Mercedes Lackey - Heralds of Valdemar 2 - Arrow's Flight

Paface-Cottegia at Haven (Capital)

Prologue

Long ago—so long ago that the details of the conflict are lost and only the

merest legends remain—the world of Velgarth was wracked by sorcerous wars. The

population was decimated. The land quickly turned to wilderness and was given

over to the forest and the magically-engendered creatures that had been used

to fight those wars, while the people who remained flecv^p the eastern

coastline, there to resume their shattered lives. Humans are resilient

creatures, however, and it was not overlong before the population once again

was on the increase, and folk began to move westward again, building new

kingdoms out of the wilderness.

One such kingdom was Valdemar. Founded by the once-Baron Valdemar and those of

his people who had chosen exile with him rather than facing the wrath of a

selfish and cruel monarch, it lay on the very western-and-northernmost edge of

the civilized world. In part due to the nature of its founders, the monarchs

of Valdemar welcomed fugitives and fellow exiles, and the customs and habits

of its people had over the years become a polyglot patchwork. In point of

fact, the one rule by which the monarchs of Valdemar governed their people was

"There is no 'one, true way.'"

8

MERCEDES LACKEY

Governing such an ill-assorted lot of subjects might have been impossible—had

it not been for the Heralds of Valdemar.

The Heralds served many functions; they were administrative overseers,

dispensers of justice, information gatherers, even temporary military

advisors; answerable only to the Monarch and their own circle of peers. Such a

system might have seemed ripe for abuse—it would have been, but for the

Companions,

To the unknowing eye, a Companion would seem little more than an

extraordinarily graceful white horse. They were far more than that. Sent by

some unknown power or powers at the pleading of King Valdemar himself, it was

the Companions who chose new Heralds, forging between themselves and their

Chosen a mind-to-mind bond that only death could sever. While no one knew

precisely how intelligent they were, it was generally agreed that their

capabilities were at least as high as those of their human partners.

Companions could (and did) Choose irrespective of age and sex, although they

tended to Choose youngsters just entering adolescence, and more boys were

Chosen than girlvThe one commonality among the Chosen (other than a specific

personality type; patient, unselfish, responsible, and capable of heroic

devotion to duty) was at least a trace of psychic ability. Contact with a

Companion and continued development of the bond enhanced whatever latent

paranormal capabilities lay within the Chosen, With time, as these Gifts

became better understood, ways were developed to train and use them to the

fullest extent to which the individual was capable. Gradually the Gifts

displaced in importance whatever knowledge of "true magic" was left in

Valdemar, until there was no record of how such magic had ever been learned or

used.

So the governing of Valdemar evolved; the Monarch, advised by his Council,

made the laws; the Heralds dispensed the laws and saw that they were

ARROWSFUCHT 9

observed. The Heralds themselves were nearly incapable of becoming corrupted

or potential abusers of their temporal power; the Chosen were by nature

remarkably self-sacrificing—their training only reinforced this. They had to

be—there was a better than even chance that a Herald would die in the line of

duty. But they were human for all of that; mostly young, mostly living on the

edge of danger—so, it was inevitable that outside of their duty they tended to

be a bit hedonistic and anything but chaste. And only seldom did a Herald form

a tie beyond that of brotherhood and the pleasures of the moment—perhaps

because the bond of brotherhood was so very strong, and because the Herald-

Companion bond left little room for any other permanent ties. For the most

part, few of the common or noble folk held this against them—knowing that, no

matter how wanton a Herald might be on leave, the moment he donned his snowy

uniform he was another creature altogether, for a Herald in Whites was a

Herald on duty, and a Herald on duty had no time for anything outside of that

duty, least c-^ «U the frivolity of his own pleasures. Still, there were those

who held other opinions ... some of them in high places.

Laws laid down by the first King decreed that the Monarch himself must also be

a Herald. Thus it was ensured that the ruler of Valdemar could never be the

kind of tyrant who had caused the founders to flee their own homes.

