Chapter Text

Interlude: Taver

He watches.

There is always a Monarch’s Own Companion, and he is different. He is always a stallion. He is not born, as other Companions are; when he is needed, he steps from the heart of the ancient Grove. He does not die, though he can be killed.

There has been more than one Monarch’s Own, in the centuries that there has been a Valdemar, but Taver was the first.

Taver has died by violence, more than once, and still remembers those deaths. The pain of them, and the pain of returning, when it was his time once again. He has spent hundreds of years on the green earth, with the Kingdom he is god-bound to protect. He remembers dozens of faces, those Heralds that were with him for a time, those men and woman that he loved – with a strange, inhuman love. For all that he is different, and strange, he is still a Companion.

And yet he is alone.

His name is Taver, and he stands in bottomless blue at the heart of a web of silver, a blaze of light barely in the shape of a man – though he is not human, and never has been. At the centre of a hundred-and-more others, and yet he is alone. He is different. He stands higher and deeper, and sees further, the burden that only he can bear. He leads the herd, speaking with authority and ringing steel, and he knows things they do not.

He feels his Chosen, bound to him by a cord of silver, and he loves him – and yet he is still alone. There are things that he cannot share, not with anyone.

There is danger. He sees it in the pattern, though not fully – a wall of darkness and ice and death across a thousand futures. There were more paths through it, before, but now a decision-point has passed, and there is only one.

It is the widest of them. There could have been other ways, and he had known this as he watched, before – and now this is the world they are in, and in spite of it all he is relieved, though he cannot be glad. Not when he knows the cost.

In the end, perhaps, it will be worth it.

It is not his path to walk. So often they are not. He can only watch. Perhaps, once in a while, he may nudge. Tug on a thread, and maybe change the course, but maybe not.

He sees the future in a thousand shards. Somewhere a young woman in the robes of a Healer holds her daughter, and that is important. A child with hair the colour of a forest fire at sunset sings on a street corner, in a border town he does not know – and he does not know why, but that is important as well.

Perhaps he will never know why. Valdemar will survive, or it will not.

His name is Taver, and for now, all he can do is watch.

:This is a little more exciting than I was hoping for!: Savil sent, chagrin in her mindvoice.

Vanyel didn’t bother to respond. They were both clinging to their Companions’ saddles, moving at a full gallop – faster than was really safe, on this rough terrain, but the roar of cascading rock and mud at their backs wasn’t going to wait for them.

They were just barely within the borders of Valdemar; they had only bade farewell to Starwind and Moondance, who had insisted on accompanying them to the edge of the Pelagirs, that morning. Savil and Vanyel together could have held off any threats from the magic-Changed flora and fauna, but the Tayledras were fiercely territorial, inclined to kill outsiders before asking questions, and it was better to avoid misunderstandings.

They had been on their way to camp at Teva Crossing when Savil’s attempt to reach a Mindspeech-relay had, instead, alerted them to a half-collapsed mine that the Herald on circuit here had been en route to respond to. It had been raining for a week, the first hint of autumn, and the hillside must have been saturated. Maybe their passage had set off the current mudslide, though more likely it would have happened with or without them. In any case, they were running for their lives.

:Can you stabilize it?:

Vanyel tried to think. He was already tired, after using node-magic to create a temporary ‘bridge’ of force across the Londell River only two candlemarks ago. Starwind had taught him how to build a force-net that would hold the ground together, it had come in handy a few times on scout patrols, but it was fiddly to set up, he wasn’t very skilled at it, and it was much easier when the ground wasn’t already in the process of collapsing. He might be able to throw up a mage-barrier strong enough to hold the landslide, but it would be very temporary. And inefficient. If only it were later in the year, he thought, a kiss of frost would had firmed up the hillside…

Frost. If he could freeze the mixture of mud and water, that would stabilize it. Enough to walk on, maybe, which they would have to do if they wanted to get to the trapped miners. And magic was surprisingly efficient at moving heat around. A direct fire-spell was tiring, but there was the weather-barrier spell that Starwind had taught him, which as far as he could tell had the effect of concentrating all the ‘heat’ in an area into a smaller volume – usually leaving a ring of frost around that area. It was useful precisely because it didn’t demand a lot of energy from the mage, and instead simply moved the existing energy around, ‘borrowing’ heat from the surroundings.

:I’m going to try something: he sent to Savil.

He closed his eyes, gathering his concentration even as Yfandes moved under him; he had gotten a lot better at doing magic from the saddle. If this worked, the area inside the weather-barrier was about to get very hot, so he placed the center for the spell well above his head. Wove the threads of magic, carefully but quickly, he had a lot of practice with this particular technique. He tugged on them, making sure the foundation was firm.

–And then reached for a node, shaped the power in mental hands, and flung it into the framework of the spell, a thousand times more power than it required.

Above their heads, trapped in the sphere he’d woven, the air itself glowed red. Below his feet, there was a crackling sound, ice spreading out in all directions. He pushed even more energy into it, until the spherical bubble above shone white-blue like a miniature sun, and with his Othersenses extended, he felt the wet ground freezing solid for nearly a mile in all directions.

