Текст книги "Magic's Promise"

Автор книги: Mercedes Lackey

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

Vanyel sighed, and folded himself up at her feet, resting his back against the front of her chair and his head against her knee. That was “home,” and always would be – as Savil was more his mother than his birth-mother ever could be. “It's nothing,” he replied. “At least nothing a little sleep won't cure. Come on, you know how you feel at the end of a tour of duty. You're still your old tactful self, Savil.”

“Tact never was one of my strong traits, lad,” she replied, and he felt her hand touch, and then begin stroking his hair. He closed his eyes and relaxed; muscles began to unknot that must have been tensed up for the past year. For the first time in months there was no one depending on him, looking to him for safety. It was nice to feel sheltered and protected, instead of being the shelter and protection. There are times when I'd give anything to be a child again, and this is perilous close to one of them.

“I am mortally tired, Savil,” he admitted, finally. “I need this leave. It won't take long to rest up – but I do need the rest. You know, I didn't ask for this. I didn't want to be a Herald-Mage, I wanted to be a Bard. I sure as Havens didn't ask to be 'Vanyel Dragonsbreath,' or whatever it is they're calling me.”

“Demonsbane.”

The increasingly shrill tone of his own voice finally penetrated his fog. “Savil, I – am I whining?”

She chuckled throatily. “You're whining, son.”

“Hellfire,” he said. “I swear, every time I lose a little sleep, I turn fifteen. A bratty fifteen, at that. I'm amazed you put up with me.”

“Darling boy,” she said, her hand somehow stroking his headache away, “You've earned a little whine. You're thinned out in more ways than one.” She sighed. “That's the one thing I regret most about the past few years – you never do or say anything anymore without thinking about it. That's good for Herald-Mage Vanyel, but I'm not entirely certain about Vanyel Ashkevron.” There was a long silence behind him, then – “There's no joy in you anymore, ke'chara. No joy at all. And that bothers me more than the circled eyes and thin cheeks.”

“We've all endured too much the last five years to be able to afford to do things without thinking. As for joy – is there joy anywhere, anymore? We've all lost so much – so many friends gone – “

Another long silence. “I don't know.”

He cleared his throat, and changed the subject. “I didn't feel a third here. You aren't teaching?”

“Can't; don't have the stamina anymore. Not and be Guardian, too.”

He'd half expected that. And he half expected what quarter. “So they made you Guardian? In whose place?”

“Lancir's. Shavri can't; she tried, and she can't. The four Guardians have to be Herald-Mages. We'd hoped Healing-Gift was close enough, but she didn't pass the last trial. I think she's relieved. It's a pity; the Guardian of the East has always been King's Own, but – “

“In that case, the present I brought you may be handy.” He shifted so that he could get at his pocket, and pulled out the crystal. He closed his hand around it, feeling all the smooth planes and angles pressing into his palm. “Don't you need a Prime Focus stone of your own to set in the Web? I thought you didn't have a good Prime to use for anything but personal stuff.''

“You do, and I put a stone there, but it was a Secondary Focus, an amethyst, and not what I'd have-”

He raised the hand holding the crystal above his head, parting his fingers so she could see it, but not opening his eyes or moving his head.

“Sunsinger's Glory!” she breathed. “Where did you find that?”

“Gifted me,” he said, as the weight left his hand. “People keep giving me things, Savil. An opal or amber I could have used – still – you can use it, so do.”

“I shall.” Her hand began to stroke his hair again, and he heard the little click as she set the stone down on the table beside her. “That will make my job a bit easier.” She chuckled richly. “I thought I was so lucky when it turned out my resonances worked best with rose-quartz-not like Deedre who was stuck with topaz, or Justen, with ruby. Nice, cheap stone, I thought. Won't have to go bankrupt trying to get a good one. Little did I know how hard it was to find a good, unflawed, large crystal!”

“Little did you know you were going to turn out a Guardian,” he replied drowsily.

“Hmm, true.” Her mind touched softly on his. Vanyel, ke'chara, you are not well. There's more silver in this lovely black hair.:

He couldn't lie mind-to-mind, not to her, so he temporized. :The silver's from working with the nodes; you should know that. As for the rest – I'm just weary, teacher – love. Just weary. Too many hours fighting too many battles, and all of it too much alone.:

:Heart – wounded?: Her Mindvoice was etched and frosted with concern.

