Brightly Burning v(-10

by Mercedes Lackey

  "Hmm." Lan considered that notion as they left the last of the Great Houses behind, crossed through a gate beneath an ancient wall, and entered a section of newer estates with more extensive grounds. "I hadn't thought of that."

  "If you've got a Gift that makes you really useful to the Guard, that's probably what you'll be doing after you do your internship circuit," Tuck told him with an emphatic nod. "And if it's really, really useful to the Guard, you may do your internship with one of the Guard Heralds on the Border itself."

  "Really?" This was the first Lan had ever heard of such a thing, and he smiled, slowly. If he could do that, it would not only be his childhood dream come true, it would be better. "I'd like that. I'd like that a lot."

  "I wouldn't, but it takes all kinds, eh?" Tuck grinned broadly. "Me, I'd be happy if they'd let me teach History here, maybe run messenger or courier in an emergency, and apprentice to the Herald Chronicler."

  "All right, apprentice—what can you tell me about all of these places?" Lan waved his arm at the walls surrounding the road, over which much newer buildings looked down at them haughtily.

  "Not much history here—and these places are more like to change hands than the Great Houses," Tuck said, in a dismissive tone. "Newer nobles, Kingdom Guildmasters, and the very wealthy. I wish they'd pay more attention to their own history, actually, but they seem determined to leave it all behind them once they build or buy in this quarter. It's like they want to become someone entirely different and turn their backs on where they came from."

  "But they aren't the same people anymore—" Lan objected.

  Tuck gazed at him with an unusually solemn expression. "Oh? And would you say that you aren't the same person you were before you were Chosen? You can't just forget all that and discard it—it made you what you are now! Erase it, try to forget it, and what do you get? Nothing but pretense! And that's just phony, and more pretentious than just enjoying what you've made of yourself, I think."

  "I guess I can see that, sort of. I mean, I don't always get along with my folks, but they don't pretend that they sprang out of nowhere, or that they've got some sort of fake blue blood in their background." Lan considered that. What would that do to a person's head? Could you remake yourself in another image? And if you did, what would you have? Wouldn't it just be a false image?

  "And if these people discard what they were, what does that make them?" Tuck persisted. "If they try to convince themselves that their own past has no relevance anymore?"

  This was the most philosophic that Tuck had ever been, and it aroused an equally thoughtful mood in Lan.

  "Not... much," Lan thought aloud. "Kind of hollow. No substance, no debt to the past."

  "My point exactly," Tuck said with satisfaction. "And maybe that's why so many of their children turn out badly. Too much of trying to give their children what they didn't have, and not enough giving their children what they did have that made them so successful and prosperous."

  And maybe that explains Tyron and his bullies, Lan thought, with a twist of his gut. "You're unaccountably wise today, Tuck," he said lightly, changing the subject a trifle. "I hardly know you!"

  Tuck laughed. "That's 'cause most people don't pull my history string and find out what's attached to it. Pure passion, I'm afraid; it's the one subject that I can go on about for days at a time. Blame yourself; you could have started me on bad puns or limericks instead, but nooooo—"

  "That," Lan replied with mock-solemnity, as they passed the last of the mansions and turned down a street lined with shops, "would have been worse. Or should I say, verse?"

  Tuck pulled off his cap and hit him on the shoulder with it, as Lan ducked and laughed. A few of the folk walking along the side of the street heard their laughter, turned their heads, and smiled to see two Trainees in such high spirits.