…And he felt the threads of force in the weather-barrier straining, the superheated air inside was trying to expand. He didn’t know what was going on inside except that it felt wrong, suddenly there was more energy in there than what he’d pulled from the surroundings, where was it coming from, he instinctively started to reinforce the net but maybe that wasn’t a good idea after all –

:Direct it up!: Yfandes sent, and he flung the last of the nearly-drained node’s power into a bowl-shaped mage-barrier, just as the spell snapped and, with a boom like a giant striking a drum, fire exploded skywards. The simple barrier he’d had time to raise didn’t block heat all that well, and the air around them quickly grew warm, then scorching – but the fire went in every direction except down.

Kellan slowed to a halt, Savil turning in her saddle. She was shouting something, but his ears were ringing and he couldn’t hear her at all. She switched to Mindspeech. :What was THAT?:

He rubbed at his face. Gods, his head hurt. :Weather-barrier. I was using it to freeze the ground:

He felt her surprise. :That would work: A pause. :Quick thinking: There was a hint of pride in her mindvoice. :Please warn me next time you want to pull something like that:

:I might’ve pushed it too hard. It got very hot inside the bubble, and then something weird happened: He cautiously extended his Othersenses. The air above him seemed to be behaving like air again.

Savil twisted from side to side, surveying the area. Nothing moved. :Well, you did stop the avalanche in its tracks. I don’t want to push our luck by climbing the hill again, though, and we need to if we want to get to the miners. Are you up for doing some concert work and putting in a force-net now?:

:I need a minute: He closed his eyes and massaged his temples. :Yfandes? Do you know what happened?:

:Not exactly: She sounded concerned. :I wasn’t expecting that either. It’s almost as though you set fire to the air, but air doesn’t burn just by itself:

That was interesting – but now clearly wasn’t the time to think about it. He took a deep breath, gathering his strength. :Savil, I’m ready:

Lancir raised his eyebrows as Herald Jaysen entered the room, a little out of breath. “What is it?”

The Seneschal’s Herald closed the door behind him. “Tantras just picked up an unscheduled relay-message, from Savil. She’s on her way home with Trainee Vanyel. Thought you’d want to know.”

The relief was clear in his voice. Lancir sagged forwards, elbows on the desk. “That’s wonderful. Did she give an estimate for the journey?”

Jaysen pulled out a chair for himself. “No. At least two weeks, I think, didn’t sound like they were in a hurry. Apparently they helped Herald Rivin handle the cleanup for that collapsed silver mine we heard about yesterday.”

Lancir nodded. “That’s a relief.” They hadn’t been able to send anyone except Rivin; they were too shorthanded. It had been a challenge, getting by without Savil. Even he hadn’t realized just how much she was taking on outside of her official duties, and he should have; it was his job. Time and time again, it had taken Jaysen or Keiran candlemarks to track down something that would’ve taken Savil five minutes to sort out. Not just magic, either; she had just been around for decades longer than either of them, and knew the minutiae of a thousand scenarios.

But they had survived, everything really important had gotten done eventually, and he thought he had a better idea of exactly where Savil’s expertise was indispensable and not just convenient. Armed with that knowledge, maybe he could avoid overloading her again.

“It sounds like Vanyel accounted well for himself.” Jaysen frowned. “Still. Lance, he can’t be fully trained. Not after less than a year.”

Lancir shrugged. “Maybe not. Mardic and Donni aren’t either, really, and we’re promoting them.” They were due to leave for their internship circuit in only a few days, though he ought to delay their departure, he was sure they would want to greet Vanyel.

“They don’t have a mage-gift powerful enough to flatten the Palace.”

Lancir ran a hand over his chin. “Jay, we’ve talked about this. I’ll go with your judgment, on his training – but if he passes the standard tests, I want to promote him. You know how badly we need him.”

Savil shifted her aching buttocks and resettled herself in Kellan’s saddle as they rode into Haven. Beside her, Vanyel sat stiffly. He had grown more and more silent and withdrawn all day as they drew closer to the city.

She finally reached out to him with Mindspeech. :You’re quiet, ke’chara. Are you all right?:

His shields parted easily for her. Even after she had taught him the formal Mindspeech protocols, he had remained more open with her.

:I’m fine, aunt: Overtones of pain, but he had it under control.

She still worried.

Her nephew had done well in his training, both the classroom work she’d done with him, on the basics of being a Herald, and his magical education. His Gifts were finally under solid control, at least the really strong ones – some of his weaker Gifts were entirely untrained, for lack of teachers. After the incident with the bloodpath mage, he had seemed different, more present somehow, and he had thrown himself into his lessons with a grim determination she had never expected from him. He had been a solid asset on the k’Treva scouting runs these last few months. The elders, so leery about his presence at first, had been sorry to see him go.

But for all of that, she knew he wasn’t happy. He still had nightmares that he wouldn’t talk about. He still spent a lot of time alone, and on his bad days, thankfully rare, he would spend hours hiding in his room. He had gotten very good at shielding, and he had always been good at controlling his face, so she never knew how he really felt.

She was fairly sure that he wasn’t a danger to himself, anymore, and so was Moondance – but Haven was going to hold a lot of unpleasant memories for him, and she wouldn’t be able to watch him as closely as she had in the Vale or on their long journey.

They had news for the Queen, that Savil hadn’t felt comfortable trying to relay by letter. The news wasn’t expected, but they were. Savil had passed word by Mindspeech relay as soon as she was within range of the first Herald on circuit, which had been some weeks ago. Just inside the Palace walls, a small greeting party had amassed to wait for them.

Jaysen stood with Mardic and Donni, who both wore Whites – her chest clenched with pride, seeing it. Pride, and a hint of fear – it was always like that, when one of her students finished their training. She knew exactly what sort of world they would be going out into.

