Текст книги "Magic's Pawn"

Автор книги: Mercedes Lackey

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“Vanyel?”

He looked up, startled.

Tylendel stood on the other side, wind ruffling his hair, his smile wide and as warm and open as spring sunshine.

“Do you want to come over?” the trainee asked softly. He held out one hand. “I’ll help you, if you like. “

Vanyel backed up a step, clasping his arms tightly to his chest to keep from inadvertently answering that extended hand.

“Vanyel?” The older boy’s eyes were gentle, coaxing. “Vanyel, I’d like to be your friend. “ He lowered his voice still more, until it was little more than a whisper, and gestured invitingly. “I’d like,” he continued, “to be more than your friend. “

“No!” Vanyel cried, turning away violently, and running as fast as he could into the empty whiteness.

When he finally stopped, he was alone on the empty plain, alone, and chilled to the marrow. He ached all over at first, but then the cold really set in, and he couldn’t feel much of anything. There was no sign of the chasm, or of Tylendel.

And for one brief moment, loneliness made him ache worse than the cold.

Then the chill seemed to reach the place where the loneliness was, and that began to numb as well.

He began walking, choosing a direction at random. The snow-field wasn’t as featureless as he’d thought, it seemed. The flat, smooth snow-plain that creaked beneath his feet began to grow uneven. Soon he was having to avoid huge teeth of ice that thrust up through the crust of the snow – then he could no longer avoid them; he was having to climb over and around them.

They were sharp-edged; sharp as glass shards. He cut himself once, and stared in surprise at the blood on the snow. And, strangely enough, it didn’t seem to hurt

There was only the cold.

Five

Tylendel was sprawled carelessly across the grass in the garden, reading. Vanyel watched him from behindthe safety of his window curtains, half sick with conflicting emotions. The breeze was playing with the trainee’s tousled hair almost the same way it had in his dream.

He shivered, and closed his eyes. Gods. Oh, gods. Why me? Why now? And why, oh why,him? Savil’s favorite protege-

He clutched the fabric of the curtain as if it were some kind of lifeline, and opened his eyes again. Tylendel had changed his pose a little, leaning his head on his hand, frowning in concentration. Vanyel shivered and bit his lip, feeling his heart pounding so hard he might as well have been running footraces. No girl had ever been able to make his heart race like this. . . .

The thought made him flush, his stomach twisting. Gods, what am I? Like him? I must be. Father will– oh, gods. Father will kill me, lock me up, tell everyone I’ve gone mad. Maybe I have gone mad.

Tylendel smiled suddenly at something he was reading; Vanyel’s heart nearly stopped, and he wanted to cry. If only he’d smile at me that way– oh, gods, I can’t, Ican’t, I daren’t trust him, he’ll only turn on me like all the others.

Likeall the others.

He turned away from the window, invoking his shield of indifference with a sick and heavy heart.

If only I dared. If only I dared.

Savil locked the brassbound door of her own private version of the Work Room with fingers that trembled a little, and turned to face her favorite protege, Tylendel, with more than a little trepidation.

Gods. This is not going to be easy.She braced herself for what was bound to be a dangerous confrontation; both for herself and for Tylendel. She didn’t thinkhe was going to go for her throat – but – well, this time she was going to push him just a little farther than she had dared before. And there was always the chance that it would be toofar, this time.

He stood in the approximate center of the room, arms folded over the front of his plain brown tunic, expression unwontedly sober. It was fairly evident that he had already gathered this was not going to be a lesson or an ordinary discussion.

There was nothing else in this room, nothing at all. Unlike the public Work Room, this one was square, not circular; but the walls here were stone, too, and for some of the same reasons. In addition there was an inlaid pattern of lighter-colored wood delineating a perfect circle in the center of the hardwood floor. And there was an oddness about the walls, a sense of presence, as if they were nearly alive. In a way, they were; Savil had put no small amount of her own personal energies into the protections on this room. They were, in some senses, a part of her. And because of that, she should be safer here than anywhere else, if something went wrong.

“You didn’t bring me in here to practice,” Tylendel stated flatly.

Savil swallowed and shook her head. “No, I didn’t. You’re right. I wanted to talk with you; I have two subjects, really, and I don’t want anyone to have a chance at overhearing us.”

“The first subject?” Tylendel asked. “Or – I think I know. My family again.” His expression didn’t change visibly, but Savil could sense his sudden anger in the stubborn setting of his jaw.