Second in importance to the Monarch was the Herald known as the "King's (or

Queen's) Own." Chosen by a special Companion—one that never seemed to age

(though it was possible to kill him) and was always a stallion—the Queen's Own

held the special position of confidant and most trusted friend and advisor to

the ruler. Thus the Monarchs of Valdemar were assured that they would always

have at least one person about them who could be trusted and counted on at all

times. This tended to make for

10

MERCEDES LACKEY

stable and confident rulers—and thus, a stable and dependable government

For generations it seemed that King Valdemar had planned his government

perfectly. But the best-laid plans are still capable of being circumvented by

accident or chance.

In the reign of King Sendar, the kingdom of Karse (that bordered Valdemar to

the south-east) hired a nomadic nation of mercenaries to attack Valdemar, In

the ensuing war, Sendar was killed, and his daughter, Selenay, assumed the

throne, herself having only recently completed her Herald's training. The

Queen's Own, an aged Herald called Talamir, was frequently confused and

embarrassed at having to advise a young, headstrong, and attractive female. As

a result, Selenay made an ill-advised marriage, one that nearly cost her both

her throne and her life.

The issue of that marriage, the Heir-presumptive, was a female child whom

Selenay called Elspeth. Elspeth came under the influence of the nurse

Selenay's husband had brought jf$?m his own land, and became an intractable,

spo&£ ijrat. It became obvious that if things went on as they were tending,

the girl would never be Chosen, and thus could never inherit. This would leave

Seienay with two choices; marry again (with the attendant risks) and attempt

to produce another, more suitable Heir, or declare someone already Chosen and

with the proper bloodline to be Heir. Or, somehow, salvage the Heir-

presumptive. Talamir had a plan—one that it seemed had a good chance of

success—which involved sending the child into fosterage in a remote province,

away from the influence of the nurse and Court, with those who could be

counted upon to take no nonsense from her.

Then Talamir was murdered, throwing the situation into confusion again. His

Companion, Rolan, Chose a new Queen's Own—but instead of picking

ARROWS FLIGHT

11

an adult or someone already a full Herald, Chose an adolescent girl named

Talia.

Talia was of Holderkin—a puritanical Border group which did its best to

discourage knowledge of outsiders. Talia had no idea what it meant to have a

Herald's Companion accost her, and then (apparently) carry her off. Among her

people, females held very subordinate positions, and nonconformity was

punished immediately and harshly. And since Talia herself was ill-suited to a

subordinate role, she was constantly being told that everything she said or

did was wrong at best, and evil at worst. She was ill-prepared for the new

world of the Heralds and their Collegium. The one thing she did have

experience in was the handling and schooling of children, for she had been the

teacher to her Holding's younger members from the time she was nine.

But she managed—to find a true home among the Heralds, and to civilize the

Brat. Now the year-and-a-half of Field duty awaited her—and a trial she never

dreamed of having to pass.

One

Thwack!

The flat of Alberich's practice-blade cracked against Talia's ill-guarded

side. She hadn't seen the blow coming, she truly hadn't. That had hurt, and

she would lay money on having a bruise despite the padded jerkin that had

absorbed most of the blow. The practice blades may have only been wood, but

Alberich tended to wield them{all the harder for that.

"Faugh!" he spat in disgust, and came at her again before she had recovered

from the last blow. This time he connected with her knife-arm, right at the

elbow. She yelped, the arm went numb, and she lost her blade entirely.

The hawklike eyes glared at her with no trace of pity, and the scar-seamed

face was a demonic mask as he passed judgment on her performance.

He was at least in his mid-forties, if not older, but he hadn't lost a

fraction of his edge or agility in the five years Talia had known him. She was

panting with exertion—he might as well have been taking a leisurely stroll.

His well-worn, dark leathers (he was the only working Herald in Talia's

experience who never wore Whites) showed not so much as a tiny sweat stain.

