Heralds of Valdemar (A Valdemar Omnibus)

by Lackey, Mercedes

  “You’re welcome. Consider it payback for last night.”

  He deliberately misunderstood. “Bright Havens, little bird, you keep surprising me! I hadn’t the least notion there was such a sensualist under that serene exterior.”

  She played along. “Why shouldn’t there have been?”

  “You surely didn’t show any sign of it. And you certainly haven’t been… practicing, shall we say?”

  “I hadn’t found anyone I was enough at ease with before this except Skif, and that liaison seemed to have a curse on it!” There was rueful laughter in her voice. “But it wasn’t that I lacked interest; I never told you about Rolan.”

  “What’s Rolan got to do with this?”

  “Remember I told you that he’s always in the back of my mind? That I always know what he’s doing, and I can’t shield him out at all?” Her expression was a little shadowed as she realized she couldn’t shield anyone out at the moment.

  “So?” he prompted. “Why would you want to?”

  “Nighttime in Companion’s Field gets very interesting… and Companion mares share another characteristic with humans besides the gestation period.” When he looked blank, she sighed. “They’re always ‘in season,’ oh, wise counselor.”

  “Good Lord. And if you can’t shield him out…”

  “That means exactly what your filthy mind is thinking.”

  “Secondhand experience?”

  “Something like it.”

  He pulled her head to rest comfortably on his shoulder. “Talia, I’m sorry I didn’t see the state you were in, and I’m sorrier I didn’t do anything about it.”

  “Oh—I—” She sobered immediately when he mentioned her emotion-storm. “Gods, Kris, what am I going to do?”

  “We.”

  “What?”

  “We. You, me, Tantris and Rolan. This is not the total disaster you seem to think it is. Let’s take the easy things. First of all, you’ve learned something you won’t forget. Now let me tell you a little something, Queen’s Own. The reason you’re out here is that you’ll see every kind of problem you’re likely to run up against at Court—only out here it will be much more clear-cut, much simpler. You learn how to handle it where it’s easy to deal with, instead of plunging right in and drowning. Take somebody who’s held a grudge for so long it’s an obsession. You’ve seen it once now, would you recognize it again?”

  Talia thought about how she’d felt when the girl looked into her eyes; the odd chill she’d sensed. “Yes,” she said at last.

  “And do you think you could handle it?”

  “Maybe… I think I’d have to get an assist, though.”

  “Good for you. Before this you’d have said ‘yes.’ Now you realize you might need help. You’re learning, greenie. Now the hard part. Your Gift has gone out of control; we have to get it back under control again. I’ll be willing to bet part of the reason for it going was that nobody recognized you need special training—training to keep your own emotional state from feeding back on your Gift. I’m not even certain there is such a thing.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I can’t think of another Queen’s Own in living memory that has had as powerful a Gift as yours. I’ve never heard of empathy strong enough to be used as a weapon. Talamir certainly didn’t have it—nor Keighvin before him. I don’t even know that there’s a Healer around with empathy that strong. Maybe a Healer could train you, but I wouldn’t care to bet money on the idea.”

  “Then what…”

  “We’ll bloody well invent the training. All four of us. First off, your shields are gone. That’s likely to be the hardest for you to get back, but I think maybe we can deal with it in a different way for now. Hey, Fairyfoot—”

  Tantris looked up and snorted. :Yes, master of the world?:

  “Go ahead, be sarcastic.”

  :You started it.:

  “This is serious, Hayburner. Can you impose shields on her from outside?”

  Tantris looked at both of them thoughtfully. :Yes,: he said after a long pause, :but not for very long.:

  “If you can, then Rolan can—”

  :Has.:

  Kris raised one eyebrow. “Huh. I should have anticipated that. All right, I know I can; I’ve reinforced shielding on the kids I was teaching. So if we take it turn and turn about, can we keep her buffered so long as it’s just the three of us she’s dealing with?”