:No, heart – whole. Just lonely. Only that. You know. I haven't time these days to go courting a friend. Not on battle – lines. And I won't ask for more than friendship –  gods, how could I ask anyone to make an emotional commitment to somebody who's out trying daily to get himself killed? I'm better off alone.:

The hand on his hair trembled a little, and rested.

:I know,: she replied, finally.  :There are times when I wish with all my heart I could take some of that from you.:

:Now, now, don't encourage me in my self-pity. Honestly, you and 'Fandes-: “If wishes were fishes, we'd walk on the sea, teacher – love,” he said aloud. “I'd rather you could keep Father and Mother off when I'm home.” “So you're finally making that major visit they've been plaguing you for?” She took the unspoken cue and switched to less – intimate vocal speech.

“Randale sent me word just as I was leaving the Border. Several weeks leave of absence at least. And I must say, that while I'm looking forward to the rest, I'm not at all sanguine about this little sojourn in the bosom of my loving family.”

“Out of experience I'm forced to tell you: even if they behave themselves, you're all too likely to find yourself the court of appeal for every family feud that's been brewing for the last ten years,” she said, and laughed. “And no one will like your judgments and everyone will accuse you of favoritism.”

He opened his eyes and moved his head around, propping his chin against the seat cushion. “And Mother will haul every eligible female for leagues about in on 'visits,' and Father will go cross-eyed trying to see if I 'm attempting to seduce any of the young men on the estate. And dear Father Leren will thunder sermons about fornication and perversity every holy day, and glare. Jervis will snipe at me, try to get me angry, and glare. And Mother's maid Melenna will chase me all over the property. And on and on.” He made mournful eyes at her. “If I hadn't promised, I'd be greatly tempted to take my chances with Randale finding another emergency and stay here.”

“I thought Lissa was stationed right near Forst Reach. She always used to be able to protect you.” Savil gave him a half smile. “She was a very good little protector when you were a child.”

“I don't think she's going to feel she can leave her assigned post,” he said. “It seems that Border is heating up.”

“Just what we need. Another Situation.”

“Exactly.”

“You could have dealt with this earlier, I suppose.”

He snorted. “Not likely. That whole monstrous mess of tangled emotions and misconception is why I never have spent more than a day at home if I can help it. If it isn't Mother flinging women at me, it's Father watching me out of the corner of his eye.” He throttled down savagely on the wave of bitterness that crawled up his throat, but some of it emerged despite his good intentions. “Gods, Savil, I am so damned tired of the whole dance. I really need to take a couple of weeks to rest, and where else can I go? You know I daren't stay here; if I do, Randale will recruit me. He won't want to, he won't mean to, but something will come up, and he'll have to-and I won't be able to say no. If I went to Liss-assuming she has someplace to put me -she'd end up doing the same thing. I'm a tool, and neither of them dares let a tool stand idle, even when it might break.”

“Easy, lad,” Savil cautioned, her face clouded and troubled.

He grimaced. “Did it again. Sorry. I won't break. I'm not sure I can break. The fact is, I still look all right, and I really don't want Randi to guess how drained out I am. If he knows, he'll feel guilty, and there's nothing he can do. He has to do what he does to me. So – “ Vanyel shrugged. “The strain doesn't show; it won't take long to put right. I'm as much to blame for the overload as Randi. I could say 'no' – but I never have the heart to.”

“Maybe you should choose somewhere to go besides Forst Reach. Or only stay there for a day or two, then go off visiting friends, or by yourself.”

“I don't want to go off somewhere alone, I'll just brood. And I haven't anyone to go to; k'Treva is too far away. You, at least, have had Andy for longer than I've known you.” He sighed. “I'm sorry, I'm whining again. I can't seem to help it, which might be a symptom of how on edge I am. That is the only thing that really worries me; I'm hair – triggered and dangerous, and I need some peace to get balanced again. All I can hope is that Mother and Father decide that I look as bad as you and Jays think, and leave me alone for a bit. Long enough to get some reserves back, anyway.”

It was the closest he'd come to admitting that he wasn't really certain how much – or how little – reserves he still had, and he quelled the rest of what he almost said.

“You don't look good, even they should see that, ke'chara.'' She toyed with a bit of his hair, and worried at her lower lip with her teeth. “You know, I haven't been back in – ye gods, not since I checked you all for Mage-Gift! My Familial Visitation is more than overdue.”

“But – you're a Guardian – “ Hope rose in him. If only Savil would be there, he'd have one kindred soul in the lions' den! He had no doubt she was more than up to the trip; he could feel her strength even as he leaned on it.

