Heralds of Valdemar (A Valdemar Omnibus)

by Lackey, Mercedes

  She lay for a long, long moment again, while her mind threatened to retreat into blackness. That would only be a temporary escape, and she needed a permanent one.

  She spat the stopper out and rolled onto her side while her body howled in anguish, and poured the entire bottle into her mouth. It burned all the way down her raw throat, and burned in her stomach where it lay like molten lead. It felt as if it were eating a hole through to the outside.

  She wept with pain, conscious of nothing but pain, for what seemed to be an eternity. But then numbness began to spread from the fire, pushing the pain before it. It spread faster as it moved outward, and soon she could no longer feel anything, anything at all. Her mind seemed to be floating in warm, dark water.

  A few thoughts remained with her for a while. Elspeth; she hoped the child really had forgiven her—she hoped the next Queen’s Own would love her as much as Talia did. And Dirk. Perhaps it was the best thing that he should not know how much she loved him; he would be spared much anguish that way. Wouldn’t he? She was glad of one thing; that he and Kris had made up before they’d left. It was going to hurt him badly enough when he learned of Kris’ death as it was.

  If only she’d been able to tell them—if only she’d known for certain about Orthallen. He still was there, the unsuspected enemy, waiting to try yet again. And Ancar—master of magicians and possessed of an army of killers. If only she could tell them somehow…

  While she still had the strength and the will, she tried again to Mindcall, but was foiled by the mage-barrier.

  Then her will went numb, and all she could do was drift.

  It was odd… Bards always claimed that all the answers came when one died, but there were no answers for her. Only questions, unanswered questions, and unfinished business. Why were there no answers? One would think that at least one would know why one had to die.

  Maybe it didn’t matter.

  Kris had said it was bright. The tales all said the Havens were bright. But it wasn’t bright. It was dark—darkness all around, and never a hint of brightness.

  And so lonely! She would have welcomed anything, even a fever-dream.

  But perhaps that was just as well, too. In the darkness that damned magician couldn’t find her to bring her back. If she fled away far enough, he might get lost in trying to find her. It was worth the effort—and the warm, numbing darkness was very soothing, if the loneliness could be ignored.

  Perhaps elsewhere, where the mage couldn’t follow, she would find the Havens… and there would be light.

  She let the darkness pull her farther along, closing behind her, and thoughts began to numb and fall away as well.

  As she retreated away down into the darkness, her very last thought was to wonder why there still was no light at all, even at the end of it.

  9

  When the Queen and her entourage set out at last, Dirk was part of her honorguard despite the vehement protests of Healers and fellow Heralds that he was not well enough for such an expedition.

  He had responded that he was needed. This was true; the Collegium had suspended classes and all Heralds normally teaching were serving as bodyguards, with the sole exceptions being those too sick or old to travel. He also argued that he was far healthier than he looked (which was not true), and that he would rest just as well at the easy pace of the baggage train as he would fretting in the infirmary (which was marginally true). The Healers threw up their hands in disgust when Selenay agreed to his presence, and pronounced her to be insane and him to be the worst patient they had ever had since Keren.

  He knew very well that Teren and Skif had quietly detailed themselves to keep an eye on him, not trusting his protestations of health in the slightest. He didn’t care. Anything was worth not being left behind—even being hovered over.

  But he was right about the leisurely quality of the journey—this was to be an easy trip; the most exciting thing likely to occur would be when they met Talia or Kris at the Border. The bodyguard of Heralds was more because of tradition than suspected danger. After all, Alessandar was a trusted ally and a firm friend of Valdemar, and it was as likely for harm to come to Selenay and Elspeth in her own capital as it was for them to come to harm in Hardorn. Dirk figured he should be as safe with them as in his own bed.

