Last Herald Mage: Magic's Pawn Part 12

"I can, but I won't, " Tylendel said, with such firmness that Vanyel couldn't find it in his heart to doubt him. "Even if it wasn't so unfair to you, it's counter to all the ethics that go with being a Herald. Basically I just use it to talk with Gala and Savil."

Vanyel nodded, comforted. "So you had all these - Gifts - sort of thrown at you, and no way to control them."

"Exactly," Tylendel said soberly. "And all this at twelve. It was two years before Gala came for me. If it hadn't been for Staven, I'd have gone mad."

"Why?" Vanyel whispered. "What was happening?"

"What wasn't? I'd drop into a fit - when I'd wake up again, I'd be in the middle of a fifty-foot circle of wreckage. That was the Mage-Gift and Fetching working together in a way Savil and I haven't been able to duplicate under control. Seems I have to go berserk."

He frowned, and reached up to rub his forehead between his eyebrows. "Staven was the only one who could get near me - who was willing to stay near me, in or out of a fit. They said I'd been taken by a demon. They said that because of what Staven and I had tried to share, I had been possessed. When I - started to show signs of being shay'a'chern, they said I was cursed, too."

"That's - that's stupid!" Vanyel cried indignantly.

"They still said it; if they'd dared, they'd have outcaste me. But they didn't; Staven swore if they did he'd go with me, and he was the heir, the only possible heir with me acting the way I was. Mother wasn't capable of having any more children, Father wouldn't remarry, and he'd been completely faithful to her, so there weren't any b.a.s.t.a.r.ds around. They didn't have a choice. They had to allow me to stay, but they didn't have to make it comfortable for me."

Vanyel thought with wonder that Tylendel's situation was actually worse than his own.

"They kept me pretty well isolated; even when I was fine they avoided me. But when everyone else abandoned me in one of my fits, he stayed, he took care of me, absolute and unshakable in the belief that I would never hurt him. Positive that, despite what was whispered, what had happened was not that I'd been possessed, but was something that would somehow be worked out."

Tylendel shuddered again, his eyes haunted, and plainly seeing another time and place. Vanyel, feeling his pain, put both his hands on his shoulders, trying to just be a comforting presence without disturbing him; Tylendel looked up at him, patted his hand, and half-smiled.

"You see? I think maybe that's why we understand each other. Well, finally Gaia came - G.o.ds. I cannot ever tell you what it was like, looking into her eyes for the first time. It was - like souls touching. And the relief-knowing that I wasn't mad, that I wasn't demon-possessed - I went from h.e.l.l to the Havens in the s.p.a.ce of a heartbeat.''

He sighed and seemed to sink into his own thoughts for a long while.

"What did she do?" Vanyel asked.

"For one thing, she put me under her shielding; got me controlled until we arrived here and Savil took me under her wing. That's more than enough reason to love her, even without the bond to her. She's my very best friend and the sister of my soul."

He reached up, and touched Vanyel's cheek. His hand was cool; almost cold.

"But she'll never be what you are. Can you understand what I'm saying, love? I owe her my sanity, but in a lot of ways she's more than I am; I love her the way I love Savil or my mother - inferior to superior. Not brother to sister, or lover to lover; not ever as equals."

Vanyel put his own hand over the one touching his cheek, and held it, warming it in his own. "What am I, then?"

"You're my partner, my equal, my friend - and my love. Vanyel, I didn't say this in so many words last night - but I do love you."

Those words were not expected; certainly the implied level of commitment was not what Vanyel had expected. "But - " he stuttered, not sure whether what he was feeling was joy or fear.

"Van, I know we haven't known each other long, but I do love you," Tylendel said, ignoring the *but,' holding Vanyel's gaze with his own. "And I love you because I love you; not because I owe you anything, or because some G.o.d somewhere decided I was going to be a Herald, or because you're a beloved teacher. I love you because you're Vanyel, and we belong together, and together we can stand back-to-back against anything."

Much to his confusion, Vanyel felt his eyes start burning. "I don't know - really know what to say," he replied awkwardly, blinking hard. "Except - *Lendel, I think after last night - I can't ever remember being this happy. I've never loved anyone, I don't know what it's like, but if - " he tried to say what he felt. " - if wanting to die for you is love - "

His eyes burned; he rubbed at them with his free hand, and tried to put his feelings into coherent words. He groped after his thoughts, totally awkward and altogether out of his depth, but he needed to articulate his bewildering emotions. He'd never felt so vulnerable and exposed in his life. "I'd do anything for you; I'd take the sneers, the pointed fingers - I wouldn't care, so long as they didn't take me away from you. If I could, I'd give you anything. I'd do anything I could to make you happy. And - I'll .gladly share you with Gala."

