STARHAVEN
by Stephanie D. Shaver
Stephanie Shaver is a single twenty-something living in St. Louis, Missouri. where she works as a web-master for an online games company. She's been published in various anthologies and magazines over the years, and was one of the resident writers at Marion Zimmer Bradley's home in Berkeley in the early Nineties. When she's not making soap, studying aikido, or working on websites, she's writing a book about a girl who misplaced her soul. Her official web-site is at www.sdshaver.com.
She was dying, blood trickling down her side and legs into the grass. The mage's body was a crumpled, charred mess at her feet. But—his soul—
At the instant she had killed him—the moment when she'd poured everything she had left at him—he had done the unexpected. He was tangled with her soul somehow—buried like a jagged black seed.
She was too weak to think clearly enough to destroy him. And even if she could have gotten back to the Vale—
The seed inside her. Who would it bury itself in next?
She fell to her knees, her vision dimming as she fought death with the scraped-up dredges of her strength. Her teachers had always told her she threw herself too far into what she did—but how could he not? The mage killed her daughter—and her husband—
In more ways than one, she had nothing left.
With the last of her strength she slipped the moorings of her body and plunged deep into the earth, dropping like an offering into the burning node of power beneath her—
Vess writhed in his bed, screaming.
His body was on fire—his body was fire—locked in the process of agonized immolation. He arched in pain and horror as his skin and bones melted—
And it was gone.
Vess sat up, soaked in sweat and breathing heavily. He was in a Waystation inside the village of Solmark. It was morning. He was not a woman dying alone in a forest; he was a Herald, here on business for the Crown.
That wasn't just a nightmare, he thought. That was—what the hells was that?
He was shaking as he dragged himself out of bed and dressed. He felt a curious emptiness within, as if someone had cracked open his chest and scooped out his insides.
As if a part of me just died, he thought, unsure of where the thought came from.
:Chosen?:
He paused, momentarily disoriented by Kestric's voice in his mind. :Yes?:
:Are you all right?:
He nodded. :I'm fine.:
:I felt something—a nightmare?:
:Something like one. I'll be okay. I need some air.: He straightened his collar, brushing out the front. :I need to do what I came here for.: He sucked in a deep breath, relaxing his shoulders on exhale.
:Right. After all those days of riding—to get so little rest. Are you sure you don't want to try to go back to sleep?:
:I'm sure. I don't think it'll get better with more sleep.: He rubbed the back of his neck. :It's the damn Pelagirs. I never have good dreams, this close to them.:
Vess had no illusions of being the next Windrider—his Mage-Gift, in comparison to some of the other, real Herald-Mages, was pretty pitiful—but the sliver of active Mage-Gift he did have made him sensitive to local magic. It was more a bane than a boon—it was distinctly unpleasant to be able to simultaneously see magic and be completely helpless to affect it.
His other Gifts more than made up for where the supposedly superior Mage-Gift had failed him. He was one of the strongest Mindspeakers in the Heraldic Circle—strong enough to use it as a weapon. A touch of Empathy coupled with a noble upbringing had also made him a viable member of the King's inner circle.
Viable enough that, for the last six months, he'd effectively been the King's Own, sans the title, the senseless attacks on his reputation, and Jastev, the Grove-born stallion. He'd been in that uncomfortable, ill-defined position of King's closest adviser ever since the real King's Own, Nadja, had stopped being able to get out of bed in the mornings.
Nadja...I hope you're not hurting, though I know you probably are.
:Chosen, are you dwelling?:
Vess shook his head, trying to disperse his brooding thoughts. :I am,: he said. :I should stop.: He opened the door, the cool hand of early dawn caressing his face. :Want to come along with me on my walk?:
He felt a pleasant surge of affection from Kestric—the closest the Companion could come to a hug. :As if you had to ask:
* * *
The gate to the stockade was pushed up for the day, and in the light of the new morning Vess could see now why they'd needed to gather up five men last night to get it open. It was composed of entire tree trunks planed, caulked, and lashed together to form a formidable barrier that could be dropped at a moment's notice.
The Waystation was built inside the stockade—to put it outside amid the unpredictable dangers of the Pelagirs would have been suicide. Not to mention a constant hassle. Pelagir plants grew with preternatural quickness. The Waystation would have been overcome by greenery within a few short years.