“Won't take me but a day to set my focus in the Web and then I can Guard from Forst Reach as easily as from here. It's only a matter of Sensing threat and sending the alert, you know. It's not as if I actually had to fight anything. And it's only because I need to keep that little corner of my mind tuned to the Web waking and sleeping that I don't have a protégé – ten years ago I could have done what Jays is doing; Guard and teach three.” She nodded. “This is no bad notion. Provided you don't mind having me there-”

“Mind?” He seized her hand and kissed it.

“Then expect me in about – oh, two weeks after you arrive. It'll take Kellan a little longer to make the trip than you youngsters.”

“Savil, if you only knew how grateful I am – “

“Pish. I'm selfish, is what I am.” A smile started to twitch at the corners of her mouth. “We can guard each other's backs this way. I'm counting on you to save me from Withen as much as you are counting on me to save you.”

He rose and kissed her forehead. “I don't care what you say, it's the most generous, unselfish thing anyone's done for me in a year. And you just may save this visit from becoming the legend of how Herald Vanyel went berserk and left his entire family tied to trees with rags stuffed in their mouths! About what time is it? I'm all turned round about from being so far south.”

She checked the angle of the sun coming in her window. “I'd guess just after Court.”

“Good; I have to catch Randale and Shavri and say

good-bye. He promised if I didn't come when he was being 'official' he wouldn't find something for me to do.”

“Then off with you, ke'chara, and I'll see you at Forst Reach-and thank you for thinking of me,” she finished, touching the stone on the table beside her.

“Because you think of me, love.'' He kissed her cheek, then her forehead again, and left her suite.

He stopped first at his room to change back into a set of Tran's Whites and put on the soft, low boots Heralds wore indoors; not as comfortable as going barefoot, but they beat the riding boots hands down. And if he didn't change, he might not be let into the King's quarters – every time he came back, it seemed fewer folk knew his face.

That accomplished, and now every inch his usual neat self, he headed down to the oldest part of the Palace, the extensive set of rooms shared by King Randale; his lifebonded and King's Own, Shavri; and their daughter.

He had scarcely crossed the threshold of the sparsely furnished audience chamber-his unfamiliar face giving a moment's apprehension to the two Guards posted at the door-when a six-year-old, curly-headed, miniature whirlwind burst through the farther door and flung herself across the audience chamber at him, evidently blithely certain he would catch her before she fell.

Which he did, and swung her around, up and over his head while she squealed with excitement and delight. “Uncle Van!” she crowed at the top of her lungs. “UncleVanUncleVanUncleVan!”

He started to put her down, but she demanded a hug and a kiss with the same infectious charm her “father” Randale could display whenever he chose. Vanyel hoisted her into a comfortable carrying position and complied without an argument, thinking as he did so that it was a good thing that she was still so tiny.

“Now how did you know I was coming?” he asked her, as her bright brown eyes looked solemnly down into his.

“Felt you,” she said, giving him another hug. “Felt you in my head, all blue – glowy and swirly.”

He nearly dropped her in shock. That was surely the most vivid-and accurate-description of his aura he'd ever heard out of anyone but another high – ranking Herald-Mage.

“Or a Healer,” said Shavri, coming up beside him as he gaped at the child, and Jisa giggled at the face he was making. “Healers see you that way, too, Van. And no, I wasn't eavesdropping on your thoughts-they were plain enough from that poleaxed look on your face.” There was strain and fear under Shavri's light tone, as if she walked a narrow bridge above a bottomless chasm. “Besides, you aren't the only one she's 'felt in her head' during the last three months. Let's start this greeting over; hello, Van, have you a hug for me?”

“Always.” He was already bracing himself for trouble; with that look on her face there was something seriously wrong. And that meant he'd have to be the strong one.

He included Shavri in his arms, while Jisa flung her arms around both their necks and cuddled. “Jisa sweet, can I put you down long enough for presents?''

“Presents?” Jisa was no different from any other six-year-old when that word came up. She squirmed a little, and he set her down, then extracted the little Companion-figure from his pouch and handed it to her. She shrieked with delight, and ran outside to show it to the two Guards. Shavri watched her go, her gypsy-dark eyes darker with unconcealed love – and something else. Something secret and profoundly unhappy. His first reaction was to want to hold her, protect her, make that unhappiness go away.

Randi's lifebonded -

“That's quite a little impling you're raising, Shavri,” he said, instead. “Incredibly unspoiled, given that I'd lay odds she's the pet of the Circle.”

