Arrow's Fall (40 page)

Dirk repeated his vows in a voice that seemed soft, but carried to the edge of the crowd. Then Talia took his ring from Keren, slipped it onto his ring-finger and made her own vows in her clear, sweet voice.

Dirk took her back from Skif—and as he did so, the massed Heralds cheered spontaneously.

Somehow, it seemed totally appropriate.

The wedded couple was enthroned on a pile of cushions brought by every hand in the Collegium, with Talia arranged so that she could see everything without having to strain herself. Elcarth waited until most of the well-wishers had cleared away, and Talia and Dirk were pretty much alone before strolling over to them.

He shook his head at the sight. “I hope you two realize this display of yours is fevering the imaginations of an entire generation of Bards,” he said with mock-severity. “I hesitate to think of all the the truly awful creations we’ll have to suffer through for the next year from the students alone—and every full Bard is going to be determined that he will be the writer of the next ‘Sun and Shadow.’ “

“Oh, gods,” Dirk groaned, “I never thought of that. D’you suppose I could give her back?”

Talia eyed him speculatively. “We
could
always have a horrible fight here and now.” She hefted a wine bottle, appraising its weight. “This would make a lovely dent in his skull—not to mention the truly spectacular effect it will have when the bottle breaks and the red wine splashes all over that spotless white velvet.” She considered it and him for a long moment, then sighed. “No, it just won’t do. I might get some of the wine on me. And if I knock him cold, how will I get back to my room?”

“And if I give her away, who will I sleep with tonight?” Dirk added, as Talia giggled. “Sorry, Elcarth. You’re just going to have to suffer. What can we do for you?”

“Actually, there is something. I wanted to let you both know what the Circle has decided about Dirk’s assignments.”

Talia stiffened a little, but otherwise gave no sign that she was dreading what Elcarth’s next words might contain.

“First of all—I am retiring as Dean. I intend to stay on as Historian, but to handle both positions is a little more than I can manage these days. I’m a lot older than I look, I’m afraid, and I’m beginning to feel the years. Teren is replacing me. Dirk,
you
are replacing Teren as Orientation instructor, as well as working with training students in their Gifts.”

Talia was stunned; she’d expected to learn that he was being given a new partner, or that he would be assigned Sector duty at the least. She had partially resigned herself to the idea, telling herself that having him part of the time the was a distinct improvement over not having him at all.

“Elcarth—you can’t be serious—” Dirk protested. “I’m no kind of a scholar, you know that! If the Circle is trying to do us a favor by giving us preferential treatment…”

“Then we’d rather you didn’t,” Talia finished for him.

“My dear children! It is
not
preferential treatment that you are getting. Dirk, you will still be expected to take on die kinds of special jobs you used to, make no mistake about it. The only thing we’re really pulling you off from riding the problem Sectors. We’ve picked you to replace Teren for the same reason we picked him to replace Werda as Orientation instructor; your ability to handle children. Both of you are able to take confused, frightened children and give them warmth, reassurance, and die certain knowledge that they are in a place where they belong and have friends. Dirk, you have demonstrated that over and over in training Gifts—the way you brought Griffon along, giving him confidence without once making him feel that his Gift was a frightening or dangerous one, was nothing short of masterful—and look at the result. He trusted you so completely that he linked with you without asking why or wherefore; he trusted you enough to follow your directions exactly, and now Griffon is the unsung hero of the Battle of Demons. That kind of ability in a teacher is much rarer than scholasticism, and it’s one we need. So let’s bear no more about ‘preferential treatment,’ shall we?”

Dirk sighed with relief, and his arm tightened around Talia. She thanked Elcarth with her shining eyes; no words were necessary.

“That isn’t
quite
all. You’ll also be working with Kyril— Dirk on a regular basis, Talia as time permits. This is the first we’ve ever heard of the Companions augmenting anyone’s abilities purposefully except in chronicles so old we can’t winnow fable from truth; we’d like to know if it’s something that any Herald can take advantage of, or if it’s something peculiar to you two and Elspeth, or even if it’s peculiar to your Companions. Before Kyril is through with you, you may wish yourself back in the field again!”

They laughed a little ruefully; Kyril drove himself mercilessly in the cause of investigating Heraldic Gifts, and would expect no less from them.

“Last of all, I bring your wedding gift from the Circle; the next two weeks are yours to do with as you like. We can all get along without either of you for that long. Talia still has to have her sessions with the Healers, of course, but barring that—well, if you should choose to vanish on a few overnight trips, no one will come looking for you. After all, Talia, you may not be able to walk, but you can certainly ride! Just make sure you schedule everything with your Healers. The last thing I need or want is to have Devan after my head! That man can be positively vicious!”

Talia laughed, and promised; she could tell by the speculative glint in Dirk’s eyes that he already had a destination or two in mind. They traded a few more pleasantries with Elcarth, then the Historian—Dean no longer, and that would take some getting used to—took himself off.

Dirk shook his head. “I never, ever pictured myself as a teacher,” he said quietly. ‘That was always Kr—”

He choked off the end of the name.

“That was what Kris wanted,” Talia finished, watching him. “You’ve been avoiding speaking about him, love. Why?”

“Fear,” he replied frankly. “Fear that I’d hurt you—I’d be hurt myself. I—I still don’t really know how you felt about each other—”

‘‘All you ever had to do was ask,” she said softly, and drew him into rapport with gentle mental fingers.

After a moment he raised his eyes to hers and smiled. “And you said emotions don’t speak clearly. So that’s how it was?”

She nodded. “No more, no less. He tried to tell you, but you weren’t hearing.”

“I wasn’t, was I?” He sighed. “Gods—I miss him. I miss him so damn much....”

