Tempest

by Mercedes Lackey

  “And disrupting an alliance that might well hold off the Empire is just a bonus, I wager.”

  “You’ll never defeat the Empire!”

  Huh. He believed that, at least. Well, he was entitled to his opinion.

  “Why spread the blame? If you planned to be caught all along?”

  Gramersy scowled and said, “Tremane is no fool. If I didn’t try to hide, you’d have known it was a lie. I made sure the old woman got a good look at me. But you!” He lunged toward Arvil, but the guards jerked him back. “Everyone knows only a handful of Valdemarans have magic! Why in all the hells are you here, in this backwater?!”

  Arvil said, “I go where my Queen sends me,” then turned away.

  A fanatic, eager to die for his loyalty. It made a kind of twisted sense.

  He turned to Lord Brandin and said, “That’s enough for now. I’ll take him back to Haven, where he’ll be questioned more thoroughly.”

  “No! He’s going to die by my hand!”

  “No, he’s not.” Arvil stepped forward, ignoring his uneven gait, and stared Lord Brandin in the eye. “His offense against you is grievous, but this is larger than you or me. If this man has any information that could help us when the Empire comes, then we must have it.”

  “But—”

  “No.” Arvil represented the Queen, curse it, and no local lord, no matter how wealthy or powerful, was going to disrespect his office. “I’ve decided, and that’s an end to it. You have your son, whole and healthy. Go hold him, thank the Lady he’s safe and that all your black finery won’t be needed for a funeral this day.”

  Lord Brandin stepped back in shock, then looked down at his fine black jerkin and trousers and seemed to shrink in on himself.

  “I . . . yes. Yes, I will.” He straightened up and nodded curtly at the Herald. “You’ll take half my guard with you when you go. I’ll not have that whoreson escape on the way to Haven.”

  “I’ll welcome their escort,” said Arvil with a shallow bow. It was true enough, and it would let Lord Brandin salve his pride.

  He watched the lord turn and walk away, ignoring his milling guests, the well-wishers and the eager traders and the envious neighbors, and head back to his keep, to his wife and child.

  Arvil hoped he would remember what was truly important, for at least a short time.

  The Unwanted Gift

  Anthea Sharp

  “—And then she put the whole room to sleep,” the Bardic Trainee said, her voice breathless with wonder.

  The other Trainees at the table listened to her tale, nodding and agreeing as they ate their lunch—a hearty soup with slices of freshly baked wheat bread.

  “Mhm.” Tereck Strand held back a snort and instead shared a skeptical look with his best friend, Ro. “The whole Collegium fell asleep. Right.”

  While the story seemed impressive, Tereck thought it far more likely that a few people in the audience had succumbed to the heat and utter tedium of listening to the apprentices play for two hours at the Midwinter Recital. In the way of the Bards and Heralds, however, the tale had been exaggerated, the natural effects of a warm room and boredom attributed to mystical powers.

  Once he might have scoffed openly, but attending the Collegium for the past few years had taught him a bit of diplomacy. Along with history, mathematics, writing, and swordplay. Everything a lord would need to eventually govern a keep.

  A keep and a father, both awaiting his return to assume his duties as heir. It was what he’d been born to do, after all.

  He glanced down at his blue robes, the color signifying his status as a noble-born student attending the Collegium strictly for the practical education. Another six weeks and he’d be shed of them and on his way back home, where he wouldn’t have to pretend that the wide-eyed Trainees around him possessed special powers.

  Although he had to admit that the Heralds, at least, seemed to actually possess Gifts. They strutted about in their white uniforms, showing off their Companions, who frankly made the skin on the back of his neck itch. But the Bards and Healers? Nothing special there.

  “If you’d been at the concert, you would’ve seen what Shandara did,” the bardling said, voice indignant.

  “No doubt.” Tereck spooned up the last of his soup. “But that was months ago, and there’s no winding the clock back.”

  “Speaking of winding,” Ro said, bumping his shoulder, “I think we should go fishing this afternoon, since there’ll be no classes.”

  “You always want to go fishing, in some form or another.”

