Heralds of Valdemar (A Valdemar Omnibus)

by Lackey, Mercedes

  Then she made the switch again, back to miniature adult. “Where do I start? What do I need to do?”

  “You start now.” The Queen pulled a bellrope behind her to call the Dean of the Collegium, who had been impatiently awaiting the results of this interview. “As soon as Dean Elcarth gets here. He’ll get you settled at the Collegium. As for what you need to do; you learn, Talia. And please—” her eyes were very sober “—learn as quickly as you can. I—we—need you more than you can guess.”

  4

  The Queen’s summons was answered immediately. Talia hadn’t the faintest notion of what to expect, but her first glimpse of the diminutive man in Herald’s Whites that the Queen introduced as the Dean of Herald’s Collegium gave her a feeling of intense relief. Dean Elcarth was a brisk, birdlike, elderly man, scarcely taller than Talia. The wary unease she usually felt around men evaporated when she saw him; he was so like a snow-wren (complete with the gray cap of hair to match a wren’s gray crown) that it was impossible to be afraid of him.

  “So,” he said, surveying Talia with his head tilted slightly to one side, his round, black eyes bright with intellect. “This is our new Herald-in-training. I think you’ll do well here, child; and I’ll be the first to tell you that I’m never wrong.” He chuckled and Talia responded with a tentative smile.

  He nodded slightly to the Queen. “Well, with your permission, Selenay—”

  “I leave her in your capable hands,” the Queen replied.

  “Excellent. Come along with me, youngling. I’ll show you about; perhaps find someone to help get you settled in among us.”

  He led her out the door and down the wood-paneled hall. Talia obediently fell in beside him; she was glad that he was nearly as small as she was, otherwise she’d never have been able to keep up with him. The pace he set forced her to take two steps for every one of his just to match him.

  She watched him carefully, despite her earlier judgment. She had had too many nasty surprises in her life to wish another, especially not here, alone among strangers.

  He saw her wary, covert gaze and made note of it. Elcarth had been Dean of Herald’s Collegium for decades. He had had plenty of practice in that time in assessing the newly-Chosen, and he hadn’t missed a single nuance of Talia’s behavior. The way she’d shrunk into herself before she’d gotten a good look at him told him more than she could possibly have guessed. The way she had blindly obeyed him told him even more. He mentally shook his head. She was obviously unaccustomed to taking the initiative. Something would have to be done about that. And this wild-animal shyness spoke of abuse; mental and emotional, and perhaps physical abuse as well. Fortunately, she may have had her spirit bent but it wasn’t broken; Rolan would never have Chosen her otherwise. He made another internal note; to discuss the Holderfolk with the Queen. That this child had been left in ignorance of Companion’s Choice was criminal. And young Dirk had been right—the child was so withdrawn and reticent it was scarcely to be believed. Women did not seem to evoke the reaction nearly so strongly as men—it almost seemed as if she expected blows and abuse from a man as a matter of course. It would take a very long time indeed before a strange man could win her trust. He made swift revision of his original plans; until she was comfortable with what life here meant, it would be best for her mentors to be mostly female. Only Herald Teren was likely to be unthreatening enough that she’d lose her apprehension in his presence.

  Elcarth questioned Talia closely as they walked, keeping his tone carefully light and projecting a calming aura at her as he did so. The answers he got were highly satisfactory; he’d feared the child would be at best functionally illiterate. In reading and writing, at least, she was at a comparable level with most of the youngsters Chosen at her age, and she had an incredible thirst for knowledge. So far as academics went, he was confident that all that would be needed would be to give her access to information and teaching, and she would do the rest without external prodding.

  In only one area was she frighteningly deficient; she seemed to know little or nothing of self-defense and weaponry. This was more than simply unfortunate; she’d have to learn to protect herself, and quickly. There were many in the Heraldic Circle who doubted that Talamir’s death had been happenstance; he shared those doubts. A child, alone, knowing nothing of self-defense—against those who had been able to make the death of an experienced Herald seem due to simple old age, she was no opponent at all. She was so vulnerable—so very vulnerable; such a fragile creature to carry all their hopes. Weaponsmaster Alberich was the only instructor capable of teaching her at any speed, and Alberich was likely to frighten her on appearance alone! He made yet another mental note to speak with the Weaponsmaster as soon as he’d left her in good hands. Alberich was no fool; warned how shy she was, he would know how to treat her.

