Neave was more than a little mortified to discover he'd been sharing his dreams with his fellow trainees. Fortunately, it seemed that they were incomprehensible to most of them. The emotions were mostly what came through. He'd also been a little worried about what they were likely to say if- when- they found out he was the source.

He discovered he needn't have worried. Most people took it in their stride. Were even sympathetic.

He wasn't sure he was happy with all this talk of Gifts. Kyldathar, Ylsa and the Dean kept reassuring him that it was neither his fault nor unnatural, but Neave couldn't shake his uneasiness about it. He remembered too well the tales he'd heard of demons and evil spirits. Mara had always told him that the stories were nothing but nonsense, and somehow her powers (or Gifts, he supposed he should call them) never seemed that unsettling. To think of himself having one of these Gifts, that was different.

Dean Elcarth had spent a considerable amount of time with him, teaching him how to keep his thoughts inside his head, even when he slept. The Dean also gave Neave some books to read on the subject of Gifts and their uses among Heralds. It had kept him busy while his shoulder healed.

One good side effect of his injury was the amount of time it gave him to study. He was beginning to discover now that he'd mastered reading that he liked it. Perhaps not everything, but he liked a tale as much as the next person.

He only lost three weeks of fighting practice to his injury. To his surprise, he found he was starting to gain some skill. Riding was still a struggle, so he spent every minute of spare time he could in the saddle to make up for lost time. At least that was his excuse, often he just wanted to spend more time with Kyldathar.

Skif had taken it as a challenge to sneak up on Neave. Neave was very difficult to catch out. A lifetime of ducking blows and making himself scarce when necessary had given him an awareness of his environment that some of his fellow trainees attributed to a Heraldic Gift. It wasn't, Neave knew. Skif had taken to picking Neave's brain about how Neave caught him every time.

"Not a chance, Skif." said Neave as he sensed someone coming up behind him. He turned and grinned at the older boy. "You were backlit by the candle in the hallway--I saw your shadow."

Skif sighed exaggeratedly, "You are not doing my reputation any good." He threw himself into the other chair.

"But I keep you in better practice than anyone else."

Skif returned the grin, "Too true. Most of the trainees are like sheep waiting to be sheared. Once Alberich gets done with them they're harder--but not much. If we were still on the street I wouldn't consider trying to pick on someone like you "

"Only because you'd know I had nothing to steal." Neave replied dryly.

"There is that." Skif said.

"I-uh- noticed you didn't come back until late last night.' Neave said with studious nonchalance "So...?"

"So...a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell." Skif said loftily,

"Yes, but I was talking about you, you nit."

Skif smiled slyly, before admitting, "I was with Talia."

Neave's eyebrows went up, "And...?"

"We didn't get too far. She's a little shy, and well..." Skif held his hands open in front of him, "...You know. I don't want to rush her."

Neave nodded understandingly, "Probably best. Especially if she's never..?" he made a question of the unfinished statement.

"Yes, exactly." Skif said, "So...how about you? Have you and Christa..?"

"About the same...Mostly for the same reason" Neave didn't enlighten Skif that it was he rather than Christa who was shy.

Skif smiled, "Well, since neither of our ladies are available tonight, can you help me with my Hardornen?"

**

Neave was surprised by an invitation from Drake and Edric, two boys-twins- from the years group ahead of his to spend Midwinter with them. Their parents were both Heralds, but they spent their Midwinter at Drake and Edric's grandfather's who was a retired Guardsman. Neave nervously accepted. To his relief, their grandparents were at least as kind as any of the people he'd met in Valdemar thus far.

Before he'd been at the Collegium a year, he would surprise himself if he saw himself in a looking glass. A young, serious looking man would gaze back. Months of good food had added inches of height. Months of arms practice had taught him to walk confidently. Like someone who was important. He would see this and shake his head, still baffled by Kyldathar's Choice.

**

"Why don't you ever stay?" asked Christa as Neave was putting his breeches on. She lay in bed with the covers pulled up over her breasts. She reached out her hand to him.

He smiled, took her hand, kissed it. "You wouldn't want me to. I kick. Steal blankets. Snore. You wouldn't get any sleep."

"Who told you that?" she asked teasingly.

"Kyldathar did. She's told me any number of times." much as he liked Christa, sleeping in the same bed with her was not something he thought he could do. After two years at the Collegium, his nightmares had decreased in number and intensity, but he really didn't want to have one with someone else nearby. Truthfully, he doubted he'd be able to sleep at all with someone else.

He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on socks and boots. Christa reached up and rubbed his back under his shirt, "Please, don't do that." he said quietly.

She stopped, "Does it hurt? I'm sorry."

"It doesn't hurt. It just feels damned uncomfortable. I don't have feeling in some spots and its...just uncomfortable." he finished.

"How did it happen?" she asked.

