He spoke very quickly, as if Ree would reproach him for disobeying his orders. But Ree’s mind could only hold onto the central fact, the central surprise of the last few minutes. He looked up into Jem’s big blue eyes. The eyes that were looking anxiously at Ree.
“You followed me?” he said.
Jem nodded.
“Through the streets and the tunnels you followed me? All alone, you followed me?”
“Wherever you go, I go,” Jem said.
Ree blinked, wondering what he had done to deserve that kind of attention, that kind of devotion from someone like Jem. From someone brave enough to follow a hobgoblin through tunnels infested with worse creatures.
From someone brave enough to steal from soldiers after what had happened.
“I’m a hobgoblin,” he said. “Not . . . human.” A coward, who ran from everything. Who killed when he was scared. When the animal took over.
“Nonsense,” Jem said. He managed to look sterner, more adult. “You’re human, Ree. You’re good. You saved me. Without you, I would have died.”
“I killed the soldier by accident,” Ree said. “Because the rat in me got scared. I didn’t even know—” He shook his head. He did not want to remember lying under the soldier as he died. Did not want to remember the blood dripping onto him.
Jem shrugged. “Maybe. But no one forced you to free me. No one forced you to stay with me, to take care of me.”
Ree swallowed hard. “What else could I have done?” Too many memories, too many things he wanted to forget. The bloody welts on Jem’s body, the way he had just . . . given up. . . .
“You could have killed me,” Jem said. “You could have done what the soldier did.”
Despite the years of being hard, of showing nothing, Ree flinched. He could never . . . not with anyone who did not want him as much as he wanted them. Even though weakness was dangerous, he could not be angry at himself for flinching, for showing emotion. Jem was safe. He could show his true self to Jem.
If Jem saw Ree’s weakness, he did not show it. He pointed at the snake. “You could have done what he would have done. You’re human, Ree. And I will follow wherever you go.”
Ree shook himself. It seemed to him he’d been living in a long nightmare and just awakened.
He edged past the body of the snake thing, trying not to look at it. He took a deep breath, and extended his claws. “Let’s get out of here.” The bars in the grate were set wide, to let debris through. They should be far enough apart.
Jem nodded.
To Ree’s relief, the grate was wide enough for him to slip through, even if he did lose some fur on his shoulders and hips on the way.
He and Jem stumbled out of the river, into the moonlight, looking at a strange new world that held nothing they knew. Low, rolling hills stretched to the darkness of mountains, and the silver moonlight gave it all the look of a ghost land.
Ree sought Jem’s hand at the same time as the boy sought his. Their hands met, warm and moist. They stood there a moment, rat boy and street rat, facing a world of dangers they could not begin to anticipate.
“Well,” Ree said finally. “Guess we’d better get going. Got a ways to go and a lot to learn.”
“Yah.” Jem squeezed his hand. “Got a whole world to find, out here.”
They walked into the moonlight.
ALL THE AGES OF MAN
by Tanya Huff
Tanya Huff lives and writes in rural Ontario with her partner, four cats, and an unintentional Chihuahua. After sixteen fantasies, she’s written two space operas,
Valor’s Choice
and
The Better Part of Valor,
and is currently working on a series of novels spun off from her Henry Fitzroy vampire series. In her spare time she gardens and complains about the weather.
“I’M too young for this.”
Although Jors had spoken the words aloud, thrown them, as it were, out onto the wind without expecting an answer, he received one anyway.
:So you keep saying.:
“Doesn’t make it any less true.”
:You are experienced in riding circuit,: his Companion reminded him. :All you must do is teach what you know.:
Jors snorted and shifted in the saddle. “So you keep saying.”
Gervais snorted in turn. :Then perhaps you should listen.
“I’m not a teacher.”
