Choices

by Mercedes Lackey

  “Collector?” Uli asked.

  Cyrus took a step back. “He collects gambling debts. Merchants hire him to get their bills paid.” He looked at his brother and sister. “Okay, yeah, I had some debt, and I had to pay him. But nothing recently.”

  “But why would a debt collector purchase lumber from us?” Uli said.

  “He didn’t,” said a deep voice from the door.

  All three of them turned to see Osric standing inside the room, a key in his hand. He had a man standing on either side of him, each with a sword in hand. Uli recognized them from the apothecary shop.

  “I’ve been looking for those receipts ever since Cade died. I assumed he’d told one of you. I thought it would have been Uli.” He looked at Uli and shook his head.

  Uli removed his brother’s cloak. “I think I’m starting to see the truth now,” he said as he folded the cloak and set it on the table. “You accumulated a lot of gambling debt in Declaire, didn’t you, Uncle Osric? So much that this Goram Marog came looking for you. You had to think fast. So you made a deal with Stanis to sell him Norton lumber. You pocketed the money and then paid Morag off.”

  “You stole from Father?” Cyrus stared at Osric.

  “He also stole from Stanis,” Eda said as she stood by Cyrus. “You created those receipts not only to keep track of what was taken from the lumber yard but also what was paid out. And then you used their existence to threaten Stanis and his reputation. Selling Norton lumber under his own name?”

  Uli moved to the right as his sister spoke. He was listening, but he was also watching his uncle and the two men. He didn’t think it was coincidence they were all in the same room together. :Sill?:

  :I am being hunted. Just a moment.:

  :What?:

  Osric began a long, slow clap. “I am impressed. Not so much with you, Eda, but with Cyrus. I always assumed he wasn’t as gifted as you.” He looked at Uli. “Or Uli. Come out from behind them, Herald. I don’t like you lurking in the background.”

  Uli stepped forward, just in front of his brother and sister. “Why are you hunting my Companion?”

  “Ah . . . I forgot you can talk to the magic horse. Now that you three know how Cade died and why, you can’t leave this room alive. So I’ve planted suspicions around town that Eda had returned and had kidnapped her brother Uli. She forced him to bring her back here, where she would be joined by her brother Cyrus, and the two of them would be caught removing those receipts—receipts they created for just the reasons you gave, Eda. Stanis is ready to back me up that it was the two of you who stole from your father and then killed him to cover it up. And as for poor Uli—” Osric gave Uli a sad face. “—he tried to be the heroic Herald, but he failed as he and his horse were killed by his siblings. A tragic tale.”

  He stepped forward and held out his hand. “I’ll take those receipts now.”

  :Sill?:

  :All is well. I’m afraid Osric hired men with bad aim. They’re sleeping now. Will you disarm Osric?:

  :Yes. But doesn’t he know what my gift is?:

  :Does he?:

  Something felt wrong as he used his ability to Fetch the two mens’ swords to him. Once they were in his hands, Cyrus attacked one guard while Eda threw a knife at the other. Both men went down together.

  “Uli, look out!”

  He hadn’t been paying attention to Osric as Cyrus lunged at Uli. His brother tackled him to the floor as Eda yelled out. Something cracked in the air as the door was broken down. Uli managed to squirm out from under his brother as Sill came through the doorway. She reared up in front of Osric as he screamed and threw up his arms. Eda grabbed the metal box and slammed it into the back of his head. Osric fell beside his two unconscious guards.

  Uli looked at his brother and saw the knife sticking out of Cyrus’ back. Osric had tried to throw the knife at Uli, but Cyrus had stopped it with his body.

  “Cyrus!” Uli shook his brother, but he wasn’t moving.

  :Quiet, my love. Cyrus will be okay if you stop shaking him like that.:

  Eda moved to her brothers’ side as people started flooding into the room. One of them was Master Sorenson. He took one look at the scene, looked at Uli, and barked orders for a Healer to be brought as soon as possible. Eda put her arms around Uli’s shoulders and hugged him tight.

  * * *

  • • •

  It took most of a day to sort out what happened. Everyone took the word of a Herald without question. Osric and his men were arrested and taken away, and Uli took possession of the receipts as evidence of his uncle’s treachery. A day later, he and Eda and Sorenson came to Cyrus’ room when they learned he was awake and filled him in on what had happened.

  “So everything worked out,” Cyrus said.

  “Yes. But you don’t look happy,” Uli said.

  Cyrus pushed himself up in his bed and asked if he could speak to Uli alone. The others left the room and closed the door.

  “What is it?” Uli asked.

  “See that box over the mantel? Bring it here.”

  Uli did as his brother asked.

  “Open it.”

  He did. Inside was a single letter addressed to Uli. It was in his father’s handwriting.

  “That letter is how I knew how Father really felt about you. I found it in his room after he died. He’d kept it under his mattress, on the side where our mother once lay. I knew it was private, but after what he’d said to you that day, and how it affected me, I wanted to know what he wrote. And I decided that if it was bad, I’d destroy it, and you’d never know. That way he couldn’t hurt you anymore.”