The afternoon sun pouring down on all

12

/ARROW'S FLIGHT

13

of them had made him look as thin and insubstantial as a shadow. And he had

been just as hard to catch.

"A pity it is that Skif is not here to see you. Die of lau^mer he surely

would!" he growled. "Eighteen you are—one would think you eight. Slow, clumsy,

and stupid! Paugh! Had I been a real assassin—"

"I would have died of fright before you touched me."

"Now it is jokes! This is a battle-practice—not a comedy. If I wish amusement,

I shall find a jester. Once again—and correctly, this time."

Once she was ready to drop with exhaustion, he turned his attention to

Elspeth. Now that both of them deserved special tutelage he had changed the

hour of their lessons to one shared by no one else, so that he could give his

full devotion to the Queen's Own and Heir-presumptive. Rather than being held

on the training grounds outside, the two had their drills in the salle. This

was a barn-like building with a sanded wooden floor, lined with mirrors, with

high derestory windows to admit the maximum amount of light. Lessons were

always held here during inclement weather, but it was too small for mass

practices and classes for the combined Heraldic-Bardic-Healer's Collegium

students. Only those "privileged" to receive private lessons with Alberich

took those lessons habitually in the salle.

Now that his attention was off her, Talia found her thoughts drifting back to

her surprise of this afternoon.

Talia tugged and wriggled impatiently until she had succeeded in getting the

supple, soft, white leather tunic over her head. Pulling it into place over

the White raime shirt and leather breeches, she finally turned to admire the

effect in the polished metal mirror in front of her.

"Havens!" she laughed, not a little surprised, "Why don't the Grays ever look

like this?"

14

MERCEDES LACKEY

"Because," a harsh voice drawled from the next room, "You youngsters would

have your minds on anything but your studies if they did!"

Talia laughed, turned back to the mirror, and preened. Today was the

anniversary of her first class at Herald's Collegium—a fact that she'd

forgotten until Keren and Sherrill (senior Heralds both, and instructors at

the Collegium as well as Talia's longtime friends) arrived at her room with

their arms full of white uniforms and wearing broad grins.

For the Heraldic Circle had considered—for less than five minutes, all told—

had voted—and had passed Talia into full Herald status with the rest of her

year-mates—no surprise to anyone in the Collegium, though by tradition the

trainees were not to know when they were to be evaluated until the evaluation

had already been made and they had passed.

Keren and Sherrill had claimed the right to give her the good news.

They didn't even give her a chance to think, either— just appeared at her

door, swept her up one on either side, and herded her down the long, dark

wood-paneled hall of the Collegium dormitory, down the stairs to the first

floor, and out the double doors

at the end.

From there they had taken her off to the Seneschal's office to claim her new

quarters. Now she stood in the bedroom of the suite she'd chosen, marveling at

her reflection.

"I look like a real grownup for a change!"

"That is the general idea, Sherrill laughed richly.

She cocked her head to one side, regarding the tiny, slender figure in the

mirror. Her unruly red-brown curls were as tousled as ever, but somehow gave

an impression now of being tumbled the way they were on purpose. The huge,

deep-brown eyes that had been utterly guileless seemed somehow wiser; the

heart-shaped face no longer so childlike. And all that change wrought by the

magic of a new uniform!

ARROWS FLIGHT

15

"Talia, your head is going to swell like a spongetoad in rainy season if

you're not careful." Keren interrupted her train of thought a second time. By

craning her neck to peer around the doorframe Talia could see the riding

instructor grinning sardonically from where she was sprawled on the wooden-

backed, red-cushioned couch in the other room.

"Don't you know what the Book of the One says?" Sherrill added piously over

her mate's shoulder. ** 'Great pride shall earn equal humiliation.' "

Talia left her bedroom to join them. They were lounging comfortably in her

sparsely-furnished outer room, sharing the lone couch.