  Meanwhile—Elcarth continued his questions, even more alert to nuances of behavior than he had been before. There was no reaction she made that escaped him.

  Talia for her part was more than a little puzzled at Dean Elcarth’s questioning, for it seemed to follow no pattern that she could see. He flitted from subject to subject so rapidly that she had no time to think about her answers, and certainly was unable to anticipate his questions. Yet the answers she gave him seemed to please him; once or twice he’d seemed very satisfied by what she told him.

  They traversed long wood-paneled, tapestried corridors; only the few that had exterior windows and gave Talia a glimpse of sun and trees allowed her any clue even of what direction they were taking. They passed at length through a pair of massive double doors. “We’re in the Collegium Wing now; Herald’s Collegium, that is,” Elcarth said. “There are two other Collegia here associated with the Palace—Bardic Collegium and Healer’s Collegium. Ours is the largest, but that is in part because most of the academic classrooms are here, and we save space that way. Healer’s has its own separate building; so does Bardic. The House of Healing is part of Healer’s Collegium; you may have heard of it. Now, down this corridor are the classrooms; the first floor is entirely classrooms. The door at the far end leads to the court in front of the stables, and the training grounds beyond that. Behind us, on the other side of the doors we just passed through, are the private quarters of the Kingdom’s Heralds.”

  “Are all of them here?” Talia asked, overwhelmed by the thought of all those Heralds in one place.’

  “Well, no. Most of them are out on their circuits. But all of them have at least one room here, some shared, some not, and those on duty permanently at the palace or the Collegium have several, as do those who have retired from active duty if they decide to stay here with us. There’s a staircase behind this door here; there’s another in the middle of the building and a third next to the door at the end. We’ll go upstairs now, to the students’ quarters.”

  The wood-paneled staircase wasn’t as narrow as the ones at the Holding, and a little window halfway up lit the stairs clearly. There was a door on the second landing, and the Dean opened it for her.

  “This is the dormitory section,” he said. Like the hall below them, it was paneled in some kind of dark wood, sanded smooth, but not polished. The doors here were much closer together than they had been in the hall below, and the hall itself seemed oddly foreshortened.

  “As you can see, this hall is a bit less than half the size of the one downstairs, since on the other side of that wall is the common room where all meals are served, and on the other side of that is the boys’ section. We’re standing in the girls’ side now. The third floor is one room, the Library and study area. The Library is entirely for the use of students and Heralds; you can go there any time you don’t have classes or other tasks to do.” Elcarth smiled encouragingly as Talia’s eyes lit. “Just try to see that you spend a little time in eating and sleeping!”

  Just then a small boy, wearing a uniform much like the Guard had worn, but in light blue instead of midnight blue, came running up to Elcarth. He was trailed at a distance by a richly-dresse
d but harried-looking middle-aged man. This was the first person not wearing some kind of uniform that Talia had seen since she’d arrived.

  “Havens, what is it now?” Elcarth muttered under his breath as the boy pounded up to them.

  “Dean Elcarth, sir, it’s the Provost-Marshal, sir,” the boy said in a breathless treble.

  “I can see that, Levand. What’s happened this time? Fire, flood, or rioting in the streets?”

  “Some of all three, m’lord Herald.” The Provost-Marshal had plodded within hearing distance and spoke for himself, as Talia tried to make herself invisible back against the wall. “You know the Lady-fountain in Tailor’s Court? The one that used to vent down a culvert to Breakneedle Street?”

  “Your choice of words fills me with foreboding, m’lord,” Elcarth replied with a sigh. “‘Used to’?”

