Under the Vale and Other Tales of Valdemar (23 page)

“If you are ready, then please come with me.”

They walked out into a damp spring morning. It had rained during the night. It might be warm and muggy later, but was clear and fresh now.

He led her through Companion’s Field, along Palace garden paths, and to the Collegium main hall. At a side entrance, Teren awaited, and with him Keth’re’son shena Tale’sedrin.

Nerea was not so formal with Keth’. She charged forward and threw her arms around him in a tackling hug, feet off the ground and looking melted in place. Lo’isha stood back and let them resolve that. Their embrace was one of innocent companionship, not of long-parted lovers, but it still held that same intensity.

Keth’s mind whirled. How did Nerea get here? But she was so warm, and her grip so tight. He could smell her hair and the scent of her leathers. He closed his eyes and hugged her closely.

When he finally bent to put her down and her feet touched the ground, she stepped back and grinned hugely at him, her dark eyes glowing.

She said, “It is so good to see you, my pledged. I have traveled far to keep our bond.” Her voice, that language, was music to him, after months of the strange tongue and stiffer rules it used. Shin’a’in flowed from the lips as was proper, Valdemaran seemed to march backward instead.

He remembered there were others here, and they were being watched. He kept hold of one of her hands and said, “I am so thrilled to have you here. But I must introduce you to someone.”

He tugged and she followed him, smiling, into Companion’s Field and away from prying eyes.

“Who did you need me to meet?” Nerea asked.

They had been walking away from the Palace and the Collegium for some minutes now, while he enjoyed her company. She’d come so far. He had so many questions and so much to say, but first he had to introduce her to his Companion.

There she came, from a shady copse of trees, toward them. He pointed as she came close, then laid a hand on her shoulder.

He said, “This is Yssanda. She is, in part, the reason why I came here.”

“She’s beautiful. Good lines, broader head. How did they get the silver hooves, and does she suffer any eyesight problems with those blue eyes? Do the hooves breed true?”

:I can see as well as you do, dear, and sometimes clearer. And don’t you even think about breeding me—I can pick my own mates, thank you very much!:
Yssandra let him hear her comment, even though she spoke to Nerea.

Well, that certainly moved things along.

Nerea stood very still. The sensation of having someone speaking inside one’s mind was disconcerting to say the least, he recalled. Having that sensation come from a horse made it even more so. While the Shin’a’in consider horses to be their younger-sibs, they didn’t expect them to talk back.

“Nerea, she’s not a horse,” Keth’ said gently. “She’s a Companion, a person in her own right. She’s been my friend, teacher, and ally while I’ve been in this foreign place. Even after I’m done here, she’s going to have to be a part of any of our plans.”

“What are those plans going to be? You’ve already been gone so long, am I still a part of any plan?”

Keth’s heart went out to her. She seemed to shrink inside herself a little, both wanting to hear the answer and not wanting to hear. Nerea deserved his honesty, but he wasn’t sure himself.

“We need to talk about that. I think that’s why you’re here.”

Dean Teren sat in his office, yet again considering the problem that Nerea and Keth’ presented him. Neither one of the youngsters was taking into account what the Collegium might have to say in the matter—they just assumed that they could order the world according to what they wanted. After all, they were young and together—who could stand against them . . .

That was exactly the reason Herald Trainees were expected to be unaccompanied.

It occurred to the Dean that while it was certainly possible to stand against them, it might be very problematic to do so—sufficiently so to give the Bards song fodder for a long time.

Keth’ wasn’t precisely a disappointment. He learned very well. However, he hadn’t internalized the right attitude and didn’t see a problem with Nerea remaining here. She stayed at the
ekele
and had worked out a labor exchange for lodging. She was quite competent.

Teren realized he’d underestimated them. A Valdemaran youth of that age could be swayed through reason, emotion, or social suggestion. Not only were these two from another culture, they’d grown up much faster. They were a strange mix of adult minds in juvenile spirits and bodies. He needed to talk to the envoy again.

Keth’ walked with Lo’isha, near Companion’s Field, with his own concerns. There were few people he could even begin to discuss this with.

“It’s aggravating,” Keth’ said. “All this past year, I’ve been told I must continue alone. I had accepted that—well, somewhat—but now she shows up here.
Here
. Halfway across the continent.”

The Shaman paused to study a flower. Keth’ was not interested in flowers.

“It should be flattering,” the Elder said.

“It is,” Keth’ agreed, quickly. “It’s also very inconvenient.”

“Not just for you.”

“I understand. But I want her to stay. I want to go home with her. So does she. I also do want to continue my studies. There’s so much to learn, and I’m improving.” He paused, unsure what to add.

“You are improving,” the Shaman assured him. “You also can’t control this situation. Unlike Mind-magic, this involves people’s intent. Even if you had that power, it would be unwise and unfair to use it.”

He nodded. That such might be possible was disturbing.

As to the matter at hand, he asked, “So who does control it? And what should I do?”

“We each control our own part, or we think we do. Eventually, each of us will find a path that fits the events.”

“That makes sense,” he agreed, and he did feel better. “I just wish it would hurry up.” He realized he was pacing back and forth as the Shaman strolled.

The Shaman said, “It is better that it take time. As to other things, I understand Nerea is taking language lessons?” He smiled with a twinkle.

“Yes, Clan k’Leshya also have given her lodging and some small allowance in exchange for stable work. I let her have a little of my own funds,” he admitted, blushing. “I do care for her.” She was so stubborn. Or not stubborn, but simply unswayable.

“There is no reason you shouldn’t,” the Shaman said.

“But they want me to become a Herald, and Heralds—”

“You are not yet a Herald, and you remain Keth’-re’son shena Tale’sedrin. Those are two more things that must be reconciled.”

