Vanyel started to object, but realized that he didn't have any grounds for objection. It looked like an accident. Everyone else accepted it as an accident.
But Van didn't - couldn't - believe that it was.
Nevertheless, all he had to go on were vague and ill-defined feelings. Nothing even concrete enough for a Herald to accept.
So he thanked Treven - to Stefen's quite open relief - and returned across the crusted snow to the warmth and light of the Herald's Wing.
He was at the door, when Yfandes Mindtouched him. :Van,: she said, sounding troubled. :We've found Kilchas' Companion, Rohan. He's dead. He was off in the far Western comer of the Field.:
:And?: he prompted her.
:And I don't like it. There's no sign of anything wrong, but I don't like it. We just don't - fall over like that. Unless we die in battle or by accident, we're Called, and we generally have time to say good-bye to our friends before we go :
:Could the shock of his Chosen dying like that have killed Rohan?: Van asked.
: May be,: she replied reluctantly. Most of the others think that's what did it.:
:But you're not convinced.: It was kind of comforting that she shared his doubts.
:I'm not convinced. It doesn't feel right. I can't pinpoint why, but it doesn't.:
“Van, are you going to stand there all night?” Stef asked, holding the door open and shivering visibly.
“Sorry, ashke,” Vanyel said giving himself a little mental kick. “I was talking to 'Fandes. The others found Kilchas' Companion. Dead. She says it doesn't feel right to her.”
The heat of the corridor hit him and made him want to lie down right then and there. He fought the urge and the attendant weakness. Stefen looked at him with puzzlement. “I thought that Companions never outlived their Chosen,” he said. “And vice versa. So what's wrong?”
“ 'Fandes just doesn't like the way it seems to have happened - Rohan was off by himself in the farthest corner of the Field, and none of the others knew he was gone until they found him.”
Stefen looked disturbed. “That's not the way things are supposed to happen,” he replied slowly. “At least not the way I understand them. I think you're both right. There's at least something odd about this.”
Van reached the door of his room first, and held it open for the Bard. “It may just be the new Web-spell,” he said as he closed the door behind them, took off his cloak, and flung it into a chair. “It's supposed to bind us all together; some of that may be spilling over in unexpected ways, like onto our Companions.”
Stefen draped his own cloak on top of Vanyel's. “Here,” he offered. “Let me help you out of that tunic and go lie down; we can talk about this while I give you a better massage than the one that was interrupted. I'll play opposition, and try to find logical explanations for everything you find wrong.”
“Stef, I'm absolutely exhausted,” Vanyel warned, unlacing his tunic and allowing Stef to pull it off. “If you really get me relaxed, I'll probably fall asleep in the middle of it. And once I do, you wouldn't be able to wake me with an earthquake.”
“If that's what you need, then that's what you should do,” the Bard replied, pushing him a little so that he sat down - or rather, collapsed - onto the bed. “Meanwhile, let me get the knots out of you while we talk about this. Why don't you pull 'Fandes into this, too? If she's worried, you probably should, anyway, and she may find holes in my arguments.”
:'Fandes?: Van called
:Here-:
:Want to listen in on this? We're going to try and see if I'm just overreacting to Kilchas' death because of exhaustion.:
:Neatly put, and that could be my problem, too. Go ahead. I'll be listening.: She sounded relieved.
Vanyel yielded to Stefs wishes, and sprawled facedown on the bed. Stefen straddled him and reached into the top drawer of the little bedside table.
“What-” Vanyel began, turning his head to look; then when Stefen pulled out a little bottle of what was obviously scented oil, asked in surprise, “How did that get in there?”
“I put it there,” Stef said shortly. “Get your head back down and relax.” In a few moments, his warm hands were slowly working their way upward along Van's spine, starting from the small of his back. Vanyel sighed, and gave himself up to it.
“Now, what doesn't fit in the way Kilchas died?” Stef asked. “And don't you start tensing up on me. You can think and stay relaxed.”
“Kilchas has a little enclosure up there,” Van said, thinking things through, slowly. “The roof is glass. If he doesn't want to, he doesn't have to go out in the cold. I can't see why he would have been outside, and he certainly wasn't dressed for the cold.”
“What if the glass was covered with snow or ice?” Stef countered. “It probably was, you know.”
:I agree,: Yfandes said reluctantly :Everything else was.:
“Good point. But why was he wearing slippers, rather than boots?”
Stefen rolled his knuckles along either side of Vanyel's spine while he thought. “Because he didn't know the glass was going to be iced over until he'd already climbed the stairs to the roof, and it was too far for him to climb down and back up again just for his boots. He was an old man, after all, and his quarters are down here on the ground floor.”
Van gasped as Stef hit a particularly sore spot. “All right, I can accept that, too. But he's had that observatory for years. He always knows - knew - exactly where he is up there. Why should he suddenly misstep now?”
“Because he didn't,” Stef answered immediately. “He was doing something he'd never had to do before. He was cleaning the glass on the roof of his little shelter, trying to chip the ice off. He lost his balance, or he slipped.”
:That sounds just like Kilchas. Stubborn old goat.:
Vanyel tried not to tense as Stef hit another bad knot and began working it out. “Why not get a servant to do it?” he asked.
“No time?” Stef hazarded, as the fire in the fireplace cracked and popped. “This thing he was going to be watching-it would have been about to happen, and he figured if he had to find a servant, then wait for him to do the job, he'd miss part of what he wanted to see. Either that, or he was sure a servant wouldn't do it right. Or both.”
:That sounds like Kilchas, too,:
The air filled with the gentle scent of sendlewood. Vanyel felt sleep trying to overcome him and fought it off. “If he just fell -” he said, slowly, “Why, when I felt him die, did I only feel pain? Why didn't I feel him fall?”
“I don't know,” Stef said, pausing with his hand just over Van's shoulderblades. “I don't know how these Gifts of yours are supposed to work. But Kilchas was an old man, Van. What if he was already dead when he fell? What if his heart gave out on him? That's pretty painful, I guess. And if his heart suddenly gave out, couldn't that cause his Companion's to do the same? Maybe that's why he was found the way he was.”