He chanced a sideways glance across the river; Tylendel was only just reaching the pine grove. He looked away, strolled over to a stand of daylilies, admired them for a moment, then glanced across the river again. Tylendel’s blond hair gleamed against the dark boughs like a tangled skein of spun sunlight, then vanished as the branches closed behind him.
Vanyel transferred his admiration to a bed of rose vines, languidly bending to inhale their perfume, all the while counting to the requisite fifty. He had no sooner reached the required number, though, when a giggling flock of his admirers rounded a hedge, saw him, and altered their course to intersect with his.
Oh, no!he thought, dismayed, and looked surreptitiously about for an escape route, but saw no way to avoid them. Sighing, he resigned himself to the inevitable, and waited for their arrival.
“Vanyel,what are you doing out here?” asked slim, barely-adolescent Jillian, batting her sandy lashes at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be at lessons?”
Vanyel covered a wince. Itwould have to be Jillian. No common sense, and the moral fiber of a hound in heat. And after me with all the dedication you’d see in a hawk stooping on a pigeon. Lord. I hope her father marriesher off quick, or she ‘II be sleeping her way around the Court before long.
But he smiled at her, a smile with a calculated amount of pain in it. “A rotten headache, pretty one. It took me last night when the storm came in, and I cannotbe rid of it. I tried sleeping in, but - “ he shrugged. “My aunt suggestedI take a long walk.’’
The entire covey giggled in near-unison. “Suggested with a stick, I’ll bet,” dark Kertire said sardonically, squinting into the sunlight. “Sour Savil. Well, we’ll walk with youthen, and keep you from being bored,”
Vanyel bit his lip in vexation and thought quickly. “She suggestedmy course, as well,” he told them, grimacing.
“To the end of Companion’s Field and back. And I have no doubt she’s watching from her window.”
He pouted at them. “Much as I would adore your company, my pretties, I rather doubt those slippers you’re wearing are equal to a hike across a field full of - er - “
“Horseturds,” said Jesalis inelegantly, wrinkling her nose and tossing her blonde curls over her shoulder. “Bother. No, you’re right,” she continued, sticking her foot out a little, and surveying the embroidered rose-satin slipper on it with regret. “I justfinished the embroidery on these and got them back from the cobbler; I don’t want them spoiled, and they would be before we’d gotten half across.” The others murmured similar sentiments as their faces fell. “We’re nevergoing to forgive you for deserting us, Vanyel.”
“Now that’sunfair,” he exclaimed, assuming a crushed expression. “Blaming me for the orders of my crotchety old aunt!” He rolled his eyes mournfully at them.
Jesalis giggled. “We’ll only forgive you if you promise to make it up to us tonight after dinner.’’
“Tonight?” he asked, pained by the idea of spending the evening with them instead of with Tylendel as they’d planned this morning.
They mistook his expression for headache. “Well, not if you still aren’t feeling well,” Jesalis amended.
“After a tramp across a perilous obstacle course like that,’’he gestured flamboyantly at the Field across the river, ‘ ‘I much doubt I ‘m going to be feeling better.’’
“Well - “
“A bargain; if you’ll forgive me, I’ll come and play for you while you’re doing finework tomorrow morning,” he said, quite desperately, willing to promise them almost anything to avoid losing his evening, and recalling that they’d all been pestering him to play for them. Before it hadn’t been possible; it would have hurt too much. Now, though - well, becoming - or not becoming - a Bard didn’t seem all that important anymore. And consequently the thought of music didn’t hurt anymore. Or not as much. Certainly it was a small price to pay for having his evening free.
“You will?” squealed Wendi, whose older sister was fostered with Vanyel’s mother. “Really? Ratha told me you were as good as a Bard!”
“Well,” he shrugged, then smirked, “I won’t say I’m a bad hand at the lute. And I know a ballad and a dance or two.”
“Done,” said Jesalis. “A bargain.”
“Bless you, my dear,” he replied, with honest thankfulness. “I wouldn’t be able to live without your forgiveness. Now, if you’ll all excuse me - the sooner I get this nonsense over, the sooner I’ll be able to go back to my bed.”
They giggled and turned back, retracing their footsteps. While he watched them, they disappeared behind the hedge again, heading in the direction of the maze.
When they were safely out of sight, he trudged - to all appearances, mostunwillingly - across the bridge and up a little rise, heading a little indirectly for the pine grove.
He went past it, walking through soft grasses that ranged from knee-high to closely cropped. And despite what he had told the girls, there were no “traps” lurking beneath the grass for the unwary. That didsurprise him, a bit; he was no stranger to long walks across pastureland and the hazards thereof.
What on earth do the Companions do - drop it all in one corner? I suppose- the stories say they’re as intelligent as a human. I suppose it’s possible. Likely, really. They stilleat grass, like horses, and who’d want to eat in the privy?
After first making certain that there was no one about to see him, Vanyel doubled back to the pine grove, and pushed aside the heavy, scratchy boughs. He almost had to force his way past them; the needles caught in his hair and clothing and the branches closed over his head almost immediately, shutting off most of the sunlight. A few feet inside the grove there was no direct light; he walked through a pine-scented twilight gloom, with boughs lacing together just barely above his head, and a thick carpet of dry needles at his feet. The needles crunched a little, releasing more piny scent, but otherwise his own footsteps were almost noiseless. Some
where in the distance he could hear birds calling, but their songs seemed to be furlongs away. This place looked enormous now that he was inside it, much larger than it had appeared from outside; magical, almost mystical, and far removed from the bright green-and-gold Field just a few feet away.
This wasn’t theGrove; that was a good deal farther into the Field - but this stand of ancient pines was giving Vanyel a pleasant, shivery sort of feeling, making him feel somehow more aware and alive.
“ ‘Lendel?” he called softly into the blue-green quiet under the pine boughs, his voice muffled by the rows of straight, columnar trunks of shaggy ebony all about him. He turned, slowly, trying to see past the shadows; peering beneath the feathery branches.
“Right here,” came the reply from slightly behind him, and a white shape ghosted up on his right, resolving itself into -
A Companion. The first that Vanyel had ever seen at close range. And Tylendel beside her, one hand on her snowy, arched neck.
“This is who I wanted you to meet. Van - this is Gala. She already knows about you, Van, she knew last night. We’re mind-linked; I told her everything, and she wanted to see you right away.”
Vanyel felt strange and awkward. Those sapphire eyes held an intelligence that was rather frightening, but the formwas a horse. How in the Havensdid you introduce yourself to a horse?
The silence grew; he stared into Gala’s eyes, swallowed, and finally made the attempt.
“Hullo,” he said, shyly, looking straight into those eyes and hoping to speak directly to the intelligence there; trying to ignore the fact that he was feeling more than a bit intimidated and foolish. “I - I hope you don’t mind - “