The girl’s name was Alyise, her companion’s name was Donnel, and that was pretty much all Jors knew. He couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone of that name amidst the Grays during the rare times he’d been at the Collegium over the last few years and he only remembered her Companion as a long-legged colt.
The thing was, he liked being on the road and he much preferred the open spaces of the Borders to any city, so he went back on Circuit as fast as he could be reassigned. That didn’t give him much time to learn about the latest Chosen and when he did meet up with other Heralds, he was much more interested in finding out what his year-mates had been doing.
“Jennet has got to be ten years older than I am. At least. And she’s a woman.”
Strands of the Companion’s mane slid across Jors’ fingers like white silk as Gervais tossed his head. :What does her being a woman have to do with this?:
“Women are better at teaching girls. They understand girls. Me . . .” He rubbed a dribble of sweat off the back of his neck. “. . . I don’t get girls at all.”
:You seemed to understand Herald Erica. I remember her continuously agreeing with you.:
“Continuously agreeing? What are you talking about?”
:Raya and I could hear her quite clearly outside the Waystation. She kept yelling yes. Yes! Yes! Yes!:
“Oh, ha ha. Very funny. “ Jors could feel Gervais’ amusement—the young stallion did indeed think it was very funny. “As I recall, Erica and I weren’t the only two keeping company that night.”
:We were quiet.:
“Well, I’m sorry we kept you from your beauty sleep and you needn’t worry about it happening again for, oh, about eleven months.”
:You do not know that the new Herald will find you distasteful. Raya told me that her Herald found you pleasant.:
Jors sighed. Pleasant. Well, he supposed it was preferable to the alternative. “Thank you. But that’s not the point. I’ll be Alyise’s teacher, her mentor; I can’t take advantage of my position of power.”
:You will be Heralds together.:
“Yes, but . . .” He felt a subtle shift of smooth muscles below him echoed by a definite shift of attention and fell silent.
:Inar says we will meet in time for us to return to the Waystation outside of Applebay before full dark.:
If that was true, and Jors had no reason to doubt Jennet’s Companion, they were a lot closer to the crossroad than he’d thought. He glanced over his shoulder to check on Bucky and found the pack mule tucked up close where Gervais’ tail could keep the late summer insects off his face. And that was another possible problem. Mules were mules regardless of who they worked for and mules that worked for Heralds could be just as obstinate and hard to get along with as any other. They’d be adding a new mule to the mix.
It was a good thing Companions always got along.
And speaking of . . .
“Why didn’t Donnel contact you? Can’t he reach this far?”
:Inar is senior to Donnel as you will be senior to his Chosen.:
“You’ll be senior to Donnel as well, then.”
:Yes.: Sleek white sides rose and fell as Gervais sighed.
Jors grinned. “Wishing Alyise’s Companion was a mare?”
His grin broadened as it became quite clear that Gervais had no intention of answering.
“She’s a good kid,” Jennet said, glancing over at where the youngest of the three Heralds was carefully packing away the remains of the meal they’d shared. “Eager, enthusiastic . . .”
“Exhausting?” Jors suggested as her voice trailed off.
“A little,” the older Herald admitted with a smile. “But you’re a lot younger than I am, you should be able to keep up.”
“That’s just it. I’m too young to be doing this. I’m no teacher.”
“You have doubts.”
He only just managed not to roll his eyes. “Well, yes.”
“Does your Companion doubt you?”
“Gervais?” Jors turned in time to see Gervais rising to his feet after what had clearly been a vigorous roll, his gleaming white coat flecked with bits of grass. “Gervais has never doubted me.”
“Then, if you can’t believe in yourself, believe in your Companion. And now that I’ve gifted you with my aged wisdom . . .” Grinning, she bent and lifted her saddle. “. . . we’d best get back on the road.”
Lifting his own saddle, Jors fell into step beside her. “I’m sorry to hear about your mother.”
“Yes, well, she wasn’t young when I was born, and she’s never been what you could call strong, so I can’t say that I’m surprised. I’m just glad that the Borders are so quiet right now and that there was someone close enough . . .” She smiled so gratefully at him that Jors felt himself flush. “Two someones close enough.”
Inar, given his head, had disappeared southward almost too fast for the eye to follow. One moment he, and his Herald, were a white blur against the gold of summer-dried gasses and the next, they were gone.
Gone. Leaving Jors alone with Alyise.
Alone with an attractive eighteen-year-old girl.
No. Alone with another Herald.
One he just happened to be responsible for.
Oh, Havens.
:She is a Herald. That makes her responsible for herself.:
:I was broadcasting?:
Gervais snorted. :Donnel probably heard you.:
Jors doubted that since Donnel—with a fair bit of that long-legged colt in him still—was dancing sideways away from a bobbing yellow wildflower. Alyise was laughing, probably at something Donnel had said. Their mule, right out at the end of its lead rope, turned his head just far enough for Jors to see that he looked resigned about the whole thing.
Which reminded Jors of something he’d meant to ask Jennet and forgotten. No matter, Alyise would know what had happened to their second mule.
“Spike?” She giggled. “Oh Jennet left him back at the Waystation supply post saying you’d have enough on your plate without having to deal with Spike, too. He’s not a pleasant fellow although honestly, I think most of it’s an act and he’s really much nicer than he pretends. You know?”
Jors had no time to answer. He suspected she hadn’t intended him to as she rattled on without pausing.
“She left a lot of her gear there except for the bits she gave to me. I seem to go through soap really, really quickly, I can’t think why, I mean, we’re all in Whites but if there’s something to smudge on, I’ll smudge. I may be the only Herald ever who really appreciated her grays. So Jennet gave me her extra soap and a tunic that was getting too tight for her—across the shoulders, of course, not in front because I’m well, a little better endowed there—but no worry about her being caught short because she didn’t leave behind or give me anything she’ll need because she’s heading home. But you knew that, didn’t you, because you were there when she left?”
The punctuating smile was dazzling.
The Waystation outside Appleby was much like every other Waystation; there was a corral for the mules, a snug lean-to for the Companions, a good sized, well-stocked storeroom, and a single room for the Heralds. The biggest difference was that the fireplace had been filled in with a small box stove, flat-topped for cooking and considerably more efficient at heating the space.