:You are a Herald. More importantly, you are needed.:
And that was why they were heading northeast, out to the edge of their sector to meet with Herald Jennet and her greenie. To accept said greenie from the older Herald and finish out the last eleven months of her year and a half of Internship. The courier who’d brought the news of Jennet’s mother’s sickness had also brought the news that the Herald able to replace her was already in the Sector but way over on the other side of a whole lot of nothing. It was decided he’d start his circuit from there and Jennet would backtrack the much shorter distance to meet up with Jors.
The girl’s name was Alyise, her companion’s name was Donnel, and that was pretty much all Jors knew. He couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone of that name amidst the Grays during the rare times he’d been at the Collegium over the last few years and he only remembered her Companion as a long-legged colt.
The thing was, he liked being on the road and he much preferred the open spaces of the Borders to any city, so he went back on Circuit as fast as he could be reassigned. That didn’t give him much time to learn about the latest Chosen and when he did meet up with other Heralds, he was much more interested in finding out what his year-mates had been doing.
“Jennet has got to be ten years older than I am. At least. And she’s a woman.”
Strands of the Companion’s mane slid across Jors’ fingers like white silk as Gervais tossed his head. :What does her being a woman have to do with this?:
“Women are better at teaching girls. They understand girls. Me . . .” He rubbed a dribble of sweat off the back of his neck. “. . . I don’t get girls at all.”
:You seemed to understand Herald Erica. I remember her continuously agreeing with you.:
“Continuously agreeing? What are you talking about?”
:Raya and I could hear her quite clearly outside the Waystation. She kept yelling yes. Yes! Yes! Yes!:
“Oh, ha ha. Very funny. “ Jors could feel Gervais’ amusement—the young stallion did indeed think it was very funny. “As I recall, Erica and I weren’t the only two keeping company that night.”
:We were quiet.:
“Well, I’m sorry we kept you from your beauty sleep and you needn’t worry about it happening again for, oh, about eleven months.”
:You do not know that the new Herald will find you distasteful. Raya told me that her Herald found you pleasant.:
Jors sighed. Pleasant. Well, he supposed it was preferable to the alternative. “Thank you. But that’s not the point. I’ll be Alyise’s teacher, her mentor; I can’t take advantage of my position of power.”
:You will be Heralds together.:
“Yes, but . . .” He felt a subtle shift of smooth muscles below him echoed by a definite shift of attention and fell silent.
:Inar says we will meet in time for us to return to the Waystation outside of Applebay before full dark.:
If that was true, and Jors had no reason to doubt Jennet’s Companion, they were a lot closer to the crossroad than he’d thought. He glanced over his shoulder to check on Bucky and found the pack mule tucked up close where Gervais’ tail could keep the late summer insects off his face. And that was another possible problem. Mules were mules regardless of who they worked for and mules that worked for Heralds could be just as obstinate and hard to get along with as any other. They’d be adding a new mule to the mix.
It was a good thing Companions always got along.
And speaking of . . .
“Why didn’t Donnel contact you? Can’t he reach this far?”
:Inar is senior to Donnel
as you will be senior to his Chosen.:
“You’ll be senior to Donnel as well, then.”
:Yes.: Sleek white sides rose and fell as Gervais sighed.
Jors grinned. “Wishing Alyise’s Companion was a mare?”
His grin broadened as it became quite clear that Gervais had no intention of answering.
“She’s a good kid,” Jennet said, glancing over at where the youngest of the three Heralds was carefully packing away the remains of the meal they’d shared. “Eager, enthusiastic . . .”
“Exhausting?” Jors suggested as her voice trailed off.
“A little,” the older Herald admitted with a smile. “But you’re a lot younger than I am, you should be able to keep up.”
“That’s just it. I’m too young to be doing this. I’m no teacher.”
“You have doubts.”
He only just managed not to roll his eyes. “Well, yes.”
“Does your Companion doubt you?”
“Gervais?” Jors turned in time to see Gervais rising to his feet after what had clearly been a vigorous roll, his gleaming white coat flecked with bits of grass. “Gervais has never doubted me.”
