“How did this even happen?” he muttered. Assuming his suspicions proved correct.
:Well, when a Herald and a pretty, provincial barmaid get together . . .: Halath snarked at him. His Companion seemed both amused and irritated at this turn of events. :You’d not be the first to succumb to fine liquor and excellent company. You liked her conversation even without the mead.:
“I wish I remembered more.” Fragments of memories flashed—a chimelike laugh, notes from a lute, soft skin, rough but gentle hands. Did she still play?
Cara slipped into the stables. “Oh! Excuse me, sir,” she said, hiding an apple behind her back. “I do not wish to disturb you. The horses can wait.” She looked doubtful about that.
Jeris shook his head, smiling. “Perhaps they can, but my Companion appreciates frequent meals.” Halath snorted his opinion of the jibe. “I can assist you, if you’ll tell me what you need.”
Cara hesitated before nodding. “Thank you, sir. Our stable hand has been ill these last few days, and that dappled gray in the corner is—” She bit her lip. “—feisty. He tries to step on me.”
Jeris glanced at the gelding and nodded. “Certainly. And which fine animal is that apple for?”
She blushed. “I brought it for yours, sir. Momma says Companions and Heralds bring good luck and happiness.”
:Oh, I LIKE her. Can we keep her?: Halath stuck his head over the stall half-gate and whickered at her.
“He approves,” Jeris said with a grin. “I shan’t get in the way of him being cossetted.”
She smiled shyly, offering the apple up to the Companion. “The hay’s over there, sir,” she directed. Halath’s favorite part of their Shin’a’in adventure had been the children, and he missed being feted by them.
Halath delicately took the apple from her and whickered his pleasure.
She rubbed his nose and under his jaw, then politely excused herself.
• • •
Jeris took the narrow stairs up to his room. The planks jutted from the stone wall, held on the outside with timbers and rails. They were barely wide enough for a man with gear.
A figure came around the wall as he reached the first landing, and they bumped.
“Your pardon,” he said.
It was she, the neck of her lute jutting over one shoulder. She half-smiled, gesturing down at the main room. “Retiring already? Cara and I will be entertaining the patrons shortly, as we do most nights.”
“I was considering it. You still play, then, and sing?”
“Aye,” she agreed, “although Cara has more of a voice than I do.” She lowered her voice a bit, “Cara’s particularly good at keeping rowdier patrons from causing a ruckus. My father appreciates that enough he even pays another helper for the evenings she sings with me.”
“Then you didn’t go to the Bardic Collegium?” He felt disappointed on her behalf.
“No,” she said, looking only a little wistful. “And Cara upset my father’s plans for me even more than becoming a Bard would have.” Jeris winced, and she shook her head. “She is my luck and my happiness.” More loudly, “Come, you should listen to her sing.”
“We need to talk,” he replied in an undertone.
She replied in kind. “Later, yes. Which room are you in?”
He told her, and she nodded. “Once Cara’s settled for the night.” She started back down the stairs. He gave her a moment, then followed.
Another truly excellent blackberry mead complemented the music well. Her voice was richer with age, more mellow. When Cara joined the song, however, even Jeris felt hard-pressed to not be sucked in completely. Her voice held the hallmarks of childhood, but the talent remained clear. :She must go to the College,: Jeris said. :That much talent, this young? She could be dangerous without training,:
:Much like our magelings of before,: Halath agreed.
“Another, Soressa!” a burly patron called to the pair. Soressa.
“Any preferences?” she asked the crowd. Several called out songs, only some he recognized. She conferred with her daughter, then strummed the lute again.
They performed for over an hour before Soressa rose from her seat. “It is late for us, my friends. Time to get this one to bed.” She nodded at Cara. Ignoring the muted protests, Soressa gathered Cara up. The girl looked tired, and Jeris wondered if that was from the hour or the exertion.
:Depends on how her talent works,: Halath mused. :I don’t know much about the Bardic Gift myself. Just that there’s only been a few Heralds with it over the years.:
• • •
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Jeris stared at the walls of the quaint, serviceable room as he swirled the remainder of his second stein. He should not begrudge Soressa tending to her daughter, but it had been over an hour and a half since she’d taken the girl to their rooms.
Anxiety pushed him to his feet, to pace. A light knock on the door proved to be Soressa, and he let her into the room.
“So,” he said.
“So.”
“You’ve been well?” Stupid question. “And your daughter?”
“Well enough,” she allowed. “Cara is sleeping. Some performances exhaust her more than others.”
“She sings well,” he said.
“She does, and her singing soothes the crowd.” She claimed the only chair. “I didn’t initially intend her to perform tonight.”
“Why the change of plans?”
She looked away briefly. “I wished her father to see her perform. Being a Herald means he may not return for some time.”
He swallowed. “So, she is . . . ?”
“Yours, yes.”
“I . . . I’m sorry. I had no idea. It’s not . . . it’s not something I would have needed to think about with another Herald. You could have sent word to the Collegium. Even if I was away, they would have let me know. Possibly even brought you there.”