“We lost more than a friend when we lost him,” she said, hesitating over the words. “I think—I think we lost a part of ourselves.”

“He was silent for a long moment. “Talia, what happened after he died? You said some very strange things when you answered my call and came back to us.”

She shook her head slightly, her brow wrinkled in thought. “Love, I’m not sure. It’s not very clear, and it’s all mixed up with pain and fever and drug-dreams. All I can tell you for certain is that I
wanted
to die, and I
should
have died—but something kept me from dying.”

“Or someone.”

“Or someone,” she agreed. “Maybe it
was
Kris. That’s who my memories say it was.”

“I have a lot to thank him for, and not just that,” he said thoughtfully.

“Hm?”

“You learned from him about loving before those beasts hurt you.”

“It helped,” she said, after a long moment of thought.

“Loveling, are you ready to go through with this?” he asked after a pause. “Are you sure?”

For answer she kissed him with rapport still strung between them. When they came up for air he chuckled, nuch more relaxed.

“Hedonist,” he said.

“At least” she agreed, wrinkling her nose at him, then sobered again. “Yes, there are scars—but you have them, too. The wounds are healed—I’m not the only Healer of minds, you know—just the only one that’s a Herald as well. Rynee—she’s very good, as good as I am. Besides, I refuse to let what happened ruin what’s between us— and really, all they did was hurt my body, they didn’t touch
me
. What happened to you was worse—Naril raped your soul.”

“That’s healed, too,” he said quietly.

“Then leave it in the dead past. No one goes through life without picking up a scar or two.” She nestled closer to him as someone else came to offer their congratulations.

Then suddenly sat up. “Gods!”

“What?” Dirk asked, anxious until he saw that there was no sign of pain on her face. “What is it?”

“Back on my internship—that business with Maeven Weatherwitch—she ForeSaw something for me, and I couldn’t even guess what she meant, then.
Now
I know! She said that I would see the Havens but that love and duty would bar me from them—and—”

She faltered.

“And?” he prompted, gently.

“That—my greatest joy would be preceded by my greatest grief. Oh, gods—if only I’d known—if only I’d
guessed
—”

“You could never have anticipated what happened,” Dirk replied with such force that she shook off her anguish to stare at him. “
No one
could. Don’t ever blame yourself. Don’t you think that with all the ForeSeers among the Heralds if there had been any way of preventing what happened it would have been done?”

She sighed, and relaxed again. “You’re right. . .” she said, slowly. “You’re right.”

The celebrating continued on well past dusk, until at last, by ones and twos, the wedding guests began to drift away. Some were heading for other gatherings—like the one Talia and Dirk knew their fellow Heralds
must
be having somewhere. Some had more private affairs in mind. Finally Talia and Dirk were left alone, a state with which they were not at all displeased.

She rested contentedly on his shoulder, both of his arms lightly around her, and watched the stars blossoming overhead.

“It’s getting chilly,” she said at last.

“Are you cold?”

“A little.”

“Well,” he chuckled, “They’ve certainly made it easy for us to depart unnoticed.”

“I’m fairly certain that was on purpose. All that cheering was embarrassing enough, without chivaree, too.”

“It could have been worse. Think of the flower-bedecked platform! Think of Companions in the High Temple! Think of the life-sized sugar replicas of both of us!”

“I’d rather not!” She laughed.

“Ready to go?”

“Yes,” she said, putting her arms around his neck so that he could lift her.

He took her up the stairs to her rooms—now
their
rooms—this time taking them one at a time, and slowly, so as not to jar her.

To their mutual surprise, they found Elspeth seated on the top step.

“What on earth are you doing here?” he asked.

“Guarding your threshold, oh, magnificent one. It was the students’ idea. We took it turn and turn about since you left this morning. Except for during the ceremony itself that is—we left the staircase booby-trapped then. Not that we’re suspicious of anyone, mind, but we did want to make certain no one could get in to play any little
 
tricks while you were gone. Some people have very rotten ideas about what’s funny. Anyway, that’s
our
wedding present.” With that, she skipped down the stairs without waiting for thanks.

“‘The caring heart,’ “ Talia said softly. “She’ll be a good Queen, one day.”

Dirk nudged the door open with his foot, placed Talia carefully on her couch inside, then turned to close it and throw the latch.

“Not that
I’m
suspicious of anyone,” he said with a gleam in his eye, “but a certain earlier performance of yours makes me wish to be certain that we’re undisturbed.”

“Not
quite
yet” she said with a smile. “First I’ve got a bride-gift for you.”

“A what?”

“One
good
custom of my people. The bride always has a gift for her husband. It’s over there—on the hearth.”

“But—” for a moment he was speechless. “Talia, that’s My Lady. She’s
your
harp, I couldn’t take her!”

“Look again.”

He did—and realized that there was a second harp hidden in the shadows. He pulled both of them out into the light and scrutinized them closely.

“I can’t tell them apart,” he admitted at last.

“Well, I can, but I’ve had My Lady for years, I know every line of her grain. No one else can, though. They’re twins, made by the same hand, from the same wood; they’re even the same age. No—” she held up a warning hand. “Don’t ask me where or how I found it. That’s
my
secret. But in return for this one, you’ll have to promise to teach me to play My Lady as well as she deserves to be played.”

“Willingly—gladly. We can play duets—like—”

“Like you and Kris used to play,” she finished for him when he could not.

“Love—I think it’s time for one last gift—” and she touched his mind, sharing with him the incredulous joy that had marked Kris’ passing.

“Gods—oh, gods, that helps . . . you must know how much that helps,” he managed after a moment. “Now if only—I wish I could know for certain that he knows about us—about now.”