Heralds of Valdemar (A Valdemar Omnibus)

by Lackey, Mercedes

  They lifted her over to a second tub; she still seemed chilled to the bone.

  “Are they—all right?” Talia managed to get out.

  “Who? Sherrill and Keren? They’re fine. Don’t you remember? They’re from Lake Evendim. This isn’t the first ice-rescue they’ve done. And there were two more riders waiting to bring them here, too. They’re both soaking in hot tubs, the same as you.”

  “They are?” Talia raised her head, as the room spun before her eyes, and tried to look around. The bathing room seemed oddly turned backward, reversed in mirror-image.

  “What ha’n’d to th’ room?” Her tongue didn’t seem to quite want to behave.

  “You’re on the boys’ side, silly,” Jeri giggled. “It was closer. Take a good look—you might not get a second chance.”

  “Hush,” Housekeeper Gaytha scolded affectionately. “Talia, I think we’ve gotten the last of the filth off you. How are you feeling?”

  “Still c-cold.” There seemed to be an icy core that the heat didn’t touch. They drained some of the water and ran in more that was fresh and hotter than before. She finally felt herself stop shivering and began to relax. Then a sudden thought made her struggle to sit up.

  “Rolan!”

  “He’s perfectly all right.” Jeri and Housekeeper Gaytha held her firmly in place. “It’ll take more than a cold ducking to stop him!”

  “The worst was heaving him up onto the bank; he wasn’t even chilled, and he’s inordinately proud of himself,” said the third member of the group, silent until now. “I suppose he has every right to be, since your bond isn’t supposed to be strong enough at this stage for you to call one another, even in panic. You’re very lucky that wasn’t the case for the two of you.”

  Her sight seemed to be blurring, but Talia finally got a good look at this third person as she moved to within Talia’s range of vision to speak to her. The woman was a square-jawed ash-blond, and she wore full Heraldic traveling leathers with the silver arrow of a special messenger on one sleeve.

  “I’m sorry we weren’t properly introduced, Talia,” she smiled. “I’m Herald Ylsa. Keren may have mentioned me?”

  Talia nodded, and was immediately sorry. Her head began pounding, and her vision blurred still more. “Keren—was going—t’ be waitin’ F’r you—” she said with difficulty.

  Ylsa saw the glazed look, the fixed pupils of Talia’s eyes, and said sharply, “Problems, kitten?”

  “I can’t—see too well. And m’ head hurts.”

  “Can you tell what’s wrong?” Gaytha asked the Herald in an undertone.

  The woman frowned a little. “Well, I’m no Healer, but I know the technique. Hold still, kitten,” she addressed Talia. “This isn’t going to hurt, but it may make your head feel a little odd.” She caught Talia’s blurring gaze and looked deeply into her eyes—and Talia felt something like a light touch inside her head. It was a very odd sensation.

  Ylsa placed one hand on Talia’s forehead in the lightest of feather-like touches once she’d caught Talia’s attention, beginning her probe. She continued to speak in a casual voice, knowing commonplaces would keep Talia from becoming too alarmed if she sensed anything. “I’d only just come through the gate when the alarm went up. Keren’s got the tightest bond with that stallion of hers that I’ve ever witnessed. The two of them were headed for the river before Felara had managed to do more than tell me that there was bad trouble. We took off after them, but we couldn’t even manage to keep up. Her mindlink with her brother is almost as strong, and she must have told him what was needed before we even hit the riverbank because he came pounding up with blankets and ropes right after she went in. I knew that she and Dantris were good, but I have never seen anyone move like they did—I never even knew you could slingshot into a dive from the back of a Companion in full gallop!”

  While she spoke, she “read” the child as the Healers she had worked with did. Since she was not formally Healer-trained, she took longer at it—and inadvertently made more contact than she’d intended to.

