Crossroads and Other Tales of Valdemar (36 page)

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Authors: Mercedes Lackey

BOOK: Crossroads and Other Tales of Valdemar
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His smile changed to a smirk. “I think some Herald would jump in after you, the Healers would stuff you to the gills with foul-tasting potions, and the Bardic Council would ask you to play from your bed.”
“Drat.” She flopped back onto her pillows and closed her eyes, then forced herself to ask the question she least wanted to know the answer to. “So when do you go on circuit?”
She heard him shrug. “Don’t know. There are only a few Heralds ready to head back out into the field. If I had to guess—and if I’m lucky enough to be one of the first picks for my internship—I might get to go with Herald Wil when he heads out again.”
Lelia’s eyes snapped open.
“Go with who?” she asked.
“Herald Wil?”
She sat up and eyed her brother.
“Uh,” he said. “What?”
She smiled. “Wishing you had that Mindtouch Gift, don’t you?”
“Dear sister,” he replied somberly, “I wish for that when I’m around
any
woman.”
 
“That’s him,” Lyle said, pointing across the common room and speaking as quietly as he could manage amidst the din.
“Where?” Lelia asked. “The brunette?”
“No, the blond.”
“Oh.” She squinted, and then brightened. “Ooooh. Havens! He’s not much older than us. Bwahaha.”
“You honestly frighten me sometimes.”
“Any idea where his quarters are?”
“You still haven’t told me why you—”
Just then, a knot of Lyle’s year-mates—all dressed in sparkling Whites—came flowing into the common room. One spied Lyle, and instantly he was surrounded and carried off. From the sound of things, they were all intending on heading into Haven to celebrate.
No matter. Lelia had her own work cut out for her. She eyed the exits, took the one closest to Herald Wil’s table, chose a shadowy corner to stand in, and then stood vigil on the door until he strolled out, a book tucked under his arm.
She let him get a little ahead of her, and started to follow.
The sun was setting when she emerged from the Collegium, the humid air heavy with the promise of rain. Her quarry was advancing toward Companion Field, a white shape trotting out to meet him.
Lelia slowed to a stop, gnawing on her lower lip. Vexing. Very vexing. She couldn’t shadow him, not with this much open land between them. He’d see her coming. And then—
What?
She blinked, realizing she was being stupid.
He’s a Herald. He has to like you.
She lifted her chin.
Go talk to him, ask him your questions, and write your song!
Yes, that was
exactly
what she would do.
 
Herald Wil leaned with his back to the fence, his arms folded over his chest and his eyes half-shut.
“It’s hot,” he confessed.
:Rain’s coming,:
Vehs replied.
“Good. This weather is giving me a headache.”
:Bard’s coming.:
“What?” He opened his eyes fully to stare at his Companion.
Just then, he heard the crush and rustle of someone walking through grass. Turning his head, he saw a small form in rust-red walking toward him.
:Worse than a Bard,:
he thought at his Companion.
:It’s a Bard-trainee.:
“Pardon me, m’lord Herald,” the girl said. She was short and fine-boned, with straight black hair and dusky skin. Her voice was surprisingly low and mellifluous. “Can I ask you about Daryann?”
Wil stared at her for a moment, dumbstruck.
Then he gave her the best answer he could come up with on short notice.
 