...much the way Starhaven is, he thought.
They passed out from under the cool shadow of the gate and down the road leading away from Solmark. There weren't many people about—just one girl, who waved to them as they passed by, her smock pockets stuffed with herbs—and the weather was pleasant and cool.
The quiet was as pleasant as the weather. Vess had become accustomed to living in Haven, with the daily pressure of hundreds of minds pressing on his shields. He didn't usually notice it, but out in the hinterland it was strange to not have that sense of others around him.
Just me and Kestric, he thought as he and his Companion headed down a thin, overgrown trail. What a change.
Of course, the Pelagirs had a presence all their own; something akin to a ghostly hand brushing the back of his neck. He had felt it even as a child, when his mother had sent him to Solmark to be fostered for a summer.
It had not been pleasant. And if Solmark was enough to give him nightmares, Starhaven was even worse.
As if cued—or possibly listening in on his surface thoughts— Kestric said, :So, where are you taking us? I assume you have a location in mind.:
:Starhaven,: he replied. :Or what used to be Starhaven. It was Solmark's sister town fifty years ago.:
:..was?:
:Was until everyone in it died. I've mentioned this before, haven't I?:
:You've mentioned being fostered in Solmark, but not Starhaven.: Patterns of sunlight and shadow dappled Kestric's pure white coat as they passed under the forest's canopy. The trail, for all that it surely wasn't used regularly by anyone anymore, was in remarkably good shape, easy to discern and unbroken.
:There isn't a lot to say about Starhaven,: he said. :Even without Mage-Gift, it's disturbing to visit a place if you know over a hundred people all died at once there. One night, no signs of struggle or violence. And I would imagine that's why the adults told us not to go there.:
:And exactly why you did.:
:Of course.: He smiled. :Boys will be boys. And something was waiting for us there, in fact.:
:"Something"?:
:As a child I thought it was a ghost, but my adult reason says it was probably just a wandering mage.: He shrugged. :He seemed amused—though I didn't realize it till months later, when I wasn't so terrified of the memory. All white robes, bleached hair with what I think were crow feathers in it—looked as much like a bird as a person.:
:Hunh.:
Kestric nodded, leaning forward in the saddle. :I think it might have been an outKingdom mage—some of them wear some strange costumes.:
:What's so strange about all white?:
Vess laughed aloud. :Aside from making me a walking target—nothing, really. Ah...the marker stone—: He looked down to where a crumbling stone lay to one side of the road, imprinted with the letters for STARHAVEN. :Here it is.:
The road emptied out into a clearing the size of Solmark. Green hulks that had once been houses shared space with saplings and tender bushes. The place was disarmingly cheery—birds sang in the trees, and there was ample sunlight.
Kestric stopped three steps "in" and turned his head about as he surveyed the scene. Vess considered dismounting, but decided against it. He didn't think they'd be staying long.
:I don't know why I picked coming here,: he said after a while. :It always struck me—the mystery and the sadness—so many people gone, without any reason, overnight.:
:You're infinitely silly, you know that?:
Vess blinked in surprise at the lighthearted tone in Kestric's mind-voice.
:I am?: he said.
:Sure you are. Vess, you're a Herald! Of course you want to know what happened here! Not that I think you'll ever know—these are the Pelagirs. Strange things happen all the time.:
He nodded. :They do, indeed. Like girls who people think are goddesses...:
:Speaking of which, we ought to go find her.: Kestric tossed his head toward the road. :Neh?:
Vess was about to give his nonverbal agreement when something pale caught the edge of his vision.
He turned his head, and there, off to one side amongst the trees that bordered the clearing, stood a pale figure in white.
For a moment Vess forgot to breathe as the vertigo-sensation of having seen this person before swept him. It was the figure from his childhood—the strange, pale man with feathers in his hair.
In the next moment, his training took over, and he unconsciously reinforced his shields while simultaneously slipping open his inner eye to look at the man with Mage-sight—
Nothing.
Not the power pulses that signaled an illusion, nor the seamless invisibility that someone with very strong and specific shields would have just wisps of gray must sprinkled with pinpricks of light.
:What the hells is that?: he yelled in panic, throwing down the mental image of the man's seeming.
