Heralds of Valdemar (A Valdemar Omnibus)

by Lackey, Mercedes

  “There you’ve hit it. The fact of the matter is that we just don’t know that much about Holderfolk. They’re very secretive; they keep almost totally to themselves and they don’t encourage long visits or curiosity from strangers. Until we heard Talia’s story, we didn’t even know that they don’t tell their children about Companion’s Choice!”

  “They what?” Sherrill was shocked.

  “It’s quite true; she hadn’t the vaguest idea of what it meant when Rolan Chose her. I’m fairly certain she still isn’t entirely aware of what his true nature is. This is what I need to talk to you about. You’re going to be dealing with a child who seems to have had a very alien upbringing. I can make some educated guesses; she seems to be afraid of men, so I can assume she tends to expect punishment from them. That would fit in with what I do know about Holderfolk; their familial life is patriarchal and authoritarian. She seems to be constantly repressing her emotions, and again, that would fit in with what I know of her people. They frown on any sort of demonstrative behavior. At the same time, she always seems to be—almost at war with herself—”

  “Holding herself back, sir?” Sherrill offered. “As if she wanted to make overtures, but didn’t quite dare? She seems to be wary all the time, that much I can tell you. I doubt that she trusts anyone at this point, except maybe Rolan.”

  “Exactly. The first moves are always going to have to be yours, and I think she’ll continue to tend to keep her feelings very much to herself,” Elcarth replied. “It’s going to be up to you to discover if there’s anything bothering her because she’ll never tell you on her own.”

  “Gods.” Sherrill shook her head. “Just the opposite of my people. I don’t know, sir; I’m more used to dealing with folk who shout their minds and hearts to the world. I’m not sure I’m good enough to read the signs of trouble, assuming she’ll give me anything to read.”

  “Do your best, that’s all I ask. At least you both came from Border Sectors; that will be a bond.”

  “Why are you turning her over to Alberich so early?” Sherrill asked curiously. “I realize why she’d best learn self-defense as soon as possible, but I should think, with the kinds of insecurities she seems to have, that he would be the last person you’d want to expose her to. I mean, Jeri would be a much less threatening figure to deal with.”

  “I wish there were some other way, but she knows absolutely nothing about self-defense; I know that Jeri is very good, but she isn’t the kind of experienced teacher Alberich is. He’s the only one likely to be able to teach her with the speed that’s necessary. If a mob of troublemakers should corner her—or, Bright Lady forbid it, someone should decide that a knife in the dark solves the problem of the new Queen’s Own turning up…

  He let the sentence trail into silence.

  “And I can’t be with her all the time. Well, I hope he gentles his usual routine with her, or she may drop dead of fright on the practice field and save an assassin the trouble.” Sherrill’s tone was jocular, but her eyes held no amusement.

  “I’ve already spoken with him, and he’s not as unsympathetic as you might think. He was my year-mate, you know. I have reason to believe he’ll be quite soft-handed with her.”

  “Alberich, soft-handed? Really? Tell my bruises that some time, sir.”

  “Better bruises now than a fatal wound later, no?” Elcarth grinned crookedly. “I could wish one of Talia’s year-mates was another girl; I could wish we had someone more likely to understand what she won’t let us see. You’re the closest I could come. Well, that’s all I have to tell you. It isn’t much—”

  “But it’s a start. Take heart, Dean. Companions don’t Choose badly, and look how long it took Rolan to find her. She’ll manage. And I’ll manage. Heralds always do.”

  * * *

  At the head of the staircase Talia opened a door that led into a single enormous room filled with bookshelves. There were cubicles containing desks and chairs at the ends of the rows of shelves along the walls. She had been expecting perhaps twice or three times the number of books in her Father’s library—twenty—but nothing prepared her for this. There were hundreds of books here; more than she ever dreamed existed, all colors, and all sizes. It was more than a dream come true—it was a vision of heaven.

  Dusk had fallen while they’d been eating, and lanterns had been lit at intervals along the walls. Talia peeked into the nearest cubicle and saw that there were candles on the desk, and a permanent holder affixed to one side of it.