  :I would think so.: Tantris looked at the other Companion measuringly. :Rolan says to tell you we can probably even handle small gatherings of people.:

  “Better than I’d hoped. Fine. I’ll take first watch. When I flag…”

  :I’ll catch,: came the confident answer. :My pleasure, brother-in-soul.:

  “Did you get the drift of that?” He turned to Talia, setting up shielding around her as he spoke.

  “You’re—oh, Gods!” The relief on her face was a revelation; until that moment he had not realized how much strain she was under.

  “Right. Now… having gotten that taken care of temporarily, we’ll deal with the half of the problem that’s dangerous to others.”

  “The projecting—”

  “But not now. You’re too tired to project past the end of your nose unless I make the mistake of frightening you half to death again, so that can wait. I’m hungry, and I want a bath.”

  Although they had used the Waymeet village bathhouse frequently, choosing a scrub by way of restorative over the sleep they had had little time for, it had been well over a day since the last time they’d gotten clean. Since both of them had fastidious natures, they were feeling it.

  “You go first, then. I want to groom the four-feets, and I’ll wash afterward. I can start to smell them now, and if I don’t get them pretty well clean, things could get whiffy in here. Since I’m doing Rolan, I might as well do all four of them. There’s no need in both of us getting filthy.”

  Kris sniffed; the air was faintly perfumed with an odor of wet wool and horse-sweat. “You don’t have to do all four, but if you insist, I’ll let you. You’re ruining my lovely self-indulgence, though. If you’re going to go all virtuous on me and work, I’ll have to find something to do as well.” He sighed heavily, and made sad eyes at her.

  She made a face at him, feeling like her old self for the first time in weeks. She got dressed, threw her cloak on, then took the first chirra’s lead-rein.

  Chores kept them occupied for the rest of the day, housekeeping and tending to mending that had been left neglected while they ministered to the plague victims. Talia was just as happy; she was reluctant to face her problems just now when she was so emotionally raw. After a quiet bit of lunch, Kris went to take inventory of their supplies.

  There was a half-height door opposite the entrance to the station; it led to a storage shed. Kris found far more supplies there than he had dared to hope—and found some unfamiliar jars and barrels as well. He brought some of those into the Station.

  The jars held honey and oil. “Someone near here must have left these after winter set in,” Kris said in surprise. “It wouldn’t be safe or wise to leave them here in warm weather; they’d go bad or attract animals. That’s why they’re not standard stock. What’s in the barrel?”

  “The oil can be used in the lamp, too.” Talia opened her barrel. It held what seemed to be dried beans. Kris was perplexed.

  “Now why…” he began, when Talia remembered something Sherrill had told her.

  “Sprouts!” she exclaimed. “To keep us from the winter sickness, if we get stuck here longer than the fruit lasts. We’re supposed to soak those in water until they sprout, then eat the sprouts. They do that where Sherrill and Keren come from.”

  Kris looked sober. “We may need them, too. Even if the fruit holds out, it’s dried; not as good for holding off winter-sickness as fresh.” He made a mental tally of all their supplies. “I think we can hold out for a month or so,” he decided, from experience with being snowed in before. “And from t
he looks of this storm, that’s exactly what may happen. It’s still going strong, and by the way the sky looked today, I don’t think it’s going to be slackening soon.”

  “Do we have enough fodder, though? Tantris and Rolan are big eaters, and we can’t feed them on bark and twigs the way we can with the chirras if supplies run low.”

  “There’s fodder and straw baled and stacked on the other side of the shed where you can’t see it, besides on the near side,” Kris reassured her. “It almost looks as though whoever was stocking this Station was expecting a storm this bad. It seems odd, but I don’t know enough about this area to tell you whether or not this type of weather is typical for this time of year. Dirk would know that better than I.”

  “Whatever the reason for the abundance of supplies, it’s a good thing for us that they’re there.”