Kestric swung around and backed up. In the instant he brought his head about, the figure raised a hand and waved—
And vanished.
The birds had not stopped singing, and the sun had not gone behind a cloud, but Vess could feel the bumps rise on his arms and a chill rise up his spine. He felt much less safe than he had a few moments ago.
:Gone?: he heard Kestric say.
:Damn,: Vess said. :Maybe Starhaven is haunted after all.: He took a deep breath. :And I have exactly enough Mage-Gift to be completely useless toward doing any good, if a Herald of any sort can even help—might be better to find a competent priest.:
:Might be better to get back to Solmark.:
:Good idea.: Vess looked around, reassuring himself that—to his eyes—they were still alone. :The sooner, the better.:
* * *
"Heyla—Herald—"
The voice came from off to the left of Vess as he walked around from the stable toward the Waystation. Looking over, Vess saw an elderly man crossing over to him, a girl in tow—
The same girl we passed this morning, he thought. What irony, if she turns out to be the one who was the whole reason for my leaving off vacation to come out here.
"Greetings, sir," Vess said, bowing slightly. "How can I help you?"
"I heard you were looking for my granddaughter," the man said, coming to a stop with his hands on his hips and a grin on his face. "I'm Sevastan, and this is my famous Juni. You need Healing?"
Well, at least he's congenial, Vess thought.
"No, actually, I don't." He smiled. "I heard about your granddaughter while I was visiting my mother and—to be honest, I admit to being a bit concerned."
"Heh! Came all the way out to this backwater town out of concern? Now that's something, isn't it, Juni?" Sevastan looked down at his granddaughter, who was smiling slightly.
"Sir, if you'd like to talk in private with me?" Vess asked.
"Well," Sevastan said, "If you prefer. Juni?'
"It's all right," she said. "I have work to do." She stood up on her toes and kissed her grandfather on the cheek, then bowed to Vess before strolling off and disappearing behind a house.
Vess turned back toward Sevastan to find that the man's outward congeniality had vanished, replaced by a firmly set mouth and cold eyes.
This is a switch, Vess thought. "Would you like to adjourn to the Waystation?" he asked.
"No, actually, I want to make something clear," Sevastan said, all remnants of cheerfulness erased from his tone. "My wife is dead. My daughter died when Juni was only a few months old and my son-in-law died when she was five. I don't have any family—most of them got killed in Starhaven. Now, I know about you Heralds. You like to take children away from their homes and families. Juni isn't going with you. She isn't anything you'd want, and she doesn't want to leave anyway."
The faint smile on Vess's face felt forced, but he maintained it anyway. He could point out that it was the Companions, not the Heralds, who took away children—and he could point out that Healers weren't Heralds—but neither point would matter or help. Sevastan didn't want his granddaughter leaving him, and that was the real issue.
"You are assuming," Vess said, "that I have a choice in this matter."
"You could choose to leave."
"Only if I was assured she wasn't a danger to herself or those around her. Forgive me for not asking," Vess said sharply, "but am I perhaps mistaken? Has your daughter been trained by a Healer?"
"I taught her what I know about herbs," Sevastan said. "Setting bones, splints, wrapping wounds—"
"I'm sorry," Vess said. "That's not what I mean when I say Healer. What I have heard of your daughter's skills sounds like she is Healing with a Gift. It's not the same as applying bandages or ointments."
Vess firmed his mouth. "If it goes untrained, it could wind up killing someone. Wild Gifts inevitably twist in on themselves—they must be schooled. And since he is using hers—"
"Assuming," Sevastan interrupted, an edge of annoyance in his voice, "that she is using a 'Gift.'"
Vess resisted the urge to sigh. On one hand, he sympathized with the man over his lack of family—but on the other
I think the Crown would not approve of me smacking him upside the head, he thought with bland amusement. Though I'm sure the King would understand...
"You're right," Vess said. "I am assuming—because I haven't seen her Heal anyone yet. And when I do, I'll know. Which is why I'm here. Sir—" Vess crammed as much sincere compassion as he could into his voice, "—I don't want to take your granddaughter away from you. That's the last thing I seek. But you have to understand that this is for her own good. And I wager that once her training is done, the Healer's Circle would be happy to send her back here—especially since she seems to be needed."