  She heard footsteps approaching from the farther end of the library, and she turned to see who it could be, hoping for someone she knew.

  “Hello!” said a cheerful tenor. “You’re new here, aren’t you? I’m Kris.”

  The young man who stepped into the circle of light cast by the lantern was in Whites and as incredibly beautiful as the Herald Talia had met outside the city had been homely. His features were so perfect they didn’t seem to be real, every raven hair was neatly in place, and his sky-blue eyes would have been the envy of any Court beauty. Talia immediately felt as awkward and ungainly as a young calf—and more than a little afraid as well. Dealing with her older sib Justus had taught her that beauty could hide an evil nature. Only the fact that he was a Herald—and there simply wasn’t any such thing as an evil Herald—kept her from bolting outright.

  “Yes,” she replied softly, blushing a little and staring at her boot-tops. “I’m Talia.”

  “Have you been up here before?”

  She shook her head, beginning to relax a little.

  “Well,” he said, “the rules are very simple. You can read anything you want, but you can’t take the book out of the Library, and you have to put it back exactly where you found it when you’re done. That’s pretty easy, isn’t it?”

  Talia could tell by his patronizing tone of voice that he was feeling just slightly superior. Yet he seemed to be friendly enough, and there hadn’t been anything in his manner to indicate that he was ill-tempered. The patronization annoyed her, and she decided it was safe to get a little of her own back.

  “Y-yes,” she said softly. “As simple as stuffing a chicken.”

  “Ouch!” he laughed, clapping one hand to his forehead. “Stung! Isn’t there anybody that hasn’t heard that story? I deserved that—I shouldn’t have talked down to you. Well, enjoy yourself, Talia. You’ll like it here, I hope.”

  He turned with a parting grin and exited through the door she’d just used, and she heard his footsteps descending the staircase.

  She wandered through the forest of bookcases, losing all track of time, too overwhelmed by the sheer numbers to even begin to make a choice. Gradually, however, she began to notice that the books were arranged by category, and within each category, by title. Once she’d made that identification, she began perusing the bookcases with more purpose, trying to identify what groups there were, and where they were, and marking the locations of particular books that sounded interesting. By the time she had it all clear in her mind, she found herself yawning.

  She made her way to her own room, found one of her new bedgowns, and sought the bathing-room. Sensholding had possessed the relatively new indoor latrines, so those hadn’t surprised her any when Sherrill had shown them to her. However, all hot water for bathing back at the Holding had needed to be carried in pots from the kitchen. Here at the Collegium there were several charcoal-fired copper vessels for heating water, each at least the size of one of the tubs, with pipes at the bottom to take the hot water to the tubs and a pump to refill them with cold water from the top. This arrangement positively enchanted her; being neither little nor adult, she’d rarely ever gotten a really hot bath. The littlest littles were always bathed first, and the adults waited until later when all the kettles of water had been filled and heated a second time. Those who were too old to be bathed but too young to stay up late and bathe with the adults had to make do with whatever was left after cleaning the babies—which wasn’t often much, or very warm.

&nb
sp; There were several girls and young women there already, and all the bathtubs were in use. Talia took her turn at the pump, after being hailed by “you must be the new one” and shyly giving her own name.

  “I’m glad you turned out to be a girl,” one of the ones near her own age said, pumping water vigorously. “The boys outnumber us by too many as it is. Every single one of the other new ones has been a boy! That’s why our side’s smaller.”

  “Well, my sister’s at Healer’s, and it’s the opposite there,” a voice replied out of the steam.

  “Besides, it’s quality that counts, not quantity.” The second bather’s voice was half covered by vigorous splashing. “And it’s quite obvious that we women have the quality.”

  The rest giggled, and Talia smiled tentatively.

  “Sherrill told me there were fifty-three of us,” she replied after a moment, reveling in the fact that she was one of the fifty-three. “How many of each are there?”