  * * *

  They did something about supper, and Kris returned the harp. With an inquiring glance in her direction, he began with a song that she’d sung at the Herald’s revel. Taking the glance as an invitation, she stretched herself next to him and began to sing quietly. He hummed the low harmonic under his breath; his voice, though no match for Dirk’s, was reasonably melodic. Behind them the Companions and chirras pricked their ears up to listen with every evidence of interest.

  Suddenly two new voices joined in, wordlessly crooning an eerie descant. Talia and Kris jumped, startled, and stopped—the new voices stopped with the music.

  Puzzled, they began again, this time peering into the darkened side of the Station. After a moment, the descant resumed.

  “Well, that’s what I get for making fun of Dirk’s and Harthen’s tales!” Kris said in surprise. “Chirras do sing!”

  Rolan and Tantris were staring at their stable-mates with a kind of ironic astonishment. Evidently they hadn’t expected the singing either. The chirras, oblivious to everything but the music around them, were reclining with their eyes closed and their heads and necks stretched upward as far as they could reach. Their throats were pulsing, and the humming was, without a doubt, coming from them.

  “Don’t feel badly. I wouldn’t have believed it either,” Talia replied. “I mean, they look like sheep, sort of, and sheep don’t sing. Probably there aren’t too many people playing or singing around them, which would be why more folks haven’t heard them. We never did; they were always outside in the lean-to.”

  The chirras joined in happily on almost everything they played, but they particularly seemed to enjoy the livelier tunes. What was utterly amazing—apart from the simple fact that they sang at all—was what they sang. They crooned harmonics to the melody rather than following the melody itself, and usually chose the upper range in a descant. They would listen for a verse or two before joining in, but though very simple, their harmonizing always fit. Talia knew a great many human singers who couldn’t boast that ability.

  They continued on for some time, so fascinated by this inhuman choir that they forgot any worries they had. They continued until Kris’ fingers were much too tired to play any more. Although ne dearly wanted to go on, after a few fumblings, which caused the chirras to flatten their ears and stare like a pair of offended old women, he was forced to admit it was time to give his hands a rest.

  “In that case…”

  “What have I decided? This is going to be rather hard on you, little bird—”

  “And the past few weeks haven’t?” she replied bitterly.

  “Not like this; it’s going to be pretty cruel. The way I figure it, the two of us not shielding, and especially Rolan, are going to be watching you like cats at a mousehole. The least little indication of projection, and we’re going to jump all over you. After a few days of that, I am willing to bet that you will by damn not be doing any projecting without knowing that you’re doing it!”

  “It doesn’t sound pleasant,” she said slowly, “but it does sound like it may work.”

  “Then once we’ve got you knowing when you’re projecting, we’ll move to handling the projection consciously. Then we’ll work on you controlling the level of it. Finally, we’ll work on getting your shields back up.”

  “If you think I can…

  “I bloody damn know you can!” he said. “But we are not going to be doing anything tonight. If you’re as worn out as I am—and if you’re not more worn out, you’re a better man than I, after all you’ve been through—you won’t be able to do anything, much less working something as delicate as a rogue Gift.”

  As he spoke, he became acutely aware of his own mental fatigue, and the strain of holding shields on her. Just as he felt his own control waver, he felt Tantris slip into his place.

  :My turn, brother,: the mental voice said firmly. He sighed and sent a wordless thought of thanks.

  * * *

  Talia readied things for the morning, while he cared for their Companions. She had shed her clothing and was lazily reaching for the woolen shift she was using as a bedgown, when she found her wrist caught by Kris’ hand.

  He had come upon her quietly from behind, and now captured her other wrist, holding her with her back pressed into his chest. “Surely you’re not sleepy already?” he breathed into her ear, sending delightful shivers up her back.

  “No,” she replied, leaning her head back as his lips touched the back of her neck and moved around to the hollow below her ear.

  “Good.” He drew her down beside him, on top of the blankets he’d spread on the hearthstone, right next to the fire. He stretched himself beside her so that she was between him and the fireplace, feeling truly relaxed for the first time since Elspeth was Chosen.

