"I hope Fyn hasn't made any problems for you." The illusion of Prince Kris said soberly but a smile twitched at his lips.
"She has been helpful." Solaris said with a suppressed smile of her own. "She forgets the proper address of most people."
"She must be exhausted. She only forgets etiquette when she is dead on her feet."
"Then I will have to deal with it. I need her awake. She has taken charge of Princess Natira and is bullying the royal family into allowing her to remain with the Companion, Roarke."
"That sounds like Fyn. She's our common sense sometimes." Kris admitted. "The Circle has opted to assign Fyn as their spokesperson to resolve this issue. She now speaks for us. I admit that it is partly because of her Bardic Gift, she can convince people she is telling the truth. If it eases your mind, Princess Natira is not the first foreign noble Chosen in living memory. My father was Chosen, as were a couple of the Hardorn nobles. We will find a way to make it work."
"Thank you. And give my regards to your mother."
Kris looked to someone she couldn't see. "Mother says to thank you for the lovely goblet set you sent for the anniversary of her and father's wedding. She also says to invite you to join us for the harvest festival after the Gates open if you can get away. The Lord of the Sun Temples here are hosting a grand celebration in honour of your twenty years in power in conjunction with the annual thanks for the harvest."
"We will see what the future holds."Solaris said knowing it was unlikely she would go. She genuinely liked Queen Selenay and her family. Princess Kris and Princess Lyra each wrote her regularly and made a point of never discussing politics in personal letters. Not even her own family offered her just friendship. As Selenay once said, until they donned their crowns they were simply Solaris and Selenay. "Please pass along my congratulations to Herald Kelisiaori."
Kris looked off to the side again. "Just a moment."
The image wavered and reformed to show a young woman dressed completely in white with ice white hair and pale skin. "Thank you, your Holiness. Hopefully I don't pop too soon. We are still arguing over names."
Solaris had yet to meet Kelisiaori in person but they had corresponded several times. Kelisiaori wanted her to start a non-religious university of all things. "I will include you in my prayers."
"I would be grateful if you did, my dearest hope is they are healthy." Kelisiaori wrapped her arms around her belly protectively. "I won't pester you about the university today. However, if you have any questions just let me know. They aren't letting me do much useful right now so I have time on my hands."
Solaris smiled. She could only imagine how any Herald would react to enforced idleness. "I don't think we are suited to a university."
"Pah! You cannot use engineers or knife trained healers? What about—" Keli stopped and looked to someone else. "Right, not my call. I will let you go. Thank you for your well wishes."
After a quick farewell the spell ended with a flare of light.
Solaris stood, straightened her robes, and headed to the large, stained glass window that overlooked the eastern garden. The center of the garden was a red granite fountain surrounded with flowers to form a sun in glory. Next to it, Princess Natira was leaning against her Companion, ignoring the damage to her fine gown. She still looked stunned but she seemed to be comfortably chatting with Roarke. Fyn and Tyree were also in the garden but they both seemed to be dozing.
Hansa leaped onto the window sill. :Word is getting out. The King wishes to speak with you about it.:
"Has he sent word?"
:It's not here yet. You have less than a mark.: Hansa curled his tail around his paws. :I know you are curious, but He has said nothing to me about this. I can only assume it is because Companions don't serve just Him.:
"What is your opinion of this?"
:I'm not sure.: Hansa admitted. :On one hand, it will strengthen relations with Valdemar. On the other hand there are only four people between her and the throne. I don't like the idea of a potential ruler being bound to Valdemar like this.:
"That is my concern too." Solaris admitted. "Chosen are normally asked to surrender all claims to titles. It would remove her from the line of succession, but the fact that she is the type who can be Chosen shows she would likely make a good monarch."
Fyn woke when she felt eyes on her. Solaris was seated on a bench to her left, watching her.
Fyn opted not to shift from her comfortable position next to Tyree. "Your Holiness."
"Herald. Your Circle has opted to make you their spokesperson."
Fyn covered a yawn. "I know."
"The messenger from the King will be here in less than a mark to demand why his niece was Chosen, you may want to prepare yourself."
Fyn nodded. She let herself study the woman for a moment. She was in her fifties and her face was lined with both laugh lines and lines of stress. She wore robes made of fine fabric but no ornamentation. Fyn felt grungy next to her, but these were her cleanest Whites. "I wish I had known I would have to appear at court when I started out. I only have a couple Whites shoved in a saddlebag."
"How is the Princess adjusting?"
