Marlys could appreciate the strangeness of it all, but it felt real enough. The Companion approved of his clean and deeply bedded stall, greeted the mares politely, and was clearly relieved to be rid of his saddle and bridle.
:There are times,:
he said,
:when one misses the convenience of hands.:
“They are useful, aren’t they?” Marlys said.
She had a sense of quick humor, like the flash of a grin, before he got down and had himself a long, delicious roll in the straw. The mares watched intently, but they were not offering any opinions—which for those ladies was remarkable.
It seemed logical, once Kellen was on his feet again, to brush the straw off him. There were endless duties calling, and Marlys would go to them. But not just yet.
She was doing her best not to think a thought that kept niggling at her. That it felt ridiculously comfortable and right to be here, picking straw out of the long waving mane, while the Companion ate his way through a manger of hay.
He had not come for her, of course. She was much too old. Her daughters were all spoken for and her grand-daughters were hardly more than babies. It must be one of the farmhands or a girl from the town.
Maybe it was one of Brenna’s girls. Brenna would be beside herself, between grief at losing her child and heart-bursting pride at having a Chosen in the family.
That was it, Marlys thought. It was Tara or Elin. Either would make a fine Herald, as bright and bold as they were, and afraid of nothing.
Still. The Companion was in her barn, not Brenna’s, eating her hay and carrying on a lazy, meandering conversation with many pauses. There was nothing deep or significant about it. Kellen knew something about dairy farming and more about weddings than one might easily expect.
:We take time to observe the world,:
he said.
:Humans have so many rituals, and tie themselves in so many knots about them.:
“Now that is the truth,” Marlys said with a sigh. He was as clean as he was going to get, and she was dallying, combing his tail to rippling white silk. “I’d better get to my ritual, or it won’t get done. You’re comfortable?”
:Perfectly,:
he said.
It was harder to leave him than she would have thought. But he was a dream, and not for her. Her reality was outside the barn, falling into chaos as things always seemed to do without Marlys there to keep them in order.
“Two more days,” she said. “Just two more days.”
His assent was warm inside her. As if he counted the days, too, and understood perfectly.
One would think that the whole of Emmersford would be in a flutter over the Companion in Marlys’ barn, but except for Ginee, no one seemed aware of him. He made no move toward any of the eligible young women as far as Marlys could detect. He seemed content to idle in his stall, keep the mares company, and offer the occasional pithy mental comment when wedding hysteria got out of hand.
He was keeping her sane—though the family might beg to differ. She had to be careful not to break out laughing at some of his more penetrating observations.
People did notice something. “You look as happy as Ginee is supposed to,” Brenna said the morning of the wedding. It had dawned with fog and damp, but before either the bride or the groom could give way to panic, the fog burned off and the sun shone bright and warm. It was a beautiful day, as lovely as any bride could ask for.
Ginee was in the bathhouse with her flock of friends, getting ready for the wedding. Everyone else was delegated to this task or that. For Marlys and Brenna, that was the weaving of the last garlands, and making sure the bride’s gown and tabard were finished, ready, and spotlessly clean.
“There’s been a light on you for days,” Brenna said. “Are you really that glad to be getting this over with?”
“Gladder,” Marlys said. Which was true, but that was not why she kept wanting to break out smiling. Kellen had wandered down to the river pasture, where he was pretending to be an ordinary gray horse and watching the last of the wedding preparations come together in and around the tent.
She could see them through his eyes. It was peculiar and a little disorienting, but entertaining, like being in two places at once. It was useful, too, she told herself: she knew exactly what people were getting up to.
“You know,” said Brenna, “if I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d found yourself a man.”
That shocked Marlys out of her doubled reality. “Not bloody likely,” she said.
“I didn’t think so,” said Brenna, so mildly Marlys darted a suspicious glance at her. But she did not seem unduly skeptical.
Marlys thought seriously of telling her who else was there, watching and listening through her. But that meant explanations, and probably misunderstandings, and certainly incredulity. What, after all, would a Companion want with a grandmother from Emmersford?
:You might be surprised,:
Kellen said.
“Hush,” she told him, turning it into a loud sniff and a sneeze before Brenna could ask what she was talking about.
After all those eons of preparation and the drama attendant on them, the wedding came and went with supernatural speed. The weather was flawless, the bride was beautiful, the groom both handsome and besotted. Some of the guests wept, though Marlys did not, and a few became so drunk afterward that they had to be hauled off in the cart that Marlys had hired for just that purpose.
It all went off as close to perfectly as anything could. Marlys allowed herself a little tightness in the throat as she saw Ginee and Ronan off to their new home, but only a little. It was not as if they were moving to Haven. She could see them every day if she had a mind.
She might. Or she might not. When it was all over, when the feast was cleared away and the guests had stumbled and staggered and rolled on home, she sat in her empty house with the last of the wine.
It was blissfully quiet. The night was warm; the air was sweet. Somewhere not too far away, a bird called, sweet and lonely.
Marlys was not lonely at all. The presence inside her head was silent, but she could never forget that he was there.
For no reason she could think of offhand, she changed out of her wedding clothes into much more practical garments, putting on the divided skirt and the sturdy boots that she wore to ride. Then she wandered down to the stable, where a silver light illuminated the sleeping horses and the Companion, who was not asleep at all.
He was saddled and bridled. Marlys had had nothing to do with that, but there he was.
She felt a pang. So: it was time. He would go to his Chosen. And she—
:Ready?:
he asked her.
She had not been expecting him to say that. And yet she had. “What would I be ready for, except a good night’s sleep?”
:You know,:
he said.
“I’m not the one,” she said. “I’m too old. I have no hankering after adventure. I look like a corpse in white.”