  His friend grinned back at him. “Yes, but this time I mean for trout, not pretty girls. I saw fish rising upriver yesterday evening.”

  “I’ll meet you at the gates, then.”

  “But you’ll miss the Healers’ demonstration,” the Trainee said.

  “I’ve no need to stand about watching the townsfolk parade their ills into the Collegium,” Tereck said. He had little use for the quarterly event and usually spent the precious free hours in sport of one kind or another.

  “We can bring the Healers a fat trout to revive,” Ro said, his brown eyes sparking with laughter. He scooped up his dishes and stood. “Meet you soon, Tereck.”

  “You Blues are all the same.” The bardling scooted off the end of the bench and shook her head at Tereck. “You’ll be in need of a Healer’s Gift one day, you’ll see. Then you won’t be so quick to dismiss it.”

  “Maybe so.”

  Even if there were such things as healing powers, which his entire family doubted, back home at Strand Keep they had the herb woman and the bonesetter, and that was all anyone needed.

  • • •

  Sunlight glinted off the Terilee River as Tereck and Ro cast their lines into the water. The late spring afternoon was warm, with just the edge of coolness waiting for evening to come. The rooftops of Haven rose downriver, lazy curls of smoke rising from the tightly packed chimneys.

  “Are you sure you saw fish in here?” Tereck asked after a half hour spent in companionable silence.

  “Doubter.” Ro squinted at him. “That’s your problem, you know. No faith.”

  Tereck shrugged. He didn’t need faith, he needed real results. Practical folk, the people of Strand Keep, and he saw no reason to change.

  “Look, I’ll prove it to you.” Ro pulled his line out and stepped closer to the fast-moving river. “I’ll cast right here. When I pull out a huge trout, you’ll have to admit you were in the wrong.”

  The edge of the bank was eroded, undercut by the current. How deeply, Tereck couldn’t tell, but the water had clearly taken a huge bite out of the underside. A chill crept up his spine as he thought of the dark, hungry river flowing beneath.

  “Ro,” he said, his muscles tensing, “I don’t think—”

  The earth gave way, and Ro yelped in surprise. Tereck lunged, his fingers grazing his friend’s tunic, but he couldn’t stop Ro’s plummet down. Half of the bank splashed into the frigid water, taking his friend with it.

  “No!” Tereck tossed his pole on the muddy ground and, heart pounding, stared at the rippling water.

  Jump in after Ro? No—then there would be two of them drowning, not just one.

  Instead he sprinted along the bank, trying to keep up with Ro. Already the current was bearing his friend away. Perhaps someone in the city would see him and fish him out—but with the river swollen with spring runoff, it was a slim to nothing chance.

  Ahead, a downed tree stuck out into the river. It was Ro’s only hope.

  “Grab that snag ahead!” Tereck yelled, hoping Ro had the presence of mind to listen. And that the water hadn’t already seeped the strength from his hands.

  For a heart-freezing second, nothing happened. It seemed certain the river would sweep Ro away and suck him down to his fate. The thought made bile rise in Tereck’s throat.


  Then Ro’s arms came out of the water and he feebly swam toward the tree. Just as the current carried him past, he managed to take hold of a water-blackened branch. He hung there, arms wrapped around the snag, his face pale as chalk.

  Tereck forced himself to run faster, his feet pounding the earth like a hammer. Hurry! It was clear Ro’s strength wouldn’t last for long.

  “I’m coming,” he called. “Just hold on!”

  Water sluiced over Ro’s head, and a stab of panic went through Tereck. He leaped into the river beside the dead tree. Stones turned under the leather soles of his boots, and he fought for balance. The river was icy, fed from the melting snow off the peaks. It foamed about him, saturating his clothes and snatching the breath from his lungs.

  The water rose up to Tereck’s chest. The current slapped him against the tree, pummeled him and grabbed at his legs, but he slogged grimly forward.

  Ro’s lips were turning blue.

  Almost there.

  Bracing himself against a stub of broken off branch, Tereck stretched out his arm. The wood dug painfully into his shoulder. “Take my hand.”

  “I. C-c-c-an’t.” Ro’s teeth chattered so hard the words were barely audible.