"Havens, don't say that," Tylendel chuckled, though his voice sounded suspiciously thick and his eyes glistened in the shadows. "She wanted to *eavesdrop,' you know. She'd take you up on that, the randy little b.i.t.c.h."

Vanyel's face flamed hotly, and he laughed, using his own embarra.s.sment to get past that moment of complete vulnerability. "I knew she was saying something that would make me blush, I just knew it!"

"Well, she is not going to have her prurience satisfied, I promise you," Tylendel said firmly. "I am not going to share you, and that's that."

Vanyel entered their room through the garden door, blinking until his eyes adjusted to the semidarkness after the noontide sunlight of the gardens. He was carrying his lute by the neck in his right hand, and holding his left, wrapped in a handkerchief, curled against his chest.

Ye G.o.ds, I should have known better, he thought ruefully, as his left hand throbbed. I am such a d.a.m.ned fool.

" *Lendel?" he called into the outer room, racking the lute with care, still using only his right hand. "Are you out there?"

"Of course I am." Tylendel strolled in, a half-eaten slice of bread and cheese in one hand. "It's lunchtime, you know I'm always here when the food is!"

Vanyel began unwrapping his hand - slowly - Tylendel stopped chewing, then tossed his lunch, forgotten, onto the table.

"G.o.ds, Van - what did you do to yourself? Sit!"

The ends of Vanyel's fingers were blistered, and the blisters had broken and were bleeding. The muscles of the hand were cramped so hard he couldn't have gotten his fingers uncurled to save his soul. He looked at the wreckage he'd made of his hand with a kind of pained disbelief.

Tylendel pushed him down onto the bed, and took the injured hand in both his own.

"I made a fool of myself, is what I did," Vanyel told him, regretfully. "I told the girls yesterday that if they'd leave me alone I'd play for them this morning. I forgot how long it's been since I played - and, well, I'll tell you the truth, I forgot I lost some feeling in those fingers when the arm got broken. I didn't even realize what I'd done to my finger-ends until after the muscles in my hand started to cramp."

"Stay right there." Tylendel went to the little chest at the foot of the bed that he'd moved into Vanyel's room with the rest of his things, bent over it for a moment, and came back with bandages and a little pot of salve. "I'm no Healer," he said, sitting down and taking Vanyel's hand back into his, "but I've banged myself up a time or two, and this is good stuff."

He took some of it on the ends of his fingers and ma.s.saged it into the palm of Vanyel's hand. A pleasant, sharp odor came from it, both green and spicy, and his fingers began to relax from their cramped position, both from the warming effect of the salve and the ma.s.sage.

"What is that?" Vanyel asked, sniffing. "I'm going to smell sort of like a pastry."

Tylendel laughed. "Don't tempt me this early in the day, Vanyel-ashke. It's cinnamon and marigold. Good for the cramped muscles and the poor, battered fingers."

He had worked all the way out to the ends of Vanyel's fingers; the cramps were mostly gone, and the salve, rather than burning as Vanyel had half feared it would,, was numbing the areas where Tylendel was spreading it.

"Now just let me get you bandaged up."

* *What was that you just called me?''

"Ashke? It's Tayledras. Hawkbrother-tongue. All those feathered faces and masks Savil has on the wall out in the common room are from the Tayledras; she studied with one of their Adepts, Starwind k'Treva, and they made her a Wingsister. That's like a blood brother for them."

Tylendel was wrapping each finger carefully and taking his time about it. Vanyel didn't mind in the least. Now that he wasn't in much pain, there was something a bit sensual about Tylendel's ministrations.

"She uses a lot of their expressions when there isn't a good word for the thing in our tongue. Like shay'a'chern - it translates as - oh - *one whose lover is like self,' with a s.e.xual connotation to the word *self that makes it clear that they aren't talking about incest or similar interests. It's a very complicated language." He looked up from his bandaging, and Vanyel could see laughter-glints lurking in the depths of his eyes. "You smell delicious; are you sure you have lessons this afternoon?"

"We promised Savil we'd be virtuous today," Vanyel reminded him, feeling greatly tempted anyway.

Tylendel heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Too true. Well, ashke translates simply to *beloved.' And it's part of your name already - ashke, Ashkevron. See?"

He tied off the last bit of bandage with a flourish.

"Ashke, " Vanyel mused. "I - like it."

