Bleh! Just goes to show beyond a shadow of a doubt that I should never procrastinate. Of course it would happen that, when I finally have a chapter spruced up and ready to go on the night of the 13th, I wake up on the morning of the 14th, do a last proof, log in...and then find out that I won't be able to upload anything 'till the 21st. sighs
And then find out I couldn't log in till the 24th. sighs^2
Thank you all, very much, for your words of comfort. I had not written about my grandmother specifically to garner sympathy, but it is still highly appreciated. I will miss her considerably, but I have faith that it all turned out well in the end. Perhaps even now she waits with my grandfather for us to eventually rejoin them, younger and happier, wiling the time away in amusement parks, eating ice cream under a never-setting sun...
And now, back to your regularly scheduled programming, part 2 of chapter 9...
DAY TWO
Kyn eyed the butterfly-flutter of Melidee beyond the ice's barrier and settled a little deeper into the pond.
:Kyn? You can't possibly think you can hide in there for the rest of your life, can you?:
He bristled briefly at the 'hiding' part but held his tongue. If he thought responding would have chased Melidee off and left him in peace, he would have prompted the conversation rather than wait for her to come to him.
:I'm not asking you to let down your shield, just to answer a few questions. We can't help you if you don't tell us what happened that night.:
It was tempting, he had to admit. Especially when further contemplation had shown that, more likely than not, he would need the Heralds' help long before the end of the matter came within sight. If nothing else, he would need a little more freedom of movement than having half a dozen watchers would allow.
He still hadn't forgiven Alberich for possibly driving Master off the evening before last, when he had needed his guidance the most. He had been woefully unprepared for what he had encountered in the duke's room.
:Please, Kyn. Regardless of Alberich's display of temper, we would never force you to do anything you don't truly want.:
It was an odd experience, knowing there was something he had that the Heralds desperately wanted, and also knowing that they would not resort to extreme measures to drag it out of him. At least, not yet. He wouldn't put anything past the un-Herald should Alberich feel true need to press the issue.
Melidee's line of questioning also meant that Sianni had not told them anything significant - at least, nothing that the woman was willing to reveal by making too-pointed queries based on information she couldn't have obtained herself. He didn't know how much the Companion had actually caught before and after the duke had taken a firm hold of him, but he was willing to wager it was still quite a bit more than the Heralds currently had.
:But surely you can see that even the weaponsmaster is only concerned with saving lives; your own included, his attitude notwithstanding.:
He couldn't help scoffing at the first half. Even after all this time, after the unsubtle censures from Nadia and the occasional, lighter, but no less disapproving flashes he received from others, Melidee was still appealing to his nonexistent sense of duty toward the Heralds and their ideals? He was quite certain that Nadia felt his only redeeming trait was Sianni - not a very reassuring recommendation, even at the best of times - but he forgave Melidee somewhat for the naive comment with the inclusion of the latter portion. It had almost made him smile. The thought of the un-Herald concerned with warding Kyn's life was well worth a grin, perhaps even a chuckle or two.
Still, Alberich had not stinted in his lessons, had offered advice freely, and with care. Kyn could not quite quell the feeling of...contentment that had accompanied the familiar exchange of practice, example, and instruction. His teacher in knives had been like that; patient, focused, projecting an unerring confidence of his ability to see a task through to its smallest detail. Kyn had felt trust in the man's care, knowing he need not fear distractions or outside concerns sabotaging his schooling.
:Surely I must be boring you to tears by now, my boy. Won't you throw even the tiniest scrap of information my way to appease Alberich for the day when he asks for a report tonight? Alberich doesn't always remember the adage about ill tidings and the messengers that bear them...:
That nearly made him blink in bald-faced surprise - with the eyelids on his actual body rather than the illusory one he had conjured in the garden - and he was still trying hazily to assess whether he had given himself away in his bemusement when he was saved by a sigh and an interruption from the same source.
:But I suppose it will have to wait for tomorrow. You have a visitor, and I should see to lunch, or whatever is left of it at this late hour. Good day, Kyn.:
And that was that. Melidee's presence withdrew like a scent carried away by a breeze that had turned, leaving Kyn with a mixture of unexpected relief and anxiousness, wondering who else would be looking in on him that would require an announcement from the Herald. He could only think of Nadia or Alberich - and the former had given him a cursory inspection in the morning before announcing perfunctorily she would next be back in the evening after her rounds, and the latter was not even in the city. No one else in the collegium even knew he was here, except for...