  There were other reasons why Dirk wanted to accompany the others, although none that he was willing to disclose to anyone else. His enforced idleness had given him ample time for thought, and he was beginning to wonder if he hadn’t made a bad mistake in his assumptions about the relationship between Talia and Kris. While he hadn’t precisely left the field clear, Kris hadn’t spent much (if any!) time alone with her since they’d returned. Instead, he’d had a brief fling with Nessa, then returned to his old semi-monastic habits. Nor had Talia sought him out. He knew these things to be facts, since he’d been keeping track of their whereabouts rather obsessively. Now that he thought back on it, Kris’ frequent paeans of praise for the Queen’s Own seemed less like those of a lover lauding his beloved, and more like a horsetrader trying to convince a reluctant buyer! And the one whose company Talia had been seeking was the one person who had been trying to avoid her—himself.

  Then there was that odd incident with Keren, right after he’d damn near collapsed. She’d bullied her way past the Healers the morning Kris and Talia had left, while he was still fairly light-headed with fever, and had delivered a vehement lecture to him that he couldn’t quite remember. It was maddening, because he had the shrewd notion that it was important, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to confront Keren again and ask her what her diatribe had been all about. But if what vague memories he did have were not totally misleading—and they very well could be—she’d spoken of lifebonds, and more than once. And she’d gone on at some length about what an idiot he was being, and how miserable he was making Talia feel.

  Besides all that, he had had some very frightening dreams that he didn’t think could all be laid to the fever, and had been entertaining very uneasy feelings about the whole expedition from the moment he had learned that Talia and Kris were gone. If something were to go wrong, he wanted to know about it firsthand. And he wanted to be in a position where he could do something, not just wonder what was happening; although in the kind of shape he was in, he was not too sanguine that he’d be able to do much.

  Technically, he was still an invalid, so he was sent to the rear of the company before the baggage animals, to share Skif’s bodyguard duty on Elspeth. Skif’s Cymry had foaled in early spring, and the youngster was just barely old enough to make this kind of easy trip.

  Elspeth was anxious, and Dirk had a notion that he and Skif were the best possible company for the young Heir; the antics of Cymry’s offspring and Skif’s easy patter kept her spirits up, and Dirk was more than willing to talk about the one subject that overwhelmed her with guilt and dominated her thoughts—Talia.

  * * *

  Selenay had given Talia’s note to Elspeth when the Heir had searched for the Queen’s Own without success and had finally demanded to know what her mother had done with her. She had recalled her promise of many years’ standing with heartfelt remorse almost as soon as Talia had turned her back on her and ridden away. “I’ll never get mad at you,” she had pledged. “No matter what you say, unless I go away and think about it, and decide what you told me just wasn’t true.”

  And a great deal of what Talia had said that night, though harsh, was true. She hadn’t thought past her own pleasure and her own wishes. She hadn’t once considered her “affair” in the light of the larger view.

  Her would-be lover’s betrayal had hurt—but not nearly so much as the thought that she’d driven away a friend who truly loved her with that broken promise. Talia’s words had been ugly, but not unearned—and Elspeth had returned her own share of harsh and ugly words.

  If truth were to be told, though Elspeth was even more ashamed when she thought about it, the name-calling had begun with her. She wanted desperately, now that
she’d read the note, to make her own apologies and explanations, and to regain the closeness they’d had before Talia’s stint in the field. Her remorse was very real, and she had the urge to talk about it incessantly.

  She found a sympathetic ear in Dirk, who never seemed to find her own repetitive litany boring.

  She gradually managed to purge some of her guilt just by pouring her unhappiness into his ears, and slowly it became less obsessive.

  But it was still very much with her.

  * * *

  “Daydreaming, young milady?”

  The smooth, cultivated voice startled Elspeth out of deep thought.

  “Not daydreaming,” she corrected Lord Orthallen, just a shade stiffly. “Thinking.”

  He raised an inquisitive eyebrow, but she wasn’t about to enlighten him.

  He nudged his chestnut palfrey a little closer; Gwena responded to her unspoken twinge of revulsion and moved away.

  “I must admit to being caught up in a great deal of thought, myself,” he said, as if unwilling to let her escape from him. “Thought—and worry—”

  Damn him! she thought. He is so smooth—he makes me want to trust him so much! If Alberich hadn’t said what he did to me—

  :I’d trust Alberich with my life,: Gwena said unexpectedly in her mind. :I wouldn’t trust that snake with my hoof-parings!:

  :Hush, loveling,: she replied the same way, amusement at her Companion’s vehemence restoring her good humor. :He won’t catch me again.:

  “Worry about what, my Lord?” she asked ingenuously.

