Valdemar Books

by Lackey, Mercedes

And if it was, she thought grimly, she’d have been easy prey for Hulda.

  “As for that medicine you saw Hulda giving her, I never prescribed anything like that for her, but it might be a folk remedy, or one of the other Healers might have ordered it for her. I can check if you’d like ....”

  Talia belatedly realized that this might not be a wise idea. She didn’t want Hulda alerted if the woman was up to something—and she didn’t want her embarrassed if she wasn’t.

  “No, that’s all right, thank you. It probably is just a folk remedy. In fact, now that I think of it, it looked a lot like a syrup Keldar used to give her mother for aching joints.”

  The Healer smiled, with obvious relief. “Melidy does have arthritis, and unfortunately there isn’t much we can do for her other than try and ease the pain. The potion might very well be one of ours. I’m glad the other nurse seems to be taking care of her, then. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “No—thank you,” Talia replied. “You’ve answered everything I needed to ask.”

  But, she thought as she walked slowly back to her room, you raised a lot more questions than you answered.

  Nine

  “If only I could go back in time ....”

  “If only you could what?” Skif asked, looking up from the book he’d been studying. Talia was perched in his open window, staring out at the moonlit trees, her own mind plainly not on study.

  “I said, ‘if only I could go back in time,’” she repeated. “I’d give half an arm to know if there was anyone besides Elspeth’s father involved in bringing Hulda here—especially since she arrived after he was dead. But the only way I could find that out is to go back in time.”

  “Not—quite—”

  Skif s expression was speculative, and Talia waited for him to finish the thought.

  “There’s the immigration records—everything about anyone who comes in from outKingdom is in them. If Hulda had any other sponsors, they’d be in there. And it seems to me there’s something in the laws about immigrants having to have three sponsors to live here permanently. One would have been the Prince, and one Selenay—but the third might prove very interesting ....”

  “Where are these records kept? Can anybody get at them?” Talia’s voice was full of eagerness.

  “They’re kept right here at the palace, in the Provost-Marshal’s office. Keeping those records is one of his duties. But as for getting at them—” Skif made a face “—we can’t, not openly. Well, you could, but you’d have to invoke authority as Queen’s Own, and Hulda would be sure to hear of it.”

  “Not a good idea,” Talia agreed. “So we can’t get at them openly—but?”

  “But I could get at them. It’s no big deal, just—”

  “Just that The Book is there, too,” Talia finished for him. “Well, you haven’t had any misdemeanors down in The Book for nearly a year, have you?”

  “Hell, no! You’ve been keeping me too busy!” he grinned, then the grin faded. “Still, if I got caught,, they’d figure I was in there to alter The Book. Orthallen doesn’t like me at all; I’m like a burr under his saddle. I don’t grant him proper respect, I don’t act like a sober Heraldic Trainee. He’d love the chance to really slap me down.” He looked at Talia’s troubled face, then his grin revived. “Oh, hell, what can he do to me, anyway? Confine me to the Collegium grounds? I haven’t been off ‘em since I met you, almost! I’ll do it, by the gods!”

  There was something wrong—there was something very wrong. Skif wasn’t late—not yet—but Talia suddenly had the feeling that he was in a lot of trouble, and more than he could handle. And tonight was the night he was supposed to be getting into those immigration records ....

  Although she had no clear idea of what she was going to do, Talia found herself running through the halls of the Collegium—then the halls of the Palace itself. It was only when she neared Selenay’s quarters that she paused her headlong flight, waited until she had her breath back, and then approached the door of the Queen’s private chambers shyly. The guard there knew her well; he winked at her, and entered the door to announce her. She could hear the vague murmur of voices, then he opened the door again and waved her inside.

  She drew in a trembling breath and prayed that something would guide her, and went in. The door closed quietly behind her.

  Selenay was sitting at the worktable, flushed and disturbed-looking. Elcarth, Keren, and the Seneschal’s Herald, Kyril, were standing like a screen between Talia and something behind them. Standing between Selenay and the Heralds was Lord Orthallen. Talia’s heart sank. It was Skif, then. She had to save him. He’d been caught, and it must have been much worse than he thought. But how was she going to be able to get him off?

