Chapter 26: Of Hangovers and Heraldic Duties

Yozak yawned and stretched out his back; they had reached the first way-station of their circuit last night and had spent it in the company of the Herald coming off duty. He dug into his packs after removing the formal reins of his beloved Jissa's bridle. The tiny bells strung from her reins chimed musically in his hands as he set about tacking her up. After being on the road for two weeks, he already missed Conrart.

In a way it was odd—he'd spent every moment that their hectic schedules permitted with Conrart for as long as he could remember. But in these last two years, their lives had gone from the hectic work load of the captain of a very 'hands-on' king's guard and undercover operative to the relatively sedate and sedimentary lifestyle of two school boys. Yesterday was also Beltane, Conrart's birthday, the one day out of the year that Conrart hated with a passion. He finished up his morning chores quickly, his thoughts on his friend. The sun was up, which meant so was Conrart; eighty five years of military tendencies don't just go away over the span of two years.

This was probably a good thing considering the fact that the hours kept by the Heralds in general were positively unholy!

Yozak looked up at the sky; dawn had come and gone less than an hour ago. He was still worried about Conrart—his friend had been alone on the one day he hated most, and he wondered how Conrart had handled it. He paused briefly, glancing around to see if there was anything else he could help with. His Councilor was a nice man who'd assigned himself the bulk of the camp work despite Yozak's assurances that he knew how to handle a camp site and handle it quickly.

Then he spotted something his mentor hadn't started yet, and got to it. Covering the ashes in the fire pit wasn't hard, not with years of military training, and thirty years experience as an independent undercover operative to back the Heraldic training he'd been given. So he let his mind wander.

Predictably it wandered to Conrart.

His friend was just inside of his Mindspeech range, and this would be the last chance to speak with the younger man for at least another year. With that in mind, he reached for his friend.

He got the mental equivalent of a pained groan in reply.

It took him a moment to place the strange feelings reverberating down the link between them. When he did however, he laughed aloud.

: Enjoying your first hangover? : He inquired cheekily.

Conrart's reply was more than half a moan and almost completely inarticulate. Yozak couldn't help spending a good few minutes teasing his friend, describing what this morning's trout breakfast had looked like in great detail. Then he stopped when it became clear that Conrart was going to vomit if he didn't.

A drunk Conrart—now there was something not many ever saw, and sadly, he wasn't one of the ones who had. The younger man was no lightweight, the military had seen to that at least, but neither was he a heavy drinker. Conrart usually only had a beer or two at most, or a glass of the strong stuff. In the 125 years they'd known each other, Conrart had never gotten drunk enough to have a hangover in the morning, let alone one that made Yozak feel as if he were the one who'd been drinking.

After finding out that the man he was dating was planning on getting him drunk and into a 'compromising' position, Conrart had refrained from even getting tipsy. That was when he was 84. The man was a soldier, as such he drank, but he knew his limits and never pushed them. So what in the heck had possessed the man to get … well… plastered for lack of a better term?

He sighed and gave his hung-over friend a purely mental poke to get his attention. : In the top drawer of my bedside table there's a row of about 60 blue vials. Drink one.:

He finished up the last of the campsite chores with ease before swinging up into his saddle and waiting for his mentor to finish tacking up his own Companion. It was a good thing he was currently in his saddle because he had the dubious pleasure of watching through Conrart's eyes as the younger man made the trek from the dorms up to his rooms in the Herald's wing. It took his friend a moment to figure out the relatively simple door handle. But he soon slipped into the room, and made his way over to the nightstand. After some rummaging, the younger man found the previously mentioned vials and drank one. Yozak watched quietly as the haze in Conrart's vision began to clear.

: Alright,: Conrart said simply after a minute : What did I just drink? :

Yozak laughed aloud at that. : It's a Hangover remedy. : He replied simply.

Conrart sent him a purely mental snort. : I've seen Gwendal, Günter, Wolfram and half our platoon drunk and hung-over, and before I came back from earth, I'd seen you drunk a time or two. All I know about hangover cures is that they don't work this fast, taste horrible, and either feel like you're swallowing a mouthful of tar or sand. So I ask again, what did I just drink? :

: Alright,: Yozak said after a moment. : But first answer me this, what did it taste like to you? :

Conrart sighed : Dark chocolate truffles. Why do you ask? :

Yozak blinked and filed that little bit of information away for further analysis. To him, it had always tasted like his favorite sensual food. Then again he had no idea what a 'dark chocolate truffle' was. Didn't sound like any mushroom he knew!