There was an unexpected, awkward silence that entered along with the boy when Brin stepped into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Kyn heard the snick of the latch catching, and then the hesitant, shuffling steps that took the boy to his bedside, a light scrape of chair legs being dragged over polished stone, and then muffled thuds as the boy took the seat and set something down beside him. They sounded like hollow tubes.
"Uhm, hi."
Almost, Kyn wished Brin had just entered with his usual non-stop, one-sided conversation already going at full speed. The boy's unnatural reticence was nearly as unnerving as his barrage of words had been upon first exposure, even in the few seconds that had elapsed since his entry. It simply seemed...unnatural.
"Uh, Melidee says that you can hear me, but...I don't know. It's kind of unsettling, seeing you just sitting there and...Kyn? Are you all right? Please, just blink, twitch a finger...do something...let me know you're in there and awake and still Kyn!"
Kyn frowned, trying to keep up with the leap-frog jump of the boy's logic, and having little success. He found very little to account for the near-hysterical quality to Brin's pleadings when all the Heralds knew he was quite well - had, in fact, been told by Nadia in no uncertain terms that he should stop sulking and rejoin the real world. What he failed to reason out logically, his mind simply refused to process, but thankfully, the boy seemed inclined to move on to other subjects with his usual alacrity even without prompting, saving Kyn from another round of hand-wringing.
"I-I'm sorry. I'm probably annoying you to no end if you're paying any attention right now - "
The boy was correct, on both counts, though Kyn was rapidly rethinking his options concerning the latter point.
" - and I know I usually tend to annoy you, but...I can't help myself. I sometimes annoy my mother too. She tends to say what she needs to and not waste any words beyond that - oh, I know you would get along well with her, Kyn! You seem to know the value of silence, just like her...but I tend toward my da more, and we sometimes talk over each other, which annoys him too, but he forgives me most times 'cause it's our talk that gets us our trade, you know? It's words that draws the connections between us and the clients - why, we wouldn't have the majority of our business if we hadn't netted some interesting tidbit or another of information out of casual conversation, or built up or discovered relations that we would never have found without idle talk!"
Kyn wondered if that was supposed to be an allegory of his own situation, a relatively blunt reminder that he might find it in his best interests to share - trade - what information he held. But then he decided that even Alberich - much less Melidee, if she had been left in charge in his absence - would not stoop to using Brin in such a heavy-handed, graceless manner. He doubted the flighty, naive boy would have come up with such an elaborate scheme on his own, and so was eventually forced into the conclusion that the words had been offered at face value.
"But that can wait. I was told I would only be allowed a little time with you, and I really wanted to show you my maps...did you know I collected maps? I've loved maps ever since my da first let me into the study which he converted into his office at home...he had all his maps laid out around the room: on the walls, on the tables, some even on the floor. And they all had the trade routes marked on them. They all represented stories, people, places...things exotic and unimaginable, so far away but all drawn in by a few ink marks and a tile of paper..."
Kyn was beginning to reconsider his earlier assessment that a flood of dialogue would be preferable to halting phrases and silence.
Whatever objects Brin had brought with him were dragged near, and soon the sounds of paper rustling against each other were heard, overriding the propping of their container against the chair's side.
Kyn barely suppressed a twitch of consternation. Surely Brin wasn't thinking of spending the rest of his afternoon chattering away and showing him his map collection?
"This one was my first...my father gave it to me as my twelfth birthing day gift. Isn't it beautiful? He says it is nearly twice as old as he is, and that this is all hand-illuminated, even the symmetrical detailing on the rose compass..."
Sheets were unrolled, laid out carefully over the bed covers as if Kyn had consented to examine them. In his eagerness, Brin scooted to the edge of his chair and leaned forward over the maps - over Kyn - and lowered his voice to an excited, conspiratorial half-whisper.
"He gave me this one on my next birthing day, and this one on the next. I've picked up quite a few on my own as you can see, but I think this is my favorite out of all of them. See? You can clearly see the East Trading Road...all the way to the border..."