  Uli swallowed as he stared at the letter, afraid to take it out of the box. “You didn’t destroy it.”

  “No. Because you need to read it, Uli. You need to know exactly how father felt. Those are his words.” He smiled at Uli. “Take it. Go be with your Companion and . . .” Cyrus blinked a few times. Uli realized his brother was trying to hold back tears. “And don’t be afraid to cry, Uli. Don’t ever be afraid again.”

  Herald Uli Norton took the letter from the box with shaking hands, left the home of his birth and with his Companion at his side, walked to the business his family built.

  And there he sat on the floor of his father’s office, cradled beside Sill, and read.

  My dearest Uli,

  This moment is when I am happiest your mother insisted I learn to craft my own letters, because these are words and thoughts I cannot leave to another’s hand.

  First and foremost, I love you. I am proud of you. And though my actions that day were that of a cruel father, I feel I must explain myself. Only to you.

  It is not you that I am angry at, nor your brother or sister, but at myself. In you I saw the possibilities of the Norton name, of the business continuing with an honest son at the helm.

  And I saw a way out for myself. I inherited my talent for wood from my own father, and it was decided long ago that continuing the woodworking tradition was the best way to provide for my family. But it was never what I dreamed of as my future. I wanted to travel, to see the world, experience life—but there was always family, and duty, and business. I thought . . . I hoped, with you in charge of the business, I could finally see the world. I had always wanted to see those places the Bards sing of, especially the Pelagiris Forest, and my greatest of dreams, to see a Firebird.

  I admit, in shame now, that when you were Chosen, I was filled with anger. And disappointment. But not in you, my Uli, but in knowing I would not see the world as you would as a Herald. I was jealous.

  I hope that when I pass from this world, you will see these words, for though your mother would insist I send this hours after it is finished, I am still a man with faults. And I am ashamed of how I treated you. I hope you will understand, Uli, that I do love you, that I want only the best for you.

  And that I a
m proud of you. Above all else, if you do not believe the former, believe that statement after I am gone.

  Be the best Herald you can be, Uli.

  I love you.

  Cade Norton.

  PS: Try to see a Firebird as you travel, and when you do, think of me.

  The years of fear, and anger and disappointment melted as Uli let the letter fall from his fingers and leaned into his Companion as he wept with sorrow . . . and joy.

  Of Crows and Karsites

  Kristin Schwengel

  “I’m bored,” Rinton announced, gazing up at the near-cloudless blue sky from the grassy clearing he was lying in. The days were shortening, but a sunny day like this kept the autumn chill from the air.

  Linx raised his head from the mountain-fed spring and stared at his Chosen, water dripping from his muzzle. :You do know, don’t you, that among certain peoples, ‘May your life be interesting’ is a very potent curse?:

  “We’re nearly finished with this Circuit, and there’s been nothing beyond the most minor of disputes to settle among the locals. You’d hardly know we’re on the border at all. We haven’t even had particularly foul weather, and certainly no brigands.” Rinton ran one hand through his dark hair, the short strands standing nearly straight up. It wasn’t that he wanted something bad to happen, but this was his first Circuit near Karse, and he had somehow expected that the mere location would change what he did as a Herald.

  :It is a small, remote portion of the border. The mountains take care of a lot of disputes on their own. And you know that Selenay and the Heraldic Circle would never have sent a relatively green Herald out here—even if he does have a knack for languages and was personally tutored in Karsite by Weaponsmaster Alberich—if her advisors hadn’t been able to assure her that it was likely to be a, well, boring Circuit.: The Companion ambled over and nudged his Chosen, icy droplets spattering his Whites. :But if we want to make the next Waystation before dark, we need to get moving.:

  Rinton sighed, then stood, carefully folding the blanket he had been lying on—it was acceptable for a Herald to appear on Circuit in battle- or blood-stained Whites, but grass stains from idle lolling in an empty clearing? Never.

  Reattaching the bedroll to his packs, he mounted. “No time like the present, eh, Linx?”

  What answer the Companion might have given was silenced as a wave of . . . something . . . swept over them. Fear, anxiety, distress, all crowded into their minds, threatening to overwhelm any other thoughts. Linx shook his head against it, and belatedly Rinton put up a Mindshield. His only Gift was Animal Mindspeech, and he had become sloppy about maintaining shields when out on Circuit.

  “What was that?”

  :Empathic projection. And a strong one. From the south and a bit to the west. Not so far as the Holderlands:

  Rinton turned to the south and raked a hand through his hair again. Karse.

  “Some sort of new weapon they’re trying? To fill unshielded Valdemarans with fear?” He nudged the Companion, who started down the road at a ground-eating trot. This was what he had hoped for: something different. Wherever this projection was coming from, they needed to find it. And stop it, if they could. And if not, get as much information about it as possible so the Queen and the Council could deal with it.

  Linx shook his head. :Karse hates all the Gifted, but I would think most especially the Empaths. It’s such a vague Gift, I can’t see them thinking to attempt such a thing. Weaponsmaster Alberich would know more, but I don’t think they value Empathy at all.: A pause stretched between them. :And I think it would destroy an Empath to be used in that way.:

  “But don’t they have Healers, acting on the Sunlord’s behalf?” Rinton frowned, shifting his lanky frame to match Linx’s smooth gait. “Healers are Empaths, too, and they are not shattered by working in Karse. Their responsibility is always to Heal those in need.”