"I suppose you're both going to claim that you never spent so much as a minute

in front of the mirror when you first got^our Whites," Talia taunted,

strolling toward them with her hands clasped behind her back.

"Who? Me?" Sherrill replied in artificial innocence, lifting an airy hand and

batting thick black lashes over wide hazel eyes. "And feed my vanity? W-e-1-1,

maybe a little"

"I happen to know for a fact that you spent half the day there. I'm told you

were trying every hairstyle you could twist that black mane of yours into,

seeing which one went best with the new outfits," Keren countered dryly,

running her fingers through her own close-cropped, graying brown hair.

Sherrill just grinned and crossed her legs elegantly, leaning back into the

cushions. "Since I can't claim equal knowledge of what you did on that august

occasion, that's hardly a fair blow."

**Oh, I did my share of mirror-gazing," Keren admitted with mock reluctance.

"When you're as scrawny as a sapling and flat as a boy, it's rather

astonishing to see yourself in something that actually flatters you. I swear I

don't know how they do it— .it's the same pattern for everybody, and not that

dissimilar from the Student Grays—"

16

MERCEDES LACKEY

"But Lord, the difference!" Sheri concluded for her. "I don't know of anybody

who doesn't look fantastic in their Whites. Even Dirk manages to look

presentable. Rumpled, but presentable."

"Well, what do you think of me?" Talia asked, turning on her toes in front of

them, and grinning impishly into Keren's eyes.

"What do I think? That you look fabulous, you young demon. Keep fishing for

compliments, though, and I'll likely dump you in the horse trough. Have they

told you anything about your internship?"

Talia shook her head, and clasped her hands behind her again. "No. All they

said was that the Herald they want to pair me with is in the field, and they

won't tell me who it is."

"That's pretty much to be expected. They don't want you to have time to think

of things to impress him with," Sherrill replied. Suddenly her eyes sparkled

with mischief. "Oh, but I can think of one prospect that would give Nerrissa a

litter of kittens!"

"Who?" Talia asked, head to one side.

"Kris and Dirk are due back in the next few weeks, and Dirk got the last

greenie—as you should know, since it was Skif—so it's Kris' turn next! Nessa

would die!"

"Sheri, it's only my internship assignment."

"A year and a half Sector-riding, most of it spent alone together, and you say

it's only an assignment? Talia, you must have ice water for blood! Do you have

any notion of the number of hours Nessa—and half the females of the Circle,

for that matter—spend on their knees praying for an assignment like that? Are

you sure you don't have leanings our way?"

Talia chuckled, and wrinkled her nose at them. "Quite sure, darlings. Just

what is Kris' attraction for Nessa, anyway? She's got most of the males of the

Circle panting at her heels as it is,"

"The lure of the unattainable, or so I would surmise," Keren supplied, lids

half-closed lazily with

ARROWS FLIGHT

17

only a glint of brown iris showing. "He hasn't taken a vow of chastity, but

he's so circumspect about his dalliances you'd never know it. It drives Nessa

wild, and the harder she chases, the faster he runs. She's as caught up now by

the chase as by the face."

"Well, she can chase him all she wants. / am not at all impressed by Kris'

handsome face," Talia replied firmly.

"Or the gorgeous body—?" interjected Sherrill.

"Or the gorgeous body. Nessa can have all the gorgeous bodies in the Circle,

for all I care. Holderkin men are handsome specimens, and I can do without

diem—my father could have given Kris stiff competition in his younger days,

and I've told you what kind of a petty tyrant he was. And my late-but-not-

Uunented brother Justus was actually handsomer, if you favor blonds, and he

was the foulest person I've ever known. I'd rather have a good heart and plain

packaging."

"Yes, but Kris is a Herald—" Sherrill pointed out, tapping one long finger on

her knee for emphasis. "That guarantees the good heart without having to

settle for a homely exterior. No handsome, smiling bastards in our ranks—"

"Sheri, this is all sheer speculation. Until I find out who I'm interning

with, I refuse to worry about the subject," Talia replied firmly.