  Tereck took another step and nearly tumbled into the river himself. Clenching his jaw, he leaned forward, letting the current pin him against the tree. Just as Ro lost his grip, Tereck managed to catch his upper arm.

  The other boy’s weight almost swung him forward into the depths, but Tereck dug in his feet and hauled Ro toward him. The muscles in his arms burned with effort, and his ears were full of the roar of rushing water. Gasping, he got his arm around Ro’s chest and, inch by inch, backed out of the river. His friend lay unmoving, waterlogged and barely conscious.

  After an eternity, Tereck stumbled to shore and pulled Ro up onto the muddy bank. The Terilee hissed and grumbled, as if unhappy they’d escaped its frigid grasp.

  Tereck went to his knees, gulping in air, but Ro just lay where Tereck had dragged him, head lolling on the stringy grass. His skin was tinted gray. His chest no longer rose and fell.

  Fear stabbing through him, Tereck scrabbled to turn his friend over. He couldn’t let Ro drown. Not after managing to pull him out of the river. Not after all the other scrapes they’d survived. With numb fingers, he felt for a pulse in his friend’s neck. It was impossible to tell if his hands were too cold, or if Ro was actually . . .

  Pressure built in the back of Tereck’s skull. His body buzzed, as if it had suddenly become a home for angry wasps, and they wanted out. Out.

  His vision blurred, and it was almost as if he could see into Ro’s body. There was a dull orange ball of light in the center of his friend’s chest. As he watched, its glow dimmed.

  No!

  Moving on instinct, Tereck placed his hands flat on Ro’s cold chest. He shut his eyes and imagined his palms opening like a door, letting the wasps fly free. Heat swept over his skin, then ice. He shivered, but he kept pushing whatever-it-was into Ro’s body.

  Ro coughed, and Tereck opened his eyes. With that strange double sight, he saw his friend glowing, as if he’d swallowed the sun.

  “Tereck?” Ro asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.

  “I’m here. You made it.” Tereck slumped forward, exhaustion crashing through him. “We both did.”

  His thoughts scuttled away from what had just happened.

  He’d pulled Ro out of the river, that was all.

  Shouts from down the riverbank made him glance up. A group of townspeople headed toward them, carrying blankets. He glimpsed the bright green cloak of a Healer and drew in a long breath of relief. Followed by a quick catch as his lungs tightened. A Healer.

  But no one had been there to see what Tereck had done. Nobody would be able to tell. It had been a result of cold and shock, anyway. A hallucination.

  Holding that thought close, Tereck put his hand on Ro’s shoulder and waited for their rescuers to arrive.

  • • •

  After a quick inspection by the Healer, a deep-voiced man who introduced himself as Master Adrun, Tereck and Ro were bundled up and taken in a wooden cart back to the Collegium. Tereck was so tired, he didn’t mind jouncing about in the back with only the blanket for cushioning.

  “I’m admitting you to the House of Healing,” Master Adrun said as the cart pulled into the courtyard. “We need to make sure you’re both well enough to be up and about. Near-drowning is a serious business.”

  “I wasn’t in the river long,” Tereck said. “Just long enough to pull Ro out.”

  The Healer gave him an appraising look, one eyebrow slowly lifting. “I see.”

  “I feel perfectly fine,” Ro said, then spoiled his announcement with a harsh coughing fit.

  The cart stopped, and Master Adrun helped them both disembark. Ro practically hopped out, but Tereck felt as stiff and creaky as an old man. He was grateful for the Healer’s support as they went into the House of Healing, and even more grateful to sit on the bed in the austere double room Master Adrun guided him to.

  Ro perched on the other bed, his dark hair drying in flyaway tufts.

  “Now,” Master Adrun said, pulling a chair up between the two beds, “tell me what happened, in as much detail as you can remember.”

  “We were fishing,” Ro said. “I went too far out on a bank that was undercut and it collapsed, dumping me in the river.”

  “I tried to grab him,” Tereck said.

  “The Terilee runs fast this time of year,” the Healer said. He turned his attention back to Ro. “So, you were plunged into the water. Then what?”