Kyn could almost feel his ears perk up, just like Sianni's when something had caught her attention. The boy couldn't possibly be...?
"In fact, if you follow the line of the main trade route, and see where it is crossed by this smaller road paralleling the Fairshadow's River...that is where you will find Lynxfinn Holdings. That is Duke Aisner Se'Fannouel's land."
Brin's voice progressively lowered as he spoke, as if imparting innocent secrets that contained worth only between the friends who shared them, until Kyn could no longer ignore the fact that the boy was far more clever than he had ever given him credit for. The tow-headed youth was trying to smuggle him information - and succeeding quite well in the act.
"You know, during those two lunch meetings that we had? I got the funny impression that he didn't really see me. Oh, not that I'm not all too acquainted with being patronized, but...he was there, sitting across from me, watching me and smiling and nodding to my words, but it's as if he saw straight through me...to something else. To his goal, maybe, whatever he was using me to get to. And it's not the rosenthyme market."
The need to smuggle implied that Brin was trying to hide this information from the Heralds - which implied in turn that, however the meeting between him and Alberich went, the boy had not told the un-Herald everything about his involvement in the whole mess. Or rather, what he suspected about the whole mess. Why? The un-Herald couldn't possibly have treated the boy gently, knowing he was Alberich's next best resource for information beyond Kin or Sianni themselves.
But whatever his reasons, what Brin was doing now...Kyn felt a tendril of shame curl through his center. He had forgotten, overlooked, the most valuable source of information he had had beyond Master himself. For havens' sake, the boy had been in two private meetings with the duke! And Kyn had not even thought of asking him for his opinions on the man beyond the superficial outline of his schedule of stay? It was an unconscionable oversight, perhaps influenced by Brin's wide blue eyes, unlined face and endless patter; one that Kyn should not have committed so blindly and which he vowed not to repeat.
Still, if he had fallen so easily for the boy's act, what would that say of others? Despite Brin's obvious connection to him, perhaps the duke still did not think of him as a possible informant or danger...
Sourly, Kyn couldn't help reminding himself that the duke had probably laid all such fears to rest, considering his lackluster performance the night before previous. He had proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had known absolutely nothing about Se'Fannouel.
"I've always thought it fascinating how much you can tell about a place by its trade...people know when a city or town is sliding into trouble, or is about to thrive. Of course, I'm not saying that bad or good trade is what prompts people to either move on or stay with their business - it can go the other way around too - but I think trade is a measure of how well an area is doing. If there is the slightest hesitation, or the tiniest hint of opportunity, people will respond, and soon the condition is exacerbated to proportions that just about everyone can see and feel. Take Lynxfinn Holdings for example..."
The boy had a remarkable grasp of vocabulary and sentence structure for his age. Kyn had heard worse examples, either out on the streets in passing during his assignments, or even on the collegium grounds. It seemed that for all his talk, Brin also knew how to listen, for his background had indicated nothing about expensive tutors, and so he could only have picked it up from others - either his parents or his father's clients. In fact, with his quick mind, innocent facade, and only a little more training, Kyn could well apply Brin to -
What in havens was he thinking? Train Brin? Draw the boy even closer? He could not afford any dependencies.
But it would also be foolhardy to ignore resources, as he had done previously, though only through ignorance. He had only just vowed not to compound his error by committing the same mistake twice, and deliberately the second time, no less...
"My father didn't pay much attention to that portion of the trade road until only a few years ago...there was just enough movement in and out of the holdings to maintain a healthy status quo, but nothing truly worth the effort of trying to gain a foothold in a market so far from the capitol, at least for us. There were plenty of other merchants that were already well established there...the area's not poor. But then it abruptly changed...we are still on the peripheries - most of our business is concentrated elsewhere - so I don't know many of the details, but the duke began to take a much more active interest in enriching his holdings and making Lynxfinn a bad place to pass up along the trade route. Lots of families have been moving there in anticipation of the increased business and opportunities...I've heard him described as a charismatic man by others who have met him, and while I agree he has a certain presence, I'm not sure if it isn't greed or misplaced adoration or who knows what else coloring their opinions of him..."
But thoughts of the boy were resolutely pushed aside as Kyn settled himself to listen - to truly listen - to Brin for the first time since their meeting.