  “Majesty—” she heard herself saying, “—I—I’ve got something to confess.”

  Selenay looked confused, and Talia continued, “I—I asked Skif to do something for me. It wasn’t—quite—legal.”

  As Selenay waited, Talia continued in a rush, “I wanted him to get the Holderkin records for me.”

  “The Holderkin records?” Selenay repeated, puzzled. “But why?”

  Talia had no notion where these ideas were coming from, but apparently they were good ones. She hated the notion of lying, but she daren’t tell the truth, either. “I—I wanted to make sure I wasn’t in them anymore.” To her own surprise, she felt hot, angry tears starting to make her eyes smart. “They didn’t want me—well, I don’t want them, not any of them, not ever! Skif told me Sensholding could claim Privilege Tax when I earn my Whites, and I don’t want them to have it!”

  Now she was really crying with anger, flushed, and believing every word she’d told them herself. Selenay was smiling a smile bright with relief; Elcarth looked bemused, Keren vindicated, Kyril slightly amused, and Orthallen—Talia was startled by his expression. Orthallen looked for one brief instant like a man who has been cheated out of something he thought surely in his grasp. Then he resumed his normal expression—a cool, impassive mask, and try as she might, Talia couldn’t get past it.

  “You see, Orthallen, I told you there’d be a simple explanation,” Elcarth was saying then, as the Heralds moved apart, and Talia could see who it was that they had been screening from her view. She wasn’t surprised to see Skif, white and tense, sitting in a chair as if he’d been glued there.

  “Then why wouldn’t the boy tell us himself?” Orthallen asked coldly.

  “Because I didn’t want Talia in trouble, too!” Skif said in a surly tone of voice. “I told you I wasn’t after The Book, so what business was it of yours what I did want? You aren’t the Provost-Marshal!”

  “Skif,” Kyril said mildly, “He may not be the Provost-Marshal, but Lord Orthallen is entitled to a certain amount of respect from you.”

  “Yes, sir,” Skif mumbled and looked steadfastly at his feet.

  “Well, now that this matter seems to have cleared itself up, shall we let the miscreants go?” Selenay smiled slightly. “Talia, the next time you want something in the records, just ask Kyril or myself. And we’ll make sure you aren’t listed in the Census as Holderkin anymore, if that’s what you want. But—well, I still don’t quite understand why you didn’t come to me in the first place.”

  Talia knew from the tightness of the skin of her face that she had gone from red to white, “I—it was selfish. UnHeraldlike. I didn’t want anybody else to know ....”

  Elcarth had crossed the space between them and placed an arm around her shoulders. “You’re only human, little one—and your kin don’t deserve any kindness from you after the way they’ve disowned you. Skif—” he held out his hand to the boy, who stood slowly, and came to stand beside Talia, taking one of her hands and staring at Orthallen defiantly. “—you and Talia go back to your rooms, why don’t you? You’ve had a long night. Don’t do this again, younglings, but—well, we understand. Now get along.”

  Skif all but dragged Talia from the room.

  “Good gods—how the hell did y
ou think of that? You were great! I started to believe you! And how did you know I was up to my ears in trouble?”

  “I don’t know—it just sort of came,” Talia replied, “And I just knew you were in for it. What happened? How did you get caught?”

  “Sheer bad luck,” Skif said ruefully, slowing their headlong rush down the hall. “Selenay needed some of the Census reports and Orthallen came after them. He saw my light in the Provost-Marshal’s office, and caught me red-handed. Gods, gods, was I stupid! It wouldn’t have happened if I’d been paying any attention at all to the sounds from the corridor.”

  “What was he going to do to you?”

  “He was trying to get me suspended. He couldn’t get me expelled unless Cymry repudiated me, but—well, he was trying to get me sent off to clean stables for the Army for the next four years—‘until I learned what honest work means,’ he said.”

  “Could—could he have done that?”

