Arrow’s Flight (13 page)

“Really?” She perked up a little, a bit more color coming into her cheeks. “Has anybody else ever had my kind of Gift before?”

“Not that I’m aware of among the Heralds, but I must admit that I’ve only looked into the Gifts of living Heralds, or the really spectacular ones of the past. I can’t say that I’ve ever heard of that ability to Heal the mind, except in a true Healer, but it wouldn’t surprise me much to discover that this one’s the Gift that distinguishes the Queen’s Own from the rest of us. And you seem to have it mostly by itself, and maybe much stronger even than in Healers. Probably the others have had it, but not so strongly that anyone noticed it. Nobody seems to have made a study of the Monarch’s Own—not like they have with the more ordinary Gifts. And now that I think about it, your primary job is to ensure the mental stability of the Monarch—an ability like the one you have could come in very useful if something really went wrong.” He was doing his best to imply that he believed her—that he was certain the rumors weren’t true. He only wished that he really could be that certain.

“I can see that.” She was silent, and seemed to be thinking hard. Late afternoon sun was gilding everything, and the early breeze had died. The chirras’ eyes were half-closed in the drowsy warmth, and the few sounds to either side of them were those of farmworkers cutting hay and grain, and insects droning in the grass. “So you See, and Dirk Fetches?”

“Right. That’s why we work together, and generally don’t ride Sectors except when we’re shorthanded, the way we have been lately. To put it bluntly, we’re Selenay’s thieves.” He laughed a little. “If I know what I’m looking for, I can generally find where it is from several miles away—more, if I get a ‘ride,’ like I got from you. Once I know exactly where it is and can fix the location in my mind, Dirk can read the location to Fetch whatever it is to where we happen to be. That’s how he retrieved Visa’s arrows.”

“That seems to be a lot harder than it sounds …rather wearing, too, from the little I’ve seen.”

“Gods, that’s an understatement. In a lot of ways, it would be less tiring to run on foot to where it is, get it, and run back. And the heavier the object, the more difficult it is to Fetch. We haven’t tried anything much larger than a building brick—and that gave him a reaction-headache that lasted for a week. I was pretty surprised when he had enough energy left to carry you to your room after retrieving those arrows.”

“Aha!” She seemed please that it had been Dirk who had cared for her. “A mystery solved! I’ve wondered about that for the last two years. So he was the one!”

“He was like a hen with one chick—wouldn’t let me do more than trail along, and I was in better shape than he. Said that with all those girls in his family, he knew better than I did what to do with a sick one.”

“Can he work with anyone but you?”

“We don’t know; he’s never tried, since he gets such a good ‘fix’ from me. Probably, though. One Farseer’s a lot like another.”

“How long have you two been working together?” she asked curiously.

“Since we both got our Whites. That was another year they were shorthanded, and sent us both out to intern with the same counselor—Gerick. Well, you know Gerick, he’s absentminded; he left a small, but valuable ring at one of the Waystations—it was the Queen’s gift to one of the Guildmasters. Rather than spend two hours going back for it, Dirk offered to try Fetching it. I Looked for it, found it had rolled under the bed while we were packing, and gave Dirk the location. That was when we discovered that I gave him the clearest ‘fix’ he’d ever had to work from. He Fetched the ring, no problem; we started working as a team, and we’ve been doing things that way ever since.”

“It’s just that you seem so unlike each other, I find it hard to imagine you two staying together.”

Kris laughed, pleased to have gotten onto a safe subject. “You might be surprised. Underneath that jester mask he wears, Dirk’s a very serious gentleman. And we have pretty much the same taste in music, reading, even food. . . .”

“In women?” she teased.

“Well ... that, too,” he admitted with a reluctant smile. “And it’s really pretty unfair. Poor Dirk—it doesn’t matter if he finds the lady first. Once she’s seen me she usually goes all ‘sisterly’ on him. He’s mostly pretty good-natured about it, but if I were in his shoes, I’d be damned annoyed!”

