was bothering the dogs, she’d find out soon enough.
The men had still not returned when the tea tray was brought in and Shantell’s son joined them. Jasper was ten, five years younger than Lena and about the age she had been when the last member of her family died. Lena was now a ward of the King, so she took classes at the Palace complex along with the Herald, Bardic, and Healer Trainees, but she lived at the Temple of Thenoth, Lord of the Beasts. She had been there for the past several years, ever since her gift—Animal Mindspeech—had started to develop.
Shantell was a devout follower of a god who had no name—or perhaps a name too holy to be spoken, Lena wasn’t sure which—and she used teatime to concentrate on her son’s religious education. They believed that their god was the only one that existed, another concept that Lena found strange. She had, however, quickly learned to keep quiet about her own beliefs. Lady Shantell didn’t approve of a god who cared about animals, and Lena’s explanation that there were plenty of other gods who cared about people had earned her a scolding for blasphemy. I don’t think my saying it is blasphemy if I don’t worship her god. And the King and all of my teachers say there is no one true way. That’s the law. Still, I’m not going to tell her that I have Animal Mindspeech; I don’t think she would appreciate that at all.
But at the moment being able to talk to the dogs wasn’t helping much. They weren’t making any sense. Lena knew that they were still in the woods, guarding the kill and waiting for somebody to carry it home, but why were they so sad?
When the butler appeared in the doorway as soon as Jasper had returned to the nursery, Lena hardly needed to look at his face to know that something horrible had happened.
“Lady Shantell,” he began gently, “there’s been an accident. Lord Kristion was shot—”
Shantelle jumped out of her chair and hurried across the room. “Where is he?” she demanded.
The butler actually turned pale. “They’re bringing his body home now, Lady.”
Shantell collapsed on the nearest chair and started screaming. The butler stood frozen in the doorway, gaping at his mistress, who had probably never been anything but gentle and soft-spoken in her life. Crossing the room past her so that she could talk to the butler without trying to scream over her, Lena suggested that he summon her maid and the priest. The butler bowed gratefully and left at a speed that was just a bit slower than flight. Shantell continued to scream, leaving Lena wishing that she could flee the room as well.
With the help of the housekeeper, Shantell’s maid got her to drink some sort of sedative and put her to bed. The body was brought home, washed, and laid out in the chapel, where the priest said prayers over it. Apparently he considered it proper for someone to be in the chapel with the body until it could be buried, and Lena, who was in the habit of rising before dawn at the Temple, volunteered to take the predawn watch.
She found herself wide awake over an hour before she was due in the chapel, and she could still hear the greyhounds in her head, so she dressed quickly and went out to the kennels. The Kennelmaster was asleep—I don’t blame him; he must have had a really horrible day yesterday— and the dogs whined quietly and crowded around her. Lena stroked heads as they were shoved into her lap and tried to calm them. But all too soon it was time for her watch in the chapel, and the dogs were unwilling to be parted from her. At least they’re quiet as long as they’re with me, so I guess it’s better if I just take them along.
Lena preceded the dogs into the chapel and told them to hang back, so that the housekeeper, who had the watch before hers, left without seeing them. Lena sat on a bench at the head of the bier, and the dogs formed a circle around the body.
The chapel was made of stone and was separate from the main house, so it was very cold inside. Lena wrapped her cloak more tightly around her, but it didn’t help her shivering much. She rose to her feet and paced around the bier, envying the dogs their fur. They lay quietly, but she could feel them, a low mumble in the back of her mind, mourning for their master.
She heard heavy footsteps approaching, and she hastily returned to the bench and bowed her head as if in prayer. She wasn’t sure how to pray in this situation; she didn’t know enough about Shantell’s god to feel comfortable addressing him, but she was pretty sure that Shantell would object to prayers addressed to any other god, especially in her god’s chapel. Possibly her god would too, and Lena had no desire to anger him. So she mostly thought about the life of Lord Kristion and how much everyone was going to miss him.
The footsteps had entered the chapel, and Lena had heard a thud as their owner collapsed onto a bench near the back of the chapel. Now she could hear weeping, the choked sobs of a grown man trying unsuccessfully not to cry. Without raising her bowed head, she cast her eyes sideways. It was Lord Teren, Kristion’s best friend—the man who had killed him.
Lena had heard enough of the talk when they brought the body home to know that the death had been a tragic accident. The men had become separated in the woods, and the arrow that Lord Teren loosed had not been intended to lodge in the heart of his best friend. She could understand his grief, and she sympathized slightly—though I still think it’s stupid and dangerous to loose an arrow when you are not absolutely certain of your target. And I don’t think there’s any god that will help you if Lady Shantell finds you here . . .