"And if she does not have a 'Gift' at all?" Sevastan asked, one brow raised. "What if the gods have touched her and are working through her? Hm? Will the priests then be taking her away?"
"If that is the case—" And it's bloody unlikely, Vess thought, but I'll let you have your wishful thinking "—then it's a matter I will leave to the priests. I have no jurisdiction when it comes to religion."
"Very well, then." Sevastan nodded his head to Vess. "Come by my house at sunset. Marsi is bringing her son Garth by for Juni to attend to."
"I'll see you then," Vess said.
Sevastan snapped about, moving off with a stiff, unhurried gait. Vess waited till he was out of sight, then slumped against the Waystation door, pinching his nose with his thumb and forefinger.
:I'm sure you heard it all.:
:Oh, yes,: Kestric said with a mental sigh that gusted loudly through Vess' mind. :I think you did your best, considering that he wasn't here to listen. And he's not going to be happy when you confirm what we already know
:That's his problem,: Vess thought. :If he loves her so damned much, he should move to Haven to be with her.: He straightened. :I'm going to go take a bath.:
His anger faded as he stalked off toward the public house, giving his mind room to ponder what he was going to do after this evening to get Juni out of Solmark.
Because just then, that whole idea of Heralds kidnapping children sounded damned attractive...
* * *
"It really is a shame you're the only one who can hear me," the woman's voice said, "because you're the first person in decades to show up who can, and you aren't listening."
Vess blinked. Nothing but darkness and mist surrounded him and he realized peripherally that he must be asleep. "Hunh?"
"You still don't understand?" A sigh. "It seems this sort of naivete runs rampant with your people. Perhaps you should find one of your so-called Herald-Mages and call them here? The danger you are flirting with is not a normal one. I failed—with disastrous consequences. You cannot—"
Vess sat up in bed, his heart fluttering rapidly against his ribcage and his mind full of strange dreams. He was, thank the gods, not sweating too badly—so while he was a trifle jarred, at least he didn't smell like old socks.
:How was the nap?: Kestric asked.
:Lousy,: Vess replied, sticking out his tongue. :Another weird dream.: He grasped at the fraying ends of the dream's memory, but it melted away. :Eh—it's gone. How are the apples?:
:You mean how were the apples? Excellent. The slightly mushy ones taste goooood. Tell the publican next time you see him that I really appreciate it.:
:My Companion, rotten apple eater.:
:I prefer well-ripened to rotten. And this from a man who likes tripe stew.:
:Just the one from that inn at Kettlesmith,: Vess said with a smirk. :And no other!:
:Did I mention it's nearly sunset, tripe-eater?:
:Crumbs. And I was so looking forward to a graphic description of rotten apples. Thanks for the reminder.: Vess rose from the bed. :Let's see what we see.:
* * *
He got back to the Waystation sometime after sunset and immediately walked into the stable—built for Companions, so it was wide enough for him and Kestric to stand in together—and sat down on the stool in one corner of the stall.
Vess put his head in his hands and curled the tips of his fingers in his hair.
:Are you going to talk now?: Kestric asked.
Vess took a deep breath, inhaling the dusty scent of hay and leather. :This day couldn't have been stranger if the gods themselves had tried.:
:What's wrong?:
:She's not a Healer.: Vess looked up at Kestric, meeting the faintly luminescent blue eyes of his Companion. :I looked at her while she was Healing the boy—and it's not Healing Gift she's using.:
:That doesn't make any sense.:
:Maybe this will help,: Vess said, drawing up the mental image of what he'd seen and tossing it down the bond. Juni—eyes shut, hand out and glowing faintly red to Vess's Mage-Sight. The edges of her patient's lacerations drawing together and sealing up, the trickles of sweat dripping down the sides of her face.
He followed up the wordless report with the "signature" of the power she had been using, exercising his limited Empathy to give Kestric the full experience.
Then he waited.