“You say that every time you see her, beast,” she replied, flashing an uncertain smile, startlingly bright in her sober, dark face.

“Well, it's true.” Vanyel Looked quickly around, ascertained that they were going to be alone for a few moments, and asked quickly, “How is he?”

The smile vanished, and the fear and unhappiness were plain for anyone who knew her to read. :Oh, gods-Van, he's sick, I can't make it go away, and I think he's dying. And I don't know why. :

:What?: He gathered his scant resources to support her-and to hide the fact that her fear was making him tremble inside.

“He's well enough,” she said lightly, but Mindspoke him with a vastly different tone. :There's something wrong; it isn't affecting him much at the moment other than steady weakness and a dizzy spell now and again – but it keeps getting worse with each spell. And – oh, Van – I'm so afraid – :

He tightened his arm around her shoulders. :Easy, flowerlet – : “Then it sounds like there's no problem with my taking this leave.” :How long has this been going on?:

Her unshed tears knotted both their throats. :Eight months. It's something I can't Heal, the gods know I've tried!:

He felt chill creep over him. :Forgive me, Shavri, but I have to ask this. Given worst case – if it is something life-threatening, and it keeps getting worse, how long do you think he has ?:

:If he keeps weakening at the same rate? Fifteen years-maybe less, certainly not more. Gods, Van, he won't even see fifty – he won't even see his grandchildren! Elspeth was seventy-six when she was Called!:

There was another thought, unspoken-but Vanyel felt it, since it touched so nearly on his own private loneliness.

I'II have to go on alone-

He held her close to his chest, with her face pressed into his shoulder as she struggled not to cry, and clamped down a tight shield to prevent any stray thought from reaching her and frightening her. Savil supported you. You support Shavri the same way, he told himself, below the threshold of her ability to Mindhear. Let her know she won't be alone. Gods, gods, they're both so young, not even twenty-five . . . and so sheltered all their lives. Oh, Shavri – your pain hurts me-

“Easy, love,” he murmured into her hair. :Does he know ?:

:No. Not yet. Healer's Collegium does; they’re working on it. We don't want him to know until it's certain. Now you know why I won't marry him. Van, I couldn't, I'm not strong enough, I can't rule! Not alone! And when he dies – and I won't have Jisa forced onto the throne too young, either.: Her mind-voice strengthened with stubbornness. :So long as we're unwedded, it can't be forced on me nor on Jisa until all the collateral lines are exhausted. I – :

He felt the surge of terror and grief, and tried to project strength to her, not allowing her to see how fragile that strength was at the moment. With grim certainty he knew that she would not be able to cope if the worst came – unless someone she trusted was there to help. And the only one she trusted to that extent – the only one Randi trusted – was him. Gods. They really think I can do anything – and I'm no more ready for this than she is.

He pushed the thought away, concentrated on trying to ease some of that fear. . – Gently, sweet. Don't borrow trouble. Don't assume anything. You may cure him yet; this may turn out to be something ridiculous – and you both may get run over by a beer-wagon tomorrow!:

That startled a weak chuckle out of her, and she blinked up at him through tears she was doing her best not to release.

:Worry about tomorrow when it comes; enjoy now. Now, what's all this with Jisa “feeling people in her head?”:

Footsteps made both of them look up. “Are you seducing my lady, Herald Vanyel?” asked Randale, King of Valdemar, holding out his arms to embrace both of them.

“I'd rather seduce you, you charmer,” Vanyel replied coyly, batting his eyelashes at the King. But there was an edge of bitterness there in his banter, and despite his best intentions it must have crept into his voice. He saw a hint of startlement, then of worry, creep into both their expressions.

Lighten up, dammit, he told himself angrily. They've got their own problems – they don't need yours.

He grinned and winked, and both of them relaxed again.

Randale laughed heartily, and hugged him hard, taking Shavri away from Vanyel as he did so. And Vanyel felt a strange twinge; another flash of uneasiness.

Gods, what's wrong with me?

He didn't stop to think about it. The hug wasn't as hard as it had been a year ago – and there was a transparency about Randale that made Vanyel's heart lurch. Randale had grown a neat brown beard – was it to hide the fact that his cheeks were a little hollower? Was that tidy-to-a-fault brown hair a little lackluster? There were shadows under his dark eyes; were they there from lack of sleep, or some more sinister reason? Within a few breaths Vanyel had noted a dozen small signs of “something wrong” – all of them little things, things that someone who saw him day – in, day-out might not have noticed. But Vanyel had been away for a year, and the things he saw shook him. Gods, gods – my King, my friend – Shavri is right. You’re ill, at the very least -

Randale was not a Herald-Mage; his Gift was FarSight, and his Mindspeech was not as sure a thing as Vanyel's and Shavri's. For once Vanyel was grateful for that lack. He changed the subject before Randale could note his unease.

