Текст книги "Magic's Promise"

Автор книги: Mercedes Lackey

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“But – but I – but I don't know a thing about – ”

“B-beanshucks,” Withen rumbled, changing his epithet in mid-syllable. “You've been doing Castelaine duty here for years. Treesa'll have vapors, of course.”

Savil interrupted him. “Let her have vapors. If she doesn't want to mind Forst Reach, let Meke's lady deal with it. I know young Roshya. She's a bright little thing, and I know she's been properly trained. That's one of your worst problems here, Withen – too many trained hands and not enough jobs for them.”

Melenna turned anxious eyes toward Vanyel. “Herald Vanyel? Do you think that I – could-”

“I think you'll do just fine. Now – does that solve all the problems?”

Because I'm about to run out of brilliant ideas, energy, and the ability to hold off pain.

“I think so,” Savil replied. “I think we can start off by collecting Kaster and showing Tashir something of what he'll be dealing with.”

“You won't need me, will you?” Jervis asked suddenly.

''Probably not – at least not for a while.''

“Then I need a word or two with young Van here. Could you send to fetch me when you need me?”

Savil raised one eyebrow, but nodded.

The mob left, and Vanyel sagged as Jervis put a pitcher down on the table before him.

“Gods. That was a hell of a way to spend my first day out of bed.” He cast a wistful glance at the pitcher. “I don't suppose that's wine, is it?” The Healer, used to fighters, who would use the infirmary as a good place to hold an impromptu party, had forbidden him wine. He was getting very tired of cider.

Besides, the drugs the Healer had given him were too strong. He wasn't taking them except to sleep, and the pain-dulling effects of alcohol would have been welcome.

“Well-cider,” Jervis said slyly, “and help.” He reached inside his jerkin and held up a little bottle of apple brandy. “Couldn't get wine past that snoop, but I could this. Figured you could use it. Little bird told me you probably weren't taking those pills.”

He poured a generous dollop of brandy into each mug before adding the cider; Vanyel accepted his gratefully. “What little bird?”

“One name of Lissa. I've been playin' her eyes an' ears over here.”

“She could be right,” he admitted. “She knows I hate to be muddle-headed these days.”

Jervis grimaced. “Anybody been on front-lines hates t' be muddle-headed. Wish them Healers'd figure that out.”

“Have you heard anything out of Highjorune? Like about the palace, and the heart-stone?”

“Buried, and gonna leave it that way. Seemed safest. Van, you really think I should do this?”

“Why? Don't you?”

Jervis chewed his lip. “I dunno,” he said after a moment. “Tashir trusts me. I'm getting too old to try and beat sense into more young heads than one at any one time. What do you think of the notion? Too damned foolish to believe?”

“I think you'd make a good Marshal,” Vanyel replied honestly. “You've certainly proved that you aren't too old to change.”

Jervis snorted. “You say that after I nearly ruined your life for you?”

“But you saved it,” Vanyel pointed out. “If you hadn't been there, I would either have let the palace bury me, or I'd have gone down under Leren's knife. I'd have been dead before anyone found me. I think we're even.”

“Huh.” They drank in silence for a moment. The pain of Vanyel's wound seemed a bit eased.

“About Leren – you heard anything yet?”

Vanyel shook his head. “I was hoping you'd get around to him. I have some information for you, since you're relaying to Liss. Leren was mage-controlled.”

Jervis swore under his breath. “So he was tryin' t' take us both out a purpose. If he hadn't gotten distracted – ”

“Exactly – and I'm the one that distracted him for you; there was – I felt something about him, but it got away from me.”

Jervis shook his head. “Damn. We found out he was planted on us by the Mavelans. And now the priests of Astera are sending 'finders' into every damn temple along the Border here, to see how many more there are like him. Seems the Mavelans bought themselves a temple-school. The High Prelate is not what you'd call pleased. But I guess Leren's even twistier than we thought?''

Vanyel nodded. “I told Savil this morning and she relayed it to Haven, but Liss might as well get it from you. He may have been serving the Mavelans, but he was serving somebody else, too. And I don't know who or what. It was no power I recognized.''