:That's...: Vess felt Kestric recoil in disgust as the Companion took a step back in the stall. :That's blood-magic! She's using it to reshape the flesh!:
Vess nodded. :I wasn't sure of it, but if you think so, too...:
:But she's not a blood-mage! We would have felt it!:
:She has the Mage-Gift—and it is active,: he said soberly. :She also has Empathy and Mindspeech—gods, she's just like me. Except her other two Gifts are dormant. She doesn't even have Healer potential, Kes. And worse...something happened to the boy after she "Healed" him. It's like a bloodstain on his soul, and his mother's just the same. I took a look around the village before I came back. Just about everyone here has the same marking.:
:Oh, hellfires.: The Companion flared his nostrils. :We need a Herald-Mage.:
:I know.: Vess rubbed his nose. :It just doesn't seem to make sense, though. I don't pick up the least bit of malevolence from her. Something doesn't fit. How is she doing this? Why is she doing it? Is it possible to do blood-magic without knowing you're doing it? Or does she just have one hell of a shield around her?:
:That,: Kestric said, :is what I'd like to know.:
* * *
Vess opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling.
Something was floating there, hovering above his head—
And then he really woke up, and realized that his mind was once again playing tricks on him. There was nothing on the ceiling but shadows, and no one in the room but him. He was alone.
And maybe that's my problem, he thought suddenly. Too many goddamn years in the court with an empty bed and fewer friends than a mean drunk. Just working day in and day out, waiting for the next crisis to strike.
And wasn't that the whole point of taking leave in the first place? I could have told Herald Becka to find another person with Mage-Gift to investigate Solmark, but no...I went instead. If it's not trouble finding me, it's me finding trouble. He grimaced. I'm pitiful.
He pulled himself out of bed and into his clothes. A brush to Kestric's mind found him to be sleeping, and Vess didn't see a reason to wake him. In the distance, he could hear the sound of the Solmark gate raising. He waned to walk, and think, and for once really, truly be alone. No people, no Companions—just him and the forest.
It wasn't healthy to go walking in the Pelagirs alone, but the same could be said for parts of Haven, as well. Picking up his sword from the table where it lay, Vess stuck it into his belt, and set off to be by himself.
It took longer to get to Starhaven on foot, and this time he approached it with the caution it deserved. He stood silently at the entrance, peering about once with his regular pair of eyes, then again with Mage-sight. When he was certain things were safe, he walked into the center, pulled the sheathed sword out of his belt, and sat down.
If I'm going to go looking for trouble, he thought, I might as well go all out.
But after a while, when the birds kept singing and the sunlight grew warmer, he found himself relaxing. He lay down in the grass, the sword on his chest, and stared at the one cloud in the sky above him, shaped like a fist.
How long, he thought, since I've just watched clouds?
The answer came easily: Since Nadja got sick. Since I started worrying the Companions might make me the next King's Own. Oh, gods—if there's one thing I don't want...I don't care if I'd be good at it, I don't want that job!
He sighed. But if I had to, I'd do it. And we all know it.
"Herald?"
He hadn't heard her walk up, but he knew the voice, and he recognized that it was close. Sitting up and letting the sword fall into the crook of his left arm, Vess looked over to see Juni walking toward him.
"Good morning," he said with a smile. He had acted as if nothing unusual had happened last night—making the (true) excuse that he needed to think about what he had discovered. He was pretty sure that she didn't suspect anything.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"I visit here a lot," she said. "Especially early." She paused, her mouth half open, then took a step forward, saying, "You seem...troubled."
He smiled. "A lot of things on my mind."
"About me?"
He shook his head. "No, not you."
She cocked her head. "What about?"
"The court. The King. My duty."
She widened her eyes. "You know the King?"
He nodded. "Sure. I'm one of his counselors—I know quite a bit about court life." He winked. "That's my curse."
She smiled. "Is the Palace nice?"
"It can be."
She nodded. "This place must be strange to someone like you."
"It would be, except that I was raised not far from here. My mother is Lady Baireschild."
She widened he eyes again. "My Lord—"
"No." He raised a hand. "Dropped the titles when I got Chosen." He grinned. "Never liked them much, anyway." He felt the smile fade. "You're a very nice young lady, Juni."
She bowed her head, blushing a little. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." He stood, stretching, and brushed grass out of his hair and off his shirt. Then, dwelling on that last comment to her, he opened his inner eye and reached out to her—
—Maybe I was wrong
The red-black energy he had witnessed around her just last night was gone. He pressed further, delicately snaking past her natural defenses. Her three Gifts were still there, but now he saw that there was something more—something like the "bloodstain" he had seen on the people of Solmark—only deeper
That's odd. Why would she have marked herself with her own stain?