Naturally, that was exactly what happened. Shantell had awakened at dawn, as she usually did, and her first act was to come to the chapel to pray. She didn’t see Lord Teren at first, so she started by scolding Lena for bringing the dogs into the chapel. “I’m sorry,” Lena murmured an
d then stopped talking, knowing that no defense could possibly appease Shantell. :Go outside and hide where nobody will see you,: she directed, and the dogs slipped down the side aisle of the chapel and out though the door that Shantell had left ajar.
Shantell, turning her head as they moved, saw Lord Teren and started screaming again, but unlike yesterday her screaming had words. “You murderer! How dare you show your face here?
“Shantell,” he began, “I am so sorry—”
“You killed my husband!”
“It was an accident—”
“You enjoy killing, you and those damned dogs!”
“If having the dogs here is distressing to you, Shantell, I can remove them to my estate so you won’t have to see them again.”
Shantell’s voice dropped from a scream into something that Lena found much more frightening; it was cold, hard, and intense. Each syllable was precisely enunciated as she said, “I will have every single one of them killed before I allow you to profit by what you’ve done.” She turned on her heel and stalked out of the chapel.
Lena sank back onto the bench and shivered uncontrollably. She means it, she realized. She really will kill them. She thinks of them as dumb animals, and technically they’re property . . .
“Lord Teren?” she asked timidly.
He looked at her in surprise. “What is it, uh—”
“Lena,” she supplied, not surprised that he’d forgotten her name with all that was going on. “What did she mean by ‘profit’?”
“Greyhounds, especially trained hunting dogs, are valuable animals,” he said with a sigh. “But if she thinks I’d kill anyone, let alone my best friend, just to get his dogs, she’s . . .” he faltered, apparently unable to come up with any description he considered acceptable.
“—crazed with grief,” Lena finished for him. It was a condition she understood. She didn’t remember her mother much, but she had adored her father, and her initial reaction to his death had been very similar to Shantell’s. She had screamed wordlessly for at least half an hour. And if I’d known what life was going to be like with my brother as my guardian, I’d probably have screamed even longer. “Can she really have the dogs killed?” she asked anxiously. “Do they belong to her now?”
“I believe that Kristion’s will leaves them to Jasper.”
“But Jasper’s a child, so he doesn’t get to make decisions.” Another subject I know about. “Who is his guardian?”
Lord Teren looked sick. “God help us all; I am.” He buried his face in his hands. Lena wasn’t sure whether he was praying, crying, or both. She sat in uncomfortable silence until the steward arrived to take over the vigil and then quietly left the chapel.
She wasn’t hungry, so instead of going in search of breakfast she went to the kennels. The Kennelmaster was there, but the dogs who had been in the chapel with her were not. The only dogs in the building were Minda, a female who had just given birth, and her six puppies. To Lena’s surprise, Jasper knelt next to them, sobbing disconsolately.
“I’m sorry, Jasper,” she said, starting to express condolences on the death of his father, but he turned at the sound of her voice and flung both arms around her legs, almost knocking her to the floor.
“Make her stop!” he begged.
“Make who stop what?”
Over Jasper’s sobs, the Kennelmaster explained, looking both ill and ill-at-ease. “Lady Shantell stormed in here about half an hour ago and ordered me to kill all of Lord Kristion’s dogs. Jasper had come down to look at the puppies, so he heard her.”
“Oh, lord.” Lena detached Jasper’s arms, sat down on the floor, and put her arms around him as he crawled into her lap. She looked up at the Kennelmaster. “Are you planning to obey her right away?”
“I’m hoping she’ll calm down and rescind the order.”
“Even if she doesn’t,” Lena pointed out, “does she have the legal authority to give that order? The dogs may belong to Jasper; nobody knows until Lord Kristion’s will is read. If they are Jasper’s, it’s pretty clear that he doesn’t want them killed. Also, the dogs are valuable, aren’t they?”
“Yes,” the Kennelmaster said. “There are people willing to pay large sums for the puppies, and the trained dogs are worth even more.”
“So even if Lady Shantell is Jasper’s guardian, and we don’t know that she is, killing the dogs would not be in his best interests from a financial standpoint, let alone an emotional one.” I’m glad I was paying attention during those classes on Kingdom law. “So, if I were you, I’d keep stalling. Maybe we can get a ruling from the local Magistrate—who is that, anyway?”
“Lord Teren,” Jasper mumbled into her shoulder.
“I don’t think your mother is listening to him right now,” Lena said ruefully. She looked around innocently. “Where are the rest of the dogs?”