: Well to me, it tastes like ripe strawberries dipped in thick fresh cream. I was just wondering what it tasted like to you, and to answer your earlier question, it's a mixture of freely given Dragon's blood and Phoenix tears. :

: I beg your pardon?! : Conrart mentally yelped.

Yozak snorted. : You wanted to know. :

Conrart sputtered for a moment before he finally managed to say : Dragons are a protected species, and how did you even get Phoenix tears? They're extinct thanks to the bloody humans. :

Yozak blinked at his friend's mental shriek. : What? I said it was freely given; it wouldn't have worked otherwise. As for the Phoenixes, there's a whole colony of them living in old abandoned Dragon's nests deep within the heart of the preserve. :

: When did they get there? :

Yozak sighed. : I don't know, but I'll talk to you later because I have to go be a Herald now. By the way, congratulations on the pile of Whites you were too hung-over to notice on your desk. :

He smiled at the startled noise that reverberated down their mental link as he and Koren rode up to the first village of their circuit. For the first time in two years, they were out of easy mind speaking distance. From now on, he would have to actively concentrate on Conrart to bespeak him, and while Conrart's range was actually longer than his, he was the one actually on circuit, and had to keep his head in the game. They were both keenly aware of the fact that one wrong move on his part could get him killed, and as soon as Conrart was on his own internship ride, the same thing would apply.

He sighed, and sat up taller in his saddle, carrying himself with all the authority of his new office. Runefork was a relatively large village off of the Orhon River. They were still fairly close to Haven, so the villagers saw Heralds often; as such this should be an easy village to deal with. For now, Koren would be handling the bulk of the Heraldic stuff, while Yozak observed and accomplished a few things under the man's careful supervision.

They rode into the center of the village, where their arrival was heralded by the squealing of excited children. The villagers have already begun to gather, eager to have the Heralds handle whatever situations they couldn't settle in the local courts. The emotions in the air were a seething mass of excitement, expectancy, and something the redhead couldn't quite identify. Yozak dismounted and followed Koren over to a small table that had been set out for their use. He sat down ready to watch, listen, and learn.

Several hours had now passed, and the sun would soon begin to set. They would ride out to the next way-station and rest for the night, then come back in the morning and handle the rest of the cases. He rose to his feet and stretched. The sight of his beloved Jissa surrounded by a horde of worshiping children made him laugh aloud.

He started walking towards her, remembering the time so long ago when Lord Dan Hiri Weller had first started teaching him how to ride. Yozak couldn't help the small smile that came to his lips. He had been born outside of Shin Makoku; because of this, he didn't learn to ride until after he'd been rescued. He remembered sitting on the back of Conrart's pony as the man led the small beast in neat circles and the feelings of joy and excitement when he finally held those reins for the first time.

He was just about to ask Jissa if she was willing to extract herself from her group of admirers, when he felt it. A wave of sadness and terrible worry washed over him from separate directions. He closed his eyes briefly and slowly but carefully, he lowered his shields.

Instantly, he knew the two were related.

He sighed—sadness first; he'd handle the worry later.

With his eyes still closed, he tried to locate the source of the sorrow. It was hard, and it took a lot longer to localize then he was used to, but then he'd never used his empathy to locate anyone except Conrart before. After a moment he managed to pinpoint the source, and when he opened his eyes he let his empathy guide his steps. Soon he found himself standing just outside of the small village graveyard.

He swallowed; he hated graveyards.

They reminded him of the relatively short time he'd spent in a Dai Shimaron work camp, where they buried their newly dead every day, and the death toll was so numerous the graves markers stretched as far as the eye could see.

He buried his own mother there, away from the mass graves and the yard in general, on top of the hill she used to take him to every evening as the sun set, despite how tired they both were, to tell him stories of his father.

He closed his eyes briefly, trying to bury his past long enough for him to do his job—he wasn't phobic; he just didn't like the painful memories that graveyards brought with them. Suddenly Jissa was there, standing at his side, offering him silent love and comfort. Without really thinking about it, he reached out and laid one hand against her withers, before proceeding into the forest of grave markers.

What he found startled him.

A little boy, his deep black hair a tangle of leaves and twigs, lay half sprawled on the turned earth of two relatively new graves. He guessed that they had been buried less than a week ago. The dirt was freshly turned in narrow little groves, and the boy's filthy hands bore further testament to the frantic digging the little one had been doing.

