"But why 'Weatherwitch'?" Kris asked.
"She must have had a Gift, and her going off her head freed it altogether, because she started being able to predict the weather. She'd be acting just 222
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as usual, dandling that rag-doll she got in place of her babe— then out of nowhere she'd look straight through you, and tell you that you'd better see that the beans got taken in because it was going to hail that night. Then, sure enough, it would. People in Berrybay and for a bit around took to coming to her any time the weather looked uncertain. She began to be able to See the weather that was coming days, then weeks, then months in advance. That's why the villagers heeded her when she told them to stock the Station. I wish they'd told me, I'd have laid in a good deal more on my own."
"You stocked it very well, and we've nothing to find fault with," Kris replied reassuringly. "I'm afraid, though, that you'll find we've used up just about everything that was there."
"That will be no problem," Tedric said cheerfully. "I'll be glad to have a little task to turn my hand to. Most of my work's done in the summer, and winter's a bit of a slow time for me. But it looks to me as if you could use a full resupply yourselves."
"I'm afraid so," Talia said as Tedric shook his head over the state of their uniforms. "I don't think the fabric is going to be good for much except rags."
"I've got plenty of stock back at the Station, and I'm no bad hand with a needle," Tedric replied. "I think I can refit you well enough so that you won't be looking like crow-scares. I've got all the necessaries for bleaching and refinishing your leathers, so we won't have to replace those, and your cloaks still look in fairly good shape, or will be after we clean them. If you don't mind staying a bit, I can turn you out looking almost like the day you left to take this sector."
"That sounds fantastic!" Kris said with obvious thankfulness.
"I can help with the altering, sir," Talia added.
The old Herald twinkled at her. "But who tailors the tailor, then? And surely you wouldn't deny an old man the pleasure of helping fit a pretty young lady, would you?"
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Talia blushed, and to cover it, settled My Lady wrapped in her blankets in a new position on her lap. Without the harpcase to protect her, Talia elected to carry her personally.
"What's this?" Tedric asked and brightened to learn it was a harp.
"Which of you is the musician?" he asked eagerly.
"We both are, sir," Kris replied.
"But he really plays a great deal better than I do," Talia added. "And Herald Tedric, we'd truly appreciate it if you could find someone to make a new traveling case for her while we're here. We had to destroy the old one to make snow shovels."
"The cabinetmaker would be proud to oblige you," Tedric said with certainty. "In fact, he may even have something already made that will fit.
Midwinter Fair is at the Sector capital in a few weeks, and he's been readying a few instrument cases to take there, as well as his little carved boxes and similar trumperies. He's known for his work on small pieces as well as furniture, you see. I'll make a note to start stocking shovels in our Stations from now on. Not every Herald has harpcases to sacrifice."
* * *
They passed the village of Berrybay just before sunset, Talia finding herself grateful for the shielding Rolan was supplying her, and reached the Resupply Station with the coming of the dark. The place was much larger than Talia had expected. "Bright Havens!" she exclaimed. "You could house half the Collegium here!"
"Oh, most of it isn't living quarters— it's mostly haybarn, warehouse, and granary. I do have three extra rooms in case some need should bring a number of Heralds this far north, but only one of those rooms has a bed; any more than two would have to make up beds on the floor. But let's take first things first. I expect you'd both appreciate a hot bath. It will pleasure both of you to know I have a real bathing-room, just like the ones at the Palace and Collegium. While you're getting washed, I'll find some clean 224
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clothing for you to wear until we get your new outfits altered and your leathers cleaned. As soon as you're feeling ready, there'll be supper. How does that strike you?"
"It sounds wonderful— especially the part about the hot bath!" Talia replied fervently, as they dismounted in the station's stable.
"Then take yourselves right in that door over there— I'll tend to your beasts and friends. Go up the staircase, then take a sharp right. The copper's all fired up. I've been doing it every day on the chance that we'd find you. The room you'll be using is sharp left."
They each took a small pack and Talia took her harp, and entered the door he'd indicated. Tedric hadn't exaggerated, though it only held a single bed the bathing-room was identical in every other way to the ones at the Palace.
"Which of us goes first?" Talia asked, thinking longingly of clean hair and a good long soak.
"You. You look ready to die," Kris replied.
"I'm feeling the strain a bit," she admitted.
"Then get your bath. I can wait."
When tight muscles were finally relaxed, and the grime that had accumulated despite her best efforts ruthlessly scrubbed away, she wrapped herself with towels and sought their room. She found that Tedric had preceded them there; on the bed were laid out fabric breeches and shirts of something approximating their sizes.
The approximation was far from exact. It was obvious that if these articles were representative of the kinds of clothing held in storage, there was a great deal of work that was going to have to be done.
She stretched out on the bed for just a moment... only to fall completely asleep.
