He bent to slide another envelope under another door. Marli noticed the way his hand trembled.
“You’ve heard nothing from him, I gather?”
“Not a single line. I’ve sent him hundreds of notes. He gets all of my best work, you know? Every time I come up with a witty lyric or write a poem that really captures the way I feel, I send it to him. But he—”
Simen clamped his jaw shut. Marched onward.
Marli followed, drifting behind like a watchful ghost. What should she say? What would give comfort without being an empty reassurance?
“Perhaps he simply hasn’t had a chance to respond,” she finally said.
“Like you haven’t had a chance to read your friend’s correspondence?” Simen laughed without humor. “I just want to know at this point. Has he moved on to someone new, or has he merely decided he’s done with me now that I’m out of sight? If it’s over, I want to get it over with, yeah?”
He sketched a grim smile. It lay flat across his face.
A shadow of Marli’s earlier guilt moved in her belly again, but she pushed that aside. “I’ve the gift of Farsight. It’s not so good at distance, but might be I could try to have a look?”
Now, why had she done that? It’s not so good at distance was an understatement at best, a blatant falsehood at worst. But she couldn’t help herself when someone was hurting; Barret had always said she offered more of herself in these cases than she ought.
Hopeful surprise tugged Simen’s grim expression into something softer. It made him look a bit more like her Barret, but luckily the effect flickered away before she could draw the breath to gasp.
“You’d do that for me? I thought all you Heralds would be too busy to help with something so unimportant.”
“It’s important to you, though.” Marli said. “I’m willing to try. But I’m serious when I say my gift isn’t much use beyond, oh, the bounds of Haven. I fear my specialty is turning out to be a little more local.”
But Simen grabbed the last three letters from his mailbag and moved to make the deliveries with renewed fervor. “Any help is much appreciated, I assure you. Even a blurry look at home will be more than what I’ve got right now, after all.”
His mood improved so rapidly Marli worried she’d promised more than she could achieve, despite her attempts to clarify her abilities. The remnants of her earlier headache stirred back to life, reminding her in no uncertain terms of her inability to stretch her Farsight. But it’d break her heart if she couldn’t manage to glean some answers for Simen now.
Tentatively, she reached for Taren. His presence was usually a great source of strength for her, and she always managed to look farthest when he helped her, but in the aftermath of one of their tiffs, his support was iffy.
:Dearest? Are you busy?:
:Not yet,: came the grumbled reply.
Marli smiled. :Could you lend me a bit of a hand? My new friend here has got a personal problem I’d like to try to help him with.:
:You’re always finding personal problems to help with,: Taren said, but his tone was affectionate. :Or maybe they’re always finding you. What’s the crisis tonight?:
:The lover he left at home hasn’t sent him a single note in a year’s time.:
:Hmph. Not that you’d know a thing about that.:
:I haven’t left a lover behind! Barret and I parted ways as friends.: Friends in name if not in function. A piece of Marli’s heart would always live in Barret’s, no matter how far apart they were.
:Friends who don’t write to one another, I suppose. Does your letter carrier friend have anything to say on the matter of your mountain from Yerra? I can’t imagine the sight of it was much of a balm for his aching heart.:
Marli made a noise, something between a grunt and a gulp, and Simen quirked an eyebrow. She waved his concern away, muttering, “Companion.”
:Haven’t you lectured me enough today? I’m trying to help someone who can’t do for himself. Will you lend me support when I try my Farsight for him, or not?:
Taren hesitated a long moment, and Marli imagined him swaying side to side with indecision in the Companion’s Field. :If you manage to see something of use for him, will you promise to follow his brave example and look back at Fairbend?:
:Why would I do that? I already know what I’d see, and there’s nothing I can do about any problems happening there, anyway. Fairbend is Yerra’s to care for now.: She’d swallowed that bitter pill once already, forced it down her dry throat that night on the outskirts of her home, and reaped what benefit it had to offer in the form of her life here at the Collegium. Taking another dose would spoil what good that unwanted medicine had done her.
Taren’s voice gained a dull edge, an unhidden disappointment. :I can’t help you if you won’t help yourself. Ask for my aid when you’re ready to face this thing you’ve built up of your old home.:
His words faded at the end, as though he’d turned his back on her. Marli saw him cantering across the Field, heading for a cluster of other white horselike figures.
She pressed her lips together and willed herself not to scream. She had no pillow handy to catch a scream leastways. Instead, she banished the images—she’d been using her Farsight without intending to, curse it—and put a smile on before turning to Simen.
The boy was watching her, his curly head tilted to the left, the brown envelope from Yerra held in both hands. The crinkles of his earlier abuse still stood stark on the paper, but no trace of the anger that had led to their creation remained in Simen’s face.
Unaware of how Marli’s Companion had just walked away from her, he smiled. “Why don’t we head to the kitchen now? You can try your Farsight for me, and I’ll sit with you while you read this letter, okay?”