He looked back at her face, wondering how she would react to the whole story. They regularly partnered each other in bed, these days, but it never had any feeling of permanence to it. They were good friends. Neave valued their friendship. "I don't like to talk about it." He didn't want to have to look into her eyes and see either horror or pity.

Very deliberately, he leaned over and gave her a chaste kiss goodnight, "And anyway, we need to get some sleep. I've got the class in learning to use my Gift starting tomorrow. To be truthful, I'm more than a little nervous about it."

**

Ylsa was in one of her contemplative moods when Keren got back from teaching her last class. She was standing with a glass of wine and staring out the window.

"What are you thinking of?" asked Keren recognizing the look.

"I don't like the number of wild Gifts that are showing up here." said Ylsa thoughtfully, "Nor do I like the number of Companions who are leaving to Choose."

Keren nodded. The Companions liked to wait until the summer to Choose, unless their potential Chosen was somehow in danger. It was early Spring and already five had gone out. "What wild Gifts are there?"

"Well there's Neave. I think the last Herald we had who was anything like him was Jadus. And Jadus started out as a Bard. Neave's MindSpeaking will never be strong, but this projection is more Bardic in nature. I've actually arranged for him to take classes over at Bardic. When he exerts himself to convince people they are convinced. Then there's Talia. We've been going after the wrong Gift for months." she stopped for a moment, thinking.

"Wrong Gift?" prompted Keren.

"Sorry, woolgathering. She's an Empath primarily. I'm wondering if I should send her over to Healer's like I sent Neave over to Bardic. And Christa--she's a wicked strong Fetcher. Dirk and she have been spending hours on end at it. And there's Griffon's Firestarting." Ylsa turned from the window to look at Keren "I don't like it."

Keren nodded in agreement. Gifts tended to show themselves at the Collegium just before they were needed. Some people theorized that the Baron Valdemar had laid spells into the foundation of the land that caused that effect. Whatever caused it, Keren was beginning to share Ylsa's unease. "We haven't had this amount of odd Chosen since the Tedrel War." she said, "And not just in their Gifts."

**

"How long do you think you'll be gone?" asked Keren watching Ylsa pack.

"Not long. Its just some messages Selenay needs delivered quickly and then I'm back." Ylsa replied, smiling at her lifebonded. She kissed Keren lovingly. "See you soon."

**

"Herald, I'm a dead man, already." the man looked bleak and fey as he said this, "The Lord will know I've stolen these letters by now. There's not any other it could be." he pressed five black ringed arrows into Ylsa's hand. "I've got a fast horse and I don't think they've followed me. But unless the Queen moves on this, they'll find me soon enough. Chances are they'll find me anyway."

Felara and Ylsa made the kind of speed only a Companion could make.

**

Neave awoke to the sound of the Death Bell. He'd heard it before, but this time he also felt it. It was as though a piece of his heart had been ripped out. He was out of bed and dressed in three breaths. A few other Trainees stood uneasily in the hallway. "Does anyone know who it is?" someone asked softly.

Neave was completely numb. He heard his own voice say "It's Ylsa." Then he stumbled down the hallway, not looking at anyone who passed him. He realized that he not only knew who it was, but a little of how.

He knew she lay dead from a sword strike on the Northern Road.

His only thought was to reach his Companion. He reached the courtyard where Kyldathar waited, as always. He walked with her into the Field. The other Companions looked as grief stricken as the Heralds. They all gathered in little groups apparently comforting each other.

Neave stood with Kyldathar, not knowing how long. The light turned grey and then gold. He put his head to her neck. After a very long time, in the silence, he heard soft steps in the grass.

"Neave?" It was Dean Elcarth, "I was worried. No one knew where you'd gone."

"Sorry." whispered Neave into Kyldathar's neck, he cleared his throat, "How's Keren?" he didn't look up.

"Teren's with her and Sherril. I think...I think she'll be all right." Elcarth replied. "But, what about you?"

"Me? I'm-I don't know."

Elcarth walked forward, put a hand on Neave's shoulder, "She was very fond of you, you know."

Neave nodded, still pressing his forhead to Kyldathar's neck. Elcarth didn't like the way Neave was retreating into himself. He cast his mind about for a way to bring the grief to the surface where it could be eased rather than buried.

"It seems that those who ordered her death have been found." said Elcarth quietly, "They're to be executed."

Neave finally turned around, his eyes were tearless and red. Elcarth had never seen the quiet boy angry before, "Good." he hissed. "I hope they choose a slow method."

Elcarth nodded, "I hope so too." he said in a hard voice, eliciting a look of surprise from Neave, "Bastards."

The numbness of shock was beginning to wear off, and Neave realized that he'd been standing out in the Field for candlemarks. He was cold.

:Go inside, Chosen: said Kyldathar gently. :Get warm. Eat something.:

"Will you come in?" said the Dean gently, echoing Kyldalthar. He hadn't taken his hand from Neave's shoulder, "It helps to be with others who knew her well."

Neave nodded, let himself be drawn by Elcarth's arm around his shoulder.