:You do not.:
He came out of the stall, his hooves ringing faintly on the packed earth of the floor. The bells on his saddle and bridle rang more softly still, hardly more than a shiver in the air. He blew warm breath in her face, and lowered his head into her hands.
:Are you going to waste time arguing, or will you have some sense and get on my back? We can make good time on the road tonight, and be well on our way by morning.:
“On our way where? Haven? The Collegium?” Marlys choked on the word. “What in the world would I do in a classroom full of children a third my age?”
:Study,:
he said.
:Learn. Teach. Be a wonder to them as you are to the rest of us.:
“I am not—”
:Mount,:
he said
. :There’s water and food in the saddlebags, and a change of clothes for you. If there’s anything else you’d like to take—:
“Take? I’m not even going.” But Marlys’ boot was in the stirrup, and she was swinging astride, because there was no resisting the lure of that saddle or that broad white back.
The saddle fit her as well as the one her son-in-law the saddler had made for her. The Companion fit her even more perfectly. The height and breadth of him, the swoop of his proud white neck, the way he moved with both power and grace, they were all just right. Like his voice in her head, and his presence that she could not imagine living without, even while the practical side of her counted up the many reasons why this was completely, utterly impossible.
:That’s why it’s worth doing,:
her Companion said.
He
was
hers. Improbable as that might be. “We’re both out of our minds,” she said.
:It’s what we are,:
said Kellen. His amusement, washing over her, made her laugh.
She had never done anything like this before, even when she married Pitar. Just mounting up and riding away—
“What about the birds? The dog and the cats? The horses? The farm? The family? I can’t—”
“I can,” Ginee said.
She was there in the stableyard instead of in her marriage bed where she belonged. Her hair was braided so tightly it must have hurt, and her face had the same look to it. But there was no mistaking the set to her chin. “You go on. We’ll do what needs doing. There are plenty of us, and we’ve been piling it on you for long enough. We’ll manage.”
“But—” said Marlys.
“Go,” her daughter said. “I’ll tell everybody.”
“They’ll never believe you.”
“Maybe not at first,” said Ginee, “but they will.”
If Ginee set her mind to it, they would. Marlys spread her hands. “All right, then. This is the craziest thing I ever heard of, but it seems I don’t have a choice.”
:You don’t,:
Kellen said.
She slapped his neck so hard her hand stung. He did not even flinch. “I hope you’re not sorry you did this.”
:I’m not now,:
he said,
:nor will I ever be.:
The truth in that rang so deep it made her bones hum. She bent down from his back to hug Ginee; there were no tears on either side, because they were not a teary family, but they both sniffed hard.
“Be good,” Marlys said. “Tell Brenna.”
“I will,” said Ginee.
Either Marlys left now or she never would. Kellen shifted under her, gathering himself.
She could stop him. She still had that much control.
Now,
she said silently.
Go.
He launched like a shot from the sling, but so smoothly she barely rocked in the saddle. Three long strides and he was out of the stableyard. Three more and the road rang beneath his hooves. It was only a country track, but it joined soon enough with the road out of Emmersford, and that met the road south toward Haven.
“Just when I thought I’d finally get some peace and quiet,” she said.
:You’d be bored out of your skull,:
her Companion said.
“Some people
like
to be bored.”
He snorted at that and tossed his mane. As she drew breath to curse him for an idiot, he showed her just how fast a Companion could run.
The wind whipped her long braid straight back behind her, made her eyes stream and her cheeks sting. It emptied her of resistance; as for regret, there never had been any.
He bucked; she laughed. Maybe she was not so old after all. She bent over his neck, wound her fingers in his mane, and let him carry her away from everything she had ever known—except one thing.
:And that is?:
he asked.
“Dreams,” she said.
It did not matter what he thought of that, or even if he understood. It was enough that he knew.
The road spun away beneath his hooves. The world wheeled from night into dawn. She turned her face to the sky, and filled her eyes with the rising sun.
Lack of Vision
Nancy Asire
The westering sun lay warm on Perran’s shoulders, the day having cooled somewhat since noon. He rolled his shoulders, loosening muscles tight from riding since morning. His horse shook its head, fending off the more persistent flies. Thoughts of return to Sunhame flitted across his mind. This final stop on his circuit would be the last required of a traveling judge, member of the justiciary, eyes, ears and power of judgment bestowed on those chosen by the Son of the Sun to provide adherence to the laws of Vkandis, the laws of Karse. It had been a long circuit this time but, fortunately, none of the cases he had presided over had proved taxing. This last, however, could turn out to be the most vexatious.
A murder case. He reviewed what he knew about the murder of a man and the capture of the culprit. On the surface, it appeared cut and dried, but Perran knew all too well murder cases seldom turned out to be that simple.
Berron’s Bend lay only a league in the distance. He could see the buildings of the town, having passed through farmland and well-tended fields on the way. He rode with companions, guards who had authority to bind and return convicted criminals of the worst kind to Sunhame for ultimate justice. Most cases could be easily solved in the villages and towns he visited, but the more serious offenses needed caution.
Murder. Reasons for
that
crime were many and varied. He had a broad overview of this case, but could not decide anything until the actual trial. He hoped the evidence would make it easy to prove the charge, but knew from past experience this was often not the way things played out.
“Settle down, will you?”
Bred glared at his visitor. He turned and stalked from one end to the other of the small room he was chained in.
“Did you come here just to gloat?” he snapped. “How am I supposed to settle down? I’m imprisoned for something I didn’t do. How would
you
feel if you were here, not me?”
“That’s for the judge to decide,” the visitor said calmly. “You know what we found in the tavern. How can you deny what we saw with our own eyes?”