"You are no fun at all."

"I never said I was."

"Hmm. Dirk's interning that scalawag Skif—" Keren said thoughtfully. "You and

Skif were very thick there for a while. In fact, as I recall, you and he had a

rumor or two floating about your heads. Is that why you aren't interested in

Dirk's partner?"

"Maybe," Talia smiled enigmatically. The fact that their "romance" had been

entirely without any result was Skif s secret—and hers. The streak of ill-luck

and accident that had plagued their meetings had not had any effect on tneir

friendship: except that

18

MERCEDES LACKEY

they had never managed to be more than just that— friends. Oddly enough,

though, except for a brief period of anxiety when word had come that Skif had

been hurt during his first three months in the field, Talia had thought less

of Skif, and more of his counselor. To her own amazement—and for no reason,

logical or fanciful that she could think of—when her thoughts strayed in the

direction of the former thief and his internship assignment, it was in Dirk's

direction that they tended to wander. This was annoying; she'd met the man all

of three times in her life, and had never been in his company for more than an

hour or two at most. Yet, that homely face and those wonderful blue eyes kept

lingering stubbornly in her thoughts. It did not make sense.

She shook her head to free it of those fanciful images. She had little enough

time, and had none to spare in daydreams.

"Well, this little wardrobe change of yours ought to surprise little Elspeth,"

Sherrill said, changing the

subject.

"Oh, Lady Bright—" Talia sat down with a thump on one of her cushions, joy

extinguished. It almost seemed to her at that moment that the bright sun-rays

pouring through her windows had dimmed.

"Poor Elspeth—" "Something up?" Keren asked, one eyebrow rising.

"Just the usual."

"What's usual? You know I don't get around the

Court."

"Intrigue rising beyond gossip. She's almost fourteen and still not Chosen;

there's muttering in the Court that she's still the Brat under the skin and

she'll never be Chosen. In Council meetings one or more of the Councilors is

usually trying to pressure Selenay into naming an Heir—'pro tern,' as they put

it—" "Who?" Sherrill asked in alarm, sitting straight up.

"Who's stirring up the water?"

ARROWS FLIGHT

19

"You know I can't tell you that! Anyway it isn't just those particular

Councilors; it's more than half of the Court. Elspeth doesn't say much, but

it's got her very depressed, poor baby. Their timing couldn't be worse. She's

already moody enough with the normal adolescent woes, and this has got her in

near-tears on a regular basis. When I'm not getting my shoulder soggy, I keep

finding her at Companion's Field whenever she's free, sort of lurking—"

"Hoping any minute to be Chosen. Gods, no wonder she's wearing a long face

whenever I see her. What's Rolan got to say about this?"

"Be damned if 1 know!" Talia gifted Keren with a look of exasperation. 'Tow

know he doesn't Mindspeak me in words."

"Sorry," Keren winced, "I keep forgetting."

"He's worried, but it could be as much over the machinations and power-

maneuverings at Court as anything else. The current candidates are Jeri,

Kemoc, and your oh-so-lovely Kris."

"Wonderful people in and of themselves," Keren observed, "But with some not-

so-wonderful relatives lurking in the family trees. One would think Kris'

uncle Lord Orthallen would have his hands full enough as chief Councilor

without wanting to be the Heir's uncle—"

"That man will never have enough power to satisfy him," Talia snapped

bitterly.

Keren raised an eyebrow at the outburst, and continued. "Kemoc's horde of lazy

cousins would swarm ihe Court, looking for sinecures—and Kemoc's such a soft

touch he'd try to manage it. And Jeri—Lady Bright! Her mother!"

"We'd have a battle royal every day between Jeri and Lady Indra over how

Jeri's Council votes should go. I wish her husband would lock her away. Or buy

a gag for her."

"Amen. Pity none of them come without baggage.

20

MERCEDES LACKEY

Not my idea of a fun situation. And poor catling caught in the middle."