~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~
The griffin and the fox returned that night. And once again they danced and tore politely at each other, until all he was left with were afterimages and a salty-metallic tang. He wasn't sure why, he wasn't sure what they were supposed to represent, he wasn't even sure if it was just some more-than-usually bizarre dreaming, or actual portents. His mind did not usually lend itself to such pure, abstract symbolism - and yet, he could not think of anything in real life that would correspond to such curious, two-dimensional creatures.
They weren't even a particularly good distraction from his usual nightmares. If anything, he felt even more dread at their appearance, as if their seeming innocence could only hide something that was beyond his mind's ability to grasp.
DAY THREE
There came a soft tap-tap against the ice - a hoof knocking lightly against the surface. Kyn drifted up, just beneath where the sound had come from, and waited. When he judged enough time had passed that he had made his point, he melted a perfect circle exactly where Sianni had knocked, and thought himself sitting upon the ice's edge, facing the Companion. His control was enough now that he did not feel the ice's cold except as a faint pins-and-needles sensation, but he could not seem to break away from the imagery altogether. The garden and the pond still had to exist if he wished to build a shield of this caliber.
:Thank you for seeing me, Kyn,: Sianni said politely, turning her head slightly to focus one sapphire orb on him.
He shrugged as nonchalantly as he was able to, well aware of the ridiculousness of the ritual they had fallen into over the last three days and four visits, but finding a perverse pleasure in it as well. It was an unspoken agreement between them that here, Sianni was a guest, and that he had the last say in whether he would see her or not. It was on his whim that she saw him at all - and while intellectually he knew that to be silly, he needed to know that there were still some things in his control. Sianni seemed to know this, as she did so many other things, and so she indulged him in his little plays at power.
It was enough of a contrast compared to Melidee's methods that he couldn't help wondering if this was a set up, trying to get him to confess to one if not the other through the sheer relief of dealing with Sianni's complacency as opposed to the Herald's unrelenting badgering. But on the evening of the second day, he had decided that there were enough conspiracies running around without him imagining more.
"What did you want?" he asked bluntly. This too, was another part of the game. He would maintain the show of belligerence while allowing her the opening to make a suggestion. And so long as the suggestion she made did not touch upon Master...
:I thought you'd might like to go for a ride with me,: Sianni said, curving her neck and looking up at him through her lashes. :It is a beautiful day, if a touch nippy.:
He carefully considered the request, making a token attempt to search for ulterior motives. The effort used to be genuine; in the beginning, when he had still been in denial and unsure. But he had had three days to think on that and many other matters, and he had finally decided that he trusted her. When before he had cringed at the thought of all his conflicts and thoughts laid bare, he now found a strange reassurance in knowing someone had seen them all, and understood. Rather than frightening him, her knowledge of him had become a comfort - much like his relationship with Master or some of the instructors who had stayed longer, when words were not needed and they could pass the entire day without voicing a syllable because they knew each other's routines so well.
Routine. What Sianni and he had now had become routine. He had made it so, and Sianni had allowed it, becoming a willing participant. Though his more logical side called him three kinds of a fool for allowing her such unprecedented status, he had come to the realization somewhere in his musings that he needed her. Perhaps the Heralds as well. He couldn't accomplish what he hoped to alone.
It didn't mean, though, that he was about to welcome the Heralds in with open arms. Need not welcome them at all, if he played it carefully enough.
"I don't want to leave the garden," he warned, couching his fear of leaving his pool and haven behind in unreasoning - and inarguable - whim. He had short patience for lengthy discussions these days, and was not above petty practices to head one off.
:Then we will not leave the garden,: Sianni agreed equably.
Kyn frowned, taking a look around, at the sere and scraggly landscape that had already stripped itself in preparation for winter, but which still managed to give the area a chaotic feel of jumbled branches and tangled limbs. "There is not enough room to ride in here."
:Of course there is,: Sianni scoffed gently, turning to present her left side to him in invitation. :This is your mind. There will be plenty of room.:
He stared at her in perplexity before he felt a small, wry smile steal over his face. "Of course. How foolish of me." Standing, he stepped over the hole in the ice and onto the dry, yellowed remains of grass interspersed liberally with spiky tufts of moss. Turning back, he gazed for a moment at the unruffled black surface of the pond, the ice vanished as quickly and completely as a dream.