  Talia’s head wasn’t exactly feeling odd, but the sensation of internal touch was stronger than ever, and she was seeing the strangest things. They came in flashes, confusing and disorienting, as if she were seeing things through someone else’s eyes—and what she was seeing concerned Keren and this stranger—intimately. And it was very heavily laden with overtones of complex emotions—

  She blushed an embarrassed crimson. Ylsa and Keren—long-time lovers? She didn’t even know this woman; why should her mind be producing a fantasy like that? She looked up at Ylsa in startled confusion.

  Ylsa hastily broke the contact between them when she realized what the child was sensing, and stared at her with wide-eyed respect. First the Mindcall to her Companion, and now this! Ylsa knew she had one of the strongest shields in the Circle, yet this untrained child had picked out something it might have taken a master to extract. Granted, Ylsa’s shields were probably lowered a trifle because of the reading she was doing, but it should have taken someone fully trained to have taken advantage of the fact. This child was certainly far more than her appearance led you to believe.

  “Concussion,” she said to the others. “And if she had some kind of cold before she went in, it’s getting worse by the moment. I think we’d best get her into a warm bed and have a real Healer take her in hand.”

  And I’d better have a word with Keren as soon as I can! she thought to herself. If this poor child begins a fever, there’s no telling what she’s likely to pick up. Anybody that watches her had better have excellent shields—for her sake.

  The three of them helped Talia out with care, dried her off, and put her into her warmest bedgown. She wasn’t allowed to walk at all; they gave her over to Teren who carried her to her room and tucked her into her bed. It had been warmed, and she was glad of it, for once out of the steam-filled bathing room the air had been very cold and she was shivering by the time they reached her room.

  She was having trouble holding to reality. It only seemed that she’d gotten the blankets tucked around her when there was a stranger standing beside her, come out of nowhere, appearing at her bedside as if he’d been conjured. It was a cherubic-faced man whose beardlessness made him seem absurdly young; he was dressed in Healer’s Green. He held one hand just fractions of an inch from her forehead and frowned in concentration.

  Talia’s head was truly beginning to hurt now; it felt like someone was pressing daggers into her skull just behind her eyes. The rest of her was starting to ache, too; her chest rasped when she breathed and she wanted badly to cough, but knew it would only set off an explosion in her head if she did so.

  The young Healer took his hand away and said to someone just outside the door, “Concussion for certain, though the skull doesn’t seem to be broken. And I’m sure you noticed the fever—pneumonia is a real likelihood.”

  There was a murmur in answer, and the Healer leaned down so that his face was at Talia’s eye level. “You’re going to be a very sick young lady for a while, youngling,” he told her quietly. “It isn’t anything that we can’t cure with time and patience, but it isn’t going to be very pleasant. Can I count on you to cooperate?”

  She made a wry face, and whispered, “You wan’ me t’ drink p-potions, right? Willowbark tea?”

  The Healer chuckled, “I’m afraid that will be the least of the nasty things we’ll ask you to drink. Can you manage your first dose now?”

  She nodded just the tiniest fraction; carefully, so as not to send her head pounding. The Healer busied himself at her fireplace for several long moments, and returned with something green and foul-looking.

  With his aid she drank it as quickly as she could, trying not to taste it. Whatever it was, it was a great deal stronger than Keldar’s willowbark tea, for she found the pain in her head beginning to recede, and her alertness as well. With her alertness went her awareness. Before long, she was soundly asleep.

  She woke to fire and candlelight.
There was someone sitting in the shadows beside her bed; soft harp-notes told her who it was.

  “Herald Jadus?” she whispered, her throat too raw and swollen to produce real sound.

  “So formal, little friend?” he asked, laying down his harp and leaning forward to place one hand on her hot forehead. “How do you feel?”

  “Tired. Cold. Head hurts. Everything hurts!”

  “Hungry?”

  “Thirsty,” she rasped. “Why ’r’ you here?”

  “Thirsty can be remedied if you’re willing to take another one of Devan’s evil brews first. As to why I’m here, that’s easy enough. You need someone to help you while you’re ill, and I have plenty of time for my friend Talia.” He handed her a mug of the same green potion she’d drunk before, nodding in approval as she downed it as fast as she could, then handed her another mug of broth. “We’re taking it in turn to keep an eye on you, so don’t concern yourself over me, and don’t be surprised to see Ylsa or Keren. Ah, Devan—as you predicted, she’s awake.”