  “Thirty-five colts and eighteen fillies,” replied the girl at the pump. “And I’m referring to the human foals, not the Companions. It wasn’t quite so bad until those four new boys came in, but now they outnumber us by almost two to one.”

  “Jeri, you’re betraying your youth,” said the young woman who was climbing out of the nearest tub. “You may not be old enough to appreciate odds like that, but Nerrissa and I are. In my part of the Kingdom, women slightly outnumber the men, and I like it much better the other way ’round. I’d much rather be the one being courted than the one doing the courting. Whoever’s next, I’m done.”

  “Is it like that where you’re from, Talia?” Jeri asked, looking at her curiously as she claimed the now-vacant tub.

  “I—I suppose it must be,” she said, momentarily distracted from her shyness, mentally trying to count the distribution of the sexes in the Holdings she knew. “I’m Holderkin.”

  “Where’s that?” the young woman called Nerrissa asked, folding a towel around her wet hair.

  “East—on the Border,” Talia replied, still thinking. “I know it’s rather dangerous off the Holdings themselves. More men die every year than women; there are lots of wild animals, and raiders come every winter. I think there’s nearly twice as many women as men, at least on the farthest Holdings.”

  “Havens! You must be knee-deep in old maids.”

  “Oh, no—if you don’t go to the Goddess, you have to get married. My father had eleven wives, and nine are still living.”

  “You can have my tub, Talia.” Nerrissa emerged from the steam. “Why do females have to get married?”

  “W-why women can’t Hold a Steading, or speak in Council or—anything important. It wouldn’t be seemly,” Talia said in astonishment.

  “So-ho! That must be why they never send female Heralds to the lower Eastern Border. They wouldn’t be listened to. Talia, it’s very different here. It’s going to take a lot of getting used to, and it’s going to seem strange for a long while. We reckon a person’s importance by what they are, not by what sex they are,” Nerrissa told her. “There’s no such thing as ‘seemly’ or ‘unseemly.’ Just doing the job you’re given.”

  Talia nodded thoughtfully, immersed in her tub. “I-it’s hard to think this way. It j-just doesn’t seem natural. I-I-I think I like it. Most of my Father’s wives would hate it, though. Keldar for sure, and Isrel would be miserable without someone to give her orders.”

  “Nessa, the child doesn’t need a lecture at this time of night!” the first woman called from the doorway. “Honestly, they should make you a teacher when you go into Whites, I’ve never heard anyone make so many speeches! Come on, or you’ll be here all night!”

  “All right, all right!” Nerrissa replied, laughing a little. “Pleasant dreams, little one.”

  Talia finished her bath and found her room, feeling drained to the point of numbness. It seemed very odd to be climbing into a bed that had no one in it but herself. Her mind whirled in circles—this entire adventure hardly seemed real. In less than two weeks she’d gone from being the scorned scapegrace of Sensholding to a Herald-in-training; it seemed impossible. She kept returning to the astonishing moment when she’d realized what all that had occurred to her truly meant, holding the memory as wonderingly and gently as a new kitten, until sleep began to overpower her.

  But her very last thoughts as she drifted off to sleep were of Nerrissa’s words, and the sudden decision that she did like it here.

  Now if only all this was half as wonderful as it appeared on the surface—and if only they would let her fit in.

  5

  She woke to Sherrill’s light tap on the wall and pulled on her unfamiliar uniform before opening her door.

  “It’s about time, sleepy!” Sherrill said genially, looking altogether too awake for sunrise. “The waking-bell rang ages ago, didn’t you hear it? If we don’t hurry, there won’t be anything left but cold porridge.” Without looking to see if Talia was following, she turned and headed for the door of the common-room.

  Sherrill had exaggerated the “danger,” as Talia found when they entered the double-doors. There was still plenty left to eat—an almost bewildering variety for Talia, who expected little besides the aforementioned porridge, bread and milk, and perhaps a little fruit. And there were plenty of other students who trailed in after them, rubbing sleepy eyes or complaining cheerfully to one another.