Mardic had put on some solid muscle across his shoulders. Herald Tantras was there, the pattern of burn-scars on his face and arms barely visible in the bright sunlight, legacy of his injuries in the fire Tylendel had started – gods, she still flinched when she thought his name. The Healers had done a good job with him, though. Andrel, recognizable in his green Healers’ robes, stood with a slim, dark-haired young woman clad in the pale green of a trainee Healer, who Savil only recognized a few seconds later. Shavri? Gods, the girl had grown. The Queen’s Own Herald Lancir stood beside them, his Whites pristine, looking exactly as she remembered him. Savil was amazed he’d found time to come out and meet them.

Two more figures stepped out, and Savil blinked. Lissa, Vanyel’s sister, who must have requested time off duty on very short notice, and – Lady Treesa? Not someone she had been expecting, at all. Someone must have told her that her son was coming home.

Beside her, Vanyel’s eyes were wide. She hadn’t warned him about their greeting party, and clearly neither had Yfandes.

“Liss?” she heard him breathe. “Mother?” He slid carelessly from Yfandes’ saddle, landing on his feet with a cat’s grace. Savil, scowling, followed much more slowly. Oh, to have the resilience of youth again...

Vanyel stared around, clearly overwhelmed, as though stuck on the question of who to greet first. Lissa made the matter moot – she ran forwards and pulled her little brother into her arms. He tucked his head under her chin and stayed there for a long time.

Savil greeted Jaysen and Andrel first, as they both came forwards. She hugged them without thinking, then felt a little self-conscious – they were in public, and this wasn’t k’Treva. Still, it was good to see them.

“We were relieved to get word you were coming,” Lancir said, tapping his foot, as they finally released her. “Ten months. It was a long time to wait in suspense.” He reached to clasp her hand. “It’s good to have you back, Savil.”

“It’s good to be back.” She looked over. Lady Treesa was crying, which she managed to do rather prettily, and hugging her son, who was making the face he always made when he was embarrassed and trying not to show it. Savil bit back a snicker. Vanyel was still so touchy about his dignity.

Lancir smiled, following her gaze. “I sent word to Forst Reach, and by the timing, she must have left the day she heard! Arrived yesterday.”

Savil lowered her voice. “And his father?”

Lancir shook his head. “Not here. Thankfully.” There was a story there, Savil thought, but she didn’t need to know it now. His eyes seemed to look through her for a moment, and he smiled. “You look better, Savil. Both of you do.”

That wouldn’t be difficult in Vanyel’s case, Savil thought snidely, but managed not to say it out loud. She gripped Lancir’s arm for a long moment, then went to greet Mardic and Donni, reminding herself to smile, hugging them one at a time and holding them at arms length to examine their uniforms. “Look at both of you! In Whites, already... I can hardly believe it!” Her own eyes stung for a moment, and she blinked. Damn it, Lady Treesa’s tears were contagious!

“We’re leaving on our first circuit next week,” Mardic said, smiling smugly. “We were supposed to go two weeks ago, with Herald Shallan, but we heard you were on your way.”

Donni’s eyes were sparkling. “We’re going all the way to the Karsite border!”

She beamed and nodded and then moved on to greet Lady Treesa, submitting herself to a teary hug and several minutes of flowery gratitude.

Lissa’s greeting was shorter. “Thanks for taking care of my little brother, aunt. I hope he wasn’t too irritating.”

That startled a laugh from her. “Nothing more than I could handle, girl. We’re glad to be back.”

Tantras nearly bowled her over with a hug. “Good to have you back, Savil. We’ve been awfully shorthanded.”

She nodded, then glanced over at Vanyel. He seemed genuinely happy to see Mardic and Donni; there was color in his cheeks and his smile looked natural.

Tantras followed her gaze, and she felt the brush of his mind. :How are you doing?:

:Fine:

Hesitation. :I never had a chance to give you my condolences for what happened: The overtones held a mix of curiosity, sympathy, and almost pity. :How about Vanyel? How is he, really?: Pause. :Is it true they were lifebonded?:

She shrugged. She didn’t want to talk about it, it felt tactless of him to bring it up at all, but at least he hadn’t said ‘Lendel’s name. :It’s true. He’s coping as well as anyone can expect:

Tantras was still watching the students. :Is he as powerful as you thought?:

She hid a shiver. :More so:

:That’s a little scary:

She could only nod.

Vanyel faced the mirror in his new quarters, and squared his shoulders. It was strange, looking at his own face. His black hair bore a fine smattering of silver at both temples now, but it was only visible up close. His cheekbones stood out more than he remembered, above cheeks that were a little hollower. There were shadows under his eyes that never went away – he still wasn’t sleeping well, maybe he never would again. When he leaned in close, he could see the white line that remained from where Krebain had cut him. Andrel had done a good job of Healing it, though, and it was barely visible.

Other than that, nothing had changed. He felt like he ought to look older; sometimes it felt like a hundred years had passed, not one.

He was almost seventeen now. He didn’t even remember his sixteenth name day; it had slipped by at some point in the fog between the death of Tylendel’s brother and waking up in k’Treva.

It was strange, standing here and knowing this was his room, aired out and set up for him by the Palace servants. It was simply furnished and felt impersonal, but it was his – his alone, with a lock on the door. His possessions, packed up from Savil’s rooms by the Palace servants, were in boxes against the wall; he hadn’t dared open most of them yet, it would bring back too many memories. Still, somehow this made it hit harder, that he was really going to be a Herald.