  “Someone chose to divert it, m’lord Herald. Into the cellar gathering-room of Jon Hapkin’s Virgin and Stars Tavern. Which is, as you know—”

  “The third-year Bardic students’ favored place of illicit recreation; yes, I know. This rather smacks of the Unaffiliates, doesn’t it? The plumb-line and compass set—”

  “Partly, m’lord.”

  “You fill me with dread. Say on.”

  “The Bardic students took exception to gettin’ their feet wet, m’lord Herald, and took exception very strongly.”

  “And went hunting the perpetrators, no doubt?”

  “Aye, m’lord. I’m told that drum-beaters make fine cudgels, and there’s a few among ’em that lately fancy walking about with carved staffs.”

  “Well, that covers the flood and the rioting in the streets. What about the fire?”

  “Set by the Bardic students, m’lord. In the alley off Fivepenny. Seems the ones they blamed for the water had holed up in the Griffin’s Egg and wouldn’t come out, and someone gave them the notion to smoke ’em out. They lit a trash-fire and fed the smoke in through the back door.”

  “Lord—” Elcarth passed his hand over his eyes, looking to Talia as if he had a headache coming on. “Why take this up with me, my lord? So far you need to speak to the parents and patrons of the Unaffiliates involved, and the Dean of Bardic.”

  “The which I’ve done, m’lord Herald. That’s been taken care of.”

  “There’s more? Lady save me—”

  “When all the hue and cry was over, and the gentlemen and ladies separated from one another, it was discovered that they’d had their purses lifted, one and all. The purses were found, intact, hanging from the trees in the Cloister gardens; the Lady’s priestesses never saw anyone put them there, of course, but several of the combatants remembered someone in the thick of all the pummeling that had been wearing Heraldic student Grays.”

  “Needless to say—”

  “Aye, m’lord Herald. Only one student you’ve got that’s able to pull that prank.”

  “Lord-Dark and Lady-Bright,” Elcarth muttered, rubbing one temple. “Hold on a moment, my lord Provost-Marshal. I have another bit of business I’ll have to delegate, and I’ll be right with you.”

  Elcarth looked around, and spied Talia shrunk inconspicuously as possible in the corner. “Child, this is unbearably rude of me, but I’ll have to find you another guide for the moment,” he said, putting his hand gently behind her shoulders and propelling her forward a little. The door to the common room opened, and a small group of young women, all dressed identically in gray, stepped into the hall.

  “And there,” Elcarth said with satisfaction, “is just the person I was needing. Sherrill!”

  One of the young women, a tall, slender brunette with a narrow face and hazel eyes, turned at the sound of her name being called, smiled, and made her way toward them.

  “Sir?” she said, then looked curiously at Talia.

  “This is the young lady Rolan brought in,” Elcarth replied. “She’s from one of those Border settlements that might just as well be outKingdom, and she’s very confused. She’ll need lots of help in adjusting. Unfortunately, the Provost-Marshal has some other business I need to handle. Would you—”

  “Take her off your hands? Surely! Is she as badly off as I was?” The young woman’s smile was infectious, and Talia returned it tentatively.

  “Seriously, yes—worse, in some ways,” the Dean replied.

  “Bright Havens, that bad? Poor baby!” The young woman gave Talia another encouraging smile. “Well, we’ll see what we can do for her. Uh, sir—is the ‘business’ Skif again?”

  “It looks that way.”

  “Oh, Havens. Doesn’t he ever learn?”

  “He does. He never does the same trick twice,” Elcarth replied, fighting down a chuckle. “It isn’t too bad this time. He’s not the main perpetrator, apparently; he’s more of a loose end. I think I can get him off easily.”

  “Well, I hope so; I like the little monkey.”

  “Don’t we all? Except possibly Lord Orthallen. You will take good care of young Talia, won’t you? I’m counting on you, since the Provost-Marshall is beginning to look impatient.”

  “Yes, sir,” she grinned. As she turned toward Talia, the grin became sympathetic. “The Dean knows I was in the same predicament as you are now when I first came. My people are fisherfolk on Lake Evendim, and all I knew was fish. You should have seen the saddlesores I came in with—and I couldn’t even read and write!”

