Author's Notes: Nothing much to say here, just a huge thank you to give to Rosethorn, who has been kind enough to suffer through the rough drafts of these chapters, and try to make them worth reading. *bows in Rosethorn's direction* Thank you.
Also, yet another shameless pleas for reviews. Not just positive ones, either. I'll take anything I can get!
***********
Identity Crisis
Chapter Three
In which Herald Rhys tells a story, and the Collegium is surprised.
* * *
*Until a year and a half ago*, Herald Rhys said, *I had been riding circuit along the Karsite border. Officially, we are at peace with Karse...at the moment. Unofficially, all that can be said is that we're in a state of non-war. Karse still sends over its uniformed "bandits", and to be fair, the more hot-headed borderers are not above organizing the occassional raiding party of their own. The Heralds' duties there were to try and curtail the raiding on both sides, do their standard tasks, as well as the occassional unofficial foray over the border to gather information or rescue refugees.
*I'd been on duty for about four months when I recieved a mindcall from across the border. My Mindspeaking is not very strong, so I knew it had to be close, and it sounded terrified. Faniel and I set out immediately. We found a family fleeing the Karsite priests. The youngest daughter had been chosen to be given to the Fires, and it was her cry for help that brought me to their aid. It was a delicate situation, since I was in Heraldic uniform, anything I did could be used against the King as an official action of Valdemar. So, instead of showing myself to the family, I used the daughter's precocious gift to give them directions to the border, while Faniel and I did our best to distract the pursuit.*
His voice turned grim in her mind. *It worked right up until the end. It wasn't until then that I realized that the pursuers had been steering the family, into a trap. With them, they had one of their priests. My only options were to reveal myself or leave the family to die.* The flickering images she percieved around the edges of his words left no doubt which option he'd chosen. Tatya got one particularly strong flash of a woman with dull red hair, clad in heavily embroidered black robes, before Rhys ruthlessly cut it off.
*Anyway,* he continued, *We managed to get the family to the Border Guard barracks, before I passed out. I returned to Haven on a stretcher.*
*Under loud and annoying protest the whole way,* Faniel interjected.
*Hush, Faniel. As a matter of fact, the only reason I agreed to it was because _you_ were obviously too weak to be burdened with me.*
Faniel just laughed silently, and Tatya felt the bond between Herald and Companion flow through her like a warm breeze, filled with love and trust. She was awed by its depth and strength...and envious of it, as well. "So," she said, breaking the mood, "what happened then?"
Rhys started, and groped for the narrative. *Ah, yes. Well, it took a while for us to heal, of course. Even after our physical wounds had healed, the Circle decided that we'd probably do best off the Karsite border for a while. So they decided to give us an easy Circuit, in an area that hadn't had any serious problems for a couple of decades." Tatya felt, rather than heard, his ironic chuckle. *Some plan that turned out to be.*
*Things were pretty normal for the first couple of months. We had almost come to the conclusion that all this molly-coddilling might be good for us after all...*
*Speak for yourself, flower-child,* Faniel said grumpily.
"Flower-child?" Tatya asked, and giggled.
*Faniel, I'm going to find some way to get you back for this.* Rhys sighed. *My full name is Chrysanthemum. My parents swear it's because the priest read a happy marriage omen in one of the petals of that flower. I, on the other hand, believe that they simply wanted a girl. Now,* he raised his voice over her giggles, *do I get to continue, or shall I just turn it over to Faniel?*
*Oh, no, Chosen,* Faniel said with a suspiciously large overtone of abashment, *please continue.*
*Thank you. At any rate, we entered the Duchy of Deshannel just as the first frost arrived.* Tatya consulted her memory; if she was correct, Deshannel was about four days ride--on a normal horse--from her father's keep. *As soon as we entered the first village, I could tell that something was wrong. Just a feeling, nothing I could take to the Circle, or that would justify Truth Spelling anyone. Call it Herald's intuition, if you want. Something was just...not right.
*So, Faniel used our recent convalescence as an excuse to become convieniently lame, and the village mayor kindly offered us shelter until we felt able to move on. While Faniel basked in the attention of every child in the vicinity, I did a little poking around. A bored Herald has a license to be nosy. What I found just provoked more questions. First, it appeared that the locals were cheating on their taxes. Not a lot, but it had to be widespread to get the kind of discrepencies that I thought I was seeing. Except that I didn't think these people _were_ cheating, and Faniel agreed. They simply weren't wary enough. Which meant that if something was going on, it was taking place at a higher level.