  “Unfortunately, he could. I’ve got one too many marks in The Book. There’s an obscure Collegium rule covering that, and he found out about it, somehow. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s been looking for a way to get me.”

  “You’d better stop helping me, then ....”

  By now they were outside Talia’s door.

  “Be damned if I will! This is so frustrating—I’d just found Hulda’s records, too! Well, we’ll just have to give up on those, and stick with what we’ve been doing. But there’s no way I’m going to let this stop me!”

  He stopped, and gave her a quick hug, then pushed her toward her door. “Go on, get some sleep. You look like you could use it, and I feel like somebody’s been using me for pells!”

  Talia was studying alone in her room one night, when there was a light tapping on her door. She opened it—to find a black, demonic looking creature on the other side.

  A hand clamped over her mouth before she could shriek, and the thing dragged her back inside, kicking the door closed behind it.

  “Ssh! Don’t yell—it’s me, Skif!” the thing admonished her in a hoarse whisper.

  He took his hand away from her mouth gingerly, ready to clamp it down again if she screamed.

  She didn’t; just stared at him with huge, round eyes. “Skif—what are you trying to do to me?” she said finally. “I nearly died of fright! Why are you rigged out like that?”

  “Why do you think? You don’t go climbing around in the restricted parts of the Palace dressed in Grays—and I’m a bit too young to look convincing in Whites. Get your breath back and calm yourself down because tonight you’re coming with me.”

  “Me? But—”

  “Don’t argue, just get into these.” He handed her a tight-fitting shirt and breeches of dusty black. “Good thing you’re my size, or nearly. And don’t ask me where I got them, or why, ’cause I can’t tell you.” He waited patiently while she laced herself into the garments, then handed her a box of greasy black soot. “Rub this anywhere there’s skin showing, and don’t miss anything—not even the back of your neck.”

  He went to her window, opened it to its widest extent, and looked down. “Good. We won’t even have to go down to the ground from here.”

  He produced a rope and tied it around Talia’s waist. “Now follow me—and do exactly what I do.”

  The scramble that followed was something Talia preferred not to remember in later years. Skif had them climbing from window to window across the entire length of the Collegium wing, and from Acre along the face of the Palace itself. Talia was profoundly grateful for the narrow ledge that ran most of the way, for she doubted she could have managed without it. At length he brought them to a halt just outside a darkened window. Talia clung with all her might to the wall, trying not to think of the drop behind her, as he peered cautiously in through the cracks in the shutter.

  He seemed satisfied with what he found, for he took something out of a pouch at his belt and began working away at the chink between the two halves of the shutter. Before too long, they swung open. Skif climbed inside, and Talia followed him.

  The room disclosed was bare of furniture and seemingly unused. Skif led her to the closet set into one wall, opened it, and felt along the back wall. Talia heard the scrape of wood on wood, and a pair of peepholes was revealed.

  Light shone through them from the other side. Talia quickly put her eye to one, and as she did so, Skif handed her a common drinking glass. He pantomimed placing it to the wall and putting her ear against it. She did, and realized she could hear every word spoken in the other room, faintly, but clearly.

  “—so at this rate, the child is unlikely ever to be Chosen, much less made Heir. You’re dong quite well, quite well indeed,” an unctuous baritone said with satisfaction. “Needless to say, we’re quite well pleased with you.”

  “My lord is most gracious,” Talia could see the second speaker, Hulda, but was unable to see the first, and his voice was too distorted by the glass for her to recognize it. “Shall I continue as I have gone?”

  “Has the child-Herald made any further attempts at Elspeth?”

  “No, my lord. She seems to have become discouraged.”

  “Still,” the first speaker paused in thought, “we cannot take the chance. I suggest you continue your practice of telling ‘bedtime tales’—you know the ones I mean.”

  “If my lord refers to those featuring Companions who carry off unwary children to a terrible fate, my lord can rest assured that I will do so.”

  “Excellent. Here is another supply of the drug for the nurse and your usual stipend.”

  Talia heard the chink of coins in one of the two pouches Hulda accepted.

  “You will come out of this a wealthy woman, Hulda,” the first speaker said as footsteps marked his retreat.