“Your family again,” Savil agreed. “Tylendel, you’re a Herald, or nearly. Heralds do nottake sides in anyone’s fight, not even when their own blood is involved. Your people have been putting pressure on you to do something. Now Iknow you haven’t interfered – but I also know you want to. And I’m afraid that you might give in to that temptation.”

His mouth tightened and he looked away from her. “So Evan Leshara can pour his poison into the ear of anyone at Court who cares to listen – and I ‘m not allowed to do or say anything about it, is that it? I’m not even allowed to call him a damned liar for some of the things he’s said about Staven?” He pulled his gaze back to her, and glared at her as angrily as if she were the one responsible for his enemy’s behavior. “It’s more than just my blood, Savil, it’s my twin.By all he believes, by all he holds true, we’ve got blood-debt to pay here – and Staven,for all that he’s young, is the Lord Holder now. It’s his decision; the rest of us Frelennye must and willsupport him. And besides all that, he’s in the right,dammit!”

“Lord Holder or not, youngor not, rightor not, he’s a damned hotheaded fool,” Savil burst out, flinging up both her hands before her in a gesture of complete frustration. “Blood-debt be hanged, it’s that kind of fool thinking that got your people and the Leshara into this stupidfeud in the first damned place! You can’t bring back the dead with more blood!’’

“It’s honor, dammit!” He clenched his hands into fists. “Can’t you even tryto understand that?”

“It has nothing to do with realhonor,” she said scornfully. “It has everything to do with plain, obstinate pride. ‘Lendel, you cannotbe involved.”

She froze with her heart in her mouth as he made one angry step toward her.

He saw her reaction, and halted.

She plowed onward, trusting in the advice she’d gotten. Please, Jaysen, be right this time, too.

“This whole feud is insanity!‘Lendel, listen to me! lt has got to be stopped, and if it goes on much longer it’s the Heralds who’ll have to stop it and you cannottake sides!”

All right so far, she hadn’t said anything new. Now for the fresh goad. And hope it wasn’t too much of a goad, too soon.

“ ‘Lendel, I know you’ve never been able to figure out why both you andStaven weren’t taken by Companions – well, dammit, it’s exactlythis insanity that’s the reason your beloved twin didn’tget Chosen and you did.You at least can seethe futility of this when you aren’t busy defending him – he’s too full of vainglory and too damned stubborn to eversee any solution to this but crushing the Leshara, branch and root! Your twin is an idiot,‘Lendel! He’s just as much an idiot as Wester Leshara, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s going to get people killed out of plain stupidity! And I will not permit this to go on for very much longer. If I have to denounce Staven to end your involvement with this, I will. Neverdoubt it. You have more important things to do with your life than waste it defending a fool.”

Tylendel’s fists clenched again; he was nearly rigid with anger, as his eyes went nearly black and his face completely white with the force of his emotions – and for one moment Savil wondered if he’d strike her this time. Or strike ather, that is; if he came for her, she didn’t intend to be where his fist landed. Or his levinbolt, if it came to that.

Please, Lord and Lady, don’t let him lose it this time, let him stay in control– I’ve never pushed him this far before. And don’t let him try magic. If he hits out, I may not be able to save him from what my protections will do.

She prayed, and looked steadfastly (and, she hoped, compassionately) into those angry eyes.

She could Feel him vibrating inside, caught between his need to strike out at the one who had attacked his very beloved twin and his own conscience and good sense.

Savil continued to hold her ground, refusing to back down. The tension in the room was so acute that the power-charged walls picked it up, reverberating with his rage. And that fed back into Savil, will-she, nill-she. It was all shecould do to hold fast, and maintain at least the appearance of calm.

Then he whirled and headed blindly into a corner. He rested his forehead against the cool stone of the wall with one arm draped over his head, pounding the fist of his free hand against the gray stones, cursing softly under his breath.

Now Savil let him alone, saying absolutely nothing.

Once you get him worked into a rage, let him deal with his anger and his internal turmoil in his own way,had been Jaysen’s advice. Leave him alone until he’s calmedhimself down.

Finally he turned back to the room and her, bracing himself in the corner, eyes nearly closed; breathing as hard as if he’d been running a mile.

“You’ll never get me to agree to stop supporting Staven, you know,” he said in a perfectly conversational tone. “I won’t interfere with the Heralds, I won’t help with the feud, and I won’t call Evan Leshara a damned liar – but I willdefend Staven and what he thinks is right, if only to you. I love him, and I will not give that up.”