:No one else is near,: Sianni reassured softly.
"It's not that," he lied unconvincingly, and braced his hands on her broad back. She stood patiently as he sprang to land belly-down, crosswise across her, and then smoothly swung his leg up and over to push himself astride. Perhaps, in later years with more height, he would be able to take a more elegant route for a bareback mounting. But until then, he had to resort to the less dignified method.
:Where would you like to go, Kyn?: she asked even as she began to walk without his prompting.
He shrugged, automatically adjusting his perch to move smoothly with her gait. "I only know the garden, the manse's courtyard, and the collegium grounds well enough."
:We must remedy that as soon as possible, then,: Sianni said as she moved up into a trot, and then shifted strides seamlessly through a canter to reach a gallop with barely enough time for him to notice the change. Automatically, he leaned forward slightly to balance himself over her withers, fingers tangling in her mane, legs gathering themselves just before her barrel though her gait was so effortless he doubted he would have fallen had he been asleep sitting straight up in the middle of her back.
His instruction in riding with and without a saddle had been relatively minimal - just enough time devoted to it to ensure that, in an emergency, he could borrow any steed that was available and ride it at a breakneck pace...and have the both of them come out at the end in more or less one piece. Most of his time and energy had been diverted to other skills, ones that should, in theory, preclude any such need for hasty transportation.
"It doesn't matter," he murmured the words as the wind of their passage carded through her mane and stung his face. Slitting his eyes, he unconsciously lowered himself further, as if to take shelter behind her, and this only seemed to encourage her to run faster, stride lengthening. Forced to parcel more concentration to her rhythm lest he make an utter fool of himself by losing his grip, his awareness sank deeper into the beat of hooves, the bellow of lungs between his legs and the near-indiscernible rush of blood, pushed by a heartbeat he could hear only in his mind and soul.
:Does the garden reflect the season, or your mood?: The inquiry came softly, almost hesitantly - or, perhaps, allowing him to refuse an answer with grace if he wished to. :What do you dream at night, Chosen, that disturbs you so?:
He had long ago closed his eyes against the whip of her mane as he lowered himself to press nearly full-length against her warm hide. For some reason, there was no awkwardness to the position, even with his cheek pressed against the side of her neck, as if even the limits of equine physiology did not need to reach them here. He was not jarred uncomfortably by a full-out gallop. His shoulder and chest were not pummeled by a bobbing neck. The only indication he received at all off their run was the lash of wind and silky white strands, and the rhythm of hoof and heart and breath. Shadows. It is always shadows, ever since his hand took mine...but it changed after the second time he touched me. There is a griffin now...and a fox...
:Would you speak of your dreams to me, Chosen? I do not wish to see you suffer needlessly...shadows, I may be able to help with. But...a gryphon? I do not understand.:
No, not a gryphon. A griffin... He stopped momentarily, confused. The two spellings were technically interchangeable, were, truthfully, indistinguishable in sound - and yet, in his mind, there was a distinct difference in what Sianni thought of when she said "gryphon" and what he thought of when he said "griffin", enough of one that he had unconsciously latched onto one variation over the other because of an arbitrary association made long ago while studying in the manse's musty library. "Gryphon" in its proper usage had, of late, been applied to the living, breathing animals that once again graced Valdemar. "Griffin" he had seen used the most often in the dusty tomes delineating lineage, histories of families, writings when the language had been younger and less strict in its spellings...
...faster...
...where the mentions all spoke of emblems. Crests. Coat-of-arms.
Faster...
Two dimensional. Flat. Two colors only: brown and gold; red on white.
:Faster!:
Yet, for all that it felt as if he rode the very wind now, breath stolen from his lungs by the speed of their passage, he could not escape the dread that flowered inside him at that recognition, and the knowledge that his Gift would inevitably visit him again with the sight of two family symbols destroying each other, and the sure knowledge that he was somehow bound to their mutual destruction.
