Joshel shook his head at that point. “All right,” he said aloud, breaking the silence so suddenly that the non-Heralds started. He gave Vanyel a long-suffering look. “I don't know how you managed this,” he told the dumbfounded Herald-Mage, mixed admiration and annoyance in his expression, “I've never heard of all the Companions uniting to back a Herald against King and Council before. I hope you're right, Vanyel Ashkevron - and I hope this isn't going to be too much for even you to handle.”
One by one the others gave in, Shavri the last, possibly because Shavri's bond with her Companion was the weakest.
But finally even she acquiesced, though not happily. “I hope you're satisfied, Herald Vanyel,” she said, on the verge of tears. “I thought you were our friend -”
The others of the Council looked uneasy, embarrassed, or both, at this display of “womanly vapors.” Vanyel, who knew it was more than that, dared not waver from his resolve. He knew why she was trying emotional blackmail; she was afraid for Randale and Jisa, but there was too much riding on this for him to allow her to manipulate his feelings for her, Randi, and their daughter.
“I am, Shavri. But Valdemar comes first, you know that as well as I do,” he replied coolly, bringing home to her the same lesson he'd given Randale years ago.
“Then how dare you ride off and leave Valdemar unprotected?” she cried passionately, making her hands into fists.
“Because I am protecting Valdemar,” he said, just as passionately. “This mage, whoever he is, doesn't dare leave me alive, not after the way I destroyed his creature. While he concentrates on me, he'll be ignoring Valdemar and anyone in Valdemar. You should all be perfectly safe while he brings all his resources to bear on me.”
“And what if he k-k-kills you?” Shavri said miserably. “What will protect us then?”
“Shavri,” he said, leaning toward her and catching and holding her gaze, “If I die, I'll either take him with me, or leave him so crippled he'll be no threat. So help me, I will protect Valdemar with my last breath, and if there is a way to protect her after my death, I'll find it!”
He stared into her eyes for a long moment, during which no one seemed to breathe. Then he sat back, breaking the spell himself. “But I don't intend to die,” he said, with a grim smile. “I intend to find this bastard, and make him pay for what he did to Savil and the others. And if I have your permission to do so -?”
Randale nodded wearily. “There doesn't seem to be much choice in the matter,” the King said. “For what it's worth, you have the permission of Crown and Council.”
Vanyel stood, and bowed with deliberate grace to all of them. “I'm sorry if you feel that your decision has been forced,” he said, “But I can't feel sorry that you came to it. Valdemar is more important than any one man, however powerful he seems to be. Thank you; I'll be leaving in the morning. Treven is ready to take full responsibilities as Randale's proxy and the Heir, Joshel knows how to contact my operatives in Karse, and Tantras can take over everything else I've been doing, just as he's done in the past.” He looked around at the various faces of the Councillors, his father included. “I'm not indispensable, you know,” he finished quietly. “No one is. You're all the most capable people I know, and if there's safety for anyone in this realm, it's in your hands, not mine, ultimately. Zhai'helleva, my friends.”
And with that, he turned and left the room before anyone else could break down-including himself.
Stefen slipped inside Vanyel's door and shut it behind him, quietly. Van was beside the bed, neatly folding clothing and stowing it away in his travel-packs. While he did not look up from his packing, Stefen knew that Vanyel was well aware he'd come in.
Stef bit his lip, unable to think of how to start, what to say. Vanyel continued to ignore his presence, perhaps hoping that Stef would become discouraged and leave. The silence lengthened, as Stefen's palms grew sweaty and his throat tighter and tighter. Finally he blurted out the first words that came into his head.
“You're not leaving without me.” He tried to make it sound defiant, but it came out plaintive. He pressed his back against the wood of the door as if he could physically bar Vanyel's way and waited for Van's response.
“Stef,” Van said without turning around, “I can't take you with me, you know that.” He sounded as distant and cold as if he were on the moon.
“Why not?” Stefen asked, around the lump in his throat. He was well aware that his words were very similar to what might be coming out of a petulant adolescent, and too anxious to care. “You're not going into Rethwellan this time. There's no one to care if we're lovers! What's the difference if I'm with you or not?”
Finally Vanyel turned around; his face was set in a stony mask, and his eyes were inward-focused, as if he was trying not to see Stef, only his shadow. “The difference is that you're not a Herald, you're not combat-trained, you can't even defend yourself from one man with a sword. You're a liability, Stef. I told you when we first -”
“How am I any safer here?” he interrupted, desperately, playing shamelessly on the guilt he knew Vanyel felt over Savil's death. “Savil wasn't safe! If someone wants to use me against you, all they have to do is wait until you're gone, and take me. Anybody who can do what's been done so far could make one of those Gate-things, grab me while everybody's asleep, and be gone before I could yell for help! You said yourself I couldn't protect myself from one man with a sword - how am I going to protect myself against something like that?”
He balled his hands into fists, to keep from gouging the wood of the door with his nails. The room was much too hot, and it was very hard to breathe. Vanyel seemed to waver for a moment, the mask cracking - then his lips tightened. The fire flared up, making his face look even harsher and more masklike.
“I don't have time for this, Stef. I have a job to do, and you're only going to get in the way.” The words were deliberately hurtful, and if Stef hadn't felt a trace of contrary emotions through the bond that tied them together, he might have fled at that moment.
He's so driven - but I can crack that shell. I have to. Just enough so that he'll let me come with him . . . but it's a mistake to bring up Savil again. That's what's driving him.
“I'm coming with you,” he said stubbornly, moving away from the door and toward Vanyel. “If you won't take me with you, I'll follow you. If you set somebody to watch me, I'll get away somehow. If you won't let me stay with you, I'll ride an hour behind you.” He stopped for a moment, then made the last two steps in a rush, taking Vanyel in his arms before the Herald could evade the embrace. Vanyel held himself away, as stiffly as the night they'd first met, but Stef hid his face in Vanyel's jerkin anyway. “I don't care what you do,” he said into Vanyel's shoulder, his cheek pressed tightly against the smooth leather. “I love you, and I'm following you. I don't care what happens to me, as long as I can be with you.”
“What about Randale?” Vanyel asked in a strange, hollow voice.
“I'm not in love with Randale,” Stef replied, a little defensively. “I'm not a Herald, you said that yourself, and I don't see that I owe him anything. There're a dozen Healers that can pain-block now; three of them can do it while Randale's awake and talking. I'm just a convenience; he doesn't need me any more, and with Treven taking over full Heir's duties, he won't even have to do anything he doesn't feel up to.”