He ran his hands through his clean, damp hair, smoothing it down one last time, and twitched his tunic straighter. He didn’t have the right to wear Whites yet, not until the Heraldic Circle met to decide on his advancement; this outfit, one of his plainer ones, had been in storage for nearly a year after they cleaned out Savil’s old suite and reassigned it. Silk and velvet, in deep greens; it felt like it didn’t quite suit him anymore, somehow. The person he had been had picked it out, not the person he was now.

:You can do this, Chosen: Yfandes sent, all gentle reassurance. :Better go, you’ll be late:

He took a deep breath. :I know, love. I’m going:

The halls of the Palace felt strange, almost claustrophobic after so many months without real roofs. A few people turned to look at him curiously, but for the most part his passage went unremarked.

Far too soon, he reached an ornate door, and nodded to the page waiting there. He swallowed. “Vanyel Ashkevron. I’m supposed to be meeting with Queen Elspeth now?”

The page smiled and opened the door. The room inside was on the small size, cozy, with a fire blazing in the hearth. A polished meeting table took up most of the space, with room to sit about six. Queen Elspeth, Lancir, and Savil already had three of the seats.

“Your majesty.” He offered his best courtly bow. The Queen nodded to him. She looked just as tired as he remembered.

The page, following him into the room, pulled out a chair for him, and he sat next to Savil, feeling a thin rivulet of sweat slide down his back and dampen his shirt. Gods, he was nervous. In recent months on k’Treva scouting runs, he had faced countless poachers, Changelions, Changebears, and even a colddrake – and meeting Elspeth’s dark, unreadable eyes was more nerve-wracking than any of that.

“Thank you for making time to see us so promptly,” Savil said.

The Queen nodded. “I have to confess, I’m curious. Especially given that you specified you wanted a private meeting. You’ll be making your report to the Heraldic Circle tomorrow, no?”

Savil shrugged. “Yes. But maybe not a complete report, depending on what you have to say today.”

“Oh, just spit it out, please.”

Vanyel’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of them, surprised that the Queen would be this casual with his aunt. It was a reminder of just how small the Heraldic circle was, he thought. Long before Elspeth was crowned, she and Savil would have been junior Heralds together. Maybe even trainees at the same time – he didn’t know Elspeth’s exact age.

Lancir watched with a faint smile.

Savil turned and her eyes met Vanyel’s. The irises were almost entirely blue now, after nine months spent in the Vale and regularly using node-magic. “This is your part to tell, lad.” She laid her hand over his.

He took a deep breath and fixed his eyes on a spot just above the Queen’s head. “Queen Elspeth, ten months ago I started having a recurring dream. I think it’s Foresight, and so does my Companion. If it is true Foresight, it’s something you need to know about.” His voice came out more level than he’d expected; he had been practicing this, but it was still nerve-wracking. “In the dream, I’m standing in a pass – I know I’m somewhere in the north, but not where. There’s a path carved through by magic, it feels like blood-magic. I’m facing an army, tens of thousands of men and creatures, and a mage leading them. He calls himself Leareth – that means ‘darkness’ in Tayledras, roughly – and he’s powerful, really powerful, stronger than me. I think he’s about to march the army through the pass, on Valdemar.” He pause, swallowing. “I’m always alone in the dream. I know I’m the last person who can stop him, and that I’m going to die, presumably because I’m about to call a Final Strike to stop him.” That was Savil’s interpretation, anyway. “My hair is mostly white, which will probably happen in ten to twenty years if I keep using node-magic.” He gestured to the tracing of silver strands at his temples. “Other than that, I’ve made drawings of the place, and the Hawkbrothers we spoke to think that it looks like somewhere in the north, likely the Ice Wall Mountains. I would recognize it if I saw it.”

He stopped, and looked at Savil. She squeezed his hand reassuringly. “He does have the Gift of Foresight, quite strong,” she said. “I thought you ought to have this information, uncertain as it is.”

There was a short silence.

Elspeth looked over at her Queen’s Own. “Lance, what’s north of the Ice Wall?”

He shrugged. “We don’t know, to be honest. It’s a long way from our borders, and the mountains are difficult to journey through, even traders rarely cross. We think it’s likely that the area is inhabited by hill-clans and loose tribes, without any state-level structures.” He glanced at Savil.

“That agrees with what the Tayledras told me,” she said simply.

Silence again, lasting longer this time. Vanyel tried not to fidget in his seat.

The Queen finally nodded to him, meeting his eyes for a moment that felt endless. “Thank you for bringing this to me, and for your discretion. I confess I don’t know what to do with it, but it’s on my plate now.” She turned away. “Lance, any ideas? Do we have any Farseers with that kind of range?”

Lancir rubbed at his chin. “Range isn’t the issue, so much. Farseers need some kind of anchor for where to look, either to have been there before or to know the location on map.” Then his head twitched up. “Vanyel, you have Farsight, no?”

Vanyel squirmed. “Yes, but we couldn’t find anyone in k’Treva who could train me. I use it sometimes by accident, but I can’t control it.” It had been irritating, actually. He had once ended up observing Starwind and Moondance in a very private moment because he’d been absentmindedly wondering where they were.

Lancir smiled. “Well, we can fix that. And if this dream of yours is a true and literal Foresight vision, it may count as you having been to this place. With the strength of your Gifts, I would expect you to have the range to See that far, if anyone can.”