“It seems your little shadow is developing precocious Gifts,” he said. “At least she said she 'felt me coming in her mind.'“ Jisa ran back in, and attached herself to Vanyel's leg. “Didn't you, imp?” He looked down at her, surprised by the surge of love he felt for the child.

She nodded, very well pleased with herself.

“We thought about taking her to Savil, but she's been so busy,” Randale replied, shrugging. “I don't suppose you'd test her, would you? That's a major spell for anyone else but you and Savil.”

“Now I see the reason for all the concern that I stop by!” Vanyel teased. “Not that you've missed me!” “Van – ” Shavri said indignantly. “I never – ”

Randale chortled, and she hit his shoulder. “You can just stop that, you beast.”

Jisa giggled, and Vanyel looked down at her. “Hold still for a minute, impling,” he said. “I'm about to make your head feel funny, like Mama did when you had the measles.”

“All right,” Jisa said calmly, and Vanyel had the sudden unsettling feeling that she would permit her totally-trusted “Uncle Van” to chop off her hand if he wanted to.

He rested his palm on the top of her brown curls, and focused out and down -

–and came out again, blinking. “Well.”

“Well, what?” Shavri and Randale demanded in the same breath.

“She won't be a Herald-Mage, not unless she gets blasted open the way I did – which I do not recommend,” he added lightly, trying to catch his breath. Even that little magic had been more of a strain than he had thought it would. “But she's carrying the potential in a double dose; she'll certainly pass it to her children. She will be a MindHealer; she is an active Empath, and her Mindspeech center is opening early, too. With that combination, Randale, she'll very likely be King's Own after Shavri.”

Gods, she is so like me. Right down to the Mage-potential. Jisa, sweetling, I swear I will do anything to keep you safe -

Shavri trembled, and Randale's arm tightened around her shoulder. “Is she likely to be Chosen anytime soon?”

Vanyel did not answer immediately. :'Fandes?: he called, softly. :Are you awake?:

:And following the conversation. Yes, provided it's needful for her to get the training and she stays as sweet as she is. I'd say by age ten. Maybe sooner, two years from now. :

“Yfandes guesses that if she needs the training, between age eight and ten. Remember, for the presumptive King's Own, that won't be a bonded Choosing – she won't bond until – until she gets the office. Then she'll bond with Taver.'' Vanyel ignored both Shavri's frightened face and Randale's elation. “So, given that – there's a little something she and I ought to do.”

He focused himself down again, pulling on Yfandes' strength to assist his own, and thanking the gods he could do so, because Jisa should not remain as open as she was now. This time he did not close his eyes, but locked them with the child's, and showed her without words – for she did not yet have sufficient Mindspeech to use words– how to shield herself from unwanted thoughts and emotions, and unshield again at will. He was, he feared, the only person who could have taught her at this stage; Empathy not being a normal Heraldic Gift, and most Healers not using it in the way a Herald-Mage could.

He showed her how to find her center – she knew with an instant of studying him how to ground. The fundamentals it had taken him so long and so painfully to learn came to her with the ease of breathing, perhaps because learning was as easy as breathing at her age, and perhaps because his learning had come at the cost of so much loss and pain that had nothing to do with his Gifts.

“ – there. That should hold her until she's got enough to be taught formally. Teach her yourself, Shavri. You won't find anyone in the Heralds with Empathy as strong as hers. When she's got it at full power, she'll be able to control a mob in full cry.”

Shavri had herself back under control again, and the smile she gave Vanyel was genuine. “Thank you, love.”

He shrugged. “No thanks needed. Before I forget it – I brought you two some 'pretties' also.”

Shavri took the pendant with an exclamation of genuine delight as he handed the matching cloak-brooch to Randale. “Van, you shouldn't have – ” she began.

“Of course I should have,” he said. “Who else have I got to bring things to?” It came out bleaker than he intended.

“Oh, Van – ” Her eyes softened, and Randale cleared his throat and blinked. They reached out in the same moment and each took one of his hands. He closed his eyes, and for an instant allowed himself to feel a part of their closeness.

But it was their closeness, not his.

And I have no right.