  “Oh, I intend it so, my lord,” Hulda said with venom to the closed door. Then she, too, turned and left the room by a second door.

  Talia was too busy thinking about what she’d witnessed to worry about the return trip.

  When they reached her room, Talia seized a towel and began ruthlessly scrubbing the soot away. “Is that the first time you’ve watched that?” she asked as she scrubbed.

  “The third. The first time was by accident; I’d been following the witch and had to duck into that other room to hide from her; I found the cracks behind a patch in the closet. The second time I took a guess that the first was a regular meeting. I was right. You know something else—no, that’s too far-fetched.”

  “What is?”

  “Well, a couple of times Melidy started to refuse that drug the witch has been feeding her, and—well, she did something, I dunno what, but it made her drink it anyway. If I didn’t know better, I’d have sworn she was using real magic, you know, old magic, like in the legends, to hold power over Melidy’s mind.”

  “She’s probably got some touch of a Gift.”

  “Yeah—yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  “Here, get into these. They’re too big for me, so they might fit you.” Talia handed Skif a set of clothing.

  “Why?” he asked, astonished.

  “Because as soon as you’re dressed, we’re going to Jadus.”

  Jadus was asleep when they reached his room. Under ordinary circumstances Talia would never have dared disturb him, but she felt the occasion warranted her waking him. Skif opened his door silently, and both of them slipped inside.

  He roused before Talia and Skif could reach his side, staring at them with a dagger suddenly in his hand.

  The elderly Herald had been sleeping uneasily for several nights running and had taken to sleeping as he had in his younger days; with a knife beneath his pillow. He woke with wary immediacy and sat up with the knife in one hand before they were halfway across his bedroom. He blinked in surprise to see the two soot-streaked trainees frozen in midstep.

  “Talia!” He was shocked at her presence—Skif, with his penchant for pranks, he might have expected. “Why—”

  “Please, sir, I’m sorry, but i
t’s an emergency.”

  Jadus shook the last sleep from his head, sat up, and gathered a blanket around his shoulders. “Very well, then—I know you better than to think you’d be exaggerating. Blow up the fire, light some candles, and tell me about it.”

  He heard them out, Talia prompting Skif to tell his part. Before they’d told him more than a quarter of their tale, he knew that it definitely warranted the classification of “emergency.” By the time they’d finished it, he was chilled.

  “If I didn’t know you both, I’d have sworn you were making up tales,” he said finally. “And I almost wish you were.”

  “Sir?” Talia asked after a lengthy silence, her face drawn with exhaustion. “What should I do?”

  “You, youngling? Nothing,” he reached out to both of them, gathering one in each arm and hugging them, grateful for their intelligence and courage. “Talia, Skif, both of you have done far more than any of your elders have managed; I’m pleased and proud of both of you. But now you’ll have to trust me to take care of the rest. There are those who need to be told who will listen to an adult, but not to the same words from the mouth of a child. I hope you’ll let me speak for you?”

  Skif sighed explosively. “Let you? Holy stars, I was afraid you were going to make me tell all this to Kyril or Selenay myself! And after getting caught going after those records, I’m afraid my credit isn’t any too high with them right now. Oh, no, Herald, I’d much rather that I was not the bearer of the bad news. If you don’t mind, I’d rather go find my bath and my bed.”

  “And you, Talia?”

  “Please—if you would,” she looked up at him with eyes full of exhaustion and entreaty. “I wouldn’t know what to say. There’s too many questions we can’t answer. We don’t know who ‘my lord’ is, for one thing, and if Lord Orthallen starts shouting at me, I—I—think I might cry.”

  “Then go, both of you. You can leave everything to me.”

  The two rose and padded out, and he sat in deep thought for a moment before ringing for his servant.

  “Medren, I need you to have Selenay wakened; ask her to come to my room and tell her that it’s quite urgent that she do so. Then do the same for the Seneschal, Herald Kyril, and Herald Elcarth. Build the fire up, and bring wine and food,” he stared thoughtfully into the distance for a moment. “I have the feeling that it is going to be a very long night.”