Yeah, Lily here is a big fan of reviews. Anyway, for disclaimer purposes, I am not nor in any way related to Mercedes Lackey, etc. and so forth…although I did have a dream with her in it, though I do not know what she looks like. For whatever reason, she came to stay at my house when in this bleak little place I live. Hey, it was a dream! Anyway…oh, yeah. The story. Right…but do you people know how hard it is not to give things away in these blasted disclaimers?

Chapter Three

A dark, cold rain had been falling for nearly a week. The cousin of one of Rondi's servants was a servant in the Chitward household, and said Lavan would be in school the following day. Unfortunately, Tyron and the others were using the rain to increase their abuse on the other kids. AS much as Rondi disliked them, she didn't want anyone dead. After the brief day Lavan had been back at school, she knew that would be the result of any more abuse aimed at him. So, Rondi cornered Tyron, alone.

"Hello," she said coldly.

"What do you want?" he replied, but he was slightly edging away.

"I see what's going on here, even if the teachers ignore it," said Rondi. "And if you harm Lavan in my sight, and I have a very far gaze, you will suffer a fate worse than death. I trust I don't need to remind you."

"I—we'll—okay," he said, then edged away, and ran.

Rondi sighed. She'd been forced to leave that little loophole of "in my sight." Some things had to happen. But, due to her intervention, not as many would die. It was the only way. If only Tyron would heed her warnings! Damn them all anyway!

The next day, Laven returned. As he walked past the bullies, Rondi crossed her arms over her chest, not far away, watching. They did nothing to him. Much to her relief, he didn't come down for lunch. She already knew he waited after school until Tyron and company left, so this way, he would be safe.

:Feel a bit more relieved yet, Kalira?: Rondi asked as she began her walk home.

:Who? Me?: The Companion laughed. :My dear Rondi, since when have I ever been relieved concerning my soon-to-be Chosen? Will it still happen?:

Rondi grimaced. :Yes. I told you before, some things must happen. But fewer will die, due to my…um…:

:Of course, you're not supposed to interfere,: Kalira remarked dryly. :So…your 'non-interference?':

:Yeah, sure,: she remarked. Then, she stopped just short of crossing the street in front of a carriage. She cursed softly. :Dammit, horse, you're going to be the death of me!:

:I'm not a horse,: Kalira retorted automatically.

Rondi only rolled her eyes and continued walking.

Lavan's example had been encouraging others to hide from the bullies. In a way, Rondi was rejoicing. In another way, she wanted to yell at him. You fool, she would say, this will only make them come after you harder when they catch you! The bullies had long since noticed. Even Rondi noticed the diminishing masses in the refectory. The teachers surely did, but it was simply more money to the Master. They didn't care.

But still, the days went by, and nothing happened. Rondi felt very relieved. Surely Tyron had given up, finally, and Lan's gift would slowly develop. Alas, the gods can be very cruel sometimes.

Rondi stayed late at school that day. Her parents were preparing for a party at home, and so she wanted to do her homework in the peace of the school. It didn't take her long, and so she then went to leave. However, as she did, a blinding rage made her collapse on the ground.

When she came to no more than a few moments later, she smelled smoke. Only one possible thing could have happened. Cursing, and leaving her school things where they lay, Rondi ran out of the school. She kept running until she encountered a guard.

"There's a fire at the school!" she cried.

He cursed now, and ran for help. Rondi returned to the school, but didn't dare enter until help arrived. Then, she unobtrusively followed them, to the room where fire still smoldered, along with several injured boys, piles of ash that were remains of some, and a Lavan who was nearly as bad off. Rondi gasped—she'd known it was going to be bad, but this…she shuddered to imagine what it would have been like, had she not interfered.

A guard turned at her slight sound—it was the first one she'd found. "You're the one who called for help."

Rondi nodded.

"Good," he continued. "Run up to the Palace for some Healers. They're needed."

Days had gone by. The fire at the merchant school was being called an accident, and that was surely what it was. Lavan had yet to regain consciousness. A Herald was questioning students. Those were the things Rondi knew. But, then, she always closely followed the activities of Heralds. It wasn't as if she had a choice in the matter.

:Lady,: said a strange Companion's mind-voice, as Rondi brooded in the parlor, reading.

:Yes?: she replied, trying to place the "voice."

:I am Satiran, Kalira's sire,: he said. :My Herald is Pol, the one investigating the fire. Yours is the next name on our list. I thought you might want to know.:

:Thank you, Satiran,: Rondi said in surprise. :I'll prepare immediately.:

Rondi stood, and went to the kitchen. There, she started a pot of tea, and took a tray of biscuits to the parlor. Once the tea was done, she took it, too, into the parlor. Then, she forced her face into a mask of serenity, and waited.

She didn't have to wait long.

A startled housekeeper led Herald Pol into the parlor. "Harold Pol to see you, milady."

Rondi nodded, and stood. Herald Pol was aging, with pure silver hair. She Saw that he was husband and father to Healers, though only one daughter. Rondi curtsied slightly.

"Herald Pol," she said in greeting. "I assume you are here about the school fire."

"Yes," he replied, clearly astonished. "I'm told you were the one who went for the guard, Mistress Rondi."

"You are told correctly," she allowed. Then, she gestured to the table. "Would you care for some tea? I have been expecting you, you see."

"Indeed?" Pol looked completely taken aback. Clearly, she was not at all what he had expected. "I…suppose I could have some, if you don't mind answering my questions."

"I will answer what I can," replied Rondi. "Please, sit."

He did, and so did she. Then, he continued. "Mistress Rondi, how old are you?"

"I am seventeen this past summer. I am in the Fifth Form, was seldom picked on by the older students, and I have my own defenses. I knew Lavan Chitward only at a glance, though I did help him out on occasion, as Owyn may have told you. I also warned the bullies not to pick on him, but to no avail."

Pol arched an eyebrow. "How do you know my questions are about Lavan Chitward?"

She shrugged.

"Do you know how the fire was started?" he asked.

She shrugged. "But you will, soon enough."

Pol was silent a long moment. "Do you have any Gifts, Mistress Rondi?"

"Perhaps," she replied vaguely.

They continued on in that vein for a while, until Pol must have realized he was going to get no more information out of her. Then, he stood, thanked her for the tea, and politely left. Rondi felt like laughing, but knew it would break her character. So, she set aside the book, and went upstairs, seeking something more interesting. She had left him with more questions than she had answered, of that she was certain.

A gentle mind brush with Kalira proved that she waited eagerly for Lavan to wake. Rondi didn't want to intrude on so delicate a time, and so turned to her history books. The current one had to do with the later life and death of Herald-Mage Vanyel Ashkevron. Not that she needed it—she remembered the time rather well herself.