“Mama, I have lessons,” said a small voice, still at I Vanyel's knee.

“Bright Havens,  so you do!”  Shavri exclaimed “Van – “

“Go,” he said, wrinkling his nose at her. “I'll be back in a few weeks, and maybe this tyrant of a King will let me stick around for a while this time.”

She shooed Jisa out and followed her with the light step of a young girl. Randale's gaze followed both of them.

“You sire wonderful children, Van,” he said softly.

“You raise better ones,”  Vanyel replied, uneasily. “You are Jisa's papa, don't you ever forget it. I was nothing more than the convenient means to a rather attractive little end.”

The King relaxed visibly. “I keep thinking you're going to want her back-especially now that she's showing Gifts. She's more like you than you know.”

Vanyel laughed. “Whatever would I do with her? Great I good gods, what kind of a parent would I make? I can't even train the palace cats to stay off my pillow! No, Randi, she's all yours, in everything that counts. I would rather be Uncle Van, who gets to spoil her.”

Randale reached out without looking and snagged a chair with one hand. He swung it around and put it in front of Vanyel. “She'd make a good Queen.”

“She'd make a very bad Queen,” Vanyel replied, draping himself over it as Randale took another. “The things that make a good Monarch's Own are weakness in the Monarch.”

“Like?”

“Empathy. She'd be vulnerable to everyone with a petition and the passion to back it. She'd be tempted to use projective Empathy on her Council to make them vote her way. MindHealer are drawn to the unbalanced; but a Monarch can't waste time dealing with every Herald in trauma she encounters.” Vanyel shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. Jisa is going to be a lovely young woman and a good Monarch's Own; be satisfied with that.”

Randale gave him a wry look. “You sound very sure of yourself.”

“Shouldn't I be?'' Vanyel folded his arms over the back of the chair and rested his chin on them. “Forgive me if I sound arrogant, but other than Savil, I am the expert in these things. Ask my aunt when I'm not around and I'll bet money she'll tell you the same thing.”

Randale shrugged, and scratched the back of his head. “I guess you're right. I was hoping you'd back me, though-”

“Why?” Vanyel interrupted. “So you can have something else to pressure Shavri into marrying you?”

Randale winced at his bluntness, and protested weakly, “But that's – I mean-dammit, Van, I need her!”

Gods, so young . . . so uncertain of himself, of her. So afraid that without bonds he won't hold her. “You think she doesn't need you? Randi, she's your lifebonded, do you really need any further hold on her than that? She'd rather die than lose you!”

Randale studied the back of his hand. “It's just ... I want something a little more-”

“Ordinary?” Vanyel finished wryly. “Randi, Heralds are never ordinary. If you wanted 'ordinary,' you should have become a blacksmith.”

Randale shook his head.

Vanyel gritted his teeth and prepared to say to Randale what no one else could – or would. “Now you listen to me. You're making her miserable with the pressure you've been putting on her. She's doing exactly what she should; she's putting Valdemar and Valdemar's King ahead of her own wishes.”

Mostly.

“She knows the situation we have just as well as you do, but she's willing to face it. Things went to pieces when your grandmother Elspeth died, and they've been getting worse since-steadily.”

“I'm not blind, Van,” Randale interrupted. “I – ”

“Quiet, Randi. I'm making a speech, and I don't, often. I want you to think. There's a very real probability that you'll have to buy us peace on one of our Borders with an alliance marriage – exactly how your grandmother bought us peace with Iftel. And why do you think she never married Bard Kyran after your grandfather died, hmm? She knew her duty, and so should you. You have to stay free for that.”

Randale was flushing; Vanyel didn't need Empathy to know he was getting angry. “So what business is it of yours?” he burst out. “I thought you were a friend – ”

“I am. But I'm a Herald first. And my first duty is to Valdemar, not to you.” Vanyel sat straight up and let his face grow very cold; knowing what he was doing and hating himself for it. Randi wanted his friend, and at some levels, needed his friend. He was going to get Herald-Mage Vanyel Ashkevron. “You, Herald-King Randale, cannot permit your personal feelings to interfere with the well-being of this kingdom. You are as much Herald as I. If you cannot reconcile yourself to that – give up the Crown.''

Randale slumped, defeated. No one knew better than he that there was no Heir or even Heir-presumptive yet. The Crown was his, like it or not. “I ... I wish I . . . there's no one else, Van. No one old enough.”

“Then you can't resign your Crown, can you.” Vanyel made it a statement rather than a question.