“And you won't ever find it from him. Liss couldn't get it out of him, and whoever it was killed him before she could turn him over to Heralds.”

Vanyel swore creatively and descriptively in Tayledras. “Savil didn't tell me that.”

Jervis grimaced.  “She didn't know.  Liss'  sergeant found him dead in his cell just this mornin', guts torn out, and nobody next or nigh him since they'd brought him dinner. But Savil an' Lores an' Tashir showed up right after that, an' that kinda got lost in tryin' t' figger out what to' do 'bout Tashir.”

“Magic.”

“Seems so.”

Vanyel pondered for a moment. “Did you ever find out why he tried to kill me?”

“Oh, aye. That was easy enough. Leren knew what was goin' on here; that Mavelan bastard was keepin' him briefed. That much Liss got outa him afore he got his insides tore out. Vedric figured you were getting too close to the truth about the boy. When he breached the shields, he didn't know we'd unraveled everything. He had it figured that his spell was too good to unravel. What he meant to do was send you Gating home, and the boy with you. Leren was supposed to knife you both. They figured you'd use the same place to Gate into as last time, so Leren was waiting once Vedric contacted him. What they didn't figure on was Savil and me bein' there, nor you and Savil splitting up, and they didn't figure on me bein' with you an' not the boy.”

“I'm glad you were,” Vanyel said, softly. “If it hadn't been for you throwing my own words back in my face –  well, I wouldn't be here.”

“Is that a thing to thank me for?” Jervis asked unexpectedly. “How much you going to take before you crack?”

“As much,” Vanyel replied deliberately, “as I have to.”

Jervis pondered that a moment. “Van – are we friends now?''

Vanyel closed his eyes. “We're friends. And I think I know what your next question is going to be. You want to know why I'm sending you away with Tashir.”

“Somethin' like.”

“I'm trying to scatter my targets. I had a lot of time to think, the past couple of days. I figured out something. Enemies might not be able to get me, but they can get at me through the people I care for. Some of them – they're pretty well protected. But ordinary people, like you, Medren – ” He shook his head. “So I'm trying to send you all away – far away from me. The farther away you are, the safer you are. Either you'll be too distant to get at, or it will look as if I don't care. Either way, you'II be all right.”

“And you'll be alone.”

“That's better than knowing you took a mage-bolt because someone wanted to rock me,” he retorted, and swallowed the contents of the mug at a gulp.

Silence, then Jervis reached out and refilled his mug. Vanyel found himself getting a little light-headed. “Let me ask about something inconsequential; how's Medren? Is he going to forgive me for wrecking his old lute?''

“Lute?” Jervis chortled. “He'd have forgiven you for wrecking Forst Reach so long as you came back safe. Funny thing; remember you said Medren'd be safe from the Swarm because he was Bardic-Gifted and not Mage?

You was almost right. Seems like the instant the Swarm tried t' find a target here, ev'ry one of his lute strings snapped. How's that for strange?”

Vanyel shook his head. Too close. Too damned close. I was right.

“Anyway, he's safe at Bardic; word came back from a Bard called Breda that 'if there's any more at home like him, they're staging a raid.”

“So he's doing well?”

“Better than well. I think that's the reason Melenna decided to take that Castelaine position. I think she's startin' to look at being something other than 'Somebody's lady' or 'Somebody's momma.' I think maybe she wants to take a shot at being Somebody, herself.”

“Good,” Vanyel said, and meant it.

“You know,” Jervis raised one eyebrow, “your father still don't half believe but what you were after Tashir's tail the whole time. Aye, and Medren, too.”

Vanyel snorted.

“In fact,” Jervis continued, “to hear him in his cups, you've had half the boys in Valdemar.”

Vanyel put his mug down. “If that's a question,” he replied acidly, “you can tell him from me that it's been so damned long that both you and those damned sheep in Long Meadow are starting to look good!”

Jervis gave him a long, thoughtful look, and Vanyel wondered if he'd said too much, too freely. He tried to ready an apology-when Jervis gave him a long, slow grin.

“Stick to the sheep,” the armsmaster advised impudently. “They don't snore.”