Talia sighed in agreement. "Speaking of no fun, I'd better scramble. Alberich

informed me in no uncertain terms that my new status does not exempt me from

his special lessons. I have the sinking feeling that he intends to slap my

inflated pride down to pre-student levels, and probably with the flat of his

blade."

"Can I watch?" Keren asked wickedly.

"Why not? Elspeth's always there, and there's nothing like being worse at

something than a thirteen-year-old girl to really deflate your opinions of

yourself. Well, that ought to reinflate her self-esteem a bit. Ah, me, it's a

pity to have to get these lovely new clothes all over dirt and sweat—"

As they descended the cool darkness of the spiral-ing staircase, Keren and

Sherrill in the lead with their arms casually linked, Talia reflected that

bringing them together was probably the best thing she'd ever done. The bond

between them was easily as strong as the one Keren had shared with Visa—and

had Ylsa lived, they might very well have formed one of the relatively rare,

permanent threesomes. There was no doubt that they were very good for each

other. Poor Ylsa ...

Talia's chosen living quarters were at the very top of her tower at the end of

the Herald's wing. The suites in the four towers were seldom used—probably

because they were more than a bit inconvenient. The walk up and down the

darkened stone staircase was a long one, but she felt that the view (and the

privacy) were worth it.

But the trudge was likely to bring complaints from Talia's friends—and Keren

voiced the first of many.

"I'll tell you one thing, my fine young Herald," Keren grumbled a little when

they finally reached the ground floor. "Visiting with you on a regular

ARROWS FLIGHT

21

basis is going to keep your friends in shape. Why you chose to roost with the

birds is beyond me."

"Do you truly want to know why I chose that particular suite?" Talia asked

with a grin.

"Say on."

"Pray remember, if you will, what my Gift is—I'm an empath, not a mindspeaker.

Either of you remember who my neighbor was?"

"Mm. Destria, wasn't it?" Sherrill replied after thought. "Turned out to be a

good Field Herald, despite her—ah—"

"Randiness," Keren supplied with a hint of grin. "That girl! Anything in Grays

or Whites, so long as it was male! Havens, when did she ever have time to

study?"

"Then you both know about her habit of 'entertaining' with great frequency

and—um—enthusiasm. What I couldn't shield I could most certainly hear! Between

her nocturnal activities and Rolan's, I got a quite thorough education, let me

assure you! That's when I swore my privacy was worth any inconvenience. I

don't want to eavesdrop on anyone else's fun ever again, and I certainly don't

want anyone eavesdropping on mine!"

"Talia, I don't believe a word of it," Sherrill giggled. "What could you

possibly have to fear from eavesdroppers? You're practically a temple virgin

compared with the rest of us!"

"You ought to believe it, since it's all true. Well, here's where we part

company. Wish me luck—I'm going to need it!"

Pity that they hadn't wished her luck—she might have gotten a few less

bruises. Talia fanned herself with a towel while she paced back and forth to

keep from stiffening up, and watched Elspeth with un-: forced enjoyment. The

girl was a pleasure to observe, moving through the sparring bout with the

grace and agility of a dancer, and making it all seem

22

MERCEDES LACKEY

ARROWS FUGHT

23

effortless and easy. She was much better even than Jeri had been at her age,

but then she had had the benefits of four years of Alberich's remorseless

training; Jeri had only had the finest arms-tutors money could obtain. No

amount of money could buy Alberich's expertise.

She ran through the assigned exercises with careless grace. Then, at the end

of a bout, she unexpectedly executed one of the spin-and-tumbling-rolls that

Alberich had been trying to train into Talia—a move that was not one Alberich

had been teaching her. And she scored a kill on him.

He stared at her in startled amazement for a long moment, as both Talia and

Elspeth waited breathlessly for the roar of disapproval they were certain

would come.

Mercedes Lackey - Heralds of Valdemar 2 - Arrow's Flight

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