"Too early to tell. Sometimes it takes a few days to realize there really is a horse talking in your head. Many Chosen seem to have a disconnected sense of reality for up to a week. I think it's because the Companions buffering them so they won't be traumatized by being whisked away from home. I was lucky, I didn't need to leave home to be Chosen. I was trying to think how to tell my sister that the day before I was supposed to be declared a Journeyman Bard they told me I was not good enough with my stringed instruments to make it to Master."
"Oh? Why did they wait so long?"
"I think it just crept up on them. Normally we are sixteen when we are made Journeyman but I started my schooling when I was eight, two years earlier than most Bardic students so I was fourteen when I was supposed to be made a Journeyman. I was in the Field and Tyree sauntered over and Chose me. I was so thrilled I spent the night in the Stable with her and didn't tell Keli. She had been told about the problem with Bardic so she thought I had run away." Fyn grinned at the memory. It used to be Keli knew where Fyn was at all times, but when Fyn learned to shield properly she blocked Keli so she could have some privacy.
:I should have told Rolan and Kenyon I was Choosing you.: Tyree chortled. :But I wanted to catch you before Bardic changed their mind. There is absolutely nothing wrong with your playing. They probably just saw me hovering near you. I was going to wait until you had done a year of Journeyman traveling before Choosing you since you worked so hard for it.:
"They were right, I was not as good as I should have been." Fyn admitted. "After Sola died saving me I just found no joy in playing my harp. She loved to listen to me practice my harp so practicing sort of fell off."
"Who was Sola?"
"A very dear friend of mine when I was a child. She died saving me when I was kidnapped by the Blood Mage Hegrith. Keli and Tristen nearly died, too." Fyn glanced at Hansa, the Firecat was staring at the Princess. He looked a lot like Sola, except she had been more refined and sleek than he was. "Since my arm had a very bad break it was a convenient excuse for why I couldn't play as well as before. I can still sing very well but there is not much call for a singer who does not accompany herself."
"Do you still grieve for Sola?"
"Yes." Fyn admitted. "A sacrifice like that is hard to get over. Knowing you should be dead but that you are not because someone else gave themselves can disturb your soul."
"Isn't that what Heralds are expected to do?"
"She wasn't a Herald." Fyn rose. She didn't want to discuss Sola anymore. "I should get ready for meeting Princess Natira's family."
Hearing her, Natira turned to them. "I will deal with my family. I have a rather great deal of experience defying them. I will not leave Roarke. He assures me my son will be welcome in Haven and that is my greatest concern." She stood and brushed the grass blades off her dress.
"Of course he will be welcome. When he is old enough he can attend classes with the Blues." Fyn assured her. "He will be taught by some of the best teachers in Valdemar. As an adult, you will be given rooms with the Heralds so he will have his own room with you."
The Princess regarded her thoughtfully. "But no nanny?"
"Heralds have shared servants, but we are rather big on being self reliant." Fyn admitted. "Will it be a problem?"
Natira's expression made it clear she was daunted by the prospect but she shook her head.
"Wonderful." Fyn grinned.
Natira glanced at Solaris, who was still sitting on the bench. "Your Holiness, do you support this?"
"Yes." Solaris said after a moment's hesitation. "However, there are some obstacles."
"There always are." Fyn shrugged.
Fyn managed to smile as she left the grand receiving room where the King had informed her that he was not going to permit his niece to be Chosen and demanded she fix it. Fyn had lied and said it was impossible. Technically the bond could be severed but it resulted in the death of the Companion and the Chosen ending up very mentally and emotionally damaged. The king had then declared Natira was staying in Karse, and Fyn and the Companions could either stay with her or take themselves off. But Roarke was not to stay alone.
"So?" Natira asked as Fyn neared her.
Fyn opted not to use her title. "We should go to the stables and see to the lovelies, Natira."
Natira's eyebrow quirked slightly.
"Trainees renounce all titles." Fyn pointed out.
Natira smiled then. "Then you may call me Nate. My brothers do, I prefer it to Princess anyways. I take it my uncle was stubborn."
"Very." Fyn led the way through the populated halls to a side entrance that was closest to the stable. "What are your wishes?"
Nate was surprised at her question. "You know, I have never had a choice before."
"Nonsense. You chose to sleep with a man, to bear the child and keep the child. Just because choices are not offered to you on a silver platter does not mean you have no choices."
"Well, sleeping with a man was a mistake, but he was a good friend and I knew he was going to die. I never thought I would get pregnant. As for my son, what other choice did I have? I am the black sheep of the family because I didn't take the proper way." Nate explained. "My mother used to say that unless I wanted to be a pawn to everyone I had to develop a backbone."