He knelt and scooped the child into his arms, whispering words of comfort in that quiet tone Conrart always used with small children. He was well aware of the fact that the boy couldn't understand a word he was saying since he was speaking in his native tongue, but he knew that at times like this, small children responded better to the tone of your voice, not the words. He reached out with his gift to soothe the small boy as best he could. He remembered this pain, the pain of losing a loved one. But how did one explain death to a four year old?

"Mama . . . papa . . ." The boy whispered, small hands fisting in Yozak's tunic. The man ignored the fact that this kid was getting dirt on his whites, and as he cradled the small, wet, and muddy child in his arms, he left the graveyard with Jissa trailing at his heels. He waited only until they were far enough from the cemetery for the buildup of strong emotions not to interfere with his empathy before he lowered his shields again and searched for the source of the worry that was also laced through with sorrow. He found it easily, on the other side of the village, and the emotions in that area were now heating up. Individual strands of anger, annoyance, worry, disregard and even shame were gathering around, distinguishable to him only by the individual colors of the emotional strands.

He groaned; it would appear that there were more people embroiled in this emotional mess than one little boy who was still too young to understand the implications of death, only that his mother and father were gone and wouldn't ever be coming back. Still cradling the kid gently in his arms, he swung up into his saddle with the practiced ease and grace of a Herald. Jissa waited just long enough for him to find his balance and adjust the kid in his arms before she shot off like an arrow.

They moved through the village at a relatively fast trot, heading for the source of the emotional upheaval. Along the way, he reached out for Koren with his Mindspeech. He remained in contact with his mentor only long enough to see to it that the man had the same information that he had. Jissa made her way calmly through the still relatively crowded streets; Yozak shifted his position minutely, compensating for her every move. The small child in his arms shivered slightly, and he wrapped his cloak more securely around the boy to keep him from catching a chill in the evening air.

The scene they came upon next was one that would stay with him for a while. This was not the type of argument he ever wanted to walk in on again. Families were not meant to have these kinds of fights! Six men, three women and a boy were standing in the middle of the street, arguing heatedly with each other. The subject of their argument was the little boy in his arms. They were arguing over who was going to take him now that his parents had passed away.

Apparently it wasn't a duty any of them really wanted. Since the father had been fairly wealthy, they all wanted the land that belonged to the youngest sibling, but not one of them wanted the responsibility that came with it. In fact, the only one who seemed to care about the small child currently asleep in his arms was the older boy in the crowd.