“Well, he knows you can’t help it. You were born looking like an angel, and he ... well, he wasn’t, and that’s all there is to say.”

“It’s still not fair. You’d think that at least one woman would figure out that Dirk the man is worth ten faces like mine.”

“I expect someday someone will,” Talia replied noncommittally, avoiding his eyes. “Where is he from?”

Her reply was just a bit too casual; her attempt at nonchalance immediately set off mental alerts in Kris’s mind, especially following all those questions about his partner. Part of him followed up on the puzzle while he answered her question. He had a very faint suspicion, too tenuous to be even a guess. It was rather like trying to remember a name he’d forgotten. It would probably take a while before he had enough information to make a surmise . . . but now he’d be subconsciously watching for clues.

“The Sector right next to ours, Sorrows One. He’s got a huge family up there. He used to haul me home with him for holidays—still does when we’re free. Three of his married sisters and their families live with their parents and help run the farm. It’s like a madhouse; people everywhere, babies and cats constantly underfoot. It’s marvelous madness though. They’re wonderful people, and there’s never a lonely or dull moment.”

He smiled half to himself as he recalled some of those visits, his earlier thoughts gone on the breeze. Dirk’s family—they should have been gypsies! All of them crazy, and all of them delightful. He’d been looking forward to another Midwinter Festival with them, but it obviously wasn’t going to be this year. Well, there was always another time.

Talia’s next question broke the strange, apprehensive chill he felt at that thought.

“What about you?”

“Well, let me think. My father is Lord Peregrine; I’m the second son, but my brother is ten years older than I am, and I have nephews and nieces that aren’t much younger than you. My parents are both very wrapped up in matters of state, so I was left pretty much in the hands of my tutors, back on the family estate.”

“I think I know your father; he’s one of the Seneschal’s chief assistants. And your mother?”

“She organizes the resupply of the Waystations. I think she would have liked to have been a Herald, but since she wasn’t Chosen, this is the closest she can get.”

“Weren’t there any children your own age on the estate?”

“Not many; their parents seemed to think mine would be angry if their offspring were allowed to ‘contaminate’ me. I spent a great deal of my time reading.”

“Like me—only you didn’t have to hide to do it!” she laughed.

“You’re wrong there! My tutors seemed to think that my every waking moment should be spent learning something serious, dull, and practical. I had a hiding place up in the oldest tree in the garden. I fixed it up until it was quite impossible to see me from the ground. I smuggled my tales and poetry up there, and escaped at every opportunity.” A breeze that stirred the leaves of the trees lining the road to either side of them seemed to chuckle at Kris’ childish escapes. “Then, when I was twelve, my parents took me to Court. I don’t think it ever entered their heads that the Collegium stood on the same grounds.” He smiled. “Even if they’d forgotten, though, I hadn’t. I hoped—but when no Companion met me at the Palace gate, I gave the dream up. I was supposed to be presented at Vernal Equinox Festival, and I can remember everything, right down to the fact that one of my boot-lacings didn’t quite match the other. I was standing next to my father, outside, in the gardens, you know—when there was an unexpected visitor to the Festivities.”

Tantris shook his head, making the bells on his bridle sing. Kris chuckled, and reached forward to scratch behind his ears. “I knew what the appearance of a Companion meant, and I kept looking around to see who he had come to Choose. I nearly went out of my mind with happiness, when I finally stopped craning my head around and found he was standing right in front of me! Then, when I looked into his eyes....” His voice trailed off.

“It’s not like anything else, is it?” Talia prompted softly. “and it isn’t something you ever lose the wonder of.”

“That it’s not,” he agreed, speaking half to himself, “and I knew then that I’d never be lonely again....” He shook off the spell, and became matter-of-fact. “Well, my parents were both very proud. They had me installed at the Collegium before I had a chance to turn around. Oddly enough, it’s easier to deal with them now that I’m an adult. My father can relate to me as an equal, and I think that my mother forgets half the time that I’m one of her offspring. I really don’t think they ever knew what to do with a child.”