  “I can read—and write and figure, too,” Talia said shyly.

  “See? You’re three better than I was to start with! Dean—” She recaptured Elcarth’s attention from wherever it had been wandering. “Basic Orientation with Teren tomorrow, sir?”

  “Naturally; we’ve been holding the class until Rolan returned. I’ll arrange a schedule for her and leave it with Teren. And tomorrow I want you to take her over to the training grounds and let Alberich decide what he wants to do with her.”

  Sherrill looked from Talia to the Dean, a little surprised that the girl was being put into Alberich’s class so quickly, and caught Elcarth’s silent signal that he wished to talk more with her later. She nodded briefly and Elcarth bid them both farewell, hurrying off with the harried Provost-Marshal.

  She took a good look at the latest (and most important) of the Chosen. The poor little thing seemed exhausted, shy, and rather worried, and was most certainly bewildered by all that had been happening to her. Sherrill was surprised by a sudden surge of maternal feelings toward the child.

  “Well, Talia, the first thing we need to do is find you a room and get you your uniforms and supplies,” she said, hoping her casual tone would put the girl at ease. “How old are you, anyway?”

  “Thirteen,” Talia replied softly, so softly Sherrill could hardly hear her.

  “That old? You don’t look it,” she said, leading the way. “I’ll tell you what, though, it’s not so bad being small; there aren’t that many Chosen that are your size, and at least you can count on getting uniforms that aren’t half patches!”

  “Uniforms?”

  “Like my outfit—take a good look. It’s identical to a Herald’s except that it’s silvery gray instead of Herald’s White, and the materials are a bit different. You see, wearing uniforms puts us all on an equal footing, and it makes us easy to identify as Heralds-in-training. Bardic and Healer’s Collegia do the same; full Bards wear scarlet, and the trainees wear red-brown; Healers have their Healer’s Green, and the Healers-in-training wear pale green. We wear gray until we’ve earned our Whites. There are some students that don’t belong to any of the Collegia; they wear uniforms too, but they’re pale blue. Officially they’re called the Unaffiliates; we call ’em the Blues. There’s all kinds—people learning to be something more than just simple clerks, ones that have talents for building things, highborns whose parents think they ought to have something to do besides choose new horses and clothing.”

  She frowned for a moment in sudden thought, wondering how much to tell the girl about the Blues. Should she frighten the child, perhaps needlessly, or
should she leave her in ignorance of the intrigues going on all around her? It was hard to judge when the girl seemed determined to show an impassive face to the world. Sherrill knew she hadn’t the ability of Elcarth to “read” someone, and this Talia might just as well have been a rock for all that she could judge of what might be going on behind those big eyes.

  She decided on a middle course. “You might want to watch out for them,” she warned. “Both Bardic and Healer’s Collegia are pretty careful about who they accept for training, and anyone in Grays has been Chosen by a Companion, but the unaffiliated students have no selection criteria applied to them. All that’s required is that they keep passing the courses they choose. A good half of the ones from the Court circles are no better than well-born bullies, and there’s one or two of them that are really nasty-minded. In your place, I’d try and stick close to other Grays in public places.” She stopped, and opened one of the doors at the very end of the hall. “Now, this will be your room.”

  The little room revealed had scarcely enough space for the furniture—bed, desk, chair, bookcase, and wardrobe. It was obvious that to Talia, however, it seemed palatial. No doubt she’d shared at least a bed with other girls and very possibly had never had even a corner of a room to call her own before this. Sherrill slipped a card with Talia’s name printed on it into a holder on the door, and smiled at her expression. She sympathized completely; before she’d been carried off to the Collegium by her own Companion, she’d spent most of her life packed together with the rest of her family like salt-fish in a barrel. Her summers had been spent on the boat, with nowhere to go for any kind of privacy, the winters were spent in a one-room longhouse with not only her own family but the families of both her uncles as well. She sometimes wondered now how anyone managed to ignore the press of people long enough to ensure that the family name was carried on!