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 close 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 candle-light. 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 u
nder, 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.
“Not so dramatic, but yes, like Vanyel and Stefen. Well, I’d guess that either the blow to your head woke your Gift early, or overwhelming fear did. It happens sometimes. Now if you weren’t Queen’s Own, we wouldn’t even think about training you to use it for another few years, but you’re by definition a special case. Do you want it trained?”
“Please—not another set of lessons—” Talia said pathetically.
Keren chuckled. “All right then, lovey, we’ll leave things as they are. Maybe when your head heals, it’ll go away; I’ve seen that happen before. But if it starts to get bothersome, you tell one of us, all right?” She paused, and eyed Talia speculatively. “It doesn’t disturb you—about Ylsa and me?”
“No,” Talia replied, a trifle surprised. “Should it? I mean—there’s lots of—um—” she blushed again “—’special friends’ on the Holdings.”
“Are there?” Keren raised an eyebrow. “I never figured on that, old rocks that they are. Makes sense, I guess—all those Underwives, and damn few of ‘em wed for affection,” she relaxed visibly. “I won’t deny that I’m glad to hear that from you. You’ve got an old head in a lot of ways, lovey; I’m beginning to think of you as much as my friend as my student, and I’d hate to see anything get in the way of that friendship.”
“Me? Your friend?” Talia was visibly startled.
“Surprised? Jadus thinks of you as a friend, too, and he hasn’t opened up to anyone in years. There’s something about you that I can’t pinpoint—you’re so much older than your years, sometimes. Maybe it comes of being Queen’s Own. Lady knows I’m not old enough to have known Talamir as a lad. You seem like someone I’ve known and trusted for years. Like a little sister. As close, maybe, as my twin—which is damned odd, considering that I’ve got a niece and nephew nearly your age. I’m not the only one to feel that way. There’s Jadus, like I said—and Sherrill, and Skif, and probably more.”
Talia digested this with wonder.
Keren shook her head, “Enough of this—how’s the skull feel?”
“Awful.”
She stood up and examined the lump with gentle, skillful fingers.
“Lovey, luck was all on your side in this. An inch or two lower, or on the temple instead, and you’d have been unconscious or paralyzed when you hit the water. You’d have gone under without a ripple, and we’d never have known what happened to you. Think you can stomach more of that vile green brew? It’ll take the ache out, anyway.”
Talia nodded slowly, and Keren brought her a mug of the concoction, then returned to her former perch on the chair; feet propped up and sword on her lap.
“How much of my classes have I missed?”
“Not a thing that can’t be made up quickly, ’specially sinc
e you’re excused from chores and Alberich’s tender mercies till you’re well again. If your eyes play tricks on you, we’ll read to you, and everybody in the Collegium wants to loan you their notes. Fair enough?”
Talia was about to answer when a deep, somber-toned bell—one she’d never heard before—began tolling somewhere nearby.
Keren stiffened as her head snapped up on the first peal, “Damn,” she said softly, but with venom, “Oh, damn.”
“What’s the matter?” Talia did not like the tense bitterness on Keren’s face. “What’s happened?”
“That’s the Death Bell.” Keren stared sightlessly out the window, tears trickling unheeded down her cheeks. “It rings when a Herald dies. It means that the bastards got another one of us. And one of the best. Ah, gods, why did it have to be poor Beltren?”
Eight
Minutes after the bell began its somber tolling, someone tapped on Talia’s door; before Keren could answer, Skif stuck his head inside.
Keren lowered the blade she had aimed reflexively at the entrance.
“Keren—” Skif said hesitantly “—your brother sent me. He thought you might want to be with the others. I can watch Talia.”
Keren pulled herself together with an obvious effort. “You sure? I know you think you’re good, youngling—”
Talia didn’t even notice Skif’s hand moving, but suddenly there was a knife quivering in the wall not an inch from Keren’s nose. Both of them stared at it in surprise.
“Huh!” was all the reply Keren made.
“If there had been a fly on your beak, I could have nipped it off without touching you,” Skif said soberly, with none of his usual boastfulness. “I know I’ve got a long way to go in everything else, but not even Alberich can best me with these.”
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