Fyn waited.
"I want to go to Valdemar." Nate said finally. "I want to give up my place here and do something useful. I am tired of being an ornament at court and a pawn in petty games. I spoke to the Heralds sent here and I find them all very admirable. I envied them the ability to act with the backing of the crown since everything I can do here is limited by the fact that my family is nothing but powerless figureheads who are good for nothing more than ceremonies and entertaining the nobility. Treaties are never sent to my uncle, they are sent to Her Holiness. There I may not be a Princess but I will be far more useful. And it will be best for my son."
"I imagine he has a rather vague role here." Fyn said tactfully.
"Vague is a good word. He is not given the respect legitimate noble children get. Sometimes he is coddled, other times he is tormented. Here he could maybe wed an heiress or enter the Temple. Neither is the right path for him."
"You have foresight I take it." Fyn commented. She stopped and looked up at the sun above them. It was almost time for the temple ceremony.
"Foresight?"
"You sometimes know the future."
"Yes." Nate admitted after a brief hesitation. "My mother did as well. She made me promise never to tell another soul. Even royal children were fed to the fires. Sometimes I hear people speak without them moving their mouths. Is that another Gift?"
"Mindspeech." Fyn confirmed. "I think I have a plan. We can do nothing that would cause tension between our countries so we are going to have to find a way to make it too uncomfortable for the king to keep us here."
"And how will we achieve that?" Nate asked.
"In Valdemar there is a saying that the most uncomfortable man is one who has a Herald for a neighbour." Fyn grinned. "We are simply going to do what Heralds do."
In the stable Fyn found both Companions behind closed doors.
"I will speak to the stable master." Nate said indignantly as she stroked Roarke's nose.
"No need." Fyn used a knife to pry the hinge pins free and set the doors against the far wall. "There my beauties. You are free again. Just stay out of the roses."
:When have I destroyed roses? Daisies and lilies on the other hand...: Tyree chuckled. :You should explain to Natira that even in Valdemar we have to deal with closed doors.:
:I will later. First, what do you think of creating a little mischief? Just to make it too uncomfortable to hold us.:
:Like rescuing a few dozen hungry street children?: Tyree teased, referring to the incident just before they left Haven that had resulted in over a hundred children being sheltered on the palace grounds for almost a fortnight.
:That was not my fault.: Fyn protested. :But yeah, something like that.:
Nate was resting her forehead against Roarke's. "I'm sorry my uncle is so unreasonable."
"I expected it." Fyn said with a shrug. "So, first, we need to get you some proper uniforms. Tyree, do you think there would be any in her size in Haven or should we find a seamstress?"
:You think it is worth having them magiced here?: Tyree said doubtfully.
"It may be difficult to find someone willing to make Greys on the correct pattern. Karsite fashions are different for one thing."
"And there is still a wariness of Heralds." Nate agreed. "But I have a seamstress who will make anything I ask for. She was my mother's personal maid. When my uncle and father wanted me to wear mourning for the loss of my virtue she made me a red dress. I look good in red."
Fyn leaned against the wall next to Tyree. "I look dreadful in red. Good thing I'm a Herald and not a Bard. Contact your seamstress immediately, I would prefer to have you in uniform sooner rather than later."
"Why? Sorry, you know best."
"No, it is a good question. Heralds do not follow orders blindly, that is what the army is for. I want you in uniform to make it clear that whether you are here or in Valdemar, you are a Chosen." Fyn crossed her arms over her chest and watched a stable boy walk slowly past them, staring at the Companions. "How is your Valdemaran?"
"Passable." Nate admitted. "I learned most of it when I was young from a Herald. His name was Rubrik."
"I know him. His daughter was a teacher to me when I was young. I had several classes with the blues before I was Chosen, she taught me about basic building techniques. After I completed the basics of my Heraldic training I took a few more classes with the Blues to learn more about repairing buildings and constructing emergency shelters. As a result the Circle sends me to deal with disasters."
"And when you are not rushing to an emergency you escort Companions?"
"No, I normally run messages. Tyree is the fastest of the Companions." Fyn scratched Tyree's chin. "I have been to every country in the Alliance in the last two years. This last visit to Haven was my longest visit yet."
"Do you like being on the road like that?"
"I like adventures and my life is a never ending adventure." Fyn grinned. "I write and collect songs about what I see. When I retire I might publish them."
"How many songs so far?"