There was no sign that a moment before he’d been in – literally – a killing rage.

“I know,” Savil replied, just as calmly, giving no indication that shewas still shaking inside. “I’m not asking you to give up loving Staven. All I want is for you to thinkabout this mess, not just react to it. If it was only your two families, it would be bad enough, but you’re involving the whole region in your feuding. We know very well that you’ve both been looking for mages to escalate this thing – and ‘Lendel, I do not want to hear a single word about which side started that.The important thing is that you’ve done it. The importantthing is that if either side involves magic in this, the Heralds must and willtake a hand. We can’t afford to have wild magic loose and hurting innocent people. You are a Herald, or nearly. You have to remember that you cannottake a side. You haveto be impartial. No matter what Evan Leshara does or says.”

Tylendel shrugged, but it was notan indifferent shrug. His pain was very real, and only too plain to his mentor; she hurt forhim. But this was one of the most important lessons any Herald had to learn – that he hadto be impartial, no matter what the cost of impartiality was. And no matter whether the cost was to himself, or to those he cared for.

“All right,” he said, tonelessly. “I’ll keep out of it. So. Now that you’ve turned my guts inside out, what else did you want to discuss?’’

“Vanyel,” Savil said, relaxing enough that her voice became a little dulled with weariness. “He’s been here for more than a month. I want you to tell me what you think.”

“Gods.” He sagged back against the wall, and opened his eyes completely. They had returned to their normal warm brown. “You would bring up His Loveliness.”

“What’s the matter?” Savil asked sharply, and took a closer look at him; he was wearing a most peculiar half-smile, and she smelled a rat – or at least a mouse. “

‘Lendel, don’ttell me you’ve gone and fallen in love with the boy!”

He snorted. “No, but the lad is putting a lot of stress on my self-control, let me tell you that! When I don’t want to smack that superior grin off his face, I want to cuddle and reassure him, and I don’t know which is worse.”

“I don’t doubt,” Savil replied dryly, walking over to where he leaned, and draped herself against the wall opposite him. “All right, obviously you’ve had your eye on him; tell me what you’ve figured out so far. Even speculation will do.”

“Half the time I think you ought to drown him,” her trainee replied, shaking his golden head in disgust. “That miniature Court he’s collected around himself is sickening. The posing, the preening – “

Savil made a little grimace of distaste. “You don’t have to tell me.But what about the other half?”

“In my more compassionate moments, I’m more certain than ever that he’s hurting, and all that posing is just that – a pose, a defense; that the little Court of his is to convince himself thathe’s worth something. But I’ve made overtures, and he just – goes to ice on me. He doesn’t hit at me, he just goes unreachable.”

“Well – “ Savil eyed her protege with speculation.

“That particular scenario hadn’t occurred to me. I thought that now he’d been given his head, he was just showing his true colors. I was about ready to wash my hands of him. Foster him with – oh – Oden or somebody – somebody with more patience, spare time, and Court connections than me.”

“Don’t,” Tylendel said shortly, a new and calculating look on his face. “I just thought of something. Didn’t you tell me one of the things his father was absolutely livid about was his messing about with music?”

“Yes,” she said, slowly, pretending to examine the knuckles of her right hand as if they were of intense interest, but in reality concentrating on Tylendel’s every word. The boy was a marginal Empath when he wasn’t thinking about it. She didn’t want to remind him of that Gift just now; not when she needed the information she could get from it. “Yes,” she repeated. “Point of fact, he told me flat I was to keep the boy away from the Bards.”

“And you told me Breda let him down gently, or as gently as she could, about his ambitions. How often has he played since then ?’’

Now Savil gave him a measuring look of her own. “Not at all,” she said slowly,

“Not a note since then. Margret says there’s dust collecting on that lute of his.”

“Lord and Lady!” Tylendel bit his lip, and looked away, all his attention turned inward. “I didn’t know it was that bad. I thought he might at least be playing for those social butterflies he’s collected.”

“Not a note,” Savil repeated positively. “Isthat bad?”

“For a lad who’s certainly good enough to get a lot of praise from his sycophants? For one whose onlyambitions lay with music? It’s bad. It’s worse than bad; we broke his dream for him. Savil, I take back the first half of what I said.” Tylendel rubbed his neck, betraying a growing unease. He looked up at the ceiling, then back down at her, his eyes now frank and worried. ‘‘We have a problem. A serious problem. That boy is bleeding inside. If we can’t get him to open up, he may bleed himself to death.”