Something slammed into him, an unseen force that lifted him into the air and threw him back down to the ground in a pain-stricken sprawl. He blinked stars out of his eyes and tasted blood in his mouth—before he'd been hit, though, he'd felt a surge of magic coming from nearby.
:Chosen!: he heard Kestric's panicked call.
:I'm not dead—yet,: he thought dazedly. :Get out here, quick. Something's not right.:
He rolled over, shaking his head to clear it, and for a moment all he saw was a pale, frightened Juni—
And then he saw Sevastan. Sevastan—but not Sevastan. Even when the man had been curt yesterday, he hadn't looked this—malevolent. The set of his mouth, the shape of his eyes, the way he held himself—little pieces that amounted to a startling, sinister change.
A different person was standing before Vess. One look in his eyes revealed that.
"It is unfortunate," Sevastan said, "but necessary. I meant it when I said I can't have you taking her away."
The blow had thrown off Vess' internal balance—he was seeing double, the physical world layered under his Mage-sight. Sinuous red tendrils wrapped Sevastan's arms, gathering in pools in his hands. A cord of red power, like a leash, dripped out of his left hand and connected to Juni, and from Juni spun out hundreds of thin red threads, pulsing in time with a heartbeat of their own.
Everything fell into place with painful clarity.
He's the blood-mage, Vess thought in shock. Not her. She has Mage-Gift—he's working through her and disguising it as a "Gift"—good gods!
Sevastan raised his arm and shouted something, and a black levin bolt cracked through the air toward Vess, who threw up his arms in a pitiful mockery of defense.
Inches away from him, it disintegrated in a shower of sparks as it hit invisible shields.
Vess blinked in surprise, then blinked again as a pale white form faded into sight beside him.
:I can't keep this up,: a vaguely familiar female voice said into his mind. :If you have a plan, use it.:
"Well," Sevastan said, his attention shifted off Vess. "This is unexpected. Didn't I kill you?"
Vess heard the female voice answer with flat emotion, :By your own hand we are entangled, mage. I do not die if you do not die.:
Sevastan laughed. "A complication I will swiftly amend," he said, raising his hands again—
Vess didn't give him a chance.
Dragging up his mental energies, he split open his shields, threw his mind at Sevastan—
And screamed inside his head.
Years of anger, frustration. and disgust broke out of Vess, his Empathy fueling the raw violence of his attack. Months of watching Nadja die by inches in her bed—months of sitting with the King as he quietly went to pieces with the agonized guilt of the latest Herald he'd had to send off to possible death or worse. Years of court deception, petty politics and subterfuge—deceivers and backstabbers with smiling faces and no concept of the pain they caused.
Tragedies. Sorrows. Pain. The struggle to keep from being beaten down by the very people he tried to help.
And past that, the certainty that the thing he was fighting was the same thing that had killed Starhaven, the thief of life.
The mind-blast broadened and changed to incoherent rage. Lost in the blinding power he had given himself over to, Vess's world dissolved into a solid sheet of fury, and evaporated.
* * *
"Herald."
Vess blinked, finding himself elsewhere. Not Starhaven, not Solmark—not the Palace or his mother's manor. He was somewhere where his Whites seemed to glow with their own light, and everything was the gray of twilight.
"Herald," the voice said again, "I want to thank you..."
Vess sat up, and saw a man standing over him, his face in shadows but his hand extended out to him.
"All my life, I've been that wizard's puppet," the man said. "He used me to destroy Starhaven, and when he realized that I wasn't a suitable vessel for his power, he worked through my daughter and grandchild for the same. I'm sorry, Herald. Please know that anything I said to you—the mouth and the voice were mine, but the words were his."
"Sevastan?" Vess said, reaching up to take the man's hand. "What—"
"Take care of my granddaughter, Herald," Sevastan said as his warm, dry fingers closed around Vess' hand. "Please let her know that even with that bastard's hand on my mind, I tried my best to love her."
:Chosen!:
Vess came around to too-bright sunlight. The aura of a reaction headache was building behind his eyes, and he tasted copper in his mouth.