  The same Healer moved into view on silent feet, smiling down at her. “You’re a tough little thing, aren’t you? Sometimes being a Border brat like we both are has its positive aspects.”

  Talia blinked owlishly at him over the rim of her mug. “How long—sick?” she croaked.

  “A few weeks; perhaps more. And you’ll feel worse before you feel better. Comforting, aren’t I?”

  She managed a weak grin. “Truth better.”

  “I thought you’d probably prefer it. You may start seeing things when you get more fevered. There will always be someone with you, so don’t worry. Beginning to feel sleepy?”

  “Mm,” she assented.

  “Finish that, then get more rest. I’ll leave you in Herald Jadus’ competent hands.” He departed as silently as he’d come.

  “Is there anything else you’d like, youngling?” Jadus asked, relief evident in his voice.

  Talia surmised vaguely that the Healer’s confidence had allayed some worry he’d had. He took the now-empty mug from Talia’s heavy fingers.

  “Play for me?” she whispered.

  “You have only to ask,” he replied, sounding inordinately pleased and surprised at the request. She drifted off to sleep followed by harpsong.

  Ugly dreams and pain half-woke her; someone—it might have been Ylsa—calmed her panic, and coaxed her to drink more broth and medicine.

  She half-woke countless more times, obediently drinking what was put to her lips, letting herself be steered to and from the bathing room and the privy. She was otherwise unaware of her surroundings. She alternately froze and burned, and lived in a dream where people from Hold and Collegium mingled and did the most absurd things.

  When her dreams turned evil, they were always chased away by harpsong or comforting hands.

  Finally, she woke completely to see sunlight streaming in her window. Her head ached abominably; she felt at the back of it, and winced as her fingers encountered a lump.

  “Hurts, doesn’t it?” The rough voice from the chair beside the bed was sympathetic. Turning her head carefully, Talia saw that Keren had assumed the position she’d last seen occupied by Jadus. She was lounging carelessly in Talia’s chair with her feet up on the desk that stood beside it.

  She also had her sword resting unsheathed in her lap.

  “You’re all right!” Talia croaked with relief.

  Keren cocked an eyebrow at her. “You forget, little centaur; I went in of my own will. My entry was a bit more controlled than yours was. You’re damned lucky to be here, you know. You slipped right under the ice when you lost your hold on Rolan’s back. I almost couldn’t reach you. One fingerlength more and we’d not have found you till Spring thaw.”

  Once again, Talia seemed to be seeing things through other eyes—and feeling things as well. She felt a dreadful fear not her own—and saw herself being pulled under the thick sheet of ice that covered most of the river. And she saw what had followed. She spoke before she thought. “You went under the ice after me—” she said in awe “—you could have died!”

  Keren nearly choked. “Nets of the Lady, Ylsa was right! I’d best watch what I think around you, youngling. We might share more than either of us want to! To change the subject—yes, since you know already, it was a damned close thing. Good thing for both of us that it was Sherrill that was behind me. Once I’d hooked you, she was able to pull both of us out from under, the more ’specially as I’d had the wit to grab one of Ylsa’s spare lead-ropes from her saddle and clip it to my belt on the way to the river. When Sherrill saw that trailing out behind me, she grabbed it. Good thing she’s been on ice-rescues herself.”

  “She’s all right, too?”

  “Oh, she’s not as tough an old snake as I am; she caught a cold. Don’t feel sorry for her—since we’d put you out of reach, the rest of the trainees made a great fuss over her. She’s their heroine; they packed her into bed and waited on her hand and foot till she hadn’t so much as a sniffle.”

  “What do you mean, put me out of reach? Why? And why have you got your sword out? What aren’t you telling me?”

