“Send something? What about that really awful silver and garnet loving-cup I've seen around?” Stefen had curled up in the chair with his head resting on the arm and his eyes closed. “Savil told me you kept things like that for presents, and the worse they are, the better your family likes them.”
“Except for Savil, my sister, and Medren, the concept of 'good taste' seems to have eluded my family,” Vanyel replied wearily. “Thank you. Hmm. The last of the sheep has succumbed to black fly, and Father is gloating. Melenna and - good gods!”
“What?” Both of Stefen's eyes flew open, and he raised his head, staring blindly.
“Melenna and Jervis are married!” Van sat there with his mouth hanging open; the very idea of Jervis marrying anyone -
“Oh,” Stef said indifferently. “There's a lot of that going around. Maybe it's catching.” He put his head back down on the armrest, as Vanyel shook his head and proceeded to the third and final paragraph.
“Here's the usual invitation to visit home, which is invariably the prelude to something that kicks me in the -” Van stopped, and reread the final sentences. And read them a third time. They didn't make any more sense than they had before.
I suppose you know we've heard a lot about you from Medren. He's told us you have a very special friend, a Bard. 'Stefen' was the name he gave us. We'd really like to meet him, son. Why don't you bring him with you when you visit?
“Van?” Stefen waved a hand at him, and broke him out of his daze. “Van? What is it? You look like somebody hit you in the back of the head with a board.”
“I feel like that,” Van told him, putting the letter down and rubbing the back of his neck. “I feel just like that. There has to be a trick to it -”
“Trick to what?”
“Well - they want me to bring you with me. They want to meet you. And knowing my father, he's already assumed the worst about our friendship.” Vanyel picked up the letter again, but the last paragraph hadn't changed.
Stefen yawned and closed his eyes. “Let him assume. He asked for it - let's give it to him.”
“You mean you'd be willing to go with me?” Vanyel was astounded. “Stefen, you must be crazed! Nobody wants to visit my family, they're all insane!”
“So? You need somebody they can be horrified by so they'll leave you alone.” Stefen was drifting off to sleep, and his words started to slur. “Soun's like - me - t'me. . . .”
I couldn't, Vanyel thought. But - he's worn away to nothing. They do have two Healers to replace him, and those two can train more. Randi is as much recovered as he's going to get, and the Karse situation is stable. So - why not?
“Why not?” Savil said, and chuckled. “He's certainly asked for it.”
Vanyel had finally prevailed on her to have her favorite chair recovered in a warm gray; she looked like the Winter Queen, with her silver hair and her immaculate Whites. Taking her out of the Web had done her a world of good; there was a great deal more energy in her voice, though she still moved as stiffly as ever.
“But Savil,” Vanyel protested weakly, “He thinks Stef is my lover! He has to!”
Savil leveled the kind of look at him that used to wither her apprentices. “So what if he does? He is the one who issued the invitation, entirely unprompted. Call his bluff. Then confound him. Tell you what. I'll come with you.”
“Kernos' Horns, Savil, what are you trying to do, get me killed?” Vanyel laughed. “Every time you come home with me, I wind up ears-deep in trouble! I might as well go parade up and down the Karsite Border in full panoply - it'd be safer.”
“Nonsense,” Savil scoffed. “It was only the once. Seriously, I daren't travel by myself anymore. And I could certainly use the break. They can't afford to let Herald-Mages retire anymore, there aren't enough of us.”
“True,” Van acknowledged. “You know, this really isn't a bad idea.”
:Stef is a sack of bones and hair,: 'Fandes chimed in. :The Healers are threatening mayhem if someone doesn't take him away for a rest. Savil needs one, too, and so do you, and neither of you will get one unless you're out of reach.:
“Fandes thinks it's a good idea,” he mused. “And to tell you the truth, Mother and Father have been fairly civilized to me the last couple of visits. Maybe this will work.”
“Give me two days,” Savil said, looking eager.
“Don't take more than that,” Vanyel told her, as he got up and headed for the door.
“Why?” she asked. “You don't take that long to pack!”
“Because if you take longer than that,” he called back over his shoulder, “my courage will quite melt away, and you'll have to tie me to Yfandes' back to make me go through with this.”
Two days later, they were on the road out of Haven, with Stefen riding between them on a sleek little chestnut palfrey, a filly out of Star's line. Vanyel's beloved Star had lived out her life at Haven, a pampered favorite whose good sense and sweet nature bred true in all the foals she'd thrown. Star had, in fact, been Jisa's first mount. And although once he'd been Chosen Van had no more need of a riding horse, there had been trusted friends (and the occasional lover) who did - so Star, and Star's offspring, had definitely earned their keep. One of Star's daughters, this palfrey's dam, was now Jisa's mount.
Vanyel had made a present of this particular filly, Star's granddaughter Melody, to Stefen. Stef had reacted with dubious pleasure-pleasure, because it meant he'd be able to accompany Van on his daily exercise rides with 'Fandes. Dubious, because he didn't know how to ride.
Van had been surprised until he thought about it, then felt like a fool for not thinking. Stef had seldom had anything to do with a horse as a child; he was born into poverty, and in the city, so there was no reason for him ever to have learned how to ride. While Van, who had been tossed onto a pony's back as soon as he could walk, was a member of a privileged minority: the landed - which meant mounted - nobility.
He didn't often think of himself that way, but Stefen's lack of such a basic - to Van - skill made the Herald rethink a number of things in that light.
And then he'd seen to it that Stef learned to ride, among other things.
“He was actually glad that Stefen was still such a tyro; it gave him a good excuse to stop fairly early each day. Savil wasn't up to long rides either, but she would never admit it. But with poor, saddle-sore Stefen along, she could be persuaded to make an early halt long before she ran into trouble herself.
By the third day of their easy trip, Stef was looking much more comfortable astride. In fact, he looked as though he was beginning to enjoy himself, taking pleasure in his mount and her paces. The chestnut filly was a good match for his dark red hair, and the two of them made a very showy pair.
:I imagine they'd attract quite a bit of notice if we weren't around,: Yfandes commented, echoing his thoughts.
:Don't look now, beloved, but they attract quite a bit when we are around.: With the late summer sun making a scarlet glory of the chestnut's coat and Stef's hair, and the two White-clad Heralds on their snowy Companions on either side of him, Stefen looked like a young hero flanked by savants.