~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~
He thought it was another dream at first, when the shadows in the pond deepened, something creeping over the ice to curtail even the wan light that managed to win through. It was a common enough theme that he had long ago accepted it as a mere prologue, something that could be ignored with impunity. Certainly, he made no effort to break free from his overactive Gift, though he would have rather avoided the stress of reliving the fractured scenes. But from the very onset of his Sight, he had been taught and learned the value of what his dreams could tell him. He dared not cut one off when it might reveal crucial information this time, no matter how many permutations he had to suffer through beforehand.
I will kill him.
He almost didn't register the words. Just as the unnatural darkness could have been a passing cloud skidding across the sun - even though the light had never wavered in his garden since its inception - the sound could have been a coincidence of dried leaves and bare twigs sloughing against each other - though no breeze had ever disturbed this place within his imaginings.
I will kill him.
Kyn paid the tickle of sound no heed - not until the whispers repeated themselves, wound through with the uncomfortable prickle of gloating. Then, only then did he belatedly stir himself to further awareness, and found uneasily that he had an autonomy that a simple dream or vision would never have granted him.
I will kill him. I will kill him. I will kill him. I will kill -
Maddeningly repetitive, and its message ominous enough that he couldn't help paying heed. It seemed content to sit and wait, purring the same words to itself until interrupted, and so, finally needled into responding, Kyn gave in and asked aloud, "Who."
A darker patch glided close to the ice, curling in upon itself in satisfaction, pressing close. The only one that matters enough to make you ask that question.
"You can't touch him," Kyn hissed immediately, unconsciously drifting close enough to flatten his hands against the unnaturally smooth surface that the pond's face had become.
The shadow shivered with delight, turning to peer through at him, a distorted montage of grinning eyes and winking teeth through a broken window. I know where he is now, thanks to you. I know his weaknesses. And I am visiting him now, just as I am visiting you...
"You're lying," Kyn ground out, baring his own teeth in unconscious mockery of the rictus above him. The ice creaked beneath his tensed fingers.
The shadow laughed, a soft, sibilant tickle of mirth. I do not need to lie to you. Shall I describe the manse to you? What the walls of this garden hide behind them? Your room, the corridors beyond, the kitchen that used to produce meals for hundreds and the banquet hall that used to host them? Shall I tell you about the locked, private chamber atop the stairs, and what your precious Master had to claim on the lower floor because his broken body complains about the steps and his broken spirit the memories that cling to his former quarters - ?
The ice gave a last, plaintive groan under the force of his fear and anger, the sound of it finally breaking away in a million glittering shards drowned by the whispery wail of the shadows as they fled before the sudden hail. He sent the entire shield exploding outwards in a rain of rocky chunks and rainbow knife edges that shredded the closest shadows into foggy wisps chasing each other toward the garden walls. He barely registered the shock of the shield's forced shattering as the remainder of the shadows flickered in surprise and whisked away from the ice storm, as quick as a thought could propel them.
:Chosen!:
:He dares! He dares to invade and boast?!: With a silent snarl, Kyn lunged after the nearest patch of un-light, a rising howl of frustration lodging in his throat as he saw it dance beyond his swiping fingertips, tauntingly curled just out of grazing distance, gleaming yellow slits laughing back at him - until he felt a broad back suddenly under him, his legs curving of their own volition around a barrel and the play of a thousand-plus pounds of pure muscle beneath a velvety coat. And then, as the shadow danced merrily in its smug circle one second too long, Sianni surged forward with him astride and he raked his hand fully through its center -
- a shallow, copper bowl filled with crimson, the vague silhouette of a face reflected within, the eyes widening and mouth opening in shock before it jerks back -
- hands with fingertips dipped in blood, fumbling on the bowl's sides and sending it flipping end over end off its stand -
- clattering to the ground, its contents scattering in a gory fountain -
- ground composed of polished wood, decorated with esoteric symbols drawn in chalk, slowly defaced by a spreading carmine stain -
- and he knew.
The shadow scattered into half a dozen black skeins skittering all in different directions, and this time, he let it and its brethren continue without pursuit, beyond the garden's walls.
He knew. Se'Fannouel might not have had any reason to lie to Kyn on the surface, but the duke had lied nevertheless, and Master was safe. Se'Fannouel might have ransacked some of his memories of the manse, but the man still didn't know where it was.
Relief was short-lived though, as he stared at the undisturbed vegetation, Sianni shifting and snorting uneasily. I have become a danger to Master.