“I considered it,” she said. “But there were other considerations in play, I’m afraid. I’m my father’s only remaining family in the area. I felt . . . bound to remain here. Anyway, she upset the plans my father had for me. But I’m afraid he may be renewing those plans, with her in my place.”
“What kind of plans?”
“Early marriage, at best. Perhaps even to the man who was my intended eight years ago.”
Jeris stiffened. “That’s . . .”
“Unacceptable. Yes. He’s well-to-do, but I never felt safe or comfortable around him. He’s already my elder. He’s certainly too old for Cara.”
“Cara should be at the Bardic Collegium, Soressa. She’s got the Gift; that’s why she tires from singing the way she does. She needs training,” he urged. “You could take her to Haven, yourself. They may even still train you.”
“The Bardic Gift? Where would that have come from?”
“Certainly not me,” he replied. “I can’t carry a tune if it’s in a bucket with handles.”
She laughed at that. “Can you take her with you?” she blurted. “She’ll be safer with you on the road than with me, and I can’t leave here. Not yet.”
“Possibly,” he said nervously. “But Herald missions have a tendency to become . . . complicated, at the best of times.”
“She cannot stay here,” Soressa insisted. “My father will not agree to her leaving, of course. But she must leave, the sooner the better.”
:What do you think?: Jeris asked Halath.
:Soressa seems worried enough about the girl’s safety to warrant concern. We’re supposed to just be part of a formal dinner in a week’s time? Nothing strenuous, just one of the Lake District’s own Heralds attending?:
:Supposedly. I expect politicking and at least a bit of Heraldly intervention will be called upon.:
:We should be safe enough to take her with us.:
He reluctantly nodded. “D
oes she have an animal of her own?”
“No, but some are for sale in the village, at the other stables.”
:I can carry her, too, if necessary. She’s not that large.:
“We’ll look in the morning, then.”
She sighed, relief obvious. She stood up. “In the morning, then.”
“Wait,” he said. “I—” He stopped. He knew what he wanted.
“I think you’re slightly overdressed,” she replied.
He stared. That . . . was in line with what he wanted. “You don’t need to go back to Cara?”
She smiled. “Not immediately.” She stepped closer. “That is, if you don’t mind? I haven’t since you were here last.” That was surprising.
“Then I will endeavor to make it worth your while,” he said. He bent to kiss her and found her trembling. False bravado but not false desire. She melted into the kiss.
• • •
“Do you like her?” Jeris asked Cara as she fumbled with the saddle and gear on the pony. The girl shrugged, but she sat in the saddle well enough. By Shin’a’in standards, the pony would barely rate as an equine, but by the standards of “reasonably healthy, trained, and tempered, albeit expensive,” she’d have to do. The girl would travel longer and more comfortably with a girl-sized saddle and animal than on Halath.
“What will Grandfather say?” Cara asked.
“He knows you’re leaving with your father to visit your other relatives,” Soressa assured her. Well, he will in an hour or two, at any rate. “You know how difficult it is for him to wake up in the mornings lately.”
Cara nodded.
Intellectually, the knowledge that Jeris was “her father” sat heavy on his mind. Emotionally, he was gauging her against the magelings and other students. By expectations molded by Shin’a’in children, she seemed younger than her eight years. He feared she would be baggage for the mission. She would not add to his image as an aloof, professional extension of the Queen.
“We need to get going,” he said. His obligation to her outweighed his misgivings. The girl was his—a result of his actions. Vigorous actions, much like last night’s. They’d have to adapt. At least she ought not have a sibling from last night.
Soressa hugged Cara. “I love you,” she said, kissing the girl’s nose.
Cara’s eyes teared up again. “Do I have to go, Momma?”
“Yes,” Soressa said. “You’ll be safe. Right now, I don’t think you can be so with me.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll come for you just as soon as I can, my love.” Soressa pressed another kiss to her cheek, and Jeris saw Cara trying to stifle a sob. “Be good for your father.”
“Okay.” The girl’s voice was very small.
Jeris mounted the already saddled Halath. Soressa handed him the pony’s reins, which he tied to his saddle horn. “Take care of her for me.”
“Yes.” What else could he say? A moment more to appreciate the beauty of the woman looking up at him, full lips, full figure, committing them to memory. Her eyes showed distress, but her expression was calm.
Jeris felt heartless as he directed Halath and the pony to the road. He gave Cara what privacy he could by pretending to not hear the quiet crying.
:She understands that her mother believes it necessary,: Halath said.
:I still feel terrible.:
:That makes four of us, I think,: his Companion replied.
From Soressa, he knew Cara’s experience outside of the inn was minimal. Running the calculations in his head now, it appeared that, between the slower pace and her inexperience, the week allotted for reviewing the situation in person would become three days.
“Are you angry about me?”
The sudden voice and question jarred him from his reverie.
Well, that was blunt. Though not as sullen as he feared it would be.
“I am not,” he said. “Surprised, yes. I don’t have much experience, though, so please let me know if you need anything. I’ll try to make it happen.”