*Faniel made a miraculous recovery, and we headed for the capital. Along the way, I made some quick investigations into the other villages we passed, and found more of the same. Although the cheating was well hidden, it stuck out like a sore thumb once you knew what you were looking for. By the time I reached Deshannel Keep, we already knew enough to be on our guards.* Tatya felt a surge of melancholy from Rhys. *Not that it ended up mattering much.*
The reminder of his present state appeared to have jarred him out of his recollections. When he spoke again, his voice was brisk, and did not invite further questions. *I'll spare you the details. Turns out the good Duke was, indeed, personally responsible for the discrepancies. He was using the funds to finance some very nasty side ventures. Organized banditry on his neighbors, and black-market supply operations, to name two. The letter that you're taking to Haven is in His Grace's own handwriting, authorizing a shipment of heartsbane to his proctor in Haven. Several names in there are high-ranking members of the Merchants' Guild.* He sounded grimly pleased.
Tatya was dying to know more, like how he'd obtained the letter, but something told her that now was not the time. Instead, she mulled over what he _had_ told her, as Faniel's hooves ate up the distance between them and the capital city of Haven. A distance that became ever shorter, until one night just before dawn, when the world was sleepy and grey, and Tatya felt like she would fall from the saddle in sheer exhaustion, Faniel said, "We're here."
She forced her stinging eyes to focus beyond Faniel's ears, and saw the city walls, and lights of over a thousand torches beckoning them forward. And deep within her mind, she heard one wistful word. *Home.*
* * *
Guard Sergeant Williams was not expecting a particularly rough shift. Palace gate duty rarely was; anyone who had nefarious business within the walls was unlikely to come through the heavily fortified front door, after all. Even on mornings like today, when the fog wrapped vision in moist cotton, there was little chance for any real trouble. The guards were mostly there to take the names of legitimate visitors, and give directions to any new Chosen or recently arrived diplomats. Since no ambassadors were scheduled to arrive and none of the Companions were currently out on search, Williams was basking in the predawn quiet and revising a love poem for his wife, Letty. Lately, she'd been paying a bit too much attention to the fledgling Bards, and he was determined to show her that he could be just as silly and romantic as the best of them.
"Suze," he asked his partner on gate duty, "what rhymes with 'gold'?"
Suzanne shrugged. "Old, I guess?"
"Hair like spun gold/Hope you never get old?" He frowned. "That doesn't sound right."
Suzanne laughed her braying, horse-like laugh. "Oh, gods, Will, just pay a Bard to write one for you. She'd never know."
Willams set his jaw. "I don't want anyone writing love poems for my wife but _me_. Now, are you going to help me with this, or not?"
"Not."
"Fine. Let's see...gold, old, cold, mold, bold? Bold could work..."
"Hey," Suzanne straightened, "shut up a minute. Do you hear that?"
He cocked his head and listened. After a moment, he heard it as well; the sound of hoofbeats approaching. At great speed. The guards shared a worried glance, and came to attention. The hoofbeats continued to approach. The ringing, bell-like sound of hoof striking stone echoed from the buildings and drilled into Williams' ears. He swallowed. Only one four-footed creature had hoofs that sang when they touched stone. From the worried look on Suze's face, she knew it too. A Companion running this close to the Palace at this time of the morning could only mean one thing...trouble.
The Companion took shape as if formed from the mist itself. It was running flat out, and even over the distance, Williams could hear the bellows-like sound of its labored breathing. "Hail, Herald," he called out, and stepped forward. The Companion didn't break stride, but continued to run for the closed gate. Now he could see that clinging to its broad back was a small, childlike figure wrapped in a dark green cloak. He looked to Suze, his eyes wide. "I don't think they're going to stop!"
The sound of silver hooves filled the world. Suzanne took one wild look at the charging Companion, and then flung herself at the gate. "Help me!" Willams ran and put his shoulder to the steel. Between the two of them, they got the gate open just in time; the Companion's heaving shoulders just missed brushing their bodies.
The Companion skidded to a halt in the courtyard, and filled the early morning with its trumpeting cry. Its rider dismounted shakily, and pulled the cloak's hood down to reveal a round, feminine face. She blinked owlishly at the guards, and said, in a voice thick with weary cold, "I need to speak to," her head tilted as if she were listening to a voice only she could hear, "Seneschal Annice and the King's Own." As an afterthought, she added, "Please."