  After breakfast, a somewhat more subdued meal than supper had been, and punctuated more by yawns than conversation, Sherrill led her to the first floor and out the door at the far end of the corridor. Talia recalled that the Dean had told her this door led to a court and the stables beyond it. They crossed a wide, paved courtyard that lay between the two buildings, with the sun casting long shadows on the bedewed paving-stones before them, and Talia lingered a little, hoping wistfully to see Rolan.

  “Talia, come catch up!” Sherrill called back over her shoulder, squinting against the sunlight. “Or don’t you want to see your Companion this morning?”

  Startled, she ran to overtake Sherrill. “Aren’t the Companions in the stables?” she asked breathlessly.

  “In the stables? With the regular horses? Bright Havens, they’d disown us! The Companions have their own place—we call it Companion’s Field—and an open building so they can come and go as they like. On a beautiful morning like this, they’re all probably out in their Field.”

  They’d come to a tall wooden fence surrounding a park-like area full of trees, and Talia thought that this must have been the green place she’d seen within the walls when she’d first caught sight of the capital. Sherrill climbed up on the fence, as agile as any of Talia’s brothers, put her fingers in her mouth, and whistled shrilly like a boy. When Talia joined her, she could see tiny white shapes moving off in the distance, under the trees. Two of these detached themselves from the rest and began trotting toward them.

  “I don’t Mindcall at all well—not unless I’m scared stiff,” Sherrill said, a little shamefacedly. “Ylsa says I’m blocked—so I have to whistle for Silkswift. She doesn’t seem to mind any.”

  Talia had no difficulty in recognizing which of the two Companions approaching was Rolan, and her joy at seeing him again was such that she didn’t once wonder what Sherrill had meant by “Mindcalling” and “being blocked.” With a cry of happiness she jumped off the fence to land beside Rolan and spent several jubilant minutes caressing him and whispering joyous nonsense into his ear. He was even more of a magical creature than she remembered him being. Someone had tended him well last night, for he had been groomed until he nearly glowed. His coat and mane were softer than the finest fabric she’d ever touched, and he was as beautiful as one of the Moon-steeds that drew the Lady’s chariot. He nuzzled her with something she no longer doubted was love, whuffing softly at her, and the feeling of total well-being and confidence she’d had when with him on the road returned. While she was with him, she feared nothing, doubted nothing…

  “I hate to say this, but we do
have an appointment with Master Alberich,” Sherrill said at last, reluctantly. “Talia, it’s part of your training to spend a lot of time with your Companion—you’ll see him again this afternoon. You have to—from now on tending him and grooming him will be all up to you. They may be incredible darlings, but they don’t have hands; they need us as much as we need them. So you’ll get back to him before supper—and we really do have to be going.”

  Rolan nudged her toward the fence, then shook his forelock as if in admonishment. When she continued to hesitate, he gave her a good shove with his nose and snorted at her.

  “All right,” she replied, “I’ll be good and go. But I’m coming back, classes or not!”

  Sherrill took her to a long, low building just beyond the stables; inside it was all but bare—smooth, worn wooden floors and a few benches, with storage cabinets built into the walls. Between the cabinets were a few full-length mirrors, and the place was lit from windows that were high up on the walls, near the ceiling. There they found the man Sherrill introduced as Alberich, the Weaponsmaster. He alone of all the instructors was not wearing Whites, rather, he was dressed in old, supple leather; part armor, part clothing, and of a dark gray color like old ashes, darker than Student Grays.

  “I thought all the instructors were Heralds,” Talia whispered to her guide as they approached him.

  “All but one—but Alberich is a Herald; he’s just a law unto himself. He never wears Whites unless he’s being official.”

  The Weaponsmaster frightened Talia into near speechlessness when he turned to face them. He was tall, lean, and dark; his face was seamed with scars, and he looked as though he never smiled. Thick streaks of white ran through his abundant black hair, and his eyes were an agate-gray and very penetrating. As his sober stare held her pinned in place, Talia decided that now she knew how a mouse felt in the gaze of a hawk.