Vanyel nodded. Farsight wasn’t one of his stronger Gifts, but he could boost it with mage-energy if he had to. “I’d be willing to try.”

“Good lad. Savil, any other Gifts of his you weren’t able to find a teacher for?”

“Hmm. I’d like him to do some training at the Healers Collegium, if we can manage it. I know they have quite a lot of curriculum for people with weak Healing Gifts, and that even a minor Gift can be extremely useful in the field.” She laughed. “And there’s Bardic. Van, I think Breda would love to teach you.”

Lancir’s eyebrows vanished into his hair. “He’s got the Bardic Gift as well?”

Vanyel shrugged, self-conscious; he could feel his cheeks growing warm. “Um. Not very strong, and it’s not like it’s useful. Savil, I don’t see how I’ll have time for it, anyway.”

She squeezed his hand again, and he felt a delicate touch against his shields, which he accepted. :Van, ke’chara, I know you love music. I want you to have a few more things in your life that make you happy: Out loud: “He should at least learn to control it.” She rolled her eyes at Lancir. “Sometimes he’d be playing with Moondance, usually some dreadfully sad song, and he’d start using it by accident. You know, most people don’t know how to shield against the Bardic Gift...”

Lancir grinned. “That’s true. You know, it could come in handy, someday. We use the tools we have. Anything else?”

Vanyel shifted his weight. “Um. Is there any training for Foresight? Savil thought most people don’t get training for it, because it’s instinctive. But it seems like Foreseers do know how to tell when something they’re seeing is Foresight.”

“Bit easier to tell when it’s a vision coming onto you in broad daylight, but I’ll ask around.”

Another silence. Elspeth tapped her fingers on the table.

“I would be obliged if you could keep this private, for now,” she said finally. “I realize that it would usually be a matter for the Circle, but given how unsure we are of it, and given the...alarming nature of the vision, I think it would be best if we didn’t spread it around.” She met Vanyel’s eyes again, and he quailed under that hard gaze. “And there are other reasons to keep Vanyel out of the spotlight, for now. People are…still upset, about what happened last year.”

Savil sighed. “Right.” She scooted her chair back. “Well, we shouldn’t take up any more of your time than we have to. I’ll have a full report on everything else for tomorrow.” She took Vanyel’s arm and pulled him gently to his feet.

Outside in the hall, he realized that he was shaking. He felt very cold. Savil put her arm around his shoulders and led him down the hall, around a corner, then stopped. “Hey. You all right?”

He leaned against her. “...Just nerves. I don’t like talking about the dream.” Or thinking about it. Or hearing any mention of last year, for that matter.

She squeezed him hard for a moment. “You did very well. And it’s over, now. We’ve got nothing scheduled tonight, and I for one want to have a drink. Feel like joining me?”

He sighed. “I told Mother I would have dinner with her at Court.” Which he wasn’t looking forwards to, at all. Would any of his one-time sort-of-friends remember him? If they did recognize him, there would be gossip and whispers, and he didn’t know if he could handle that.

“Well, come afterwards, then. Figure you’ll need some strong wine to wash the bad taste out.”

He laughed. “I’ll see.” Savil always liked to get drunk after a stressful day. He could understand it, even if he didn’t find it helped for him.

She turned to look at him, meeting his eyes directly. “Listen, I... It’s okay if you’re not up for being cheerful. Come anyway. I intend to get very maudlin.”

He nodded, breaking his gaze away. She was trying to understand, he thought. But right now the weight of her eyes seemed to press down on his skin, and he desperately wanted to be somewhere else. Alone.

He walked her to her rooms, just down the hall from his. She had been assigned to a smaller suite with two bedrooms – an unsubtle hint that it wouldn’t be long before the Circle handed her another student, but at least they intended to reduce her workload.

Finally alone behind his locked door, he lay down on the bed. It was narrow and too firm.

:Can I request a different bed?: he sent to Yfandes. :A bigger one? If I try to sleep in this thing, I’ll wake up on the floor: He tended to toss and turn, even thrash, when he had nightmares.

:You can: Her overtones were amused, sly. :They’ll think you want it for, well, certain other things:

He stretched, wincing as his elbow banged into the wall. :Maybe I will have company sometimes:

:I’ll believe it when I see it: But Yfandes’ presence was all warmth and caring.

“A deflection-shield, please,” Herald Jaysen said – and waited exactly five seconds before flinging a levinbolt. Vanyel raised the barrier with hardly any effort, and the lightning bounced off to be absorbed harmlessly by the shields on the main Palace Work Room.

The Seneschal’s Herald nodded, without smiling. “Now a heat-sink shield.” He waited, then tossed a ball of fire across the room. It didn’t even strain the hastily-raised shield.

Vanyel had been incredibly nervous for the tests; he hadn’t been able to eat any breakfast at all. So far, though, nothing had been very challenging. He was sweating a little, they had been going nonstop for nearly half a candlemark, but despite Jaysen’s stiff, sour demeanour, he thought he was doing well. It was certainly easier than a lesson with Starwind, whose expectation for raising shields was “in time to stop an arrow in flight”, and who had tended to radiate disapproval and impatience throughout their lessons; it had given him a thick skin, which he appreciated now.