"It suits you, ashke; Savil says the Hawkbrothers seldom go by their born-names, they take use-names when they become mages. Maybe that's the name you always should have had. Now let's go eat lunch and be virtuous - before I decide to break my sworn word to Savil!"

Savil looked up from her book and rubbed her tired, blurring eyes. Tylendel and Vanyel had taken over the couch across from her to study. Candlelight from the lantern beside them made a halo of Tylendel's dark gold curls and highlighted the golden brown of his tunic; beside him, in deep blue, Vanyel seemed to be an extension of his shadow. They shared Vanyel's history text; it rested on their knees with each holding a corner. Tylendel's arm was around Vanyel's shoulder, their heads nestled closely together. From time to time Savil could catch the murmur of a question from her nephew and Tylendel's slightly higher reply.

Strange that it's the older who has the tenor voice and the younger who's the deeper, she mused, blinking sleepily at them. Though the pairing is strange all around. I would never have reckoned Vanyel for shay'a'chern. Not with Withen for a father.

She yawned silently, and half-closed her eyes. The two young ones across the room from her blurred into a haze of gold and darkest blue. He's got *Lendel thinking about something other than that d.a.m.ned feud, at least; for that I'd warm to him. Even if I want to knock him into the wall occasionally for being a little prig. *Lendel does seems to be getting some notion of responsible behavior into his head. And a bit more politeness. Though it's a d.a.m.n good thing Mardic and Donni are inclined to take everything he says generously, or they might have knocked him into the wall for me! Bless them. He can be so d.a.m.ned rude sometimes - arid not mean it.

She worried a hangnail with the end of her thumb. He's been so isolate I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. G.o.ds be thanked *Lendel seems to be civilizing him. There's more patience there than there was before - and I think, maybe, a little more kindness. Less arrogance, for certain. Withen should be pleased enough with the reports he's getting to let him stay. She noted Vanyel's intense concentration on his book, and restrained the corners of her mouth from quirking up. Looks like he's enjoying himself. Can't say that I *d mind studying with my *Lendel coaching! Poor little lad; when he gives his heart to a thing, he certainly doesn't do it halfway. Still, I'm not certain I like the way he's becoming so dependent on *Lendel. That isn't healthy, not for either of them. It could make for trouble later on.

A thin tendril of contact reached for her from across the room, although Tylendel's eyes remained on the book. :A silver for your thoughts, teacher-mine.: :How pretty you look together, young demon.: she replied the same way. :And how grateful I am that you *ve managed to stay discreet. : :Discipline, discipline,: came the laughter-tinged answer. .-Seriously, you've heard no gossip?: :Only that I'm likely to find you two at knife-point one day. : The aura of amus.e.m.e.nt deepened. :Well, well, so it worked. I owe Van a forfeit. : Savil raised her eyebrows in surprise, and opened her eyes again to catch Tylendel looking at her with a smile lurking in the corners of his mouth. :How so, demon-child?: :He's been insulting me behind my back. Popinjay pecking. Mostly on my proclivities. So if anything gets back to Withen . . . We decided I should "find out about it" and go for him if the insults got noticed.: *.Great good G.o.ds!: She bit her lip to keep from laughing. :Pot calling kettle, oh my hope of the Havens! What were you planning on doing ? Are you going to call him out? I'd rather you didn't have at each other with any-

thing sharp. :

:Oh, probably I'll make a major confrontation, with as many witnesses as possible. But not with blades, teacher-love; he's too good for me, and we figured he should lose so he gets the sympathy of his flock of doves. Barehanded, we think. Wrestling; we *II try to keep fists out if it as much as possible too. We had some vague notion of trying it the next time it rains, in the mud. It should be lots of fun. : Savil had to drop the mind-link for a moment until she got herself back under control. Lots of fun indeed - great good G.o.ds, both of them tussling in the open in front of everyone and no one guessing how much they *re enjoying it.