Also, yet another shameless pleas for reviews. Not just positive ones, either. I'll take anything I can get!
***********
Identity Crisis
Chapter Three
In which Herald Rhys tells a story, and the Collegium is surprised.
* * *
*Until a year and a half ago*, Herald Rhys said, *I had been riding circuit along the Karsite border. Officially, we are at peace with Karse...at the moment. Unofficially, all that can be said is that we're in a state of non-war. Karse still sends over its uniformed "bandits", and to be fair, the more hot-headed borderers are not above organizing the occassional raiding party of their own. The Heralds' duties there were to try and curtail the raiding on both sides, do their standard tasks, as well as the occassional unofficial foray over the border to gather information or rescue refugees.
*I'd been on duty for about four months when I recieved a mindcall from across the border. My Mindspeaking is not very strong, so I knew it had to be close, and it sounded terrified. Faniel and I set out immediately. We found a family fleeing the Karsite priests. The youngest daughter had been chosen to be given to the Fires, and it was her cry for help that brought me to their aid. It was a delicate situation, since I was in Heraldic uniform, anything I did could be used against the King as an official action of Valdemar. So, instead of showing myself to the family, I used the daughter's precocious gift to give them directions to the border, while Faniel and I did our best to distract the pursuit.*
His voice turned grim in her mind. *It worked right up until the end. It wasn't until then that I realized that the pursuers had been steering the family, into a trap. With them, they had one of their priests. My only options were to reveal myself or leave the family to die.* The flickering images she percieved around the edges of his words left no doubt which option he'd chosen. Tatya got one particularly strong flash of a woman with dull red hair, clad in heavily embroidered black robes, before Rhys ruthlessly cut it off.
*Anyway,* he continued, *We managed to get the family to the Border Guard barracks, before I passed out. I returned to Haven on a stretcher.*
*Under loud and annoying protest the whole way,* Faniel interjected.
*Hush, Faniel. As a matter of fact, the only reason I agreed to it was because _you_ were obviously too weak to be burdened with me.*
Faniel just laughed silently, and Tatya felt the bond between Herald and Companion flow through her like a warm breeze, filled with love and trust. She was awed by its depth and strength...and envious of it, as well. "So," she said, breaking the mood, "what happened then?"
Rhys started, and groped for the narrative. *Ah, yes. Well, it took a while for us to heal, of course. Even after our physical wounds had healed, the Circle decided that we'd probably do best off the Karsite border for a while. So they decided to give us an easy Circuit, in an area that hadn't had any serious problems for a couple of decades." Tatya felt, rather than heard, his ironic chuckle. *Some plan that turned out to be.*
*Things were pretty normal for the first couple of months. We had almost come to the conclusion that all this molly-coddilling might be good for us after all...*
*Speak for yourself, flower-child,* Faniel said grumpily.
"Flower-child?" Tatya asked, and giggled.
*Faniel, I'm going to find some way to get you back for this.* Rhys sighed. *My full name is Chrysanthemum. My parents swear it's because the priest read a happy marriage omen in one of the petals of that flower. I, on the other hand, believe that they simply wanted a girl. Now,* he raised his voice over her giggles, *do I get to continue, or shall I just turn it over to Faniel?*
*Oh, no, Chosen,* Faniel said with a suspiciously large overtone of abashment, *please continue.*
*Thank you. At any rate, we entered the Duchy of Deshannel just as the first frost arrived.* Tatya consulted her memory; if she was correct, Deshannel was about four days ride--on a normal horse--from her father's keep. *As soon as we entered the first village, I could tell that something was wrong. Just a feeling, nothing I could take to the Circle, or that would justify Truth Spelling anyone. Call it Herald's intuition, if you want. Something was just...not right.
*So, Faniel used our recent convalescence as an excuse to become convieniently lame, and the village mayor kindly offered us shelter until we felt able to move on. While Faniel basked in the attention of every child in the vicinity, I did a little poking around. A bored Herald has a license to be nosy. What I found just provoked more questions. First, it appeared that the locals were cheating on their taxes. Not a lot, but it had to be widespread to get the kind of discrepencies that I thought I was seeing. Except that I didn't think these people _were_ cheating, and Faniel agreed. They simply weren't wary enough. Which meant that if something was going on, it was taking place at a higher level.