They’d gone through offensive magic first, which he thought had probably been intended to tire him out, but Savil had warned him not to use anything near full power. Even then, Jaysen, who he knew was only Master-level potential, had been grudgingly impressed – not that he’d shown it on his face, but Vanyel hadn’t been able to help picking it up with his Empathy.

“A layered-shield, please,” Jaysen said, and Vanyel took his time to set it up, leaving it underpowered; by now he was fairly calibrated on the force of Jaysen’s attacks, and if he used his full strength, nothing would be able to get through even the first layer. The other Herald kept up a barrage for nearly a full minute, but Vanyel had no trouble replenishing the shield in time, though he was a little out of breath by the end. Not as much as Jaysen, though.

“Good, boy.” A bit of admiration leaked through in his voice, this time. “Savil said that you knew a few other styles of shield. Care to show me?”

“Okay.” Vanyel took a deep breath and raised an intake-shield. It was a little like the absorption-shield that he’d demonstrated earlier, but rather than simply diffusing an attack over its area, it actually allowed him to steal the power from said attack. It had limited capacity, and overflow could shatter it, meaning it wasn’t that useful in practice except against a much weaker mage, but since he knew exactly how hard Jaysen threw his punches…

Jaysen’s eyes widened as the levinbolt was sucked into the shield, making it shimmer for a moment before Vanyel keyed the excess energy to himself and absorbed it into his own reserves.

“I…have not seen that variety before,” he said, blinking. Vanyel didn’t quite manage to hide his small smile.

“Good,” Jaysen went on, regaining his composure. “The rest of the testing is theoretical; why don’t we go elsewhere and free up the Work Room for whoever’s scheduled it next?”

Vanyel knew that no one had scheduled it for another two candlemarks, because the practical testing was supposed to take that long. Maybe because a mage of more normal power would have to rest between demonstrating these techniques. He was a little tired, but Jaysen looked a lot more worn out; he allowed himself to feel a hint of smugness.

Three candlemarks later, he wasn’t feeling smug at all. He paced anxiously in the small room where Jaysen had left him after questioning him in detail about a number of hypothetical scenarios. Some, at least, weren’t only hypothetical; on their return journey, Savil had stopped at every town to discharge a Herald’s ordinary responsibilities, and around the halfway mark she had started making him take the lead. He had judged several dozen petty disputes and solved a murder case – not that it had taken much detective work, the dead woman’s husband had confessed under Truth Spell in the first five minutes.

A trickle of sweat wound its way down his back. He dabbed at his upper lip with his sleeve. Damn it, he’d been here nearly a candlemark. What was taking so long? He must have messed up badly, they weren’t going to promote him…

The knock on the door nearly made him jump out of his skin, but he had summoned some composure by the time Jaysen opened the door. “Come with me, Vanyel.”

He left the room in a daze. The senior Heraldic Circle had unanimously agreed to promote him to full Whites and waive his internship circuit, counting the journey home to replace it. He felt wrung out. It was what he’d been hoping for…but now that it had happened, it was terrifying. I’m not ready for this.

Lancir caught him at the end of the hall. “Vanyel, I’d like to talk to you. Is now a good time?”

He didn’t really want to talk to Lancir; he wanted, more than anything, to escape to his room and lock the door behind him. Being around people was still draining.

:You should talk to him: Yfandes sent, which he was expecting.

He didn’t have anything else planned until later than afternoon, when Lissa wanted to spar with him and then do ‘something fun’ – she would be going back to duty the next morning. So he shrugged and followed Lancir to his office – not the office of the Queen’s Own, where he was liable to be interrupted constantly, but his smaller personal office. Lancir sat him down and offered him a drink, which he declined.

“First off, I’m glad to have you back. Savil’s been telling me good things about your performance at k’Treva Vale. I think Valdemar is lucky to have you, Vanyel.”

He squirmed, uncomfortable under Lancir’s Companion-like blue eyes, but managed to keep his face steady and his voice level. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Secondly. I’m going to be blunt here, so please forgive me for that. I want to keep you in Haven for at least the next six months. Preferably the next year, but realistically, something will come up. You’re a very useful tool in Elspeth’s toolkit, and she can’t afford not to use you. However. Part of my job has always been to make sure Elspeth remembers that her Heralds are human, and treats them accordingly, because a tool is a lot less useful if it’s broken. And you’ve been through a lot, Vanyel. I want to know how you’re doing, and how I can help.”

Vanyel looked away from his face, stared down at his folded hands, wishing he could melt into the floor. “I’m fine.”

“Vanyel, look at me.” With effort, he raised his head, meeting Lancir’s piercing eyes. “I don’t believe you. I don’t believe that you’re fine. Do you remember the conversation I had with you when you were ill, last year, before you left for the Pelagirs?”

He nodded, unable to speak; the room suddenly felt too small, suffocating, and there was a painful lump in his throat. That conversation was one of the few moments he did remember clearly.

“You lost a lifebonded partner,” Lancir said softly. “I’ve done a lot of research, and I think you hold the record for time survived with a broken lifebond. About two hundred years ago, according to a description I found in the Archives, a woman outlived her lifebonded by five months – until she had given birth to their daughter, after which point she left the babe with her mother and jumped off a cliff. She had something outside herself to live for, until she didn’t. You’ve got Yfandes, which I imagine is the only way we got you through the immediate aftermath. And you’ve got a mission, no? Savil says you seemed different, after the first time you discussed the Foresight dream. I’m guessing you’ve found that to live for, too.”

He nodded shakily, still unable to speak.