“Then, if you can’t believe in yourself, believe in your Companion. And now that I’ve gifted you with my aged wisdom . . .” Grinning, she bent and lifted her saddle. “. . . we’d best get back on the road.”
Lifting his own saddle, Jors fell into step beside her. “I’m sorry to hear about your mother.”
“Yes, well, she wasn’t young when I was born, and she’s never been what you could call strong, so I can’t say that I’m surprised. I’m just glad that the Borders are so quiet right now and that there was someone close enough . . .” She smiled so gratefully at him that Jors felt himself flush. “Two someones close enough.”
Inar, given his head, had disappeared southward almost too fast for the eye to follow. One moment he, and his Herald, were a white blur against the gold of summer-dried gasses and the next, they were gone.
Gone. Leaving Jors alone with Alyise.
Alone with an attractive eighteen-year-old girl.
No. Alone with another Herald.
One he just happened to be responsible for.
Oh, Havens.
:She is a Herald. That makes her responsible for herself.:
:I was broadcasting?:
Gervais snorted. :Donnel probably heard you.:
Jors doubted that since Donnel—with a fair bit of that long-legged colt in him still—was dancing sideways away from a bobbing yellow wildflower. Alyise was laughing, probably at something Donnel had said. Their mule, right out at the end of its lead rope, turned his head just far enough for Jors to see that he looked resigned about the whole thing.
Which reminded Jors of something he’d meant to ask Jennet and forgotten. No matter, Alyise would know what had happened to their second mule.
“Spike?” She giggled. “Oh Jennet left him back at the Waystation supply post saying you’d have enough on your plate without having to deal with Spike, too. He’s not a pleasant fellow although honestly, I think most of it’s an act and he’s really much nicer than he pretends. You know?”
Jors had no time to answer. He suspected she hadn’t intended him to as she rattled on without pausing.
“She left a lot of her gear there except for the bits she gave to me. I seem to go through soap really, really quickly, I can’t think why, I mean, we’re all in Whites but if there’s something to smudge on, I’ll smudge. I may be the only Herald ever who really appreciated her grays. So Jennet gave me her extra soap and a tunic that was getting too tight for her—across the shoulders, of course, not in front because I’m well, a little better endowed there—but no worry about her being caught short because she didn’t leave behind or give me anything she’ll need because she’s heading home. But you knew that, didn’t you, because you were there when she left?”
The punctuating smile was dazzling.
The Waystation outside Appleby was much like every other Waystation; there was a corral for the mules, a snug lean-to for the Companions, a good sized, well-stocked storeroom, and a single room for the Heralds. The biggest difference was that the fireplace had been filled in with a small box stove, flat-topped for cooking and considerably more efficient at heating the space.
“Not to mention there’ll be a lot less warm air sucked up the chimney,” Jors observed, examining the stovepipes. This was new since this the last time he’d been by.
“I think it’s less romantic, though.”
“What?”
Alyise smiled as he turned. “I think a stove is less romantic than an open fire. Don’t you think there’s just something so sensual about the dancing flames and the flicking golden light?”
“Light.” Jors cleared his throat and tried again. “We’d better light the lanterns.”
She pushed russet curls back off her face with one hand, gray eyes gleaming in the dusk. “Or instead of lighting the lanterns, we could just leave the doors of the stove open and sit together close to the fire.”
“Fire.”
“Pardon?”
“You light the fire.” His palms were sweaty. “In the stove,” he expanded as she stared at him, head cocked. “So we can cook. I have to go check on Gervais.”