He heard a shrill whinny from outside his window, the sound of feet pounding toward his door. :No, Chosen, you should not think of yourself in that manner.:
I am the only link Se'Fannouel has to Master. The proper thing to do would be to eliminate that threat.
The door was flung open with such force, it slammed into the near wall and rebounded, nearly catching the second person to enter - Nadia - full in the face. The first had already reached Kyn's side in three long strides, taking a hold of his shirt-front and half-hauling him out of the bed, raking a wintry gaze up and down his form. "Wake, Kyn!"
:The weapon that wounds may also protect! You are your master's best defense!:
He thought upon that, while his head flopped and his teeth rattled from the rough shake he had received with the un-Herald's barked order. Defense? What did he no about defense? His instinct, always, was to fulfill the assignment at all costs; casualties were not only acceptable, they were sometimes a given. The best defense had always been death.
But what was his assignment now? He needed a direction, a goal, before he could formulate his strategy, decide what resources were needed, weigh the risks and the sacrifices that were acceptable for success. In the absence of an outside directing force -
"In the absence of an outside directing force, you must, perforce, make all decisions yourself." The twisted, claw-like hand had lifted to touch a scabby, nail-less fingertip to the center of his forehead. "The decisions must come from within you. Do not hesitate. Do not let yourself fall to indecision. So long as you accept all the consequences of your actions, you can do no wrong."
All consequences. He had stared at that bone-and-sinew remnant of a human limb, and had wondered what decisions Master had made that made such consequences acceptable.
Master. His entire life was built around Master. He held no illusions about his creation, his shaping; he was purely an extension of Master's will. If Master was killed...where would that leave him? In a way, he himself was an assignment - Master's assignment - and as such, he could not permit Master to perish before his purpose was fulfilled. :You're right,: he said, banishing the pond and the garden as soon as the decision was made, allowing the awareness of his body to take its place. There was an almost palpable relief as he accepted the new goal, felt his entire being relax into the familiar routine of assessment and preparation. :Master doesn't know of the danger yet. I have to warn him - he must be told that the duke is actively searching for him once again. And the duke must be stopped.: And he opened his eyes.
Kyn struggled for a moment to focus, hiccupped and had to try again when there was another mind-jogging shake, and then asked Alberich in a voice that rasped with disuse and annoyance, "Have you moved into the Healers' Hall now?"
The un-Herald frowned, but then a corner of his mouth quirked ever so slightly as he lowered Kyn back into the bed. "To thank I have you for that. The last full night's sleep came just before your Choosing, I believe."
Kyn coughed and cleared his throat noisily, rubbing his crusty eyes and trying to hide his shock at how unpracticed the simple gesture felt after three days of inactivity. "Wish I could say I was sorry."
And now I finally get to thank all of you wonderful reviewers. =) All of the things you've said have helped immeasurably in raising my spirits, and I would like to think that any praise I manage to garner is praise that is also, in a way, for my grandmother, who had been a teacher in China, in Taiwan, and then in the states to her grandchildren, and from whom I undoubtedly inherited the ability to write, albeit in a different language.
(Thank goodness for the ability to sort reviews by chapters...I would never remember where to start otherwise.) Be sure to scroll down; I've divided my replies into two sections by chapter, so I might've replied to you twice, split up inside the two sections.
Replies to chapter 8 reviews:
Shadowcat - Sorry it took me so long, but I did try to hurry, honest! Durned work and school...boots projects and finals out the window But, that aside, I'm very glad that the voice and tone is to your liking. Consistency has sometimes been a problem for me in the past, but I've been trying to tighten that up (along with many other things). I think I've been writing off and on since...junior high, I believe. It's hard to pinpoint. And I did take a writing seminar at my school (two semesters ago, I believe) back when I still held hopes out for a creative writing minor. Alas, I got slapped on the wrist for being greedy, and had to settle for only the English minor.
Jocelyn Magus - It is indeed. But the blockage is no longer perfect, as I think I managed to hint at in chapter 9a. Did it make sense to you? Did the point make it across in the chapter? (Btw, please continue to point out anything that doesn't make sense to you or seems like it's a contradiction; it helps keep me on my toes and locate errors that, as someone writing the darned thing, I can't see. I vastly appreciate how closely you're reading the story and the effort you make to tell me what's wrong with it so that it might be improved.)