  “My nephew,” he replied, surprising the boots off her with his expression and the tinge of real concern in his voice. “I wish that Selenay had consulted me before sending him on this mission. He’s so young.”

  “He’s quite experienced.”

  “But not in diplomacy. And not alone.”

  :Bright Havens, loveling, I could almost believe he really is anxious!:

  :He is.: Gwena sounded just as surprised. :And somehow—somehow that frightens me. What does he know that we don’t?:

  “It’s a simple mission to an ally,” she said aloud. “What could possibly go wrong?”

  “Nothing, of course. It’s just an old man’s foolish fancies.” He laughed, but it sounded forced. “No, never mind. I actually came back here to see if you were pining over one of those young men you’ve left back at Court.”

  “Them?” She produced a trill of very artificial gaiety. “Lady bless, my lord, I can’t for the life of me wonder what I ever saw in them. I never met a pack of puppies with emptier heads in my life! I’m afraid they bored me so I was only too pleased to escape them—and I think I’d better head to the rear and take my turn making sure poor Dirk doesn’t fall out of his saddle. Farewell, my lord!”

  :Oh, that’s putting a kink in his tail, little sister!: Gwena applauded as she spun and cantered to the rear. :Well done indeed!:

  * * *

  “Dirk?” Elspeth cantered up next to him.

  “What, imp?” He’d been almost half-asleep; the sun was gentle and warm, Ahrodie’s pace was smooth, and the gentle chime of bridle bells and the ringing of hooves on the road had been very soporific.

  “Do you think it’ll be Talia that meets us on the Border?” Elspeth’s tone was wistful, her face full of undisguised hope. Dirk hated to disappoint her, but he didn’t have much choice.

  He sighed. “Not likely, I’m afraid. Fact is, as Queen’s Own she’s really your mother’s first representative, so chances are she’ll still be with Alessandar.”

  “Oh.” She looked rather crestfallen, but apparently was feeling like continuing the conversation. “Are you feeling all right? You’ve been coughing a lot.”

  She looked sideways at him with a certain amount of concern in her glance.

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to nursemaid me,” Dirk replied with some exasperation. “It’s bad enough with those two playing mother-hen.” He nodded back in the direction where Skif and Teren were riding, just out of earshot.

  The bright noontide sun, so welcome after all those weeks of cold rain, made their white uniforms difficult to look at without squinting. Teren positively glistened.

  And how in blazes, Dirk found himself wondering, does he manage to look so immaculate with all the dust we’re kicking up?

  Elspeth giggled. “Sorry. It does get to be a bit muchish, doesn’t it? Now you know how I feel! It was all right back at the Collegium, but I can’t even slip off into the woods to—you know—without two Heralds pounding up to bodyguard me!”

  “Don’t blame anybody but your mother, imp. You’re the only offspring. She should have whelped a litter, then you wouldn’t have these problems.”

  Elspeth giggled even harder. “I wish some of the courtiers could hear you, talking about her like she was a prize bitch!”

  “They’d probably call me out for insulting her. She, on the other hand, might very well agree with me. What are you doing for classes since you’re not warming a desk?”

  Much to his own surprise, Dirk realized he was interested in hearing Elspeth’s answer. Some of the lethargy of his illness was ebbing, replaced by a little of his old energy, and he was beginning to realize that a good deal of his mental distress had vanished as well. Whether this was as a result of mending his quarrel with Kris or something else he had no idea, but it was a welcome change.

  “Alberich told Skif to teach me knife-throwing. I’m getting pretty good at it, if I can be forgiven a boast. Watch—”

  Her hand flicked out sideways and forward, and a small knife appeared almost magically, quivering in the bole of a tree ahead of them. Dirk hadn’t even seen it leave her hand.

  “Not bad—not bad at all.”