* * *
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Kris had taken himself downstairs again to talk in private with Tedric. He hadn't missed the older man's initial unease around Talia— nor the fact that he had already known that Talia was Queen's Own and what her Gift was. The identity of an internee was not supposed to be generally known, and the Gift of the Queen's Own wasn't generally even a matter of public knowledge among the Heralds themselves.
He decided that he was a bit too tired for diplomacy, and bluntly asked the older man where he'd gotten his information about Talia.
"Why... rumors, mostly," Tedric supplied in astonishment. "Although I didn't credit the half of them. I can't imagine a Herald misusing a Gift, and I can't believe the Collegium would allow anyone out who was poorly trained. And I've said so. But I must tell you, there are a lot of eyes and thoughts up here— and, I regret to say, some of them hoping to catch a Herald in failure."
After a covering exchange of pleasantries, Kris climbed the stairs with a worried soul. He found Talia asleep on the bed, and took his towels without waking her.
He lay back in his hot bath to soak, his mind anything but relaxed. If anyone discovered the state Talia was in, not only her reputation would be finished, but the reputation of Heralds as a whole and that of the Collegium would be badly damaged. The faith Heralds themselves had in the Collegium would be shaken if they knew how poorly counseled she'd been.
For that reason, they dared not abort the circuit and head back; that would be the signal of failure certain critics of the system had been waiting for.
Nor could Kris himself let any senior Herald know the true state of things and how poorly controlled Talia was— for that would lead to a profound disturbance in the ranks of the Heralds themselves, a disturbance that could only roll all the way back to Selenay and Elspeth, with all the attendant problems it would cause them.
It would be up to Kris, and to Talia herself, to get her back to the functional level she had before this whole mess blew up in their faces.
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It was with that sobering reflection he finished his bath, and went to get dressed and wake her.
* * *
She woke from her nap in a fairly good mood, giggling a little
at the way she looked in the outsized garments Tedric had supplied. "It's because two-thirds of the Heralds are men, little bird," Kris replied.
"And all the Resupply Stations get the same goods. So most of the clothing stored here will be made to fit men. I expect when he gets a chance to look, he'll find some things close to your size. If you think you look silly, look at me."
The waist of his breeches was a closer fit than hers, but the legs were huge and baggy and much too long, and the sleeves of his shirt fell down past his fingertips.
"I expect most of what he has is in two categories, large, and 'tent.' At any rate, it's better to have to cut down than try to piece on more fabric."
They descended the staircase to join their host, Kris barefoot and Talia in her sheepskin slippers since their boots were so stiff from repeated soaking and drying that it was too much of an effort to try to pull them on.
In any case, the dwelling was very well heated, and Kris' bare feet caused him no discomfort.
They found the old Herald puttering about in his room that seemed to combine the functions of kitchen and common room. He chuckled to see them, looking like two children clothed in their parents' cast-offs.
"I just took what was nearest to hand," he said apologetically. "I hope you don't mind."
"They're clean, and dry, and warm," Kris smiled. "And right now, that's all we care about. I must say that what I smell would have me pleased to come to table in a grain sack, if that's all there was to wear."
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Tedric looked very flattered, and seemed to have no recollection of Kris's earlier interrogation. "When one lives alone, one acquires hobbies. Mine is cooking. I hope you don't find it inferior to what you're used to."
Talia laughed. "Sir, what we're 'used to' has been porridge, stew made with dried meat and old roots half-burned bannocks, and more porridge. I have no doubt after the past month that your meal will taste as wonderful as your bathtub felt!"
Venison with herbs and mushrooms was a definite improvement over the meals they'd been making. A mental check assured them that Tedric had seen to Rolan, Tantris, and the chirras in the same generous fashion. Both the Companions were half-asleep, with filled bellies, drowsing in heated stalls.
When their own hunger was truly satisfied, Kris helped Tedric clear away the remains of the meal while Talia ran back upstairs for My Lady.
"You seemed so interested in which of us was the musician that I thought we'd repay you for your hospitality," Kris said, taking the harp and beginning to tune her.
"One doesn't hear a great deal of music out here." Tedric replied, not troubling to keep the eagerness from his eyes. "I think it's the one thing that I really miss by being stationed here. When I rode circuit I was always running into Bards."
* * *
The old Herald listened with a face full of quiet happiness as they played and sang. It was quite plain that he had missed the company of other Heralds, and equally evident that he had told the simple truth about missing music out here on the Border. Of course, it was very possible that the traveling Bards had simply not noticed this Station, half-hidden off the road and placed at a bit of a distance from Berrybay. It was just as possible that Tedric's work kept him so busy during the summer (the only time journeyman Bards were likely to come this way) that he could not spare the time to seek the village when Bards came through. Kris made a mental 228
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note to send a few words to that effect when they sent their next reports.
Old Tedric should not have to do without song again if he could help it.
When they finally confessed themselves played out, Tedric instantly rose and insisted that they seek their bed.
"I don't know what possessed me, keeping you up like this," he said.
