Kaylene took the box. She looked up at him, tears growing in her eyes. He reached out and touched her shoulder.
And then she was not looking at him at all but at something past him.
A good day to be alive.
Lelia sat at the base of the hill, leaning against a spreading oak. The ride had been long and draining, and the nightly lullabies weren’t as easy on her as she let on. It felt good to sit, and rest, and breathe.
The sorrow unfolded in miniature on the hill. Kaylene clutched the box. Wil touched her shoulder, and Vehs bent his head. Lelia dashed tears from her own eyes.
Something stirred in the brush to her right. Something big.
Her heart skipped a beat.
She extended her Gift, as she’d done that first night she’d sung Wil to sleep, and she felt it—that oddly familiar presence—
Familiar, because it was a Companion that stepped silently from the trees. Odd, because this Companion should not be. His tack was heavily worn and stained with mud. A bit of frayed rope trailed behind him, one end still secured to his saddle.
The saddle . . .
Lelia’s eyes traced the name worked into the leather, and her mouth formed a silent “oh.” She used the tree to clamber to her feet and put a hand out to the Companion.
Up on the hill, a voice called, “Alrek?”
Kaylene pushed past Wil, shoving Elene’s box back into his hands. Wil turned to see the Bard slowly making her way up the hill, a Companion beside her.
:Vehs?:
:It’s him.:
“Alrek,” Kaylene said again, hoarsely. She stumbled forward and wrapped her arms around the Companion’s neck, weeping.
:I am sorry,: an unfamiliar mind-voice said, and by the startled look on Lelia’s face, Wil guessed that they all heard it. :I did not protect her. I did not bring her home.: Lelia looked down and away, tears on her cheeks. :I am so sorry.:
“You brought her home plenty of times.” Kaylene stepped back. “And you brought yourself home.” She stroked his cheek. “That’s more’n I had before.”
The Companion sank to his knees, Kaylene kneeling beside him. “It’s all right,” she whispered, over and over. “Oh, dearie, I know you did your best.”
:I did not protect her.:
:Alrek,: Wil Mindspoke to him.
The Companion looked up, agony in his eyes.
:Why have you been following me?: Wil asked.
:She—: Alrek bent his head. :I don’t know why, but she . . . is near you, somehow. I feel my Chosen watching over you! She—: The Companion keened, a low, soft sound that broke Wil’s heart. :I killed her!:
Wil glanced at Kaylene. Alrek had not projected their conversation to her, for which Wil was grateful. As much as anyone could, he understood the why of it all now. But Kaylene did not need that burden.
Reaching out with his mind, Wil showed the grief-crazed Companion what he himself had Seen, night after night—what only a strange twist of Foresight could know. Threads of time not as they would be woven, but as they had been.
Elene in the water—fumbling for her belt knife—the weight of the log—sawing at the lead line until it broke—
The water carrying her away . . .
The Companion shuddered, then sighed. His head came to rest on the grass, his eyes closing.
“Go on,” Wil said, softly. “She’s waiting.”
With Vehs and Wil’s permission, Kaylene took a lock of Alrek’s white hair. She tucked it into the carved box, alongside Elene’s things.
All of Boarsden came to bury the Companion. The sun was heading for the west by the time Wil and Lelia left, the Bard riding behind him, thin arms circling his waist.
:Chosen,: Vehs said.
:Hm?:
:You should really visit your father sometime.:
Wil stiffened. :Maybe someday.:
“What’s wrong?” Lelia asked.
“Nothing,” Wil replied, making a conscious effort to relax his shoulders. “What are they feeding you in the Palace? Water and moonbeams? You’re practically all bones.”
“Moonbeams? Bright Lady, no. Too fattening.” But the jest sounded faltering at best, and he wondered.
They spent the night at the inn. Lelia was departing early. There was no talk of singing tonight; Wil had a feeling he wouldn’t need it anymore.
:How often does this sort of thing happen, Vehs?: Wil asked.
:A Companion surviving his Herald? Not often. The shock alone . . . I don’t know how Alrek endured it.:
:Promise me you wouldn’t do something like this. Please.:
Vehs went quiet. Then, :Do you jest? After putting up with a Chosen like you, I’ll be galloping for the Bright Havens when my time comes!:
Wil snorted, set his empty cup aside and headed for the stairs.
:That’s truly morbid.:
:Be glad I don’t take a head start!:
:Yes, yes,: Wil thought, smirking as he opened the door to his room. :I’m such a burden on—:
Lelia was curled up on his bed. She opened an eye as he entered and smiled.
Wil stood very still, finding it suddenly hard to breathe.
:Good night, “Vanyel,”: Vehs murmured.
“So. I was thinking,” Lelia said.
“Yes?” Wil managed.
Lelia pushed back the covers. “To the hells with our professional relationship.”
He groped for words and finally said, “This wasn’t what I meant by tucking me in.”
She laughed, and she was still laughing as he kicked the door shut behind him and went to her.
Chapter 10 - The Bride’s Task - Michael Z. Williamson and Gail L. Sanders
Keth’re’son shena Tale’sedrin was learning weapons work: the sword. This would have been useful to know for his journey to Valdemar, but his people were warriors from horseback and with the bow–not with the sword and dagger and on foot. He stepped aside from a sweep, blocked and countered, but his teacher parried that and beat back at him.
:But no knowledge is ever wasted, Chosen. You won’t always have a horse to hand. What if I were injured? Just because your people haven’t done something before, it doesn’t mean that it’s not a valid way to do things.:
Keth’ replied, :I know, “There is no one true way.” But it’s taking some getting used to. Traditions have always played a strong role in the life of a Shin’a’in; they had to.:
:Right now, you need to pay attention to your role here, or the weaponsmaster is going to give you the “traditional” bruises.:
:You know, I would probably be doing something like this at home as well. I wonder how Nerea is doing with her lessons; she was always better with the bow than me.:
:You miss her.:
:Did you really expect that to change? We are pledged. She’s why I work so hard at these lessons. I only hope that she’ll wait until I can return. I’m not sure she understood why I had to come up here when I wasn’t sure myself.:
Yssanda was silent.
“There’s a herd of horses in the Palace courtyard,” one guard said.
“Why is there a herd of horses in the courtyard?” asked the other.
“I don’t know, but isn’t that a Shin’a’in on the back of one of them?”
“Sure looks like it. Heya, it’s a girl! And look, she’s getting down.”
“Do you think we should tell somebody?”
Sergeant of the Guard Selwin spoke loudly behind them, “Yes, you halfwits, I think you should tell somebody! You, Rolin, go get Herald Captain Kerowyn. At a run! You, Vark, suggest to the young lady that she should stay outside the Palace door.”
“Yes, sir!” the two guards saluted in unison and moved with a sense of purpose.
Shaking his head, the young guard sergeant moved toward what seemed to be an escalating argument. The burly guard was having an increasingly difficult time with the slim Shin’a’in, who seemed determined to simply get through that door. He’d managed so far without actually laying a hand on her, but it didn’t appear that was going to last very much longer. She wasn’t so much aggressive as persistent.