“No,” said Nerys, following her thoughts through Coryn—arguing as always; that was still the same. “It’s him,: Coryn. He’s doing it.”
“I still don’t like you,” Kelyn said. “But I can stand to look at you.”
“Heralds don’t have to like each other,” Herald Bronwen said. Her eyes were on Egil; their expression made perfect sense to Kelyn. “They just have to be able to work together.”
“With the same Companion?” asked Kelyn. “How are we supposed to do that?”
It was Nerys who answered. “I don’t know, but I think we’re supposed to try.”
“I think so, too,” Egil said. “Look at what you did, the three of you. You saved a life and disposed of a powerful threat. That’s what Heralds do. You did it as it’s never been done before: two together with the Companion between. It wouldn’t have been possible if there had been just one of you.”
He was right. Kelyn had to admit it. “It’s allowed, then? If we can stand it?”
“I’m not riding double,” Nerys said. “I’d rather walk.”
“We can take turns,” said Kelyn, “and take our ponies for the rest of the time. At least I will. I’m not leaving Brighteyes behind.”
“You think I’d abandon Cloud?”
“No,” Kelyn said. “I don’t think you would.”
“It’s settled, then,” said Egil. He shook his head. “Gods and Powers help us all.”
:That they will,: said Coryn.
The other Companions nodded, dipping their beautiful white heads. It was a blessing and a promise—with a spark of mirth. Whatever the humans might think of it all, the Companions were inordinately pleased with it.
Kelyn would not go that far. Her heart was beating hard, and she was dizzy, caught between joy and terror. But mostly what she felt, in spite of everything, was joy.
Be Careful What You Wish For
by Nancy Asire
Nancy Asire is the author of four novels,
Twilight’s Kingdoms, Tears of Time, To Fall Like Stars,
and
Wizard Spawn. Wizard Spawn
was edited by C.J. Cherryh and became part of the
Sword of Knowledge
series. She has also written short stories for the series anthologies
Heroes in Hell
and
Merovingen Nights
; a short story for Mercedes Lackey’s
Flights of Fantasy
; as well as tales for the Valdemar anthologies
Sun in Glory
and
Crossroads
. She has lived in Africa and traveled the world, but she now resides in Missouri with her cats and two vintage Corvairs.
“They still followin’ us?”
Doron rose in his stirrups and looked. “Don’t see nobody,” he said, settling down into his saddle and letting his winded horse rest. “Maybe they gave up, Ferrin.”
Ferrin snorted. “Likely.”
He was a big man, was Ferrin. Tough as they come. As leader of this small band, he radiated authority . . . an authority accompanied by a big right fist if necessary.
Doron turned to the man at his left and grimaced. Jergen was pretty much the opposite in all ways from Ferrin. Slender, sandy hair always falling in his eyes, he never had much to say, but when he did, the rest of them tended to listen.
“Damn pack horses slow us down,” Jergen grumbled, letting their lead ropes go slack. “Only got two, and we’d be farther away if’n we didn’t have ’em.”
“Ain’t no cure for that.” Chardo, another big man, rode to Doron’s right.
Doron nodded. No cure for that, for sure. Behind them they’d left a merchant’s caravan in disarray, two of its guards dead or wounded enough they’d hardly pose a problem. The other three were the danger. The chase hadn’t lasted long, Vomehl’s skill with the bow keeping their pursuers at bay.
Maybe we bit us off a little bit more’n we could chew, Doron thought. Gerran lay dead behind them, taken in the neck by a lucky swordstroke. He offered a brief prayer to Vkandis Sunlord that Gerran might find a better life in the hereafter. So now they were only five: Ferrin, Jergen, Chardo, Vomehl, and himself. With the element of surprise on their side, it had seemed a fairly sure thing: five of the merchant’s guards and six of them. Didn’t turn out that way. Truth be told, the caravan guards were obviously better fighters.
And now that the Son of the Sun (a female Son of the Sun!) had repealed many of the laws that had governed Karse for generations and had reined in the worst of the offending priests, things were changing here on the border between Valdemar and Karse. They’d even heard rumors Solaris had hired mercenaries from the Guild to hunt down bandit bands, and had plans to arm villagers. If that was true, their future could turn out to be a very bleak one.
“So,” Chardo asked, “what d’we do next?”
Ferrin was silent. Doron watched his leader from the corners of his eyes. This raid hadn’t gone well, and Ferrin was smarting over it. The bandit chief shrugged.
“Guess we ain’t got no choice,” he responded, lifting his reins. “Make for yonder grove, and we can see what these packhorses carry.” He glanced at Doron. “Don’t think those caravan guards will keep after us now. Only three of ’em, and we outnumber ’em, and we know the land ’round here. They don’t.”
Doron relaxed somewhat. Now that Ferrin was making decisions again, things were righting themselves. The grove was a resting place for the band, somewhere they could make camp before returning to their stronghold in the hills. If fortune smiled, the contents of the packs they’d snatched from the caravan would prove enough to keep them in food, clothing and supplies for some time to come. Unless, of course, the rumors were true and the Guild came looking for them.
Tomar had been this way before, only going in the opposite direction.
Yet the land he rode through looked the same, smelled the same. Brought back memories in a rush. The setting sun seemed right to him; it had always seemed a bit out of place in Haven . . . too far to the south. It had taken some getting used to after he and his family had fled Karse years back for the safety of Valdemar. And all because of his “witch powers,” which would have doomed him to the Fires.
Yet his Gift was slight, and he knew it. A small power of Empathy, the ability to put folk at ease, to lower mental barriers and encourage them talk to him when otherwise they would have been reticent to say much of anything.
:A Gift nonetheless, Chosen,: Mindspoke Keesha. :One cannot change what one is born with. And your Gift has proven itself numerous times. Don’t sell yourself short.:
Tomar leaned forward and stroked his Companion’s neck, warmth filling him as always when sharing thoughts with her.
:I’m not dismissing it, Keesha. It’s just that—:
He let the thought die. Sometimes it was hard to watch those other Heralds who had Gifts far more powerful than his. Yet, he knew he would not have been Chosen unless he had something of value to offer the world. Companions did not make mistakes in their Choosing.
:And lest you think yourself all that unimportant,: Keesha continued, :a Herald who was born in Karse, who knows the land, the language and the customs, can be invaluable in the coming days.:
Truth. If what had recently happened in Karse with the election of a new Son of the Sun, whose very existence as a woman ruler was earthshaking, and if the potential alliance between Valdemar and Karse solidified, there would be need of Heralds who spoke fluent Karsite. Even more valuable, those who had been born in Karse.