:Chosen! Wake up!:
"I'm alive," Vess said, his voice feeble. "And sweet Kernos, how I wish I weren't."
A sob cut the air and, grimacing, Vess climbed to his knees, fighting nausea and dizziness. His hands were shaking and his skin felt clammy. He had definitely overextended himself.
Juni had thrown herself over her grandfather and was crying hysterically. Vess' mind was still painfully open to thoughts—Juni's grief-stricken regrets and stunned questioning of what had just transpired, and the telling silence coming from the body of Sevastan. I killed him, he thought, reaching out to pull the veils of his shields around his mind.
:No,: said the woman's voice in his mind. :I killed him. You broke his concentration long enough to give me the opportunity to throw the bastard into the node—which, thank the god of my fathers, actually worked this time.: A sad sigh. :Unfortunately—the trauma was too much for Sevastan himself—damnit.:
Vess turned slightly, looking in the direction of the ghostly mage, her arms folded across her chest and one slender eyebrow raised.
"What's a node?" he asked.
She rolled her eyes. :Naive outlanders. Never mind. He's gone.: Her face softened. :And you have done me a great service.: She smiled. :I knew, that first time I saw you, that you'd be something speciaL Farewell, Herald I'm off to the place I should have been long, long ago...:
She dissolved before his eyes, reforming into a broad-winged white crow that launched itself upward, flying up toward the sun. He tried to watch her go, but the impending headache and his own physical weakness dissuaded the notion.
"Good-bye," he said. "Good rest."
And then there was just the matter of Juni.
Vess heard the muffled bell-tone of Companion hooves behind him. Kestric, no doubt—though Vess wasn't sure how he'd gotten behind him. The Companion came up alongside, and Vess grabbed hold of the saddle to pull himself up
Wait a moment. How did he get his gear on?
Vess really looked at the Companion now, and it gazed back at him with what seemed to be faint amusement
Hellfires, Vess thought, stunned. That's—the Grove stallion!
:Greetings, Herald,: he heard the contrabass voice of Jastev boom in his mind. :I Choose—Bright Havens, certainly not you! You've got a Companion!:
Vess lost his fine grip on upward mobility. He fell over and landed in a sprawl on the grass—bowled over not only by the fact that another Companion had just spoken to him, but had done so in order to tell a joke.
:He's got quite a sense of humor, doesn't he?: Kestric said dryly in Vess' mind. From the overgrown trail that led to Starhaven, the Companion galloped into view, slowing to a trot as he came up to Vess and stood before him.
"He's a bloody sadist," Vess gasped—and then the surprise faded, and he realized what was going unsaid. "Has Nadja—did she finally—?"
:Right after you left. I didn't want to tell you, but—yes. Peacefully, in her sleep.:
Vess nodded, tears building up in his eyes and trickling down his cheeks.
:Poor Chosen. You've been through so much. Are you going to be all right?:
"It's a sadness," he said, watching dazedly as Jastev walked with exaggerated dignity over to the dead man and Juni. "I wish I could say it was a relief. It is—and it isn't. It is what it is."
He still wasn't completely all there, because he was still trying to figure out why Jastev was here and not looking for a new King's Own when the Companion bent his head down, touching the girl's forehead with his muzzle.
Juni raised eyes bright red from crying, and Vess felt a momentary shock as her eyes widened and her face brightened with amazement.
"Oh, thank the god!" Vess moaned.
* * *
Much later, when he'd done his best to explain the Sevastan situation to the people of Solmark—when he'd made sure they understood that Juni was neither demon or Healer—when he'd quaffed enough willowbark tea to stop an army—when he'd arranged for a Herald-Mage to visit Solmark and ensure it was free of blood-magic's taint—and when he was sure that Jastev was tending to Juni, newly Chosen but still in mourning—
Only then did he find himself lying in bed, listening to the crickets and the crows at sunset—aching but alive.
:Juni will be a compassionate King's Own,: he thought drowsily to Kestric.
:And a good trainee for you to teach,: his Companion responded.
:I do know more about the job than anyone else.:
He subsided into silence then, finding comfort in the crows as they sang their harsh song to the sunset. He thought of the last glimpse of the white crow spiraling up to the sun, and he smiled.
He slept all through the night: dreamless and at peace.