Malesa looked up with a raised brow as Lelia stomped in and sat down.
“No song?” she asked.
Lelia growled inarticulately.
“I had to go back and rework a couple lines on mine,” Malesa admitted, patting the parchments spread out on the Library table. “I found I used ‘light’ no less than five times in the first six verses.”
Lelia mumbled and snarled.
“Silly error, really, but that’s what happens when you write something fast—”
“I found Herald Wil,” Lelia said.
Malesa blinked. “Herald Who?”
“The brother of Herald Daryann.”
“Bright Havens! Where?”
“He’s back from circuit,” Lelia continued through gritted teeth. “I spotted him in Companion’s Field.” She was omitting some truth by phrasing it that way, but she didn’t think Malesa would care that she had been stalking the Herald. “I went up to him and asked a question.”
“And?” Malesa asked, chin in hand.
“He said no.” Lelia looked down at the brown-and-gray quill Malesa had been using. “Do you think if I stabbed myself in the eye with that thing—”
“Plenty of stories about blind Bards playing harp.”
“Maybe if I got ink poisoning.”
Malesa smirked. “So he said no?”
“Emphatically.” Actually, what he’d done was swung up onto his Companion and ridden off. And the look he’d given her!
Fit to freeze hellfires,
she thought with a shiver.
“What did you say?” Malesa asked.
“ ‘Can I ask you about Daryann?’ ”
“Did you introduce yourself?”
“Not exactly,” she said slowly.
“You just went up and asked him, ‘Hey, about that dead sister of yours. . . .’ ”
“Well . . . when you put it that way. . . .”
Malesa put her head in her hands. “Oh, ’Lia.”
“What?”
“It’s a wonder sometimes that you’re a Bard. You have the tact of a stud in heat.”
Lelia bristled. “It was an honest question!”
“There’s honesty, and then there’s rude. Did you even stop to consider his feelings?”
Lelia scowled and stared at the table. She’d expected comfort and commiseration from Malesa. Not a tonguelashing on the ethics of questioning a subject.
“I just wanted to know,” Lelia muttered.
“So what are you going to do now?”
Lelia thought about it for a moment. “Seduce him,” she said decisively.
“Please tell me you jest.”
Lelia wiggled her eyebrows.
“Well, you have fun.” Malesa stood up, collecting her scrolls. “I’m off to practice the bridge of my stunning piece of genius.”
“Fine, leave me to my misery.” Lelia waved her off, then leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling.
“This,” she said to no one in particular, “is going to be a challenge.”
 
Lelia was anxious and fidgety all through class and morning chores, most of which involved restringing harps and lutes. The humidity had broken with a brief rain, but the result had been many out-of-tune instruments and much trainee busywork.
At the lunch bell, Lelia skipped the Bardic common room and instead retrieved a bandolier of knives from her quarters and took herself out to the practice salle. Even the Weaponsmaster had to eat sometime, and there was no one outside to watch her as she threw over and over, the handleless blades landing dead center more often than not.
“Nice grouping,” a voice behind her said as she was pulling her last knife out of the wooden target. “Didn’t know they were teaching Bards these things.”
Lelia spun, startled. Standing behind her, his face half in and out of the salle’s shadow, was Herald Wil.
She regained her composure quickly. “My parents are gleemen.” She pushed damp, sweaty hair out of her eyes. “I learned knife-tricks from my grandmother.”
His brows lifted. “I see.”
She tucked the knives away into their sheaths; anything to keep herself from fidgeting. “Um . . . about yesterday.”
“Yes, about that.” He pushed away from the salle. “I behaved coarsely. I . . . apologize.”
She nearly squealed with glee, and had to resist the urge to fall on her knees and praise the Bright Lady.
You do exist!
she thought.
“Does that mean I
can
ask you some questions about Daryann?” she asked.
He smiled warmly, turned around, and started to walk away.
“Herald?” she called, her hopes crashing to the ground once more. “Is that a no?”
“I just wanted you to know that I’m not angry at you, and I’m sorry if I acted like a brute,” he yelled back, waving his hand. “Good day, trainee.”
“Wait—” she called desperately to his departing back.
He stopped, looking over his shoulder at her.
“I—” Her mouth opened and closed. “I
really
need a song.”
“Do what every Bard-trainee does,” he replied. “Write about Sun and Shadow.”
And then he laughed.
He
laughed
.
She sat down in the grass, watching him disappear.
“Oh,” she said, her eyes narrowing, “I think
not
.”
 