"After all, I'll have you here for as long as it takes to outfit you. Perhaps I'll hide all the needles for a week or two!"
* * *
When they rose the next morning— somewhat reluctantly, as the featherbed they'd shared had been warm and soft and hard to leave— they discovered that he had already put their leathers and boots to soak in his vats of bleaching and softening solution. Talia helped him take some of their ruined garments apart to use as patterns, and they began altering the standard stock. Tedric was every bit as good with a needle as he'd claimed. By day's end they were well on the way to having their wardrobes replenished, and it was not possible to tell that the garments had not been made at the Collegium; by week's end they were totally re-outfitted.
Once their outfitting was complete, they set about discharging their duties to the populace of Berrybay.
* * *
The rest and the tranquillity had been profoundly helpful in enabling Talia to firm up what control she had gotten back over her Gift. She had enough shielding now to hold against the worst of outside pressure on her own; that wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. And she felt her control over her projective ability would hold good unless she were frightened or startled— or attacked. If any of those three eventualities took place, she wasn't entirely certain what she'd do. But worrying about it wouldn't accomplish anything. She almost lost her frail bulwarks when they entered the village. Kris had warned her that the rumors had reached this far north, but the knowledge had not prepared her.
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When they set up in the village hall, she caught no few of the inhabitants giving her sidelong, cautious glances. But what was worse, was that the very first petitioners wore charms against dark magic into her presence.
She tried to keep up a pleasant, calm front, but the villagers' suspicion and even fear battered at her thin shields and made her want to weep with vexation.
Finally it became too much to stand. "Kris— I've got to take a walk," she whispered. He took one look at the lines of pain around her eyes, and nodded. He might not be an Empath, but it didn't take that Gift to read what the people were thinking when they wore evil-eye talismans around one particular Herald.
"Go— come back when you're ready, and not until."
She and Rolan went out past the outskirts of the village. Once away from people, she swore and wept and kicked snow-hummocks until her feet were bruised and her mind exhausted.
Then she returned, and took up the thread of her duties.
By the second day the unease was less. By the third, the evil-eye talismans were gone.
But she wondered what the reaction of the villagers was going to be when they sought out the Weatherwitch on the morning of the fourth.
* * *
The depression surrounding the Weatherwitch's unkempt little cottage was so heavy as to be nearly palpable to Talia, and to move through it was like groping through a dark cloud. The Weatherwitch sat in one cobwebbed, dark, cold corner, crooning to herself and rocking a bedraggled rag doll. She paid no heed at all to the three who stood before her. Tedric whispered that the villagers brought her food and cared for her cottage—that she was scarcely enough aware of her surroundings to know when a meal was placed before her. Kris shook his head in pity, feeling certain that there was little, if anything, that Talia could do for her.
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Talia was half-attracted, half-repelled by that shadowed mind. If this encounter had taken place a year ago, she would have had no doubt but that she could have accomplished something, but now?
But having come, and having sensed this for herself, she could not turn away.
She half knelt, and half crouched, just within touching distance, on the dirty wooden floor beside the woman. She let go of her frail barriers with a physical shudder of apprehension, and let herself be drawn in.
Kris was more than a little afraid for her— knowing nothing, really, of how her Gift worked, he feared it would be only too easy for her to be trapped by the madwoman's mind— and then what would he do? Talia remained in that half-kneeling stance for so long that Kris' own knees began
to ache in sympathy. At length, her breathing began to resume a more normal pace and her eyes slowly opened. When she raised her head, Kris extended his hand to her and helped her to her feet again.
"Well?" Tedric asked, not very hopefully.
"The gypsy family who died of snow-sickness two months ago— the ones in the Domesday Book report; wasn't there a child left living?" she asked, her eyes still a little glazed.
"A little boy, yes," Kris answered, as Tedric nodded.
"Who has him?"
"Ifor Smithwright; he wasn't particularly pleased, but somebody had to take the mite in," Tedric said.
"Can you bring him here? Would this Smithwright have any objection if you found another home for the child?"
" He wouldn't object— but here? Forgive me, but that sounds a bit mad."
"It is a bit mad," Talia said, slumping with weariness so that Kris couldn't make out her expression in the shadows, "but it may take madness to cure the mad. Just... bring him here, would you? We'll see if my notion works."
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Tedric looked rather doubtful, but rode off and returned less than an hour later with a warmly-wrapped toddler. The child was colicky and crying to himself.
"Now get her out of the house; I don't care how," she told Tedric wearily, taking the baby from him and soothing it into quiet. "But make sure that she leaves that doll behind."
Tedric coaxed the Weatherwitch to follow him out with a bit of sweet, after persuading her to leave her "infant" behind in the cradle by the smokey fire. Talia slipped in when her back was turned. Seconds after that, a baby's wail penetrated the walls of the cottage, and the madwoman started as if she'd been struck.
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