“How do we get at him?” Savil asked, taking him at his word. Her weakness – and what made her a badField Herald, although it was occasionally an asset in training proteges – was in dealing with people. She didn’t read them well, and she didn’t really know how to handle them in a crisis situation. This business with Tylendel and his twin and the feud, for instance -

Iwould never have thought of this solution – desensitizing him, weaning him into thinking about it logically by bringing him to the edge over and over but never letting him slip past that edge. Bless Jaysen. And damn him. Gods, every time we play this game it wreaks as much damage on me as it does on poor ‘Lendel. I’mstill vibrating like a harpstring.

Tylendel pondered her question a long time before answering, his handsome face utterly quiet, his eyes again turned inward. “I just don’t know, Savil. Not while he’s still rebuffing every overture he gets. We need some time for this to build, I think, and then some event that will break his barricades for a minute. Until that happens, we won’t get in, and he’ll stay an arrogant bastard until he explodes.”

She felt herself grow cold inside. “Suicidal?”

To her relief, Tylendel shook his head. “I don’t think so; he’s not the type. It wouldn’t occur to him. Now me– never mind. No, what he’ll do is go out of control in one way or another. He’ll either do it fast and have some kind of breakdown, or slowly, and debauch himself into a state where he’s got about the same amount of mind left as a shrub.”

“Wonderful.” She placed her right hand over her forehead, rubbing her eyebrows with thumb and forefinger. “Just what I wanted to hear.”

Tylendel made one of his expressive shrugs. “You asked.”

“I did,” she said reluctantly. “Gods, why me?”

“If it’s any comfort, it’s not going to happen tomorrow. ‘‘

“It better not. I have an emergency Council session tonight.” She sighed, and rubbed her hands together. “I’ll probably be up half the night, so don’t wait up.”

“Does that mean the interview is over?” he asked quirking one corner of his mouth.

“It does. You can have the suite all to yourself tonight – just don’t leave crumbs on the floor or grease on the cushions. Iwouldn’t care, but Margret will take your hide off in one piece. And don’t look for the lovebirds, either – they’re out on a fortnight Field trial with Shallan and her brood. So you’ll be all alone for the evening.”

“Oh, gods, all alone with the beautiful Vanyel – you reallywant to test my self-control, don’t you!” He laughed, then sobered, shoving away from the wall and straightening. “On the other hand, this might give me the chance I was talking about. If I get him alone, maybe I can get him to open up a bit.’’

Savil shrugged and pushed away from the wall herself. “You’re better than I with people, lad, that’s why I asked your advice. If you think you have an opportunity, then take it. Meanwhile, Ihave to go consult with the Queen’s Own.”

“And from there, straight to the meeting? No time for a break?” Tylendel asked, sympathetically. She nodded.

He reached for her shoulders and embraced her closely. “See that you eat, teacher,” he murmured into her hair. “I want you to stay around for a while, not wear yourself into another bout of pneumonia, and maybe kill yourself this time.

Even when I hate you, you old bitch, you know I love you.”

She swallowed down another lump in her throat, and returned the embrace with a definite stinging in her eyes.

“I know, love. Don’t think I don’t count on it.” She swallowed again, closed her eyes, and held him as tightly, a brief point of stability in a world that too often was anything but stable. “I love you, too. And don’t you ever forget it.”

The emptinessof the suite almost oppressed Tylendel. With the “lovebirds” gone, Savil due (so the dinnertime rumor in the kitchens had it) for a till-dawn Council session in her capacity as speaker for those Heralds teaching proteges, and Vanyel presumably entertaining his little coterie of followers, there was nothing and no one to break the stifling silence. It closed around him like a shroud, until the very beating of his heart was audible. Outside the windows it was as dark as the heart of sin, and so overcast not even a hint of moon came through. His scalp was damp, hot, and prickly. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck and soaked into his collar. It felt a whole lot later than it actually was; time was crawling tonight, not flying.

Tylendel gave up trying to read the treatise on weather-magic Savil had assigned him and switched to a history instead. A handwritten pamphlet on weatherworking was notwhat he needed to be reading right now, anyway; not with a storm threatening. His energy control often wasn’t as good as he’d like, and he didn’t want to inadvertently augment what was coming in. He was a lot better at controlling his subconscious than he hadbeen, but there was no point in taking chances with Savil out of reach.