  Keren shook her head ruefully. “You look so naive—innocent, helpless—but even half-dead with concussion and pneumonia you don’t miss much, do you? Ah, little one, there’s no use trying to keep it from you. We’re guarding you. The ones that threw you in the river were caught; you’ve got friends in Servant’s Hall who spotted them coming in mucky. They swore it was just a ‘joke’—some joke!—and all the Queen could legally do was banish them from Court and Collegium. On the surface of it, since there weren’t any witnesses to contradict them, she had no choice. Well, I would have had their heads—” Talia could feel the anger that Keren’s bland expression concealed “—or rather, their hides; but I’m not the Queen, and there’s only so much she could do by the law. Since you managed to survive their little ‘joke’ she couldn’t even call Truth Spell on them.”

  “One of them told me to give their greetings to Talamir—that was before Rolan came,” Talia said quietly.

  Keren whistled, and Talia could feel her anger mount. “Damn! I wish we’d been able to tell the Council that when that lot came up on charges! Well, nobody really believed them, so Ylsa, Jadus, and I have been taking it in turn to guard you; Mero’s been making all your meals himself and Teren brings ’em straight from his hands.”

  “Jadus?” Talia looked at Keren’s sword doubtfully.

  “Don’t make the mistake of thinking he’s helpless because he’s short a leg, lovey. There’s been a loaded crossbow within reach the whole time he’s been up here, and that cane of his has a swordblade in it. Anybody trying to take him would have had one hell of a surprise.”

  “Is all this really necessary?” Talia asked, beginning to feel more than a bit frightened.

  “The danger’s real enough to warrant a few simple precautions. We lose enough of the Circle as it is—we’re not about to lose you through carelessness.” Keren paused, and then added (half in anger, half in hurt), “—and next time, youngling, tell somebody when there’s something wrong! We could have avoided all this—maybe caught whoever was chewing your tail! Heralds always stick together, dammit! Did you think we wouldn’t believe you?”

  “I—yes—” Talia said, and was horrified that her mouth had once again betrayed her. To her further horror, slow tears began to fall, and she was helpless to stop them.

  Keren was out of her chair and at her side in a moment, holding her against a firm shoulder, anger turned immediately to concern and a touch of guilt. “Lovey, lovey, I didn’t mean to upset you. We want you, we need you—it’d half kill us to lose you. You’ve got to learn to trust us. We’re your family. No, we’re more than that. And we’ll never, ever desert you. No matter what happens.”

  “I’m—sorry—” Talia sobbed, trying to bring herself back under control and pulling away from Keren.

  “No, you don’t. It’s time you let some of that out,” Keren ordered.
“Cry all you want. If my twin’s right—and he usually is—you’ve got a lot of crying to catch up on.”

  Her care—her sincerity was too much to stand against. Talia yielded with speechless gratitude, as the barriers within her that had been weakened by her friendship with Jadus came crumbling down. Keren held her as if she were her own child, letting her sob herself into dry-eyed exhaustion.

  “Feel better?” Keren asked, when the last of the tears were gone.

  Talia smiled weakly. “Sort of.”

  “Except that now your head aches and your eyes are sore. Next time, don’t let things build up for so long. That’s one of the things friends are for—to help you with troubles. Now—about that ‘new’ thought-sensing ability of yours—”

  “It’s real? Then I am feeling what you’re feeling? And you and Ylsa—” she broke off in confusion. “But where did I get it from? I couldn’t do that before!”

  “You’re still picking up from me? Oh, hell!” Keren frowned a little in concentration, and abruptly Talia was no longer awash with confusing emotions. “That better? Good. Oh, this thought-sensing is real, all right, and disconcertingly accurate. Only the Circle knows about Ylsa and me; we couldn’t have kept it from them with all the Gifted about, even if we’d wanted to. We’re lifebonded; I don’t suppose you’ve heard of that, have you?”

  “Like Vanyel and Stefen? Or Sunsinger and Shadowdancer?” Keren’s amazed glance flicked over Talia like a spray of cold water, but given Talia’s penchant for tales it wasn’t overly surprising that she had heard of lifebonding. Rare among Heralds, rarer still in the general population, a lifebond was a very special tie, going far beyond the physical.