Jonathan; this young man's name was Jonathan. He was the only one who seemed relieved that someone had actually found little 'Ree', or rather Dorian. Unlike their elder siblings, Jonathan actually cared about and wanted to raise his younger brother. The problem was he had yet to come of age, and thus was still considered a child himself under the law.

~~~***~~~

Yozak sighed as he gazed into the fire in front of him. It had been a long day, and Koren had left that last judgment up to him and him alone. There was a relatively simple solution, but it seemed as if no matter how simple and logical it was, he had to argue it again and again with those arrogant little villagers. At least little Ree had a guardian who would care for him and love him as he deserved, in the form of the youngest of his elder siblings.

He blinked, resisting the urge to go cross-eyed, as a mug came into his line of sight from somewhere above his head. "It's cider . . . with a little something extra. You looked like you could use a bit of a pick me up," Koren said simply with a kind voice.

Without a word, Yozak reached out and took the small mug, taking a swig with his eyes closed. He could taste the subtle difference that was the apple brandy, lurking mostly undetected in the otherwise innocent apple cider. It wasn't nearly strong enough to get him even lightly buzzed; years as an undercover operative had given him an amazing alcohol tolerance, and the ability to detect exactly what kind of alcohol he was ingesting.

In a way it was funny; the only person who'd ever really seen him drunk was Conrart. Plenty of people have seen him act drunk,but it was rare for him to leave himself open in such a manner. He nodded and gave a muttered word of thanks. With his gaze never once leaving the fire, he took another swig of the doctored cider. He never really understood what Conrart's younger brother Wolfram, found so hypnotic about fire. Wolfram had always reminded him of a small child clutching a security blanket whenever he caught the boy gazing into a fire. But as he watched the Vrondi dancing just above the flames, he felt himself begin to understand Wolfram just a little bit better. Idly he wondered if Gwendal's compulsive knitting had originally come about as a way to trade one security blanket for another; after all he often saw Conrart gazing into the rushing waters of the river when he was disturbed.

They were Mazoku, and their ties to the elements were irrevocable.

Koren settled himself back down on the other side of their small fire, and Yozak knew he was watching him. He survived the life of a spy too long not to know when he was being watched, even subtlety. He refused to acknowledge the man's gaze; he knew better than to give away more than he had to. If the man wanted answers, he'd have to open his mouth and ask a question. Koren wasn't someone like Conrart to simply be given information freely, to do with what he will.

"You're going to make me ask, aren't you?" Koren said after a moment.

Yozak glanced up arching one reddish eyebrow. "Now whatever gave you such a notion?"

"Because I've never been able to get the time of day out of you without asking," Koren replied mildly.

"Shame on you," Yozak rebuked lightly, "not being able to tell time at your age. And here you have those poor villagers believing you're a trained Herald."

Koren gapped at him for a moment, and then shut his mouth with an audible snap. "Very well youngling, we'll play word games."

: Oh goodie, just what I wanted to do with my evening… play word games with an infant. : Yozak told Jissa mildly.

: Chosen, you're behaving like an errant child. : Jissa scolded mildly.

Yozak sighed, : I'd say he started it but I don't think that argument is going to go any further with you then it would with Conrart, so I guess I'll act my age. :

"Alas, Jissa reminds me that I'm actually older than you and thus should act my age." Yozak bluntly told his mentor.

Koren gaped at him again. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

"Exactly what it sounded like—Jissa instructed me to act my age," Yozak retorted, shrugging his white clad shoulders nonchalantly.

Koren grumbled something about internees with a neurotic sense of humor, and for the gods to give him strength before he pressed on. "So exactly how old are you?"

Yozak sighed. He didn't want to get into this, but he was the one who brought it up – however unintentionally. "I'll be 146 come February, which is about the equivalent of a little over 21. So there you have it—I'm both your senior and your junior. Pain in the ass, isn't it? Anyway, moving on; what were you originally planning to ask me?"

The look on Koren's face was absolutely priceless. The man simply stared at him for a moment before his eyes lost all focus and Yozak knew he spoke with his own Amanda. Yozak reached up and stroked Jissa's muzzle as the mare wandered over and settled herself down behind him. With a sigh, he leaned back and used the mare as a handy backrest, closing his eyes as he waited for his councilor to get control of his vocal cords again.

After a moment, Koren seemed to have succeeded. "I see." He said at last. "So would you mind enlightening me about your decision this afternoon?"

"What do you need clarified?" Yozak asked with a small sigh.

Koren groaned and muttered something about pulling teeth before pressing on. "You basically emancipated the elder boy and left a 4 year old in his care. I was wondering why and if you really thought that wise."

Yozak sighed again. "I thought that might be it," He replied, and gazed into the fire in silence for a moment longer, taking strength from the feel of Jissa at his back, and the distant hum of Conrart just beyond his speaking range.

"seven years ago our Maoh adopted a daughter. He was far too young to have a child, not even of age himself, but he wanted to give Greta a good home with someone who cared for her. For a Mazoku, 15 really is quite young, and many of us thought it was going to turn into nothing more than a case of one child trying to raise another, particularly when you take into account the fact that Greta's a human. As such she ages faster than Yuri -may Shinou grant him a long reign- ever could. That never mattered to the kiddo though. And I know what it feels like to be unwanted after you've lost your family."

"My village was great, but they could never replace what I'd lost. I chose to tempt fate by following Conrart and his father as a little boy. Then I made my own destiny, for better or worse, and I was able to do it because no matter how tough things got, I had my own little place in the world. Conrart became my family that day, and I have never regretted that choice. We wanted each other, even when it was just us against the world; I knew Conrart would always want me, would always care. That became my strength. I simply made sure that little Ree had the same chance that I had.

Jonathan is only a few months from being an adult anyway. Had their parents died a year from now, Ree would have gone to him without question, because he wanted him. It's better for him that way and we both know it. This way it works out the same—both boys keep their portion of their parents land and inheritance, in addition to the main house. It gives them a means to make a living and their independence. Besides, if Yuri's taught me anything, it's to follow what you think is right, and that a willing guardian, no matter how young and inexperienced, is better than an unwilling one." He paused, amazed that he had given so much away; it was a sign of just how much the Heralds and Jissa had changed him.

"Does that make sense?" he asked at last.

Koren simply nodded his understanding.

~~~***~~~

A.N

Sorry this is late things have been hectic. Also my 7 month imprisonment in everyday suburbia has just turned into a year. So things may get a bit worse before they get better. Read and review please. It keeps the werecreatures happy. And it gives our muses a kick in the pants. Or give them a cup of coffee if you wish. But please review. also there is only one more chapter written and edited, from now on you are at the mercy of my beta. The grammar Nazi.