She bent her head, and quickly wiped her eyes, all coquettishness gone. "I - you know how I feel. Couldn't you - pretend? It would make Lady Treesa and Lord Withen awfully happy. And I wouldn't mind, really I wouldn't."
He looked away from those sad, sad eyes. The offer was terribly tempting. But ultimately, a lie. "I know it would make them happy, but I'm a Herald, Melenna. I can't tell lies - how could I live one? And you would care, eventually. It would make you very unhappy. There are other men - shay'a'chern - who've talked with me, who tried just what you're suggesting. In the end, instead of two people who were only moderately happy most of the time, there were two people who were desperately unhappy all the time. The wife was jealous of his lovers, and his lovers were jealous of her, and it went downhill from there." He shook his head. "No, my friend, it won't work. I'm sorry."
She wiped another tear away. "I'm sorry, too," she said. "But to tell you the truth, I'm mostly sorry for myself, and a little bit for Treesa." She sighed. "Can I - ask you a favor? And you can say no. It's about Medren."
"If it's about Medren, the answer is probably 'yes,' " he said. "Your son is a delight to any musician, and a charmer all by himself."
"Would you - sort of be his guardian until he's settled? He's never been away from home at all. I know he isn't shy, but that's the problem. He seems a lot older than he really is, and that's my fault, I guess. He could get in with a faster crowd than he can handle."
He stared at her, astounded. "You'd trust me - ?”
She returned his astonished stare levelly. "I'm not very clever, sometimes," she replied, "but I listen, I listen a lot. You're very honorable, and in all the stories about you and - others, there's only been men. Not boys. Besides, Medren told me how he offered to pay for lessons, and how you turned him down. Yes, I trust you. I'll always trust you. I've loved you, Vanyel ... for a very long time."
Greatly moved, Vanyel took her hand and kissed the back of it gently. "Then I will be very honored to see Medren settled properly," he replied. "And I can only pray that I will always be worthy of your trust."
She got up before he could say another word, and headed for the door - Only to be run over by the rush of people crowding in, as the door slammed open.
"Now look, you peabrain - " Savil was shouting, as Vanyel's head began to spin.
"Look yourself,” Withen shouted back, shaking his finger at her. "The damned Lineans won't accept anything but the boy!"
"But he's a Herald,” Lores wailed over the din.
Vanyel's head began to spin, and he clutched the edge of his table. Rescue came from an unexpected source.
“Shut UP!'' Jervis roared, in a tone of voice that hearkened back to the parade ground.
Silence descended so suddenly that Vanyel's ears rang.
"Would someone mind explaining what all this is about?" he whispered into it.
"Let me see if I have all this straight," he said, after everyone had said his or her piece - except Melenna, who'd found herself trapped by the influx of people and hadn't had the courage to push past them to escape. "Tashir now holds both thrones according to the treaty. Now that he's been acquitted, the Lineans are willing to accept him, and the Bairens are willing to take about anybody so long as it isn't a Mavelan. The problems with this are: first, he's a Herald, which means he has to be trained, and would normally mean he'd abdicate lands and titles; second, he doesn't want to be a King; third, he's very young, which would be a temptation to others to come and attack, and would drag Valdemar into defending his kingdom for him."
"Something like that," Withen admitted, as the others nodded.
"Why me?" he demanded. "Why am I suddenly the arbitrator?"
Savil flourished a piece of parchment. "Because according to this little piece of paper I have, under Randale's official seal, you understand the problems, so you're appointed full and final authority."
:I'II get you for this, Savil :
:You can try.:
He massaged his temples, and wished for wine. "All right, let's take this slowly. First of all, we've waived the rules for Heralds before when they were the only heirs. It isn't done often, but I think it's called for in this case. Lores, your Gift is Fetching, right?"
Startled, the Herald nodded.
"Fine, I hereby appoint you Tashir's mentor, to stay with him and teach him until you feel he's ready for Whites. You can serve double duty that way; mentor and envoy. Now - Tashir, would you be willing to take the ruling seat if we arranged for you to make the two lands a vassal-state? That means you are holding the lands of Randale, and it would make them part of Valdemar.''
Tashir considered that for a moment, his face sober. "D-does it have to be - do I have to be a King? I don't want to be a King. It's pretty stupid, anyway, to be a King of something you can ride across in a few days."
"Provided you can get your people to agree, I can't see what difference it makes."
"Then I'll be a Baron," Tashir replied, sitting up very straight. "Lord-Baron of the March of Lineas-Baires. If there aren't any straight-line heirs, it all goes back to Valdemar.''
Vanyel sighed his relief. If Tashir hadn't been willing to take the damned power seat - civil wars were not what Valdemar needed on the Border.
"Now, when there's a ruler as young as you, he usually has a Council of older people to advise him - "
"There isn't one," Tashir interrupted. "Father had one, but they all died."
"True. Have you any objections to my appointing you one?"
Tashir shook his head, and Vanyel plowed on before anyone could stop him. "First Councilor and Chamberlain, Herald Lores. Second Councilor and Seneschal, Kaster Ashkevron. He's Meke's right hand, Father, and he's Meke's accountant. Any objections so far?"
Withen snapped his mouth shut on whatever he was going to say, and shook his head.
"Right. Third Councilor, have somebody sent over from your local temple - pick a scholar. Fourth Councilor, the current Chief Elder of Highjorune. Fifth Councilor - huh. You'll need a Marshal, a good military advisor, I would think. Jervis."
"Huh?" Jervis responded, "I what?"
"He'll be very good," Vanyel continued before he could object, "and Radevel is certainly capable of taking over here as armsmaster. And since you're a bachelor, you'll need a Castelaine - otherwise you're never going to have cooked meals or clean shirts." He went blank for a moment-until his eyes fell on Melenna.