Marli nodded, though her mouth went dry. She’d not eaten since breakfast, but she doubted she’d be able to get anything down, least of all another dose of that old medicine.
* * *
• • •
The tables in the kitchen were smooth, solid, and sturdy in a way the dining hall tables weren’t. Though they were built of the same wood, Marli thought—nice reliable oak with dark knots and dusky whorls—the kitchen tables showed their use for good, honest work. They lacked varnish, and thus showed the stains of a hundred spills despite clearly having been wiped clean with vigor twice as often. Knives and scouring sand had left grooves along the surface, easy for a late-dining Trainee to run a fingernail along absently while listening to the clatter and clangs of the kitchen staff cleaning up for the evening.
Most of the staff had left by now, and they’d banked all the fires but one stove. Marli and Simen were told to clean their own dishes once they were finished.
It felt as though the two of them were alone in the world, stranded within a single, flickering patch of light in the darkness.
Simen sat across from her, and the brown envelope lay propped against a plate of sliced bread between them.
Marli did her best to pretend the letter wasn’t there, focusing instead on the spiced barley and pork the cooks had rescued for them. She managed, despite her worries, to take in a good amount of her late dinner. The food felt heavy and warm in her belly, not uncomfortable, and her earlier headache had faded away to a mere whisper of discomfort. A readiness uncurled in her, a willingness to try her Farsight at distance once again today. She felt she’d achieve a little something, at least. She had a real reason to look this time, someone who needed what information she could find. It was more motivation than her lessons gave her.
Curling her fingers around Simen’s, she smiled. “Let’s try it, shall we? If I manage to see anything, then you’ll know, once and for all. Get it over with, right?”
All the excitement Simen had displayed as they finished his deliveries together had disappeared over the course of their meal. The shadows draped over his face made him look haggard. H
is voice, when it came, was very small.
“Maybe this is a bad idea.”
Marli sat back. “We don’t have to if you don’t want.”
Simen blew air out his nose and turned his face towards the stove. “It’s just, now that we come to it . . . what will I do if he really doesn’t love me anymore? He’s all I’ve ever wanted, but if he doesn’t . . .”
“We can do it some other time, when you’re ready.”
“I thought I was ready.” His gaze grew harder, as if the stove had done him wrong. “What if I’m never ready? Or worse, what if I’m ready just in time for it to be too late?”
“You’ll look when the time is right for you to look.”
Finally, Simen turned his furrowed brow on her. “How am I supposed to know when that is? You can’t tell me. You don’t know yourself.”
He flicked at the brown envelope, sending it skittering across the table. The corner jabbed into the skin of Marli’s forearm and bounced back.
Marli worked to keep her tone even. “I know exactly what I’ll read in these letters. Looking won’t change it or make it hurt any less. But even if I didn’t have my own problems to sort through, I couldn’t tell you when the time is right for you. Only you can know. That’s what I keep trying to tell Taren, my Companion, but he won’t stop pushing. It makes me so—so—well,” she huffed, blinking a sudden blurriness from her vision. Was it truly so difficult for Taren to understand that she needed his support no matter her decision? Didn’t he trust her to know what the right step was for herself?
For a few agonizing heartbeats, she ached to feel—just one more time!—Barret’s strong arm around her shoulders, his breath against her cheek, his fingers twined with hers as he sat silent but so comfortingly there with her while she grappled with the problems of Fairbend.
The urge to reach back to the piece of herself that still lingered within Barret’s heart grew unbearable for the space of a few ragged breaths.
No one would ever love her the way he did.
Marli closed her eyes and filled her lungs. Then she emptied them slowly, focusing herself, grounding herself as her instructors had taught her. She was here, now, with Simen’s problem to deal with.
She opened her eyes. Simen was looking at the brown envelope and biting his lip again.
Marli reached for his hand once more. “I simply don’t push people when they’re not ready.”
A log in the stove fell, and the fire popped and brightened. For a moment, their little island of light expanded, and the shadows around them recoiled. Then the spray of embers drifted down to join the ash. The circle of light closed in once more.
Simen lifted his eyes to meet Marli’s, and he turned his hand so his palm was flush with hers. He licked his lips, opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Moisture trickled between their hands.
And as he teetered on the precipice of his indecision, Marli remained solid, still, there, the deep-rooted tree that would support him whichever way he tumbled.
* * *
• • •
Midmorning the next day found Marli emerging from the Salle, her muscles singing and a sheen of sweat making her Grays stick to her skin. A cool breeze ran across the path from the Salle to the Companion’s Field, and Marli turned her face to catch it. She thought she detected a hint of oncoming rain under the warm, horsey smells of the Companions, though she was no weather reader. The sky was a washed-out gray overhead.
She felt a bit washed-out gray herself.
She had some time before her next Farsight lesson. Time enough to visit Taren. They might be on the rocks at the moment, but Marli had never shirked her time with him.
The crunch of gravel under her boots became the swish of long grass as she stepped from the path to lean her elbows on the rough plank of the fence surrounding the Companion’s Field. When she closed her eyes and looked out with her Farsight, she found Taren already cantering toward her.