Megan - Eep! o.O* Definitely not a fun deal. I am very happy to see that you're alive and well - at least, well enough to be surfing the web and reviewing, anyway. =P offers ice cream and cookies
Tessie - Welcome! ^_^ I'm glad you've enjoyed yourself so far, and I hope I manage to continue entertaining you with future chapters.
Swift Shadows - Pretty much. =P (And yes, I know it's unforgivably vague for an author concerning what time period her story falls in, but I beg your indulgence until I scan through the last few books in the chronology again for details. I don't want to keep pestering you readers for the info when I should be doing the researching myself, but I don't want to stop writing completely either. So I'm trying to hedge around what I don't know right now in the hopes of filling in/correcting details when I finally do manage to get a hold of my books again without requiring massive rewrites.)
drunkenfairy - That's true. With Companions and Choice around, it is rather hard to imagine anything but repudiation or death standing in the way of Herald trainees. Still, the doubt everyone seemed to hold about whether Vanyel was made of the 'right stuff' in Magic's Pawn had made me wonder just how sure everyone is about would-be Heralds, and so I've tried to convey that same sense of doubt here - considering the circumstances - while making it possible for the doubt itself to be in 'doubt'...as in, whether it really does exist outside of Kyn's own mind. At least...that's what I think I'm trying to do...it all just gets very confusing after a while. shrinks back into her corner to stare blankly at the wall
sky - Eh, I don't remember what my track record is by now, but...I think, at least, this part didn't take quite as long as the last one. ^_^' And I'm sorry that Kyn's tangling with Alberich wasn't more dramatic, but that just seemed like a really nice place to end the chapter (as in, before I left a QWERTY imprint on my forehead when I fall asleep on my keyboard). I hope I didn't disappoint too badly, otherwise.
ola - *blush*
the-newly-christened M'cha Araem - laughs You're pretty spooky yourself, with how well you're managing to follow my line of thinking. I wonder if I should be worried that I'm getting that predictable... =P And thank you thank you thank you for that very specific example of what you liked. It gives me a lot more to work on concerning what really turned out well...and what was merely wishful thinking. snickers And from your review on the 9ath chapter, I gather that the pixie was suitably impressed by your temper tantru - er, your righteous fury and spiffy new pen name and finally played nice, yes? ^_^
Replies to chapter 9a reviews:
haiiro - I hope you don't mind being hugged. You've just vastly reassured me that I didn't hit completely off-target with that section. While the pace of things aren't going to let up (at least, not for the next chapter or two that I've got planned) I definitely wanted to build more character rather than sacrifice them all for excitement, but I also didn't want to bore people into just skipping on to the next action scene either. 9b continues that attempt, and I would hugely appreciate it if you'd let me know if I managed to keep that balance or dropped the ball somewhere along the line. =)
Megan - *BLUSH* Shhhh...at this rate, I'll have the entire world of writers out to get me for the presumption. ;) But thank you ever so much for the sentiment. sighs I just wish my grandmother had been able to read English...but then, maybe it was for the best that she hadn't. -.- I dunno if I would have lived down the embarrassment.
M'cha Araem - wiggles happily And thank you. (For the sympathies. Well, for the praise too, definitely, but that was directed specifically toward the latter paragraph. Hrm...maybe I should stop while I'm still ahead...if I was even ahead in the first place...oooookay, definitely time to go to bed...) And yeah, I lost both grandfathers before, but since I was either very young, or didn't know them very well, they didn't impact me near as much as her passing did.
kmina - Thank you. It hits hard every once in a while, when there's something I wish I could show her or give her, but all in all, there are no regrets.
ola - ^_^ And here is yet another one. And yes, I definitely wish I had the skill, time, and fortitude to write about her right now, but perhaps in the future, I'll be able to do so, and then her memory will not only be dependent on me or her immediate family to live on.
drunkenfairy - Thank ye. Kyn's finally beginning to realize he's not an island unto himself, and he'll be making a few more 'alliances' along the way.
Firefox - The effort you make to offer condolences is more than enough to make up for any perceived lack in being able to 'relate'. =) And that is truly an uplifting note; thank you.