“They probably didn’t, especially with so much time between you and your brother.”

“Dirk has no notion how much I envy him his family,” he sighed.

“You think not?” Talia smiled. “Then why does he keep bringing you home with him?”

“I never thought about that.”

They rode silently for a mile or so.

“Talia, do you ever miss your family?”

“Not after I found other people who really cared about me. I was the scarlet jay among the crows with them; I was more of an outsider among my own family than I ever was at the Collegium. One of those pretty brothers of mine used to steal my books, and call me ‘Herald Talia’ to make me cry. I’d like to have seen his face when I was Chosen.”

“Do you ever think about going back?”

“You know, that used to be a daydream of mine, that I’d somehow magically become a Herald—remember, I didn’t know about being Chosen—and I’d come back dressed in my Whites and covered in glory. Then they’d all be envious, and sorry that they were mean to me.”

“And now?”

“Well, I went back long enough to try and ‘rescue’ the sister I’d been closest to only to find she had turned into a stranger. I didn’t go any farther into the Holdings, just turned around and came back home. I didn’t want to see any of them again. Why bother? My parents pretended I was an outsider, my sibs were either afraid or contemptuous; Heralds are very immoral, you know. What is it Mero’s Book says? About how the people you grow up with react to your fame?”

“ ‘No one honors a saint on his hearthstone.’” “It’s true, too. I’m resigned to letting things rest as they are, knowing that my example shows misfits that there is an escape.”

He didn’t seem inclined to further conversation, so she turned her attention back to those unsettling rumors.

Poisonous, that’s what they were. Ugly, and poisonous.

And true? said a niggling little doubt.

She wanted to deny any truth to it at all—vehemently. But could she? In all conscience, could she?

The business about Elspeth—no, she could not believe she’d been fostering dependence in the child, not even unconsciously. Once Elspeth had begun acting like a human being again, she’d been pushing her toward independence, driving her to make her own decisions and take responsibility for the results.

But the rest—oh, insidious. For a Mindspeaker, it was obvious when he was projecting; it sounded to the recipient a great deal like the Mindspeaker’s normal voice, but as if the words were coming from deep inside his own ear. But when she projected— would anyone be able to tell she was doing so?

She could tell; sending emotion cost her effort and energy.

But if she were excited or agitated—would she notice the energy expense?

Did she even need to be doing it while she was awake? What about when she was asleep? How could she possibly be sure what her irrational sleeping mind was doing?

And what about simply reading people’s emotional states? Was she transgressing by doing so, and acting on the knowledge?

How could she avoid doing it? It was like seeing color; it was just there unless someone was deliberately shielding.

Doubt followed doubt in an insidious circle, each feeding on the one preceding it, until Kris broke the silence.

“This is our first stop—this close to the capital they won’t be hungry for news, and it’s very unlikely they’d need us to work in any official capacity. Still, it’s only good manners to repay them in some way for their hospitality. Small villages don’t see trained Bards oftener than once a month, so they’re very receptive to even amateur music. Would you be willing to sing if I played?”

“Of course,” she replied, grateful for the interruption. “It’s only fair that I share the work. Did you notice that I brought My Lady?”

“No!” he exclaimed with delight. “You’ll let me play her? I have a smaller traveling harp with me, but it hasn’t half the range or the tone of My Lady.”

“I let you have her the other night, didn’t I? You’ll have to retune her. I detuned the strings so they wouldn’t snap if the weather changed suddenly.” She smiled shyly. “I have good instrument etiquette. Jadus taught me quite well, I assure you.”

“He couldn’t do otherwise when it came to music. He’s the one who taught me in the first place.”

“Really? I wonder why he didn’t leave her to you?”

“That’s easy enough to answer. I didn’t take the time, to keep him company the way you did,” Kris rplied with a slightly shamed expression. “He may have given me a little of his skill, but he gave his harp where he’d given his heart—to a lonely little girl, because she’d given him her own.”