“This doesn’t sound possible,” he said. He’d wanted reassurance. This was making him feel more depressed. He didn’t feel Shin’a’in, nor Valdemaran, nor even himself now.

“It is all possible, and we need not know how at this point. It will all resolve in time.”

“Thank you, Elder, I suppose.” He tried to smile. “Can you give me something more immediate and practical?”

“You are free for the day. Why not take your pledged into Haven? I’m sure she’d like to see more than stables.”

Lo’isha found himself quite busy. While he couldn’t fault Kerowyn for handing the problem off, and it did involve his people, it was quite an interesting one, with all that entailed.

“So, Teren, what are we to discuss today?” He took the empty chair and noticed it was a different one. The piles of parchment had moved.

“The same as we’ve discussed every day for the last two weeks. Nerea.”

“Yes, she’s quite the item.”

“A pest. Sweet, pretty, too clever for her own good, and a pest.” Teren twiddled a quill in his fingers.

“The language lessons?” he guessed.

“That, and still being here, and loitering around. I suggested she stay in Bolton. I offered to pay for quarters across town, to make some distance.”

“She would refuse, of course.”

“She did.” Yes, Teren was most agitated, and on such a fine day.

“Is she affecting his studies?”

“Not that I’ve noticed, and I’ve been watching. It is disruptive to others, though, on top of his existing differences as a foreigner.”

Lo’isha kept calm and reassuring. “Well, I should think that would be good for the other trainees. They’ll have to deal with such matters in the field, after all.”

“Indeed. I would just prefer their practice problems be more organized.”

“You can’t send her away,” he pointed out.

“I know.” Teren stood and looked out the window. “I’d hoped she’d get bored and leave, or he’d realize he’d grown apart from her. Something. If anything, they are reconnecting and throwing sand in everyone’s shoes.”

“Then perhaps now is a time to walk barefoot and enjoy the sensation.”

Teren said, “Walking barefoot also involves thorns.”

“Then walk carefully,” Lo’isha offered his friend with a smile. “I have a feeling these thorns will be trodden down by many feet.”

“Let me show you the city,” Keth’ said. While it wasn’t home, it was a fascinating place, and he was eager to introduce her to some of the more interesting foods.

“Whatever you like,” she said with a smile. It caught him off guard.

He offered an arm and led the way toward the horse and animal market, figuring to stop at the Compass Rose just beyond it. It wasn’t the cheapest, but it didn’t attract lowlifes, and the usual clientele wouldn’t be surprised to see a pair of Shin’a’in.

They were almost to the market when he realized why her smile had concerned him.

There was a glint.

They’d both grown in a year, and she felt like a part of him. Then he realized he felt the same way. Even if he did agree with the Collegium’s rules, and he’d only admitted to understanding them, this was something he wanted more.

“The Ashkevrons do have some fine horses,” Nerea said. “We have better, but not by much, and no others I’ve seen come close.”

“Well, they do buy ours and breed them.”

“Certainly, but it takes more than stock. It takes care and raising.” Her energy never faded. He’d always liked that.

There were a lot of horses here today. It must be some market day. There were wagons, carts, horses with pannier saddles, mounts for nobles and the wealthy, and draft horses for farmers. Some of the wagons contained oats, nuts, apples, and other fare meant for the animals, and several stores had displays of combs and brushes. There were also saddles, tack and clothes for riders, and even a carpenter’s display of stable making. The place smelled of fine horseflesh, and he enjoyed it.

“Some very fine creatures,” she said, smiling. She was relaxed, he realized, and comfortable for now. With food and fine weather, there was nowhere he’d rather be.

Which was odd; this place was not home. He could speak the language well enough to get by, but it still felt foreign.

Rather than ponder it, he decided to just enjoy the day. Her hand was warm as she clutched his. Her shoulder brushed him every couple of steps. He was comfortably fed and had no pressing worries for the day.

It was at that moment that the Star-eyed saw fit to give him pressing worries.

A cart-hitched horse suddenly stepped sideways, reared up, and came down in a limping gallop. His cart knocked a stall askew, spilled some contents—bags of feed—and rode over the collapsed legs of the vendor’s display.

The horse was clearly hurt, right rear leg tipping the ground as the rest clattered on the cobbles. People dove from its path, shouting and screaming. Other animals shied and whinnied, backed and sidled, until carts crashed and tangled in a huge mess. It would take hours to sort out. It had happened in moments.

The chaos spread as other horses and even smaller animals caught the whiff of panic. Their instincts fought their restraints, and the din of it all was astounding.

Then Nerea stepped into the street.

Keth’ knew what she intended and took a half step to grab her, then decided he would only make it worse. He had no doubt she knew what she was doing, but he wasn’t sure the horse did.

Three people buffeted him as they darted past, urgently clearing the street and seeking somewhere out of reach of rearing hooves and twisting wagons.

Then the horse, a very handsome dapple, reached Nerea at a near-gallop still dragging the remains of the cart. She stood calmly, stepped aside just enough to avoid it, and stroked his flank with her fingers.

He slowed haltingly and stumbled two steps forward as the tilting cart’s momentum shoved at him.

Nerea walked around him, fingers tracing his muscles. After the dapple was calmed, she stepped over to a dun mare. Nerea held a hand to her muzzle, and she quieted. Then a roan stallion dropped, relaxed and stepped out of the wreckage of a pushcart yoke. The waves of calm rippled out, where waves of panic had flowed only breaths before.

Nerea turned back to the dapple, walked around, and touched his injured leg. He raised it at once, and she studied his hoof. Taking out her belt knife, she pried something long and sharp out of the frog. Releasing the foot, she patted the dapple’s flank.

And Keth’ smiled, because he knew what could keep her here, near him and near the horses.