  “It was cold.” Ro shivered and pulled his blanket tighter around his shoulders. “I tried to keep my head up, but it was hard. Then I heard Tereck shouting at me to grab onto a snag.”

  Tereck nodded. “I ran beside the bank, though I wasn’t sure what I could do. But Ro heard me, and he held on until I could wade in and get him out.”

  “And was he conscious when you managed to pull him from the river?” Master Adrun asked, watching Tereck intently.

  “Mostly, I guess. I don’t really remember.” He wasn’t sure if the Healer believed him, but he could hardly tell the man what had really happened.

  In truth, he didn’t even know himself.

  “Hm.” Master Adrun turned his gaze to Ro. “What do you recall of it?”

  Ro shrugged. “Just that Tereck got me out, and then you came with help.”

  “I’m very glad you escaped the river,” the Healer said. “It’s a good thing Tereck was there.”

  His words held an extra weight that made Tereck squirm inside. Somehow, Master Adrun seemed to suspect something odd had happened at the riverbank, though how he could guess, Tereck had no idea.

  “I’d like to keep you both under observation for the rest of the afternoon,” the Healer said, rising. “I’ll have some strengthening tea brought, and then you both can rest.”

  Tereck nodded. Weariness pulled at his limbs and eyelids.

  “But we can go later this evening?” There was an impatient note in Ro’s voice, and Tereck recalled that they’d made plans to go with a group of Blues to an inn that night.

  The idea didn’t hold much appeal at the moment, but surely, once he slept a bit, he’d be good as new.

  • • •

  Dusk had fallen when Tereck opened his eyes again, gray light filtering through the room’s single window. A mug of cold tea sat on the nightstand, and the bed Ro had occupied was empty, the blanket rumpled.

  Slowly, he sat up. He still felt weak, and he wanted to sleep for another year. Even more pressing than sleep, though, was the sharp hunger in his belly. He hadn’t felt this ravenous since the summer he’d grown three inches.

  A light tap came on the door.

  “Hello?” Tereck called.

  The doo
r swung open to reveal Master Adrun, bearing a tray from the Common Room. Tereck nearly groaned at the smell of stew and a fresh-baked roll.

  “Good, you’re awake,” the Healer said. “How do you feel?”

  “I’m starving.”

  A small, knowing smile crossed Master Adrun’s lips. “I thought you might be.”

  He set the tray on the nightstand, then plucked up Ro’s abandoned pillow and slipped it behind Tereck’s back.

  “I hope you don’t mind if I eat,” Tereck said, unable to take his eyes from the tray.

  “It’s why I brought you food.” Master Adrun pulled up the chair and settled himself next to Tereck’s bed. “Go ahead. And I hope you don’t mind if I ask some questions in return.”

  Wary, Tereck glanced at the other man. “I suppose.”

  His caution couldn’t overcome his hunger, though, and he pulled the tray onto his lap.

  “You’re a lord’s son, correct?” Master Adrun asked.

  Tereck nodded, his mouth full of buttered roll.

  “I take it you came to the Collegium for a lordling’s education,” the Healer continued. “Do you have a history of anyone in your family having a Gift of any kind?”

  Startled, Tereck nearly choked on his bread. He swallowed the bite, then answered. “Uh, no. Not at all. My family doesn’t hold with such things.”

  “Doesn’t hold with them?” Master Adrun sounded dryly amused. “We often don’t have a choice in such matters.”

  “I wouldn’t know about that.” Tereck picked up his cup of water and took a hasty swallow, unable to meet the Healer’s eyes.

  “Where, exactly, is your father’s domain?”

  “In the east,” Tereck said. “Strand Keep lies a bit off the East Trade Road.”

  “Near the Hardorn border? That might explain it.” Master Adrun leaned forward. “Tereck, I want you to be completely honest with me. Have you ever felt something inside yourself, perhaps an odd or uncomfortable sensation, especially around someone who’s hurt?”

  “Never,” Tereck answered, holding the Healer’s gaze. Mentally, he added before today. “Are you implying I have the Healer’s Gift? I assure you, I don’t.”