  The farther they went from the Palace, the more crowded the streets became. At first, all of the traffic was on foot, but before long they were sharing the pavement with ox-carts, pack-laden donkeys, and a few horsemen. Their pace was leisurely, but was never so slow that either of them felt impatient, and both Companions gazed in every direction with great interest. Lan rather enjoyed looking around; this was yet another part of the city he hadn't yet had a chance to see. In this weather, there were few open stalls, but the shops seemed to be doing a brisk business. The stalls that were there tended toward hot food and drink: handfuls of roasted chestnuts; hot tea and cider; mulled ale; hot pies. The only aromas on the cold air were savory—stewing meat, the spices of mulled ale, the hearty scent of hot chestnuts, the sweet intoxication of pastry. Pie vendors also walked the street with trays of pies. One of them approached the boys, and Lan bought a pair of apple pies to share with Tuck. A small child ran up with a gift of a carrot for each Companion. They munched the spicy treats as they continued on out of the city. The streets were very narrow here, and quite noisy. Besides people talking at the tops of their lungs, oxen lowing, donkeys braying, hooves clicking on the pavement, and wheels clattering, there were the sounds of commerce. Butchers wielded cleavers or made sausage with much clanking of gears, tinkers mended pans, blacksmiths shoed animals or beat out utensils, knives were sharpened, wood hewn, furniture built. From the taverns, singing and laughter drifted out every time a door opened. From cookshops, a hundred different dinner dishes added their aroma to the breeze, and a hundred cooks and all their helpers added to the clamor.

  Lan loved it. This was his home village writ large; he adored the bustle, the fact that there were things to be seen no matter where you looked. He could have spent an entire day just watching the people at all their myriad activities.

  Gradually, the bustle ebbed, the buildings were spaced farther apart, and traffic eased. There were still plenty of people around, but they didn't have to shout to be heard. Children shrieked and played; there wasn't much snow around, since most of it had been trampled hard or swept away by now, so they bobbed along, bundled up like so many balls of clothing ready for the laundry, in clumsy, complicated games of tag.

  Then, suddenly, a final wall loomed up in front of Lan and Tuck, this one attended by a pair of Guardsmen in the lighter blue and silver of the regular troops. It was taller than any of the buildings around it, a real defensive structure, with watchtowers at intervals and more Guards patrolling atop it. The Trainees passed beneath it, and were out into the country.

  This was not one of the more heavily-trafficked roads into Haven, so there weren't any of the big wagons that brought in farm produce or carried away goods. Instead, there were a few small carts on the road, and one or two riders, and the two of them. A wide meadow, snow-covered and dotted with sheep and milk cows, stretched on either side of the road all the way up to the wall. It was kept cleared to prevent anyone from approaching without warning. This was common land, and anyone who wished to could tether a cow or a sheep, or run a flock of geese out here. Many folk clubbed together to put their animals under a common shepherd, cowherd, or goose girl. There were no geese out here now—a sign that the Midwinter Feast was near. They were being fattened on grain in pens, in preparation for their appearance on many a table.

  "Want a gallop?" Tuck asked, now that they were out in the open.

  For answer, Kalira launched herself like an arrow from a bow, Tuck's Dacerie following her with great enthusiasm. Lan bent low over Kalira's neck, laughing, as Tuck caught up with them.

  This wasn't a race. Instead, they were matching their paces, so perfectly that they could probably have traded mounts in mid-gallop. Full Heralds with more practice could do just that, and before he and Tuck finished their riding lessons, so would they.

  The Companions slowed to a fast walk as they reached the end of the common land and reached the first farms. Neither of the Companions were even breathing heavily, and Tuck and Lan were laughing with sheer exhilaration.

  "Now that is something we'll be able to do as much as we like!" Tuck promised. "Da and Ma don't mind, as long as we don't scare the stock!"
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br />   "We'll just stay out of the milch-cow pastures," Lan promised. "I've been a country boy, too, you know, and I don't think it's particularly amusing to stampede the cattle. But—how's the hunting?" He waited hopefully for the answer.

  "Good bird hunting, especially pheasant," Tuck replied, smiling at the gleam in Lan's eye. "We don't bother the foxes unless they go after the yard fowl. If you really want to go after something big, we can organize a deer- or a boar-hunt, but we're careful about how many we take from the home woods."

  "I'd like that, but I'll be satisfied with rabbit and birds," Lan replied truthfully. "We'll only have a fortnight, after all, and I don't want to intrude on your time with your family."