"About fifty. They aren't about me, they are stories I hear and people I meet." Fyn watched as the same stable boy walked by again. "Tyree, you have a fan."
Tyree stepped out to intercept the boy.
"She would like some fresh water when you have a moment." Fyn explained.
The boy stared at Tyree like he was seeing an angel.
Nate looked to Fyn for an explanation.
:Care to start being Heraldic now?: Tyree asked. :This young one needs a mind healer badly.:
:Oh?:
:He watched his mother die in a fire and was practically sold to the Stable master by a neighbour as an indentured servant.: Tyree informed her.
"That is Mouse, he doesn't talk." Nate explained.
Fyn studied the child carefully. There were healed burns on the back of his arm. :What else can you tell me about his mother? Maybe he has family elsewhere.:
:No family.: Tyree said with certainty. :I think he needs to go to Gabin.:
:Of course you do.: Fyn smiled slightly. Gabin was a friend who had just started an orphanage for street children near Haven. :What is his real name?:
:Terace.:
"Tyree likes you a lot, Terace." Fyn said with a smile.
The boy stared at her in surprise.
"Terace?" Nate repeated.
"He came here after his mother was killed in a fire." Fyn explained.
Terace looked away and used his sleeve to wipe away tears that started to pour down his cheeks.
Fyn settled a hand on his shoulder. "Your mother must be very proud that you managed to find such a safe position at the palace. You are only what, eight?"
"Seven." Terace corrected in a brittle whisper.
"Seven? They must be ten to work in the stables!" Nate pursed her lips. She looked to Fyn. Fyn waited for several seconds. "Let's find the stable master."
Fyn and Tyree followed Nate as she headed down the hall to an office that resembled a tack room more than anything. Fyn and the boy stayed outside. Within seconds the respectful greeting was replaced with defensive voices on both sides.
Terace huddled against her side.
"They aren't mad at you." Fyn assured him. She moved so she was visible in the doorway. "Surely there is a place here for the lad until he is old enough to take heavier duties."
The Stable master turned to her. "I was told he was ten, just small for his age."
"Oh, I understand." Fyn quickly assured him. "But he is only seven, right Terace? Tyree tells me he is very good with animals. Perhaps he can be apprenticed to a horse trainer or work in the kennel with the dogs."
"I like horses." Terace whispered behind her.
The Stable Master ran a hand through his short cropped hair.
Fyn could tell Nate was still upset; her hands were clenched at her sides. "If we were to reimburse you the cost of his indenture, would you consider apprenticing him somewhere?"
The Stable master eventually nodded. "Not here, there are rules about the age of the boys because of the nature of some of the horses. However, there are no limits on age for the temple stables. The master there is getting on in years; perhaps he will be willing to take on an extra set of hands."
Fyn looked down at Terrace. "I met him last time I delivered a message to her Holiness. He is a good man. One of the best I have seen with a horse. He will take care of you."
Terace nodded slowly.
:There he will end up in the priesthood.: Tyree protested.
:Not all worthy people can be Chosen. They need good people for the priesthood, too.: Fyn pointed out.
Nate looked at her in confusion.
"Sir, since we have a moment, I wish to inform you for the duration of our visit, Princess Natira will see to the needs of Companion Roarke." Fyn said with a slight smile. "I imagine you have already heard she was Chosen by Roarke. One requirement we have of all Chosen is they must care for their Companions until they earn their Whites. I will also see to Companion Tyree as much as possible."
The Stable master's face betrayed his amusement. "I heard something like that. Is it true that no matter the rank, everyone must work if they are Chosen?"
"Yes. Those who are noble have a rude awakening." Fyn admitted. "The chores are not the worst. However, we have to learn to do everything in the saddle which means we get to eat a lot of dirt before our teachers declare us worthy of our saddles."
"That sounds proper." The Stable master said approvingly. "I will leave word that Roarke is to be left. Out of curiosity, can he mate with other horses?"
Fyn bit back a smile. "No. They are not horses. They are akin to Firecats. A sentient soul in a different body."
The Stable master considered this for a moment. "I will see about a better situation for them then. Thank you Herald. Your highness."
Nate was fuming at the dismissal.
Fyn patted her on the shoulder once they were out of ear shot. "Are you familiar with the concept of when you are on the practice grounds your master is the final authority? Well, consider this the practice grounds. He will be far kinder to you than the teachers in Valdemar. There they know if you fail to learn a lesson it may kill you down the road. Oh, and next time don't accuse someone with your first breath, give them the benefit of the doubt."