Later, as Wil was taking an early evening stroll through the Field with Vehs, he caught a flash of red out of the corner of his eye.
It was the Bard-trainee girl. She was charging toward him as fast as the tall grass and her own short legs would let her.
“What . . . ?” he said.
“Herald!” she yelled. “I just want to ask you a few questions!”
“Good gods,” Wil blurted.
:That famous Bardic stubbornness.:
Vehs actually sounded
amused
.
“Get me out of here,” Wil mumbled, swinging up onto his Companion’s back.
:At your service, m’lord.:
 
As Wil was coming out of the library after a satisfactory read, he heard the slap of boots behind him.
“Herald!” a familiar voice called. “Herald, just a moment of your time!”
His legs were longer than hers, and in better shape. He outran her, but only just.
 
Alone in a hallway and coming back from lunch, Wil was startled when the girl popped out from behind a velvet curtain and flung herself on him.
“I just want to know!” she panted as he wrestled out of her grip. “I just have a few questions to ask!”
He managed to escape to his room again, and threw the latch in case she grew more ambitious.
 
After that, he was on the lookout for any trace of rust-red or boots peeking out from under curtains and tapestries, and quick to avoid the small, persistent girl the moment she came into view.
 
“I have to question the ethics of this—”
“Question all you want,” Lelia said, tossing her hair and giving Malesa a glare. “He
laughed
at me.”
“And
you’re
inquiring about his dead sister. That’s called tasteless.”
“It’s been ten years, Malesa!” She flailed her arms frantically. “Ten! Years! He has to have found peace with it by now.”
“Would
you
if it was Lyle?”
Lelia flinched, but ignored the question, muttering, “She deserves a spot in the Bardic repertoire.”
Malesa eyed her. “Are you saying that because you actually believe it, or because it justifies your behavior?”
Lelia snorted derisively.
“Besides, even if
you
think it,” Malesa continued, “
he
obviously doesn’t.”
“He
laughed
at me. A Herald!” She pushed her head out of a window and yelled in the direction of Companion’s Field: “Just what kind of people are you
Choosing
nowadays?”
A passing page gave her a strange look. She growled back, sending the boy scurrying away with a squeak.
“You worry me,” Malesa said.
“Oh, go get Chosen already. You sound like my brother.” Lelia stopped at a door. “Speaking of which . . .”
She opened it and stepped inside. Lyle never did lock his door; he was just so damn trusting, sometimes. Many of his belongings had already been moved to his new suite, but a few things remained. And yes, there at the foot of his bed was a chest, and inside—
Lelia laughed darkly as she pulled out a gray shirt and pants.
“Astera bless a fool,” Malesa moaned.
Wil sat down at a table apart from the others. There was really no quiet place in the common room, but this was far enough away that he could hear Vehs think if he needed to.
He also had an excellent vantage of all entrances. The moment he saw a rust-red figure walk in, he would walk out.
:Why not sit with the others?:
Vehs asked.
:I like being alone.:
Vehs gave a purely mental sigh.
Wil was wiping up a large lump of meat and parsnip with a chunk of crusty bread when someone sat down next to him. A voice purred in his ear, “Heyla, Herald.”
He looked to his left, and into the face of the black-haired Bard-trainee. In Grays.
No. Not
uniform
Grays. Gray shirt and pants, but not Grays.
“Uh,” he said.
“You can call me Lelia.”
:Did she get Chosen?:
he thought at Vehs.
:Suuure. And I sprout gryphon wings in the moonlight.:
“Uh,” Wil repeated.
“Tell me your story, Herald,” she said in a low voice. “That’s all I ask.”
“You’re walking a fine line,” he said, nodding to her gray (but not Gray) clothing.
Her hard eyes remained fixed on him. “One story. Won’t take long. I just want to know what happened to Daryann.”
Wil’s blood boiled at the sound of his sister’s name. He pushed away from the table. “Excuse me.”
She made a grab for his sleeve. “Herald—”
He jerked his head to where Elcarth sat several tables down. “One more word,” Wil growled, “and I tell
him
what you’re up to. Bardic Immunity or not, I doubt very much the Dean would be pleased to see how you’re behaving.”
Lelia released his sleeve, and Wil slipped out.
 
Wil sat down on his bed and rubbed his eyes. The effort to calm down after his last encounter with the Bardic Pest had left him exhausted mentally and physically.

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