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 tide. 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.
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.
Five
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.
“So, “ he said at last. “You are how old? Thirteen? What physical training have you, child? Know you any weaponry? Tactics? Eh?”
She hardly knew how to answer—she really couldn’t make out what he was asking of her. Physical training? Did playing games count? Was the sling she’d used to keep wolves off the sheep a weapon?
At last he gave her a wooden practice knife, and stood with his arms crossed, still looking fierce and hawklike.
“Come you, then. Come at me—”
She still hadn’t the faintest notion what he wanted of her, and stood stonelike, arms stiffly at her sides, feeling clumsy and ridiculous.
“What ails you? I told you to attack me! Is it that women do not fight among your people?” he asked, his speech heavily accented, his brows drawing together into an intimidating frown. “Have you no weapons skill at all?”
“I can shoot a bow, a little,” she said in a small and shamed voice. “One of my brothers showed me. He wasn’t supposed to, but I begged him so hard—and I guess I’m all right with a sling.”
She thought with misery that she seemed to have gotten into the wrong again. It seemed that nothing she’d ever learned was appropriate here—except, perhaps her housekeeping skills. And she’d never once read a tale that praised a Herald’s ability at peeling roots!
She waited, cringing, for him to dismiss her back to the building in disgust. He did nothing of the sort.
“At least you have sense not to pretend to what you have not,” he replied thoughtfully. “I think it is too late to teach you the sword. Fortunately, you are not likely to need to use one. Bow, of necessity, and knife, and hand-to-hand. That should suffice your needs. Return one hour after the nooning.” Then he did dismiss her, after staring at her long and broodingly.
Talia was very subdued and discouraged by this encounter; Sherrill managed to see this even though she tried to mask it. “Don’t feel badly,” she said, and Talia could clearly hear the encouragement in her voice. “You actually got off pretty easily. When he first saw me, he threw his hands up in the air and growled, ‘Hopeless! Hopeless! Let her throw nets and dead fish to defend herself!’ At least he thinks you’re worth working with. He left me to one of his assistants for months!”
“But—why d-d-did he say that ab-b-bout the f-fish?” Oh, that hateful stutter! No matter how confident she tried to appear, it always gave her away!
“Because I spent half my life on a boat and the other half in very crowded conditions; the last thing you want to do on a slippery deck or a floor thick with babies is run! I had to learn how to move freely, something you’ve always known.”
“It d-d-didn’t seem as if he th-thought I was worth anything.”
“He didn’t scream at you—that’s a wonder in itself. He didn’t tell you to get yourself back home and raise babies, either. I thi
nk maybe you won him a little by being honest about how little you know—an awful lot of new students try to pretend they’re more expert than they are, and he generally does his best to make fools of them in front of everybody by way of punishment.”
By now they’d reached the Collegium building again. Sherrill held the door open for Talia and stopped outside the first classroom door on the right. “Here’s where the rest of the new ones are. I’ll meet you for lunch.” With that, Sherrill vanished down the hall, leaving Talia to face the next ordeal alone.
She tugged the door open and tried to slip inside unobtrusively, but felt more like creeping inside than anything else when she felt everyone’s eyes on her. There seemed to be at least a dozen people there. There were no other girls. The boys were mostly her own age, and though they made her feel rather shy, didn’t arouse her unease; but the one who stood at the head of the classroom was one of those fearful creatures of ultimate authority, an adult male. As such, he made her wary immediately. She had to keep reminding herself that he was a Herald—and no Herald would ever do anything to harm anyone except an enemy of the Queen and Kingdom.
“Be welcome, youngling,” he said, perching casually on the front edge of his desk. “Boys, this is your fifth year-mate; her name is Talia. Talia, the red-haired fellow is Davan, the tall one is Griffon, the twins are Drake and Edric—and I can’t tell them apart yet.” He winked at them, and the twin boys grinned back, obviously very much at ease with him. “Maybe I should ask Alberich to give one of you a black eye—then at least I’d know which of you was which until it faded.”
Talia slipped shyly into an unoccupied seat and took a closer look at her teacher. Like Alberich, he was lean, but his brownish hair was only beginning to gray, and he had none of the Weapons-master’s hawkishness about him. He put her more in mind of a hunting hound, all eagerness, good nature, and energy. His eyes were hound-brown, and just as friendly. And there was something about him—once again she was reminded of Andrean; she wanted to trust him—something within her was prompting her to do so, and she was a little surprised at herself.
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