  He cradled her shoulders while his free hand traced invisible patterns on her skin that seemed to tingle—she moved her own hands in half-instinctual response to what she felt from him; at first hesitantly, then with growing surety. Every inch of skin seemed to be doubly sensitive, and she murmured in surprise and delight as his hands did new and entrancing things. Just when she thought for certain that he’d roused her to the uttermost, he moved his seeking mouth elsewhere, and she learned how it was to be fully awakened to desire.

  Learning from him, she followed his lead, as he roused her to fever pitch, let her cool a little, then aroused her senses again. Finally, when she was certain neither of them could bear any more, he sought her mouth again and joined with her.

  The pain was less than nothing compared to what they shared.

  When at last Kris disengaged himself from her, they lay twined together for a long, euphoric moment, still deeply in rapport. He half-rose and handed her the nearly-forgotten shift with one hand while pulling on his own robe. She slipped it on, lazily gathered up the blankets, and remade their bed. She curled up in it with utter contentment as he banked the fire against the night.

  “That Gift of yours is not always a bad thing,” he said, finally. “Should you ever choose a life-partner, I think I would envy him, little friend. Now I see what they mean about wedding or bedding Healers—especially if all of them have the same kind of Empathy that you do.”

  “Oh?” Her ears all but perked up with interest. “And what do they say?”

  “That you may not get much time with them because they’re always likely to be called away—but what time you do get makes up for their frequent absences.”

  She reached up to pull the blankets more securely about the two of them, and something odd about her hand caught his attention. He captured her wrist again, and held it so that the palm would catch the last of the firelight, frowning a little as he did so.

  Her palm was disfigured by a deep, roughly circular scar.

  “That,” she said quietly, answering the question he did not speak, “is the reason why I was afraid of men for so long—and why I don’t trust handsome ones. My brother Justus, with the innocent face of a golden-haired angel and the heart of a demon, did that to me when I was nine years old.”

  “Why?” The word held a world of shock and dismay.

  “He wanted… I don’t k
now what he wanted; maybe just to see me hurting. He hated anything he couldn’t control. He used to inflict as much pain as he could on the farm animals whenever something had to be done with them. He’d half-drown the sheep, dipping them for insects; he’d cut them terribly, shearing them. Horses he broke were broken; there was no spirit in them when he was done. I think it galled him that I could have an escape from the boredom of Hold life that he couldn’t ruin—he couldn’t stop my reading or dreaming. He ordered me one day to drown a sack of kittens; I tore the sack open instead so that they all escaped. I’m sure he knew that that was exactly what I would do. He backhanded me, knocked me down flat, stepped on my wrist, and used a red-hot poker on my hand. I think that one time he overstepped what he’d intended; I don’t think he meant to burn me as badly as he did, at least not after he saw what he’d done. Gods, I’ll never, ever forget his face while he was burning me, though.” She shuddered, and he held her a little closer. “That—obscene joy—I still had nightmares about it right up through my second year at the Collegium. I know they heard me screaming, but no one came very fast because they knew he was setting a task for me and figured I was being punished for slacking. When I didn’t stop after a couple minutes, though, one of the Underwives came to check. After all the damage was done. When she saw me, he’d already thrown the poker down. He told Keldar Firstwife that he’d hit me for disobedience and I’d grabbed the poker to hit him back, but it had been in the fire too long. He didn’t even have to explain why it was that my palm was burned and not my fingers. They believed him, of course, and not me.”

  “Gods!” He was sickened—and a little more understanding of why she hadn’t confided in him.

  “It was… a long time ago. I’m almost over what it did to me. I think if he were still alive, and subjecting a wife or children to his sadism… well, he’s not. He managed to get himself killed a year or two after I was Chosen. There was a raid, and he had to prove just how much braver he was than anyone else. And Keltev, who was bidding fair to grow up like him, seems to have learned better, so…” She shrugged.

  “That’s the one who used to tease you about wanting to be a Herald—Keltev? Now I know why you put up with the Blues for so long. You had practice; after Justus they must…”