:Demon-child, I think I'll put you in for envoy when I grant you your Whites; you have altogether too twisted a mind!: :-Well, doing it that way we can avoid the chance of hurting each other, and I've already established that I go after people very directly. Poor Van is going to have to decide which outfit of his I'm going to ruin, though. I intend to rip it to rags for verisimilitude. : Savil nearly choked to death, trying not to laugh at the mind-pictures and overtones that came across with that last sending. Verisimilitude, my behind! You just want - : :Why, Savil!: The eyes across from her were wide with a.s.sumed innocence. :How could you think such a thing?: :Easy enough,: she replied, her own mental tone so dry that it had a metallic taste. .-Given who I've got for a protege.: :Well - : Well, indeed.: *Lendel - just a word of caution, and I may be being reactionary - but I don't like the way Van is coming to lean on you for everything. It isn't healthy; he needs to learn how to depend on himself a little. : :Oh, Savil.: :I'm serious.: :It's just a phase. He's young, and he needs so badly. Great good G.o.ds, n.o.body's ever bothered to love him cept his sister. After he's had me around for a bit and knows I won't vanish on him, he'll grow out of it.: :'Lendel, I'm not the expert on people that Lancir is, but in my experience people don't grow out of a habit of dependence.: She glanced at the time-candle. :Ah, we'II just leave it at that, all right? Keep it in mind. And that's enough study for one night. Both of you to bed.: Again the mental laughter. :Why, Savil - : :To sleep, dammit!: Tylendel nudged the other boy, and closed the book, then looked across the room at his mentor with that ironic half-smile she knew so well. "Let's pack it up for the night, Van," he said quietly - - and :Of course, teacher. To sleep,: she Mindheard.

Then, as they disappeared into their room - :Eventually. : Savil had forgotten all about the planned "fight" by the time a good, soaking rain actually put in an appearance, nearly a fortnight later. She had reserved the Work Room for Mardic and Donni that afternoon; for all that they were lifebonded they were having a tremendous difficulty in working together, magically speaking. Donni had a tendency to rush into something at full tilt; Mardic was entirely the opposite, holding reserves back until the very last moment and dithering about full commitment. That meant that when they worked together their auras pulsed and had some serious weak spots, and their shields never quite meshed. Savil was putting them through an exercise designed to force them to synchronize their energy-levels and work as a unit rather than as an uneven team, when someone pounded urgently on the door.

The union of energy fields disintegrated at the first knock; dissipating with a "pop" into a shower of visible sparks and separating into the auras - green for Donni, yellow for Mardic - surrounding each of her crestfallen students. Savil swore an oath sufficiently heated to blister paint. She looked the couple over with OtherSight and swore another nearly as strong.

Dammit, their concentration's gone completely. Look at those auras pulse! Oh, h.e.l.lfires! If this isn't important, I'll kill whoever's out there!

She banished the violet shield she had placed about the pair with an abrupt gesture, and stalked to the door, yanking it open and glaring at the agitated Guard standing just outside.

"Yes?" she said, with an edge to her voice that was sharp enough to shave with.

"Herald Savil, your nephew and your protege Tylendel - they're fighting - " the man gulped, stepping back involuntarily at the sight of her angry face. "Tylendel put up a barrier and we can't get at them to break it up; he's got your nephew down and we're afraid he may do him true harm - "

* *d.a.m.n!'' the word exploded from her, as for one moment she thought that something had really happened between the pair and the fight was serious, Then she recalled the plan, and almost ruined it for them all by laughing in the man's face.

She schooled her expression to the one she would have been wearing if this had been a genuine fight; mouth tight and eyes narrowed in feigned anger. "Show me," she barked. "I'll deal with this nonsense right now."

The Guard scurried ahead of her down the hallway; she followed at a near-trot, wincing a little at the aches the rain had called up in the depths of her joints.

I'II bet *Lendel put up the mage-barrier to keep people from seeing that he and Van aren't really hitting each other, she decided, hastening her pace a bit as the Guard pulled ahead. And to keep folks from breaking up the fight too soon. I'd better make a major scene over this or he'll never forgive me.

There was no doubt of where the fight was taking place - Herald-proteges, young courtiers, Bard-trainees and other a.s.sorted young people were cl.u.s.tered tightly around the door to the gardens on the southeast side of the Palace, all of them babbling like a pack of fools. The Guard pushed his way through them with no regard for rank or ceremony whatsoever; Savil followed behind him and peered out the door into the pouring rain.

The combatants were about fifty paces beyond the door, in a spot beside the paved path where all the gra.s.s had been worn away. There was, indeed, a mage-barrier over the area where they were struggling, a place that looked more like a pig-wallow at this point. The barrier and the rain were blurring the combatants badly enough that it was hard to see exactly what was going on. Vanyel was down, on his back; at least Savil a.s.sumed it was Vanyel, since the current loser was slightly smaller and his hair was mostly dark under the mud. Tylendel was sitting on his chest, and if Savil hadn't known better, she'd have sworn he was strangling the younger boy.

"You take that back, you little b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Tylendel roared. "You take that back, unless you want another pound of mud shoved down your throat!"

Savil steeled herself and barked - in her best stop-a-mob-in-full-cry voice - a single word.

"ENOUGH!"

Instantly the fighters froze.