  "Oh, don't worry, you won't!" Tuck chuckled. "And I'd better warn you about Merry, my little sister. She's just discovered boys, and she falls in love every time she meets a new one. You're not bad-looking and you're going to be a Herald, so she'll probably start making calf eyes at you the minute you cross the threshold."

  "I'll try not to hurt her feelings," Lan promised.

  :And I'll try not to tease you about it too much,: Kalira chimed in.

  "We can always stay out of her way most of the day, and Ma won't let her make too big a loon of herself in the evenings," Tuck chuckled.

  The farms they passed looked virtually identical; thatch-roofed, snow-covered buildings with big stone barns, hedges dividing the fields with wooden stiles built for humans and dogs to cross, cattle and sheep pawing through the snow to get at the grass or feeding from bales of hay left out for them. In the farmyards, chickens and ducks jostled each other for grain and vegetable peelings while pigs grunted hopefully in their sties attached to the barns. Some farms boasted a pond full of geese and ducks as well. The figures of the farm folk, made small by the distance, made their way among the buildings at their chores.

  "I'll help with the chores," Lan said, suddenly moved to offer by the recollection of how many chores a farm family usually had. "I don't mind, and that will make sure you get some time to have some fun, too."

  "That'll make things easier, thanks," Tuck said gratefully, without any awkwardness over the offer. "I usually get wood chopping and water carrying when I'm home—we don't have a pump in the kitchen, so we fill a cistern above it; there's no well under the house, so we're kind of stuck. That's a lot of water."

  "Well, it'll be half of a lot of water," Lan laughed. "Which ought to be some comfort to you!"

  *

  THEY reached Tuck's home just at sunset, with scarlet light streaming across the white snow and the entire sky on fire. Tuck's home looked very like every other farm they'd passed; the house was a trifle larger, perhaps, but otherwise it was the same stone building, stone barn, thatched roofs, chicken coop with its own thatched roof, dove cot, pig sty, and cows coming in from the field to be milked. This was primarily a dairy farm, close as it was to Haven; the income came from milk, cream, butter, cheese, and eggs, and the vegetables and animals they raised mostly went to their own table. As a consequence, the barn was enormous. The cattle were a pampered lot, cossetted and petted. Each had her own stall with her name over it; each was cared for tenderly. Tuck's family didn't even slaughter their own cattle for beef; weaned bull calves were sent elsewhere, and the cows who could no longer give milk were allowed to play nursemaid to the newly-weaned female calves until they were old enough to join the milch herd.

  Not that they didn't eat beef; they traded for it. They also raised a few sheep as well as pigs for meat, but no one was allowed to make a pet of them.

  All this Lan knew from Tuck's stories of his family, and it all made very good sense to him.

  As they turned off the road and took the path leading to the farm, someone came out of the house and spotted them. Waving wildly until they waved back, the figure jumped up and down, then turned back and ran into the house. A moment later, more figures poured out of the house, until there were a good dozen waving at them and shouting greetings.

  Tuck and Dacerie launched into a gallop; Lan and Kalira continued at a more sedate pace. When Tuck reached his family, he spilled out of the saddle and into their arms for a hearty exchange of embraces and back slapping. Lan grinned, although he couldn't even imagine his own family indulging in such antics.

  By the time he and Kalira reached the group, most of the greeting was over. He dismounted with a bit more dignity and took the hand that Tuck's mother extended to him.

  "I can't begin to thank you for this hospitality, Mistress Chester," he began, when the rosy-cheeked woman waved his thanks aside, and clasped his hand in both of hers.

  "Call me Ma, youngling," she insisted. "Or Ma Chester, if you'd druther. No formal nonsense amongst friends in holiday, I always say."

  Ma Chester's ginger-colored hair and sparkling green eyes were the duplicate of her son's, and although her figure was ample enough, she was by no means the roly-poly dumpling that farm wives were portrayed as in city stories. She worked hard, and she was as sturdy and well-muscled as any of her sons.