The Kennelmaster frowned. “I don’t know. Someone came in and let them out during the night.”
“I let them out,” Lena said. No point in lying about that, even if I wanted to—Shantell saw them with me. “They were restless, so I took them with me when I went to the chapel for my share of the vigil. Then Lady Shantell came in and yelled because they were there, so I sent them outside. But if you can’t find them, you can’t kill them.”
“Good,” the Kennelmaster said. “Just as long as they stay safe wherever they are.” He sighed. “Where’s a Herald when you need one?”
That’s a really good question. Lena looked down at the child in her lap. “Jasper, have you had breakfast?” He shook his head. “Let’s go to the kitchens and see if we can find something to eat. Things probably won’t seem quite so bad when we’re not facing them with an empty stomach.”
After making sure that Jasper ate and escorting him back to the nursery, Lena slipped out of the house, avoiding both Shantell and the servants, and made her way unseen into the forested portion of the estate. I should be safe enough; I’m pretty sure that nobody is going to be hunting here today. She sat down on what passed for a comfortable boulder and cautiously opened her mind to the animals in the vicinity.
The dogs were the first to respond. In moments she was surrounded by the entire pack.: Home?: they asked.
:Too dangerous.: She sent an image of Shantell’s raging and the Kennelmaster looking sick at the thought of killing them. :Can you find enough food here?:
:Lots of rabbits. And deer.: With the discipline she had learned at the Temple, Lena ignored the images that accompanied the replies. Fortunately she had never kept rabbits as pets, and Maia, a fellow Novice who also had Animal Mindspeech and had taught Lena much of what she knew, had grown up next to the Forest of Sorrows, so Lena had some experience with how animals who were not being fed by humans regarded meals. Thinking of Maia reminded her of the crows. Maia had brought a group of them (“a storytelling of crows,” she had called them) to the Temple with her—or, more accurately, they had chosen to accompany her. If they liked you, they would do you favors, like following someone and reporting back on what they did. Maia had taught Lena how to talk to them, and Lena was pretty sure that at least a few of them had followed her on her journey. She reached out with her mind . . .There!
The crows were not nearby, and she didn’t want to consider what they were eating, so she sent a mental picture of a Herald and Companion, along with :where?: and the emotion of needing help. Several crows lifted up above the treetops to scan the surrounding countryside, and Lena settled down to wait, petting the dogs as they leaned against her legs.
Between using her Gift and stroking canine fur, Lena was half in a trance, so she wasn’t surprised when, some unknown amount of time later, a Herald appeared in her vision. The Herald looked startled, as anyone would be when a crow flew directly toward her face, but even through the crow’s eyes Lena recognized her. Samira was one of the Heralds Lena knew well, and her Companion, Clyton, even deigned to speak to Maia on rare occasions, so it was possible that he might be able to hear her. Lena tried to reach his
mind, but apparently they were too far away. Samira, however, was a friend of Maia’s, so it didn’t take her long to realize what a crow behaving unusually in this area must mean.
“Lena? If you can hear me, you’ll know that we’re on our way.” Then Clyton moved so fast that he was a white streak passing the crows who perched in the trees above him. Lena looked through their eyes as they rose to fly back long enough to figure out what route Samira and Clyton were taking. Then she pulled her concentration back into her body, rose to her feet, and headed through the forest toward the road so that she could intercept Samira before she rode into the chaos of the household unprepared.
Clyton almost charged right past her despite the fact that Lena was standing alone in the middle of the road. She had persuaded the dogs to stay out of sight in the woods.
“What’s going on, Lena?” Samira asked. “Are you all right?”
“Pretty much,” Lena replied, “but Lord Kristion is dead, and things are not going well.”
“What happened to him?” This was Samira’s current Circuit, so she knew that Lord Kristion had been young and healthy.
“He went out hunting with his best friend a couple of days ago . . .” Lena took a deep breath and blurted out the rest: “Lord Teren shot him by accident, and Lady Shantell called Lord Teren a murderer, and now she’s ordered the Kennelmaster to kill all of the dogs, and Jasper’s really upset about that.”
Samira pinched the spot where her nose met her forehead as if the muscle had gone into spasm and shook her head. “Are you sure it was an accident?”
“Lord Teren says it was, the servants who were with him say it was, and the dogs say it was. I believe them.”
“What does the Magistrate say?”
“Apparently Lord Teren is the Magistrate.”
“Yes, that’s right; he is.” Samira sighed. “Why does Lady Shantell want to kill the dogs?”
Under the Vale and Other Tales of Valdemar Page 8