:Good morning, beloved,: he said, reserved.
Marli returned his greeting, and then they lapsed into silence. It wasn’t uncommon for them, and, Marli remembered, it hadn’t been uncommon between herself and Barret, either. Sometimes when two people knew each other better than they knew anyone else, a few quiet seconds spent together reflected that bond better than a thousand words spoken aloud.
Taren broke the silence first. :I am sorry I chose not to help you last night. I hope you were able to find something of comfort for your Bard friend?:
Marli tapped the toe of her boot against the fence post. :He decided not to look back. He wasn’t ready.:
:Truly?: Taren bobbed his head in surprise. :But I thought he was set upon it. I thought the only reason he hadn’t already was, as you said, he couldn’t do for himself.:
Marli kept up her tapping, the dull thump resonating through her tired body. :We humans are good at telling ourselves things are one way if saying it will save ourselves from a bit of pain. We say “I would if only I could” until the moment we suddenly can. It might not make sense to you, since you’ve never really left your home . . . :
She nodded in the direction of the stables, where other Companions frolicked or lounged together.
:Leaving home—truly leaving it with no intention to return—it has an effect on the people we leave behind. Sometimes it changes the way people think about us. Sometimes—:
She gasped as the thought hit her. Barret hadn’t been the most vocal on the subject of Heralds in Fairbend, but he had agreed, at least in part, with the general distrust.
What if he thought those awful, hateful things about her now?
All this time she’d thought the thing that had held her back from reading Yerra’s letters was the confirmation of Barret’s marriage to Yerra in her place, but if that were true, she would have been able to brace herself and get it over with, as Taren had begged her to do for so long now. Her once-betrothed could marry another and still hold that piece of her in his heart, after all.
No, in truth, her fear was no different from Simen’s. It was the unknown factor: what would Marli do if Barret, the sweet, romantic, supportive partner of her old life, no longer found her worthy of his love? How could she handle it if she had been banished from him the same as she likely had been from her home, her family?
After all, not a single one of the mountain of letters she’d received had been from him.
The pain of such a possibility washed over her and left her struggling to get air into her lungs. She clenched both hands around the fence railing. Rough splinters dug into her palm, but she didn’t care.
Taren stepped forward and nuzzled her hair. The touch of his warm, hay-and-honey breath on Marli’s skin felt so much like Barret’s embrace. :I’m sorry. You’re right. I have never . . . lost anyone that way. I don’t know how much it hurts.:
Marli tangled her fingers in his mane as her eyes burned.
The moment stretched on, silent but for the whisper of the wind and the distant whicker of the other Companions. Then the Collegium bell rang, and the chatter and laughter of students shifting between classes filled the air.
Taren pulled back and fixed his blue eyes on hers. :If you don’t want to do your Farsight lesson today . . . :
Marli chewed her lip. She could use a break. Even a single day without attempting to make her Farsight do what it didn’t want to would help. The idea of lounging here with Taren held a whole cartload of appeal. Or she could use her Farsight to find someone nearby who needed her help. If she had a few hours to bury her revelation under someone else’s problems—
“Marli!”
Marli turned to see Simen running up the gravel path. His face was flushed with the effort, and when he reached her, he had to put his hands on his knees for a few moments while he caught his breath. Finally, he straightened, adjusted his rust-red uniform, and nodded.
“Do you hav
e a minute? I’m ready. To look back, I mean. I’m ready.”
Marli blinked. “Already? But last night you were so—”
Simen scowled. “You said we could do it anytime, so long as I was ready. I’m ready now. If you have class here, I can wait until you have time, but I don’t want to wait longer than that.”
“Of course,” Marli said, “I’m just surprised is all. It’s—it’s a big thing you’re wanting to find out. I expected you would need more time.”
“I thought I would, too. But something you said last night really stuck with me. You said you knew what you’d find if you read any of your friend’s letters, and that looking won’t change it or make it hurt any less. Well, I’m in the same place, but opposite, you see? I don’t know what’s going on at home, and so I’m imagining a thousand scenarios, each worse than the last. But my not looking won’t change whatever it is that’s truly happening, right? So I might as well look, and know, and then I can find a way to deal with the situation instead of being angry at something that’s only in my imagination.”
Marli knew she was staring, but she couldn’t help it. Simen’s eyes were bright again, but the light wasn’t due to barely constrained tears this time. He really was ready.
Marli’s throat tightened, and she swallowed painfully. A small part of her wanted to convince Simen that he really ought to take a little more time to think carefully about his decision. She couldn’t deny the idea of having a partner in putting off the moment of pain had been comforting.
But she simply wasn’t that selfish. If the power to help him was in her, she had to try to use it. The boy was ready, he said, and she believed him.
He looked so much like Barret, standing there with that firm look in his eyes, that hard set to his jaw.
Somehow, she said, “I might not be able to see that far, remember.”
Choices Page 22