  Elspeth cantered up to retrieve it, cleaning the blade of sap on her sleeve, then rejoined Dirk. “He gave me a wrist sheath with a trick release—see?” She pushed up her sleeve to display it proudly. “Just like Talia’s.”

  “So that’s where she got them! Figures it’d be him. If there’s a way to hide anything, that boy knows it.” Dirk grinned, and realized with surprise that it had been a long while since he’d smiled. “Not that I’ve got any objections, mind you. I’m just as glad you’ve got a hidden sting, imp.”

  “Whyfor? Mother wasn’t all that happy about my learning ‘assassin’s tricks,’ as she so tactfully put it. It was only my saying that Alberich ordered it that made it right with her.”

  “Call me a little more pragmatic, but if you know the assassin’s tricks, you’re one up on the assassin—and there’s only one of you, imp. We can’t afford to lose you.”

  “Funny, that’s just what Skif said. I guess I’m out of the habit of thinking of myself as important.” She grinned, and Dirk thought fleetingly that a charming young woman had been born out of the haughty Brat Talia had taken in charge. No small miracle had been wrought there.

  “I hope you’re also learning that in a dangerous situation you react with reflexes, not with your head.”

  She made a face. “Am I not! It hasn’t been so long ago that Alberich, Skif and Jeri were ambushing me every time I wasn’t looking, solo or in groups! Anyway, other than that, I’m just supposed to be talking with Heralds. I guess they figure I’ll pick things up by contamination, or something.”

  “That’s a fine way to talk about your elders! Although I hate to admit it—but with Skif, ‘contamination’ is pretty accurate.”

  “Do I hear my name being taken in vain?”

  Skif nudged Cymry up to ride beside them.

  “Most assuredly, my fine, feathered felon. I was just warning our innocent young Heir about associating with you.”

  “Me?” Skif went round-eyed with innocence. “I am as pure—”

  “As what they shovel out of the stables.”

  “Hey, I don’t have to sit here and be insulted!”

  “That’s right,” Elspeth giggled. “You could ride off and let us insult you behind your back like we were doing already.
”

  As if to echo her, a bold scarlet jay called down filthy names on him just as he rode beneath it. It hopped along the branch that overhung the road and continued catcalling after he’d passed.

  “I do believe I am outnumbered—you’re even getting the wildlife on your side! It’s time, as Master Alberich would say, for a strategic retreat.”

  He reined Cymry in and dropped back to resume his place beside Teren, making a face at Elspeth when he saw she was sticking her tongue out at him. Dirk was hard put to keep a straight face.

  But a moment later Elspeth’s mood abruptly shifted. “Dirk? Can I ask you something?”

  “That’s what I’m here for, imp. Part of it, anyway.”

  “What’s evil?”

  Dirk nearly lost his teeth. Philosophy was not what he was expecting out of Elspeth. “Ouch! Don’t believe in asking the easy ones, do you?”

  He sat silent for a long moment, aware after a sidelong glance at her that he had won Elspeth’s heart forever by taking her question seriously. “Have you ever asked Gwena that one?” he said at last. “She’s probably a better authority than I am.”

  “I did—and all she did was look at me like I’d grown horns and say, ‘It just is!’”

  He laughed, for the answer sounded very like the kind of response Ahrodie used to give him. “They do seem to have some peculiar blind spots, don’t they? All right, I’ll give it a try. This isn’t the best answer by a long road, but I think it might be somewhere in the right direction. It seems to me that evil is a kind of ultimate greed, a greed that is so all-encompassing that it can’t ever see anything lovely, rare, or precious without wanting to possess it. A greed so total that if it can’t possess these things, it will destroy them rather than chance that someone else might have them. And a greed so intense that even having these things never causes it to lessen one iota—the lovely, the rare and the precious never affect it except to make it want them.”

  “So—‘good’ would be a kind of opposite? Unselfishness?”

  He frowned a little, groping for the proper words. “Oh, partially. Evil can’t create, it can only copy, mar, or destroy, because it’s so taken up with itself. So ‘good’ would also be a kind of selflessness. And you know what a lot of sects preach—that ultimate good—Godhead—can only be reached by totally forgetting the self. What brought this on?”