“How do you feel about it?” Lancir said quietly.

Damn him. He stared down at his hands. “I… If you really must know, I resent it. I didn’t ask for this. But it it what it is.”

Something hardened in Lancir’s face. “I know. I’ve got a vested interest, here. I think we need a Herald-Mage Vanyel around in ten or twenty or thirty years. Not just because of your vision, or of what might be going on in the north. Vanyel, you’re more powerful than any five of us put together – and it’s been observed that Gifts appear where they’re needed, and Companions choose people we need down the line. We’ve been shorthanded for years, what with how much territory we’ve added to the Kingdom, and Elspeth’s health is declining – and she’s been holding this reign of peace together by sheer force of personality. Relations with Karse have been, well, iffy. I’m afraid things might go to pieces in five or ten years, and we are going to need you. Badly.”

He swallowed hard. “I know. I’ll be there.” Gods, I wish I wasn’t in this position, but I am and I can’t walk away.

“Do you? ...I dare say you do.” Lancir watched him with something like curiosity flickering in his eyes. “You’ve done it, somehow. You’ve found a way to build your house on the sand. But you still think about him every day, don’t you? You look... You look like a man I once knew, a Herald who lost his Companion holding off a border raid. He was wounded, but he dragged himself as far as the nearest Guard-post, and lived long enough to give me his report face to face. He looked like a man half out of this world. Eerie. You’ve a little of that look to you as well – like you’re here and not here.”

Vanyel realized he was shivering. He still had no idea what to say.

Lancir folded both hands on the table. “I just – look. I’m worried about you, all right? Savil’s worried about you. You really, really weren’t in a good place when I last saw you, and I don’t think you can just put that behind you and be fine, not that easily. And I want to help, but I can’t unless you’re willing to talk to me. Willing to put in some effort. Are you?”

Vanyel blinked back tears, hating it. It had been nearly three months since he had cried in front of anyone, and that was a record. He couldn’t think, not with Lancir staring at him; he closed his eyes and turned his head away.

:Yfandes, what does he want?:

She flowed into the spot he opened in his shields. :He means exactly what he says. He wants to help you:

:I wish people would stop treating me like I’m made of glass!:

A mental snort. :Just you wait. I’ll be surprised if you get a full six months in Haven. The Heraldic Circle is going to realize just how useful you are, once they’ve had a chance to see you in action, and they’re going to use you hard. Trust me: A hesitation, and her thoughts were soft and tentative as they brushed his. :Van, it would mean a lot to me if you were willing to work with Lancir on this. I know you’re managing, but it’d be nice for me if you were a bit happier, you know? I have to share your head:

He sighed internally. He couldn’t say no to her, when she made that sort of request so rarely. :All right, ‘Fandes: He opened his eyes, looked back at Lancir. “I’m willing to try.”

“Good lad.” Lancir smiled. “All I want from you is one candlemark, once a week. If I can make time for that, you can.”

“Why do you care?” Vanyel said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Lancir didn’t even blink. “Because you’re a Herald. Gods – because you’re a human being. You matter, okay?”

He shifted his shoulders, uncomfortable. “I wish I didn’t. I…I never asked to matter.” Stupid, pointless words, the world had never cared what anyone asked for. He resented it all the same.

“I know. I figure you’ve got pretty mixed feelings about duty, yes? I talked to your sister, last year. She said you didn’t want to be your father’s heir.”

Vanyel shook his head wordlessly.

“Care to tell me about that?”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t suited for it,” he said, his voice coming out jerky. “Never asked to be in charge. Never asked to be responsible for people’s lives. My brother Meke was jealous of me, for being born first. He wanted the Holding. I didn’t see why Father couldn’t just make him heir instead.”

“Perhaps a more flexibly-minded man would have. In any case, that part is moot now. But Heralds are all about duty as well, aren’t we?”

“It’s different.” He looked down at the tabletop. There was a knot in the polished wood, shaped a little like a bird, and he fixed his eyes on it. “I have powers. I can do things most people can’t do. I – if the stuff in the dream are really going to happen, I’m the one with the best chance to stop it.”

“But why do you care?”

He shifted in the chair, dug his nails into the wood. “It’s the right thing to do. I, I know what ‘Lendel would’ve done in my place... Gods, I wish I’d understood that b-before, what it meant to him to b-be a Herald...” He raised his head, seeing Lancir’s face through a haze of tears. The world felt soft around the edges, and he hadn’t expected to say nearly so much. “Are you using your G-Gift on me?”

“Only a little. Is that all right with you? I’ll stop, if you want. And I’m not going to use it any more than I have to, because it’s actually quite tiring.”

Vanyel thought about it, and finally managed to nod. He couldn’t get any words out, though. He switched to Mindspeech. :Can you warn me next time?: It felt invasive, being blindsided with it like that.

“Of course. I apologize. Um. I want to talk more about what it means to you to do the right thing, if you’re up for that now...”

He retreated to the stables, afterwards, and huddled with Yfandes in her stall, curled up on the straw. A couple of older Heralds gave him odd looks, but no one bothered him. The conversation with Lancir, prodding at things he’d spent months trying not to think about, had shaken him to the core.

:Yfandes, I don’t know if I can do this:

She nuzzled at him. :You always say that, and you always go on to do just fine. It’ll get better, I promise:

Savil gotten midway through unpacking into her new rooms when she heard the knock on the door. “Come in? …Oh. Heya, Lance.” She gestured vaguely at the tiny dining table. “Sit?”