That storm was at least part of what was making the suite seem stuffy; Tylendel Sensed the thunderheads building up in the west even though he couldn’t see them from where he was sprawled on the couch of the common room. That wasthe Gift that made him a Herald-Mage trainee and not just a Herald-trainee; the ability to See (or otherwise Sense) and manipulate energy fields, both natural and supernatural. His Gifts had come on him early and a long time before he was Chosen; they’d given him trouble for nearly half of his short life, and only his twin’s support had kept him sane in the interval between their onset and when his Companion Gala finally appeared -

:Are you tucked safe away, dearling?:he Mindspoke to her. :When this blow comes, it’s going to be a good one.:

The drowsy affirmative he got told him that she was half-asleep; heat did that to her.

Heat mostly made himirritable. He had propped every window and door wide open (and to hell with bugs), but there wasn’t even a whisper of breeze to move the air around. The candle flames didn’t even waver, and the honey-beeswax smell of the candles placed all around the common room was almost choking him with its sweetness.

He shook back his damp hair, rubbed his eyes, and tried to concentrate on his book, but part of him kept hoping for a flash of lightning in the dark beyond the windows, or the first hintof cooling rain. And part of him kept insisting that all he had to do was nudgeit a little. He told thatpart of himself to take a long walk, and waited impatiently for the rain to come of itself.

Nothing happened. Just an itchy sort of tension building.

He gave up trying to concentrate, got up and went to the sideboard for a glass of wine; he needed to get centered and calmed, and a little less sensitive, and he wasn’t going to be able to do it on his own. The only wine left was a white, and it was a bit dry for his taste, but it did accomplish what he wanted it to. With just that hint of alcohol inside him, he finally managed to relax and get intothe blasted book.

He got so far into it, in fact, that when the first simultaneous blast of wind and thunder came, he nearly jumped off of the couch.

Half the candles – the ones not sheltered in glass chimney-lamps – blew out. Wind whipped through the suite, sending curtains flying and carrying with it a welcome chill and the scent of rain. The shutters in Mardic’s and Donni’s room banged monotonously against the walls; not hard enough to shatter the glass yet, but it was only a matter of time. He dropped the book and got up to head for their door just as Vanyel stumbled in through the corridor door and into the brightness of the common room.

The boy stood as frozen as a statue, blinking owlishly at the light. Tylendel’s stomach gave a little lurch; Vanyel looked like death.

It was bad enough that the boy was light-complected; bad enough that he was wearing stark black tonight, which only accentuated his fair skin. But his face had nocolor at the moment; it was so white it was almost transparent. His eyes looked sunken, and his expression was of someone who has seen, but been denied, the Havens.

“Vanyel – “ Tylendel said – whispered, really – his voice barely audible above the banging shutter and the sound of the storm. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Vanyel, I didn’t expect you back so – uh – soon. Is something wrong?”

For one moment – for one precious moment – Tylendel thought he had him; he was sure that the boy was going to open up to him. His eyes begged for pity; his expression, so hungry and haunted, nearly cracked Tylendel’s own calm. The trainee made a tentative step toward him -

It was the wrong move; he knew that immediately. Vanyel’s face shuttered and assumed his habitual expression of flippant arrogance. “Wrong?” he said, with false gaiety. “Bright Lady, no, of course there’s nothing wrong! Some of the Bards just came over from their Collegium and started an impromptu contest; it got so damned hot in the Great Hall with all those people crowded in that I gave up – “

Just then the shutters in both the lifebonded’s room andSavil’s crashed against the walls with such force that it was a wonder that the windows didn’tshatter.

“Havens!” Vanyel yelped, “She’ll kill us!” and dove for Savil’s room. Tylendel dashed into the other, mentally cursing his own clumsiness, and cursing himself for letting hisreaction to the boy cloud his reading of him.

By the time he got everything secured and returned to the common room, Vanyel had retreated into his ownroom and the door was firmly and irrevocably shut.

“Vanyel,” the trainee said, softly, his eyes dark with compassion and understanding, “Is something wrong?”

“I – “ Vanyel began, then closed his eyes as a jit of trembling hit him. ‘ ‘I – the music– I– ‘‘

Suddenly Tylendel was beside him, holding him, quieting his shivering. ‘ ‘It’s all right,’’ he murmured into Vanyel’s ear, his breath warm and like a caress in his hair. ‘ ‘It’s all right, I understand. ‘‘

Vanyel stood as unmoving as a dead stick, hardly daring to breathe, afraid to open his eyes. Tylendel stroked his hair, the back of his neck, his hands warm and light – and Vanyel thought his heart was going to pound itself to pieces. ‘ I understand,’’ he repeated. ‘ ‘I know what it’s like to want something, and know you ‘II never have it. “

‘ ‘You – do ?’’ Vanyel faltered.