"But-" Nate started to protest then stopped. Her dark eyes narrowed and considered Fyn for a long moment. "It is hard to forget the rules I have lived by."
"You will. Either it will be easy, or very hard." Fyn said philosophically. "Have you groomed a horse before?"
"No."
"Then may I suggest you go back there, apologize for your high handedness, and ask for a lesson?" Fyn suggested.
"But-" Nate sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Things are going to be very different."
Fyn watched as Nate retraced her steps to the stable master's office before she turned her attention to Terace. "Well, my young friend, would you mind showing me were Tyree can enjoy some sunshine?"
Terace nodded and hurried out the massive double doors.
Fyn was prowling the suite of rooms she'd been given adjacent to Nate's quarters when Nate entered looking exhausted, her gown was filthy, and there was a line of dirty under her nails.
"How can something so white be so dirty?" Nate asked. "I never considered how much effort must go into the care of an animal. The Stable master found it all very amusing to teach me to groom Roarke properly. I feel like such a fool."
"It won't be the last time you feel ignorant." Fyn warned. "But you are only a fool if you refuse to learn."
"Why does that sound like a proverb?"
"I think it is. My sister would say that to me at least once a month. She remembers everything she has ever read so it was easy for her to say. But it's true. You have years of lessons ahead of you."
"So I best get used to feeling ignorant?" Nate said with a hint of bitterness.
"For that I do have a proverb. To know what you don't know is the first step towards wisdom." Fyn grinned. "Most of what you learn from now on will be very different from what you are accustomed to. You will learn to fight, ride, and all sorts of 'masculine' activities. As soon as you have a uniform we will start with the riding lessons and weapons lessons if I can find you a teacher."
"Not you?"
"I am good. However, I am not a weapons master. I will ask the Sunguard." Fyn picked up a vase and admired the workmanship. "A Karsite artist? The scenes look like something out of the Writ."
"You are familiar with the Writ?"
"Yes, I had a friend who would recite the stories." Fyn stroked a finger over a Firecat. "After she died I made a point of learning some of the Karsite songs based on her favourite stories. This one is about the Firecat Ratan, is it not?"
"Are all Heralds knowledgeable about Karse?"
"No." Fyn put down the vase. "Anyways, if you are lucky, you will learn to use a sword. I wager your son will be taught as well. Not just the artful methods of fighting his cousins have learned. Serious fighting."
"I would like that." Nate said after a moment of thought. Nate tried to brush off the white hairs that coated her gown but they wouldn't budge. "I think I know why Heralds wear white."
"Basically." Fyn confirmed. "And it makes us very easy to spot."
Nate nodded. "Like your red bards and green healers."
"Like your color coded priests." Fyn countered.
Nate grinned. "Like the priests. What else will I learn?"
"History, geography, languages, survival, accounting, jurisprudence… you will have roughly four years of training. More if they decide you should learn more. I was a trainee for seven years, I was a slow learner."
"That I doubt." Nate said with a grin as she sat on a spindly legged chair upholstered with a red fabric. "Even I, the black sheep of my family, has heard of the mysterious Fyn, advisor to the young Prince and Princess."
"Oh, what do they say about me?"
"My uncle says you are their eyes, their ears, and their blade."
"Huh. All that? I'm only their friend." Fyn protested.
A knock on the door prevented Nate from challenging her.
Fyn opened the door to the hallway and a small, curvaceous woman bustled in.
"Grey my dear? You look much better in rich, jewel colors." The woman waved in three assistants burdened with many bolts of grey fabric. "But, I have brought the grey you ordered."
"Lillia, it's wonderful to see you. Can you make a uniform like Herald Fyn's?"
Lillia turned to study Fyn. "Why on earth would I do that?"
"Because she was Chosen by a Companion and she will need some sturdy clothing to prevent her wardrobe from being demolished in a day." Fyn explained as she started looking over the material. "This material seems sturdy. This will do for the tunic and pants. It is not too heavy. It's a bit light in color though."
"That is hardly suitable for a princess!" Lillia protested.
"You aren't garbing a princess." Fyn pointed out. "You are making clothing for a future Herald and we are brutally hard on our uniforms."
"You can make Fyn a gown while you are at it." Nate offered to appease the woman. "She is the confidant to the next monarch of Valdemar, I think she should look the part."
"That is hardly necessary." Fyn protested.
Nate's eyes glimmered in amusement. "Oh, I think it is. It's a pity you cannot use color, Lillia. But it Heralds must wear completely white clothing."
Lillia turned on Fyn. "I think I can do something."
