“What's wrong, Van?” he asked. “You just got back with everything the King asked you for and more.”
“Sometimes I feel like everything I've done is useless,” Vanyel said dispiritedly. “Randi is going to be dead before the year's out, every enemy Valdemar has will take that as a signal to strike while Treven is so young, and a good half the treaties we made will fall apart, because they were made with Randale and not Trev. Karse is likely to declare holy war on us any day. The West is full of half-mad mage-born, any one of whom might be another Krebain, but with wider plans. I have a personal enemy out there somewhere; I don't know who or why, only that he, she, or it is a mage.”
Stefen dug his thumbs into Vanyel's shoulders a little harder and tried to think of things to say that would make a difference. “Randale is the mind behind the Crown, but about half of the work is being done by Trev and the Council,” he offered. “Trev's bright, especially on short-term planning, and Randale's doing long-range planning that ought to hold good for the next five years. Trev's a little too idealistic, maybe, but he'll get that knocked out of him soon enough - and Jisa is practical enough for two. They'll be all right.”
“How do you know so much about this?” Vanyel asked suddenly, after a long silence.
“I'm right there whenever Randale is working, and I'm beginning to be able to listen to what's going on while I'm in trance.” Stefen was rather proud of that. It wasn't much compared with the kinds of things Vanyel could do, but it was more than he'd been able to manage before Van's trip.
“That's pretty impressive,” Vanyel told him, without even a trace of patronization. “Bards usually don't have a Gift that requires being in trance, and I'm surprised you learned how to manage that on your own. What about Jisa and Trev?”
“I spent a lot of time with them after you'd gone,” Stef replied, working on Van's neck, flexing and stroking as though he were playing an instrument. The muscles were very stiff, so tight they were like rope under tension, and Stef had no doubt they were giving Van a headache of monumental proportions. “With Jisa especially. The Seneschal is the only one who doesn't underestimate her, and he likes it that way.”
“A very wise lady,” Vanyel said, his voice a little muffled. “Did you know she's my daughter, and not Randi's?”
It should have been a shock. Somehow it wasn't. “No. But it makes sense. She's very like you, you know.” He thought about the situation for a moment. “Obviously Randale must know; I mean, a Healer like Shavri can prevent any pregnancy she cares to, so it wasn't an accident, which means she wanted Jisa. ...”
“Shavri was desperate for a child, and the two of them asked me to help. I've never told anyone but you, not even my parents,” Van replied. “I have three other children, but the only one I ever see is Brightstar, the boy Starwind and Moondance are raising. The others are a mage-Gifted girl one of the other Tayledras has, named Featherfire, and a girl two of Lissa's retired shaych Guards are raising, who has no Gifts at all so far as I can tell.”
Stefen wasn't sure how he should be feeling about these revelations. “Why?” he asked finally. “I mean, why did you do it? I can see why Shavri would have asked you, rather than somebody else, but why the others?”
Vanyel sighed, and flexed his shoulders. “For pretty much the same reasons as Shavri had. People I knew and cared for wanted a child, but for one reason or another couldn't produce one without outside help. Featherfire's mother isn't shaych, but there wasn't a single Tayledras male she felt the right way about to have a child with. She had twins; Brightstar is Feather's brother.”
Stef recalled all the fantasies he'd had about his parentage, how he'd never known who even his mother was. “Do you ever wish you'd - I don't know, had more of a hand in their raising?” He worked his thumbs into the nape of Vanyel's neck, with the silky hair covering both hands. “I know they've got parents who really want them, but -”
“That's just it; they have parents who really want them,” Van replied. “Ah, that's it, that's the worst of the aches, right there. I see what 'Fandes means about musicians having talented hands. Really, love, the only reason Brightstar and Jisa know I'm their father is that it's necessary for them to know. Brightstar evidently has all my Gifts; Jisa could get backwash from a magical attack on me, because she has Mage-Gift in potential. They have to be prepared. Feather-fire is so like her mother they could be twins, and Arven doesn't even carry potential as far as I was able to check. They all know who their real parents are - the ones who love them.”
He chuckled then. “What's funny?” Stef asked.
“Oh, just that whatever it is that makes someone shaych, it probably isn't learned or inherited. Brightstar has a half dozen young ladies of the Tayledras with whom he trades feathers on a regular basis, and he'd probably have more if he had the stamina.”
“Trades feathers?” Stef said with puzzlement.
“Tayledras custom. When you want to make love to someone you offer them a feather. If you want a more permanent relationship, it's a feather from your bondbird.”
“Oh.” That gave his fertile imagination something to work on. And feathers were easier come by in the dead of winter than, say, flowers. . . .
Van was finally relaxing under his hands. In fact, from the way his head kept nodding, the Herald was barely awake. Which meant Stef could probably coax him into bed without too much trouble.
Of course, he may not get much sleep. Stefen sighed contentedly, and slowly ran his fingers through Vanyel's hair, grateful just for his lover's presence.
Van relaxed for the first time in three months, and gave himself over completely to the gentle strength of Stef's callused hands. Stef felt the cold more than most - he was so thin it went straight to his bones - so he'd built the fire up to the point where he was comfortable. That meant that even without his tunic, Van basked in drowsy warmth.
The mage-focus glowed just above his heart, touching him with a different sort of warmth. That piece of amber was truly extraordinary. It might have been made for him, fitting into his cupped hand perfectly, meshing with his power-patterns and channeling them with next to no effort on his part. Given how things had worked out, perhaps it had been; in the same way that the rose-quartz crystal he'd given Savil years ago had seemingly been made for her, though it had been given to him.
He'd told Stef the truth, though; if the Bard had bought the thing with dishonorable coin, he couldn't have worn it. If Stef had failed to realize why that kind of perversion of his Gift was wrong, Vanyel would have had misgivings every time he put it on.
Stef had changed, though Van had never tried to change him. He'd become a partner, someone Van could rely on, despite his youth. And because he's my partner, he had to know about Jisa and the others. Partners shouldn't have secrets from one another. That information could be important some day. It's good to be able to tell someone-especially him. . . .
It was so easy to relax, letting all his responsibilities slide away for a moment. He felt himself drifting off into a half-doze, and didn't even try to stop himself.