Tylendel chuckled. It was a warm, rich sound.

And his fingers traced the line of Vanyel’s spine, slowly, sensuously. Vanyel started to relax in Tylendel’s arms – and his eyes popped open in startlement when his own hands at Tylendel’s chest encountered, not cloth, but skin.

The trainee was starkly, gloriously nude.

“Then again, “ Tylendel whispered, looking deeply into Vanyel’s eyes. ‘ ‘Maybe I will get it. ‘‘

Vanyel made a strangling noise, wrenched himself away, and fled into darkness, into cold -

Into the middle of his old dream.

First there had been the snow-plain, then as he walked across it, the teeth of ice had begun poking their way up through the granular snow. They’d grown higher as he walked, but what he hadn’t known was that they were growing behind him as well. Now he was trapped inside a ring of them. Trapped inside walls of ice, smoother than the smoothest glass, colder than the coldest winter. He couldn’t break out; he pounded on them until his arms were leaden, to no effect. Everywhere he looked– ice, snow, nothing alive, nothing but white and pale blue and silver. Even the sky was white. And he was so alone– so terribly alone.

Nothing soft, nothing comforting. Nothing welcoming. Only the ice, only the unyielding, unmoving ice and the white, grainy snow.

He was cold. So appallingly cold – so frozen that he ached all over.

He had to get out.

Hoping to climb over the barrier, he reached for the top of one of the ice-walls, and pulled back his hands as pain stabbed through them. He stared at them stupidly. His palms were slashed nearly to the bone, and blood oozed sluggishly from the cuts to pool at his feet.

There was blood on the snow; red blood– but as he stared at it in numb fascination, it turned blue.

Then his hands began to burn with the cold, yet fiery pain of the wounds. He gasped, and tears blurred his vision; he wanted to scream, but could only moan.

Gods, ithurt, he’d give anything to make it stop hurting!

Suddenly, the paindid stop; his hands went numb. His eyes cleared and he looked down at his injured hands again – and saw to his horror that the slashes had frozen over andhis hands were turning to ice; blue, and shiny, and utterly without feeling. Even as he gazed at them, the ice crept farther up; over his wrists, crawling up his forearms– and he cried out-

Then he wasn’tthere anymore, he was somewhere else. It was dark, but he could see; by the lightning, by a strange blue glow about him. Lightning flickered overhead, and seemed to be controlled by whathe did or thought; he was standing on a mound of snow in the center of a very narrow valley. To either side of him were walls of ice that towered over his head, reaching to the night sky in sheer, crystalline perfection. Behind him – there was nothing– somehow he knew this. But before him -

“Vanyel!”

Before him an army; an army of mindless monsters-creatures with only one goal. To getpast him. Already he was wounded; he twisted to direct the lightning to lash into their ranks, and felt pain lancing down his right side, felt the hot blood trickling down his leg into his boot and freezing there. There were too many of them. He was doomed. He gasped and wept at the horrible pain in his side, and knew that he was dying. Dying alone. So appallingly alone-

“Vanyel!”

He struggled up out of the canyon of ice, out of the depth of sleep; shaken out of the nightmare by hot, almost scorching hands on his shoulders and a commanding voice in his ears.

He blinked; feeling things, and not connecting them. His eyes hurt; he’d been crying. His hair, his pillow were soggy with tears, and he was still so cold – too cold even to shiver. That was why Tylendel’s hands on his bare shoulders felt so hot.

“Vanyel – “ Tylendel’s eyes were a soft sable in the light of the tiny bedside candle; like dark windows on the night, windows that somehow reflected concern.

His hands felt like branding irons on Vanyel’s skin. “Gods, Vanyel, you’re like ice!”

As he tried to sit up, Vanyel realized that he was still leaking tears.

As soon as he started moving he began shivering so hard he couldn’t speak. ‘‘I – “ he said, and could get nothing more out.

Tylendel snagged his robe from the foot of the bed without even looking around, and wrapped it about his naked shoulders. It wasn’t enough. Vanyel shook with tremors he could not stop, and the robe wasn’t doing anything to warm him.

“Vanyel,” Tylendel began, then simply wrapped his arms around Vanyel and held him.

Vanyel resisted – tried to pull away.

He blinked.