Before Vanyel could blink, he was gone.
Morning came - but the expected summons to Star-wind’s Work Room did not. The sun rose, he wandered from room to empty room, in the small area that he knew, without finding anyone. He began to wonder if his rejection of Moondance last night had led them all to abandon him here.
Finally he found a way out into the valley itself, and stood by the rock-arch of the doorway, blinking a little at the bright sunlight, unfiltered by the tinted skylight. There were ferns the size of a small room, bushes and small trees with leaves he could have used as a rain shelter, and the larger trees, while not matching the one growing up through the middle of the “house” in girth, were still large enough that it would take five people to encircle their trunks with their arms.
:Yfandes?: he Mindcalled tentatively. He wasn’t at all sure he’d get a reply.
But he did. :Here,: she said - and a few moments later, she came frisking through the undergrowth, tail and spirits held banner-high. She nuzzled his cheek. :Are your hands better?:
He had unwrapped them this morning from their bandages, and aside from a little soreness, they seemed fine - certainly nothing near as painful as they had been last night.
. I think so.: He rested his forehead against her neck. It was incredibly comforting just to be in her presence, and hard to remember to barricade himself around her. :Where is everybody?:
:Savil is up above, in Starwind’s place.: She gave him a mental picture of a kind of many-windowed room perched in the limbs of what could only be the tree growing up through the center of the “house.” :She doesn’t much care for it, and having her up there makes Kellan nervy, but he was upset over the accident yesterday andhe feels happier up in the boughs. They’re talking.:
.-With the other k’Treva?:
:I think perhaps. :
:Where’s Moondance?:
:By himself. Thinking,: Yfandes said.
: ‘ Fandes- did I- : He swallowed. :Did I do something wrong last night?:
She looked at him reproachfully. :Yes. I think you ought to talk to him. You hurt him more deeply last night than he showed. He’s never told that story to anyone; Savil and Starwind know it, but he nevertold them. And he’s never even told Starwind how badly hestill feels. It cost him a great deal to tell it to you.:
His first reaction was guilt. His second was anger.
By his own admission, Moondance’s tragic affair had been nothing more than that - an affair doomed to be brief. How could he even beginto compare his hurt with Vanyel’s? Moondance wasn’t alone -
Moondance hadn’t murdered Starwind - just some stupid gleeman, who would have passed out of his life in a few weeks. A common player, and no great love.
Moondance still had Starwind. Would always have Starwind. Vanyel would be alone forever. So how couldMoondance compare the two of them?
Yfandes seemed to sense something of what was going onin his mind; she pulled away from him, a little, and looked - or was it felt? -offended.
That only made him angrier.
Without another word, spoken or thought, he turned on his heel and ran - away from her, away from the Tayledras- away from all of them. Ran to a little corner at the end of the vale, a sullen grove of dark, fleshy-leaved trees and ferns, where very little light ever came. He pushed his way in among them, and curled up around his misery and his anger, his stomach churning, his eyes stinging.
They don’t give a damn about me - just about what I can do. They don’t care how much I hurt, all they want is for me to do what I’m told. Savil just wants to see me tricked into being a Herald, that’s all. They don’t any of them understand! They don’t any of them know how much - I- -
He began crying silently. ‘ Lendel, ‘Lendel, they don’t know how much of me died with you. All I want is to be leftalone. Why can’t they leave mealone? Why can’t they stop trying to make me do what they want? They’re all alike, dammit, they’re just like Father, the only thing different is what they want out of me! Oh ‘Lendel- I need you so much-
He stayed there, crying off and on, until full dark-then crept as silently as he could back to the building-part of him hoping to find them waiting for him.
Only to find it as vacant as when he’d left it. In fact, only the night-lamps were burning, and those were only left for the benefit of any of the Tayledraswho might care to come down to the ground during the night. It didn’t even look as if he’d been missed.
They don’t care, he thought forlornly, surveying the empty, ill-lit rooms. They reallydon’t care. Oh, gods -
His stomach knotted up into a hard, squirming ball.
No one cares. No one ever did except ‘Lendel. And no one ever will again.
His shoulders slumped, and a second hard lump clogged his throat. He made another circuit of the rooms, but they stayed achingly, echoingly empty. No sign of anyone. No sign anyone would ever come back.
After pacing through the place until the echoes of his own footsteps were about to drive him into tears, he finally crawled into bed.
And cried himself to sleep.
Thirteen
Leareth laughed; his icy laughter echoed off the cliffs as he held up one hand and made the simplest of gestures. A mage-storm swirled into being precisely at the edge of Vanyel’s defenses. Vanyel poured power into his shielding; this was the last, the very last of his protections. He was drained, the energy-sources were drained, and he himself had taken far more damage in the duel than he would allow Leareth to know.
He was no match for the scouring blast that peeled his shields away faster than he could replace them. Leareth smiled behind his mage-storm, as if he knew that Vanyel was weakening by the moment. Sweat ran into his eyes and started to freeze there; he went to his knees, still fighting, and knowing he was going to lose. Leareth seemed not even wearied.
A final blast struck down the last of his protections. Vanyel screamed as agony such as he’d never known before arced through his body-
Vanyel woke up; the bed was soaking with sweat, and he was shaking so hard the ferns over his head quivered. He was afraid that he had screamed out loud.
But when no one came running into the room, he knew that he hadn’t; that everything had been in the dream. At least this time he hadn’t awakened anyone, and hadn’t been trapped in the dream.
Dream. Oh, gods, it isn’t just a dream. He shivered, despite the warmth of the room, and stared up through the fern fronds at the descending moon. The nightmare had him in a grasp of iron claws and would not let him go.
This is going to be real, itfeels real. It’s ForeSight. It has to be. Leareth calls me ‘ ‘Herald-Mage Vanyel,’’ and I’m in Whites. I’m dreaming my own death. This is what is going to happen to me, how I’m going to die, if I become a Herald. Alone. In terrible pain, and all alone, fighting a doomed battle.
He shivered harder, chilled by the cold of the dream, chilled even more with fear. He finally threw the covers back, grabbed his robe, and padded into the room with the hot pools, finding his way by moonlight and habit.
For this was not the first time he’d awakened in the middle of the night, dream-chilled and needing warmth. This was just the first time since he’d arrived here that the dream had been clear enough to remember.