“Savil.” He nodded to her. “I need to talk to you.”

She had been expecting it. “Sorry about the mess. Care for a drink?” Open, half-empty crates were everywhere, and she had been piling objects onto every available surface while she thought about where to put them. Some servant had helpfully stocked her cabinet with wine, though. She poured a cup for both of them, and joined him at the table. “What is it?”

Lancir laid both hands on the table, palms down. “I wanted to talk about Vanyel.”

She had been expecting it. “About what? You’ve already decided to promote him, somewhat against my better judgment.” As Vanyel’s main teacher, she had been exempted from the committee that had passed him. She knew all of the considerations, of course, and she couldn’t really disagree…but still.

Lancir shrugged. “He did well on all the final tests, theory and practice. He’s a very intelligent lad.”

“I know.” Vanyel was a voracious reader, and it helped that he’d been educated all his life as a future Lord Holder; he hadn’t come in barely literate like Mardic or Donni. She sighed, and looked up to meet his eyes. “I don’t feel comfortable with him being on circuit alone yet.”

“I wondered.” Lancir shook his head. “I don’t either. He can still be very valuable to us. I got Elspeth to agree to keep him stationed in Haven for, ideally, the next year. I intend to make time to see him every week, if I can. He can get the additional training he needs for his secondary Gifts, and some practical experience – and I get the feeling it’ll be good for his confidence, being able to feel useful.”

“That is true.” She rubbed the tip of her nose. I have no idea how Lance will make time to see him every week. But clearly he thought it was important.

“He’s going to need support. I imagine you’re the one he’s closest to – the person he trusts the most.”

She shrugged. “Probably. I – he doesn’t tell me what he’s feeling, and it’s like pulling teeth trying to ask. But I guess he’s more comfortable with me than anyone else.” It had moved her nearly to tears, the first time he came to her door after a nightmare. Maybe because a long time ago, ‘Lendel had done the same.

“That’s good. I know it’s one more thing to carry, but if you can keep doing that for him…?”

She laughed, without much humour. “You’d need a pitchfork to stop me. It’s not a burden.”

Lancir watched her thoughtfully, then nodded. “You care about the lad a great deal.”

“…I suppose so.” She hadn’t thought about it much. “He’s been trying really hard.”

“I believe it.”

“How are you doing? Really?”

Damn it, she had hoped he wouldn’t ask. “Fine.” He wanted more, of course, and there was no point trying to dissemble around Lance, he’d have it out of her sooner or later. “I’m glad I got to spend some time in k’Treva, even if I’m not happy about the reasons. I hadn’t realized how tired I was.” She swallowed. “It’s not easy, being back.” Even just unpacking her things had had her blinking away tears a few times, reminded of things she’d spent almost a year trying to forget. And the way people looked at her and then away, the expressions of pity, the condolences – it wasn’t as bad as she’d expected, people were discreet, but it cut to the bone every time.

Lancir must have guessed her thoughts, as usual. “I know. We kept the whole thing as quiet as we could – but there were rumours, and everyone knows he was your student.” He met her eyes steadily. “No one blames you, Savil. At least, none of the Heralds.”

I blame myself, she thought but didn’t say. She didn’t want to ask, but: “How’s the situation at the Leshara lands?”

A shrug. “Calm enough. There were bad feelings, of course. Formal complaints came up. Elspeth sent a mediator, got the two families talking to each other again. At this point they’ve mostly settled on Evan Leshara as the one to blame. We gave them a lot of help rebuilding, I imagine that sweetened feelings towards the Crown.” One corner of his mouth twitched up. “Reckon most of the bad feelings now are on the Council. Elspeth exempted the area from taxes for five years, and we diverted a lot of resources there. Lord Kathar is still very snippy about it.”

She nodded, glad he’d told her despite the pang it sent through her chest; it would be important context to have when she started sitting in on Council meetings again. Another thing she didn’t want to ask, but… “What about Van’s part in it? How public is that?”

“Depends what you mean. Hardly anyone outside the senior Circle knows they were lifebonded, it was relevant to the investigation but I didn’t want it spread around. Aside from that, there were a lot of conflicting rumours, but nothing really in the open. People will put two and two together, that he got his Gifts around the same time, but most people will think it was just the emotional trauma of the whole thing – that’s something that happens, and it’s not like what actually happened ever has before.”

“Or will again, I hope.” She shuddered. “I suppose I’m glad.” Van wouldn’t want anyone to know. Of course, it increased the chance that someone would say something horribly tactless to him, but she supposed he could weather that.

“Anyway.” Lancir reached out and laid his hand over hers. “I’m here for you, now. Is there anything I can do to make things easier?”

“Having something useful to do will help.”

He smiled crookedly. “Good, because I expect you’ll be quite busy again soon. Not as busy as you were, though. We were using you too hard last year.”

Not too long ago, she thought, her pride would have demanded that she deny it. Even now, admitting it made her chest ache. But he was right. “Thank you,” she forced herself to say.

“You’re welcome. Savil, you’re one of the most indispensable people in Valdemar. We can’t afford for you to burn out.” He shrugged. “It was a good lesson, not having you for a year. We’ve built in more redundancy, and, well, that should make it easier to keep your workload at a reasonable level.” His expression hardened. “You need to tell me if you’re overworked, though. Don’t let it build up for months. Please?”

She looked away. “…All right.”