  "Well, you still have my thanks, Ma Chester," he replied, grinning. "And I promised Tuck I'd share his chores with him, so don't you try and sneak him off to do them alone!"

  "A promise is a promise, so I shan't," she agreed, smiling broadly. "Pa Chester's a-milking, so you'll see him soon's you take the ladies to the barn, and about half the rest of the brood, but I'll make you known to the flock—"

  She introduced him to her four youngest children, who stared at him merrily from blue or green eyes. One boy and three girls, they were, with the youngest being the boy—Sheela, Trinny, Cassie, and Jan. The rest of the mob were servants or hired workers, whom she introduced just the same as her children. The hired workers took the morning chores, allowing the master and his children to sleep a little past dawn; in return, the master and his children took all the evening chores, permitting the hired hands to have their dinner and go home to their own families early.

  With the introductions over for the moment, the crowd returned to dinner, and Lan and Tuck led their Companions into the barn.

  A dusky light filled the barn; carefully shielded oil lamps placed in wrought-iron cages fastened to the great beams that supported the hayloft gave off a diffused illumination. The cattle were all in their stalls, some munching placidly on their hay, the last few being milked. A sweet odor of hay and milk filled the barn, and the swish-swish of milk spurting into pails was the only sound besides the munching of hay and the occasional hoof stamp or snort.

  "Aye, Tuck!" called Pa Chester from the back of the barn. "Ye're here, then! And hallo to ye too, young Lavan!"

  "Heyla, Master Chester!" Lan called, "Glad I am to be here! I've given your lady my thanks, but you must take them as well."

  "Ah, 'tis naught, we're glad for your company, youngling!" Pa Chester replied. "And you'll be calling me Pa, same as Tuck, an' ye please!"

  "Yes, sir!" Lan replied, stifling a chuckle.

  He followed Tuck, who led Dacerie to the rear of the barn, and there were two stalls—open, box stalls, with ample mangers filled with hay and oats, hock-deep in sweet, fresh straw, and buckets filled with fresh water. The stalls had no doors, so that Dacerie and Kalira could come and go as they pleased, exactly as in the stalls in the Companions' Stable at the Collegium.

  Greatly pleased, though not surprised, Lan unsaddled Kalira and gave her a good rubdown, covering her with her special fitted blanket. Saddle and saddle blanket went over the sides of the stall, bitless bridle was hung on a peg at the front, and then he picked up his packs and left Kalira to her meal. He emerged just in time to be introduced to the rest of Tuck's family.

  These were three boys and two girls; Merry, who as Tuck had prophesied, immediately began to make eyes at him, her sister Ajela, and Tuck's brothers Hal, Stane, and Guy. Pa Chester he already knew, a hearty blue-eyed, straw-haired farmer, plain as a post and cheerful as a sparrow. The boys were like him; Tuck clearly took after his mother. Merry was blonde as well; Ajela a true strawb
erry blonde and much the prettier of the two, though Lan doubted that she was aware of the fact.

  With dusk fading and the stars beginning to come out, the group trooped into the kitchen for dinner, as cheerful an affair as any meal at the Collegium. Tuck's brothers and sisters bombarded him with questions about the Collegium; Lan kept quiet and listened. Tonight's meal was rabbit pie, mashed turnips with sweet butter, scones, clotted cream, and plenty of jam. There was more than enough for everyone; seconds, and even third helpings were the rule in the Chester household. Everyone worked hard and had the healthiest of appetites.

  There was one other member of the family that Lan had not yet met, to whom he was introduced before dinner. This was Granny Chester, Pa Chester's mother. Though very old, she was not at all frail; it was she who still spun most of the wool knitted into stockings and winter garments for the family. She did a great deal of the knitting itself. She taught the girls to sew, weave, and embroider—taught the boys, too, if anyone could catch them often enough to make them sit still for the lessons. Tuck was one of the few boys at the Collegium who had the skills to help out with the sewing and mending, and he made no bones about the fact that he greatly enjoyed being the only rooster in the henhouse.