  :Our knowledge of how they use their Healers is . . . uncertain. From what the Weaponsmaster says, most of what they have are herb- and knife-healers, not much in the way of what we call true Healing. Most Karsites simply say something about the Sunlord’s blessings and that’s the end of it. But I’ll leave that to the priests to argue.:

  Linx’s stride lengthened. :We have more important things to think about. No Waystation for us tonight, I think. We should make it to the Border nearest whatever it is by dark, to explore tomorrow.:

  * * *

  • • •

  Linx objected, of course, but Rinton left his Companion in the thickest woods, close to the Valdemar border, before his early morning scouting. The terrain looked rougher farther into the trees, and even with a Companion’s preternatural sure-footedness, he didn’t want to risk a hoof getting caught in rocks or an animal hole.

  “Besides, if anything happens to me, you’ll have a better chance to get back from here—and if there’s another projection that has any harmful effects, you might be out of range.” He gave a crooked grin. “You’ve always said my mind’s the weakest in Valdemar, so I’m the best choice to get close to whatever it is.”

  Linx shook his head, bridle rings rattling, then pressed his broad forehead against Rinton’s chest. :You know I never mean it. Be careful.:

  Rinton nodded, suddenly unable to trust his voice. In their years together, he’d never heard such a vulnerable note in his Companion’s mind-voice. He touched his own forehead to Linx’s neck, to calm both of them, before turning and slipping between the trees, heading in the direction the projections were coming from. The waves of feeling had continued as they had ridden yesterday and again this morning, but since that first surge they had been weaker, somehow muted. All, however, had carried the same emotional tone: fear and distress.

  Rinton moved as quickly as he could, picking his way through the rocks and brush. There was, in fact, a narrow track, just wide enough for a simple cart, but he chose to follow it hidden in the trees alongside. Around here, any traveler without a wagon or horse would be local, so anyone he might encounter would be immediately suspicious of him. He had changed from his Whites into drab traveler’s gear, but a stranger afoot in a remote area like this would still stand out.

  It took him several candlemarks to work through the undergrowth to where he could see the buildings marking the end of the trade road. The town itself was just a tiny village, enclosed by a high wooden palisade, which surprised him. To spend the effort and resources to erect protective walls around such a small community suggested either a great level of fear or a great need to shield something of high value. He narrowed his eyes, wishing he dared get a little closer. From this range, the tops of the walls looked rough and uneven, as though put up in haste.

  Keeping the same distance, Rinton worked a little way around the hamlet, enough to see that the palisade completely surrounded it except for the gateway to the road. He saw no signs of activity other than smoke rising from a few of the buildings, heard no sounds other than the natural noises of the forest as he passed through. Not even a gate guard stood outside the wooden wall. Something in this small village was very wrong, and he had no idea how to find out what without exposing himself to potential danger.

  Finally, he sidled back to the thicker woods and hurried to where he had left Linx, his mind proposing ever more fantastical solutions.

  * * *

  • • •

  :You’ve been thinking about this the whole time, how to learn more. You’ve got an idea, haven’t you?: Rinton had shared just what he had observed through Mindspeech, keeping his other thoughts to himself as he backtracked to his Companion.

  “You’re not the only one who can dredge up bits of distant cultures and the forgotten past. I’m thinking of the siege tactics of Dread Varang.” Though many people thought of them as mere stories to entertain the littles, the legends of Varang the bandit captain held kernels of truth. “Particularly the birds.”

  The Companion was qui
et for a moment as he sifted his own memories; then his blue eyes held Rinton’s. :Absolutely not.:

  Rinton blinked under the intensity of that gaze until he realized what Linx was thinking. “No, not tying burning twigs to their tails to set the town on fire—what kind of Animal–Mindspeaking Herald do you take me for? I just want to use one as a messenger. There are a lot of crows around, and some crows are smart enough to really understand what I want. If I send out a questioning Mindcall, I can try to get one to carry a note to someone inside. If I’m lucky, I’ll get one smart enough to give me clues about what’s going on beforehand.”

  :And we’d better do it quickly. The morning is gone already, and the less time we spend on this side of the border, the happier we’ll all be.:

  * * *

  • • •

  :?: Rinton pitched his call to the level that registered in his mind as “bird” and watched the dark silhouettes that perched along the topmost eaves of the town, barely visible over the palisade. Almost as soon as he had sent his call, the largest shape lifted its head, followed by a few of the others. A moment later, the large bird launched itself into the air with a hoarse caw, flying unerringly in his direction.

  :It looks like your idea might work.: Since everything around the village had remained quiet and unthreatening, Linx had insisted on joining him at the edge where the forest thinned. How a large white horse could remain unobserved was beyond Rinton’s understanding, but time and again the Companions had shown themselves more skilled at hiding in plain sight than any number of the common sneak thieves that worked the seedier areas of Haven.