Well, now she was going; and she didn't want to. Alberich probably thought that she would be excited about being in the front lines, and anticipate being in the thick of fighting, right up until she got her first real look at it, and only then would she lose her taste for war. He was wrong. She had already lost her taste for war, and she knew far more about it than she thought he realized. She had been making it her business to visit the wounded in the House of Healing ever since all this began, to thank them. They seemed to appreciate her attention, though why, she couldn't imagine. Maybe it was just that for most of them, it was their first (and probably last) close-up look at one of the royals.
Well, she knew first-hand what war really meant, and she was absolutely terrified. And was not, under any circumstances, going to show it.
She rang for a servant to help her with her trunks, but carried two of her packs herself. And she outdistanced the poor servants in her haste to get down to the stables. Probably she should have waited for an escort of Guardsmen, but she didn't have time. And if she wasn't safe at this moment, with the Palace and grounds alive with Guards, Heralds, and the last of the regiments to leave Haven, she would never be safe anywhere.
She popped out of the nearest door onto the courtyard in front of the Palace, a place that was normally quiet and empty at this time of the morning. Not this morning....
The sun was just above the horizon, a sliver of red in a dusky sky; the air was a little damp, with dew slicking the cobbles rimming the pavement and birds filling the air with their morning calls. It seemed too beautiful a morning to be riding out to war.
The courtyard was awash in white: white Companions, Heralds in their white field uniforms. Selenay fit right in; her uniform was not a whit different from theirs. That was a conscious decision. There was nothing about their clothing to distinguish her or her father from the other Heralds. Of course, the moment she crossed the threshold she was joined by her two shadows, the Heralds Keren and Ylsa, who fell in behind her casually, as if they were just a couple of her best friends who'd been waiting for her to come out. She greeted them with a tense smile, and then spotted Caryo, already saddled and bridled with field tack, waiting with Keren and Ylsa's Companions, who were completely ready, saddle packs and all.
Her father was already in the saddle, but she saw with a touch of relief that she was by no means the last to arrive. It didn't take long for her to sling her basic field packs across Caryo's rump and fasten them in place; less time to get into the saddle herself. Her remaining packs and trunks would go on the wagons carrying the rest of the supplies, with her tent and her father's.
Caryo (with Selenay's two shadows in close, but unobtrusive attendance) moved to Sendar's side without prompting. The King nodded an acknowledgment to his daughter but didn't stop reading the dispatch he'd just been handed. He held out his hand and a page on horseback slapped a graphite stick into it; he scrawled a reply on the same paper and held out his hand again. The page slapped a pre-inked seal stamp into it, which he impressed across his signature. He blew on the ink to dry it and rolled it up; this time he handed it to the dark-haired, somber-faced Herald who'd brought it to him, who in turn slipped it into a message tube.
Then the Herald held the tube up at eye-level, frowning at it. One moment he held the tube, the next, his hands were empty. He looked a bit pale for a moment, but recovered quickly; Sendar slapped him on the shoulder.
"Well done," was all the King said, but the young man smiled, blushed, and backed his Companion off to rejoin his fellows.
The young fellow was a Herald with the Fetching Gift, of course; either he, or a Mindspeaking Herald, had told Talamir that there was a message, probably from the front, that needed a written answer. The Fetching Herald had brought it in a heartbeat, and sent it back again in the same amount of time.
Now, with this all-or-nothing war to be fought, the Heralds truly showed how invaluable they were; in fact, without them, Valdemar would have no advantage over the Tedrels at all. Heralds who were Mindspeakers rode with scouts and served to relay news, messages, and battle plans. Heralds who were FarSeers spied on the enemy without him even being aware he was being spied upon. Heralds with the Gift of Foresight tried to predict what would come next; the two lone Weather Witches tried to predict when rain would fall on the enemy and when on their own troops. And those with the rare Gift of Fetching sent things to and from their commanders in the distant South.
There were other, even rarer Gifts, which might or might not come into play, depending on circumstances. At the moment, for instance, the only Firestarters in the Heraldic ranks were not very strong, which was—well, some would think it was a pity. Certainly, if they'd had a Firestarter with the strength of the legendary Lavan Firestorm, they would hardly need an army. On the other hand—the finale of the Battle of Burning Pines had very nearly incinerated both the Karsite and Valdemaran armies together. Selenay was just as glad their Firestarter couldn't do much more than ensure campfires from thoroughly soaked, green wood.
The mood was subdued, as the sun rose a little higher, and the dew began to dry. The Companions, unlike horses, were not restive; they stood rock-steady in their appointed places, with little more than the occasional head shake or switching of a tail. The Heralds themselves spoke very little, and only in a murmur. Perhaps most of them were occupied in Mindspeech—certainly Sendar was, for the King had that faraway look that Selenay knew meant he was deep in conversation with someone.
:More likely a series of someones,: Caryo said quietly. :He's been talking to the others since he woke.:
Selenay bit her lip; on the one hand, she wished very strongly that her own Gift was powerful enough for her to hear what was going on. On the other hand, she wasn't sure she wanted to know. She was already afraid; if she knew what her father knew—well, she wasn't at all sure that she could keep up the brave face that she had to show.
The last of the Heralds to accompany Sendar to the war ran into the courtyard, packs over their shoulders, to finish kitting their Companions and take their places among the rest. When the very last was mounted, Sendar held up his hand, and what little talk there had been ceased entirely.
"You all heard my speech for the people of Haven," he said, his voice sounding rough and tired to Selenay, but strong nevertheless. He squinted into the morning sunlight; there were dark rings under his eyes, and she wondered how much he had slept—if at all. "I won't bore you with repeating it, and besides, none of you need to be told why we are doing this. Before winter comes, some of us will die; many of us will be injured. No less than myself, your King, you are primary targets for our adversaries. Our enemy knows very well how important the Heralds are to our strategy, and as you have been aware, he has made it his business in his past campaigns to eliminate as many of you as he could. Only the fact that I have made it my business to withhold as many of you from the front lines as I could has kept our losses to a minimum."
Selenay blinked; she hadn't realized that, but of course it was true. It must be. There hadn't been more than four or five Heralds killed in the Wars for each year that there had been fighting! Now she knew why—and knew that Sendar had not been lulled into thinking that the Tedrels would eventually go away. He had believed Alberich, believed the spies, and planned for this from the beginning.