*Faniel made a miraculous recovery, and we headed for the capital. Along the way, I made some quick investigations into the other villages we passed, and found more of the same. Although the cheating was well hidden, it stuck out like a sore thumb once you knew what you were looking for. By the time I reached Deshannel Keep, we already knew enough to be on our guards.* Tatya felt a surge of melancholy from Rhys. *Not that it ended up mattering much.*
The reminder of his present state appeared to have jarred him out of his recollections. When he spoke again, his voice was brisk, and did not invite further questions. *I'll spare you the details. Turns out the good Duke was, indeed, personally responsible for the discrepancies. He was using the funds to finance some very nasty side ventures. Organized banditry on his neighbors, and black-market supply operations, to name two. The letter that you're taking to Haven is in His Grace's own handwriting, authorizing a shipment of heartsbane to his proctor in Haven. Several names in there are high-ranking members of the Merchants' Guild.* He sounded grimly pleased.
Tatya was dying to know more, like how he'd obtained the letter, but something told her that now was not the time. Instead, she mulled over what he _had_ told her, as Faniel's hooves ate up the distance between them and the capital city of Haven. A distance that became ever shorter, until one night just before dawn, when the world was sleepy and grey, and Tatya felt like she would fall from the saddle in sheer exhaustion, Faniel said, "We're here."
She forced her stinging eyes to focus beyond Faniel's ears, and saw the city walls, and lights of over a thousand torches beckoning them forward. And deep within her mind, she heard one wistful word. *Home.*
* * *
Guard Sergeant Williams was not expecting a particularly rough shift. Palace gate duty rarely was; anyone who had nefarious business within the walls was unlikely to come through the heavily fortified front door, after all. Even on mornings like today, when the fog wrapped vision in moist cotton, there was little chance for any real trouble. The guards were mostly there to take the names of legitimate visitors, and give directions to any new Chosen or recently arrived diplomats. Since no ambassadors were scheduled to arrive and none of the Companions were currently out on search, Williams was basking in the predawn quiet and revising a love poem for his wife, Letty. Lately, she'd been paying a bit too much attention to the fledgling Bards, and he was determined to show her that he could be just as silly and romantic as the best of them.
"Suze," he asked his partner on gate duty, "what rhymes with 'gold'?"
Suzanne shrugged. "Old, I guess?"
"Hair like spun gold/Hope you never get old?" He frowned. "That doesn't sound right."
Suzanne laughed her braying, horse-like laugh. "Oh, gods, Will, just pay a Bard to write one for you. She'd never know."
Willams set his jaw. "I don't want anyone writing love poems for my wife but _me_. Now, are you going to help me with this, or not?"
"Not."
"Fine. Let's see...gold, old, cold, mold, bold? Bold could work..."
"Hey," Suzanne straightened, "shut up a minute. Do you hear that?"
He cocked his head and listened. After a moment, he heard it as well; the sound of hoofbeats approaching. At great speed. The guards shared a worried glance, and came to attention. The hoofbeats continued to approach. The ringing, bell-like sound of hoof striking stone echoed from the buildings and drilled into Williams' ears. He swallowed. Only one four-footed creature had hoofs that sang when they touched stone. From the worried look on Suze's face, she knew it too. A Companion running this close to the Palace at this time of the morning could only mean one thing...trouble.
The Companion took shape as if formed from the mist itself. It was running flat out, and even over the distance, Williams could hear the bellows-like sound of its labored breathing. "Hail, Herald," he called out, and stepped forward. The Companion didn't break stride, but continued to run for the closed gate. Now he could see that clinging to its broad back was a small, childlike figure wrapped in a dark green cloak. He looked to Suze, his eyes wide. "I don't think they're going to stop!"
The sound of silver hooves filled the world. Suzanne took one wild look at the charging Companion, and then flung herself at the gate. "Help me!" Willams ran and put his shoulder to the steel. Between the two of them, they got the gate open just in time; the Companion's heaving shoulders just missed brushing their bodies.
The Companion skidded to a halt in the courtyard, and filled the early morning with its trumpeting cry. Its rider dismounted shakily, and pulled the cloak's hood down to reveal a round, feminine face. She blinked owlishly at the guards, and said, in a voice thick with weary cold, "I need to speak to," her head tilted as if she were listening to a voice only she could hear, "Seneschal Annice and the King's Own." As an afterthought, she added, "Please."