:I’m fine.:
:Good.: He got outside to find his Companion standing by the door and gazing at him with some concern. :She’s . . . I mean, I’m supposed to be teaching her.:
:Donnel says his Chosen is glad you are a young man. She has been with Jennet for seven months.:
:Hey, I’ve been on my own for eight and that’s . . . : He paused as Gervais snorted. :Yeah. Sorry. Way too much information. The point is, it wouldn’t be right.:
:If that’s how you feel.:
:It is.:
:Good luck.:
:Oh, that’s very helpful.:
:Thank you.:
Never let anyone tell you that Companions can’t be as sarcastic as cats, Jors muttered to himself as he turned and went back inside. The curve of Alyise’s back stopped him cold. Her pants hung low on the flare of her hips, low enough to expose the dimples on the small of her back just under her waist.
She smiled at him over her shoulder as she pulled a sleeveless tunic out of her pack. “I just had to get into something that wasn’t all sweaty. I don’t know what it is about spending the day in the saddle that makes me so damp, since Donnel’s doing most of the work, but from my breast bands right on out everything is just soaked through. I guess the good news is that, at this time of the year, I can rinse them out tonight and they’ll be dry by morning unless it rains, of course, but I don’t think it’s going to. There’s really no point in having the village laundry deal with them.” Her brow wrinkled as she pushed her head through the tunic’s wide neck. “Does this village even have a laundry?”
“Laundry?” He tried not to stare at the pale swell of her breasts as she pulled the tunic down and turned to light one of the lamps with shaking hands. He was not ready for this kind of responsibility.
“Men.”
Was she allowed to laugh at him? There was too much about this mentoring that he didn’t know.
“I don’t suppose you even noticed,” she continued, slipping out of her pants. “Ah, that’s better. Shall you cook or shall I?”
“Me!” Cooking would be a welcome distraction. “You can tell me about your time with Jennet. So I know what you’ve covered . . . done.”
“Okay; how much of . . .”
“Everything!”
Everything took them through dinner and into bed. Separate beds. Alyise seemed fine with that, Jors noticed thankfully, since he wasn’t certain his resolve would stand up against a determined assault. Long after her breathing had evened out into the long rhythms of sleep, he lay staring up at the rough wood of the ceiling and wondered just how authoritarian he was supposed to be. All Heralds were equals, that was a given. Except when they weren’t, and that was tacitly understo
od. I’m just not ready for this yet.
:Sleep now, Heartbrother.: Gervais’s mental touch was gentle. :Many tasks seem less daunting in the morning.:
Jors woke just after sunrise to discover that Alyise had already gone out to feed and water the mules.
“I can never stay in bed after I wake up,” she explained with a sunny smile. “My mother used to say it’s because I was afraid I’d miss something, but I think it’s because I didn’t want to get bounced on by my younger sisters and I’ll tell you, that habit stood me in good stead when I was a Gray because you know how hard it is to get going some mornings and the first up has the first shot at the hot water and there were mostly girls in my year; six of us and one boy. What about yours?”
“My?” When did she breathe?
“Your year; how many boys and girls in your year?”
“Oh. Three boys, two girls.”
“How . . . nice.”
He heard Donnel snort, realized she was staring at him, and a moment later realized why. He’d gotten a little panicked when he’d seen her bed was empty and raced outside wearing only the light cotton drawstring pants he’d slept in. With the early morning sun behind him, he might as well be naked. Oh, yeah. This is going to help me maintain some kind of authority.
:Authority does not come from your clothing.:
And that would have been more reassuring had his Companion not sounded like he found the entire situation entirely too funny. :Maybe not, but it sure doesn’t come from . . . : It occurred to him that while he was standing talking to Gervais, Alyise was still staring. Appreciatively. “I’ll just go and get dressed. We’ll be heading into Appleby right after we eat.”
And thank any Gods who may be listening for that, he thought as he made as dignified a retreat as possible into the Waystation.
Appleby wasn’t so much a village as it was a market and clearing center for the surrounding orchards that gave it its name. Jors told the younger Herald all he knew about both the area and the inhabitants as they rode in from the Waystation, but since his available information ran out some distance before they arrived, Alyise took over the conversation.
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