Savil strode out into the deluge, her dignity somewhat diminished when her feet squelched instead of coming down firmly, and the rain immediately plastered her hair to her skull, sending tendrils of it straggling into her eyes and mouth.

Nevertheless, she reckoned she looked imposing enough, since all the babbling behind her ceased as she reached the edge of Tylendel's mage-barrier and stopped.

"Take it down, trainee," she said, her tone so cold it could have turned the rain into snow.

Tylendel scrambled to his feet and dismissed the barrier. Now that he could be seen clearly, he truly looked as if he'd been through the wars. His hair was full of mud and straggling around his face in dirty coils. One eye was turning black and starting to swell; his lower lip was split and bleeding. His tunic was torn and muddy and so were his breeches; one of his boots had come unlaced and sagged around his ankle. He wore a very un-Tylendel-like expression; sullen and full of barely-smothered anger.

Vanyel remained p.r.o.ne for several moments longer with his chest heaving as he gulped for air; long enough that Savil began to think he might really be hurt. She breathed a little easier when he levered himself up out of the mud and got slowly to his feet.

He was in worse case than Tylendel; his tunic had been all but stripped from his body, there wasn't much left of it, and what there was hung in strips from his belt and his wrists. He had several angry-looking scratches on his arms and chest, and a split lip to match Tylenders; but more seriously, he was favoring his right foot, wincing in real pain when he had to put any weight on it.

He didn't move, once he'd gotten to his feet; just stood with his hands clasped before him, wearing an expression so like Tylendel's that Savil began to be alarmed.

:'Lendel?: she Mindspoke, layering the name with her anxiety and distress.

Tylendel's expression didn't change by so much as a twitch of an eyelid, but the Mindvoice was as cheerful and amused as his face was angry and sullen. :No fear, teacher-mine. It's still going mostly as planned.: She sighed mentally with relief. .'Mostly?: :Well, we couldn' tpractice this much, so we made some miscalculations. Van got me in the eye with his elbow, we both managed to sock each other in the mouth somehow, and I think I made him sprain his ankle when I tackled him. Hurry up and lecture us, I can't keep a straight face much longer!: She straightened, and looked down her long nose at both of them, ignoring the water dripping off the end of it. "A fine thing," she said acidly, "when I can't trust my protege and ward to conduct themselves like civilized adults in my absence! What am I to do with you? Find you keepers?"

Tylendel made as if to say something, but shrank under her icy glare, the rain slowly washing the mud out of his hair.

"Trainee Tylendel, you should have known better! You are a Herald-in-training; I expect you to act in accordance with the dignity and honor of our office. I do not expect to find you thrashing about in the mud like a six-year-old brat with no manners and no sense! No matter how much Vanyel provoked you, you should have come to me first, not taken the matter into your own hands!"

Tylendel hung his head and mumbled something in the direction of the puddle around his feet.

"Louder, trainee," she snapped. "I can't hear you."

"Yes, Herald Savil," he repeated, his voice harsh, and full of suppressed emotion. "I was wrong."

"Go - back to your quarters. Now. Make yourself presentable. I'll deal with you when I'm done with Vanyel."

Tylendel bowed slightly, and without another word, walked past her and through the crowd at the doorway. Savil didn't turn around to watch his progress, but even above the steady beat of the rain she could hear the sound of the crowd parting behind her to let him through. One or two in the group snickered a little, but that was all.

She turned her dagger-gaze on Vanyel, who was glaring at her from under a wet comma of black hair that was obscuring one eye.

"And you. Fine state of affairs this is." She walked forward a bit and folded her arms, trying not to shiver in the cold rain. "I've heard about those snide little comments of yours, the backbiting, and all the rest of it. You've been picking at *Lendel ever since you arrived here, young man, and I won't have it!"

Vanyel raised his head, glaring back at her with every bit of the arrogance he'd ever shown. "He's nothing but a-"

"He outranks you, young man, and you'd do well to remember that!" she snapped. "Consider yourself confined to your quarters for the duration! If I learn you've set one toot out of the suite when you aren't at lessons, I'll ship you back to your father so fast the wind of your pa.s.sing will tear the thatch from the roofs! Now march!"

Vanyel set his jaw, and pivoted where he stood, setting off toward Savil's suite through the rain - taking the opposite course that Tylendel had followed. He was more than half staggering, and it made Savil's ankle ache in sympathy to to see him struggling through the mud, but she made no move to help him. Instead, she stalked along behind him, as if making certain that he reached his goal.

But once they had rounded the corner and were out of sight of the doorway, she dropped her pose and her dignity and scrambled through the slippery gra.s.s to reach his side.