“How long until Momma follows?”
“I don’t know. As soon as she can.”
“Where are we going? Does she know?”
“She does, yes. The Collegium, eventually, but I have a job to complete for the Queen. I also haven’t seen my . . . our . . . family in some time, and I intend to visit them.” He glanced down at her, trying to smile. “They’ll be pleased to meet you.”
“What is the Collegium like? Momma couldn’t tell me.”
She sounded fascinated, albeit nervous. The grief of separation would no doubt return, but for the moment, he could entertain her with stories of the Herald Collegium and what he’d heard of the Bardic Collegium. He also told her a bit about Highjorune and what he knew of the troubles there a few years’ past.
“We have to go there?” she asked.
“Yes, I have to follow up, but I don’t expect any more problems. It may be boring for you, though.”
The girl shrugged.
They rode silently for a while, until she said, “I do like the wilderness. I only left town once before.”
“This isn’t really wilderness,” he said. It was a well-traveled road. “But it’s not a town, no.”
In fact, they were approaching a Waystation. After a stretch and some food, they got back on the road. It was still light, with enough time to make the next inn before it got too dark and she too tired to continue.
• • •
The outskirts of Highjorune could be seen ahead. Jeris was proud of the girl. She’d been miserable the second day and most of the third, from muscle ache and homesickness, but she’d complained little. Perversely, the “lack of maturity” in comparison to a Shin’a’in of similar age meant she was less likely to challenge him but required more direction.
She was grumpy and sullen intermittently, and he occasionally felt inclined to snap at her. Instead, he encouraged her to ask questions about anything and everything, hoping to distract her and draw her out.
He almost rued that decision. Once emboldened that she’d not be snapped at for asking, the questions didn’t. stop. even. for. breaths. For hours. When not asking questions, she sang. Soressa had taught her a lot of songs, and she had a knack for making up ditties on the go. That pattern continued through most of the third day, as well. This morning was more musical with fewer questions.
“Is that Highjorune?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“It’s big.”
“Indeed.”
As they approached, the dull roar of humanity and the change from freely blowing breezes to stale and stagnant air struck him, as it did every time. He glanced at Cara, who was hunched up as if afraid.
They rode through to the larger inn, near the Palace. For her sake, he would insist on staying there for the duration of the visit. It would be more homelike and hopefully less overwhelming than the Palace. Once there, he secured a room and a meal for both of them. A messenger was sent to the Palace to alert the Herald there of his arrival.
He had clean Whites for official duty. She had her best, if meager, clothing packed as well. Acquiring formalwear for her was unlikely, but he was uncomfortable with either leaving her or bringing her along. The stories of Ancar’s treachery ensured most Heralds acquired a distaste for formal dinners, even those Chosen later.
For now, they waited for the Herald temporarily assigned to the Palace. A crowd entered the inn, looked around briefly, and departed. “I’ve seen that group before,” Cara whispered. “They come through our town every few months.”
“How do they act?”
“Rudely and very crass, but they have money. They don’t fight often. Momma prefers I stay in the back while they’re in the dining room.”
That was interesting. Were they merchants? Bandits? Something else?
&nbs
p; “You should probably avoid singing while they’re around, then,” Jeris said, still in an undertone. “We don’t want them to recognize you.”
She looked discomforted. “Not sing?”
“Your voice is distinctive,” he explained. “And remember what I told you about the problems here a few years ago.”
“But I won’t make people do what they don’t want to,” she protested.
“I know that, and you know that. They do not.”
Her expression was somewhere between offended, worried, and distressed at the thought.
• • •
They ate dinner in the main room of the inn.
“Herald Jeris?” a woman asked.
He looked up. “Herald Letia. It’s been a while.”
“Indeed,” she said, sitting across from Jeris. “And this is?” She nodded at Cara.
Jeris made the introductions, leaving his relationship to Cara vague. They caught up on the past few years, and Jeris asked about the situation here.
She glanced at Cara and around the room. “Later. I’ll eat with you, and we can talk after dinner.”
Cara liked to hum or sing quietly during meals while not actively eating. Being unable to obviously bothered her. She perked up when others talked about music, and a patron pulled out a well-worn gittern. Others called out songs for him to play. He invited the audience to sing, and they did. Even Jeris could tell his playing was only mediocre, but Cara seemed riveted to the performance. He nudged her a few times when she started audibly humming. A few songs later, he nodded to Letia and roused Cara from her fixation.
• • •
“So, shop talk, I’m afraid,” he said when they gained the seclusion of their hired room.
Letia raised an eyebrow and nodded ever so slightly at Cara. Jeris nodded.
“The city remains unsettled, in my opinion. Ferrin did quite the number on the townspeople. When they’re not restless about politics, they’re terrified that someone who can sing might be out to control them.”
Cara shuffled a bit, ready to protest. Jeris spoke to cut her off.
“What’s the purpose of this event I am supposed to attend?” He knew his instructions from the Collegium, but it always a good idea to check.
Tempest Page 28
