Chapter 3
*
They had passed into Valdemar by the time dawn touched the sky, but it all seemed the same as Karse to the exhausted Liara. Deilan had found a Waystation, and she had been too exhausted to do anything but remove his tack and fall onto the straw filled pallet that served as a bed.
Liara woke up some hours later to find the Sun high in the sky, and she sat up, ruthlessly pushing away the haunting nightmare that had awoken her. Deilan was asleep in the doorway of the Waystation, but he roused quickly when she stood up.
:Well, Chosen, what of this morning?: He asked her.
"Too late in the day to ride out." She replied, gathering her torn and damaged clothes and walking out into the sunlight dressed in only her shirt. "And I want a wash in that spring. I vote we stay here today, and ride out tomorrow." He nodded agreement and she slipped into the cool spring.
She washed thoroughly, determined to remove every speck of blood from her person. Her clothes were all damaged past repair, but she cleaned her weapon belt thoroughly, removing every bloodstain from the beautiful knives and returning them to their sheaves.
:What will you do for clothes?: Deilan asked curiously.
"What I did the first time, Love." Liara replied absently, concentrating carefully on the ragged assembly. "Make some." With that comment, the pile began to shimmer and dissolve, and she carefully harvested all the energy that she could before releasing her powers again.
What she made was a plain tunic and leggings of black leather, with matching boots. She dressed swiftly, and approached the uncharacteristically silent Deilan.
"Deilan?" she inquired. "What are you thinking of?"
:You called me "Love",: He replied quietly. :Did you mean it?:
Guilt struck Liara, but she pushed it aside, consciously accepting for the first time the bond she had with Deilan. "Yes, Love, I meant it." She replied gently, and they stood together for a while, reveling in the sense of belonging the bond gave them.
Finally Liara broke the silence, laying her hand gently on Deilan's glossy white shoulder. To her surprise, he shied violently away.
:Your hand is like fire!: He told her in shock. :What is wrong with it?:
Dismayed, Liara examined her hand. The wound that Brecke's polluted sword had made still bled sluggishly, and her entire hand felt slightly burnt.
"The fire . . ." she whispered. "It went inside my hand! It's part of my nature - the fire won't leave again. It will never heal, and my hand will be made of living BloodFire until the day I die!"
:What should we do? You might set things on fire by accident.: The idea was frightening. People would be suspicious already of her Karsite background, but this would completely alienate the Heralds.
"I could make a glove, like my clothes, and make it unburning. It would stop the fire getting out." Liara decided, and called her power again, forming a glove of ice and magic to contain her BloodFire hand. Deilan sniffed it tentatively, and buried his nose in her palm.
:All better!: he declared delightedly. :Well, Chosen, now that you will not burn with a touch, how about you find the brush that will no doubt be in the Waystation and groom me?:
The rest of the day was spent easily, in preparing for the start of their journey on the morrow, but despite the early night, Liara did not sleep well. Terrible nightmares haunted her dreams, and her eyes the next day were black ringed.
They moved today at a more leisurely gallop than yesterday's all out charge. By noon they saw a village, and Deilan slowed.
:Can you speak Valdemaran?: he inquired.
:Yes.: She replied, for the first time, in mind speech, sensing his wish for quiet. :Why?:
:You can ask at the village for travel food, and they will willingly supply you. If they do, they get half taxes next year. Ask at the Guardhouse.:
So Liara rode up to the Guardhouse and dismounted. She was surprised at his immediate politeness; in Karse, things would not have gone well from this point.
"Excuse me, sir," Liara asked, hiding her nervousness. "But Deilan tells me that you may be able to supply me with some Wayfood."
The man's eyes lit at the mention of the Companion's name. "Deilan! You've finally Chosen!" he exclaimed. Then he turned to Liara. "Well miss, we can give you plenty of supplies, but you will have to ask at villages again. If you'll wait here, I'll go get Daron, the baker, to get you some supplies."
The guard also gave her a strip of copper with the word "Stonewall" engraved deep in on side.
"You'll get tokens like this from the villages that help you. Give them to the colegium, and we get the Privilege Tax next year."
With a hurried thanks, Liara remounted the impatient Deilan, and they rode on.
It took ten days to reach Haven, and it was late in the evening, so Deilan went quickly through the gates into the city. Liara was surprised by the size of the city. Until recently, she had lived her entire life in a village of only fifty people, and the size of Haven was very intimidating.
But in spite of that, she sat tall in Deilan's saddle, and went to the Colegium with confidence. Every step, she knew, took her away from her previous life.
Guilt struck her then, that she could so easily brush away her crimes and let herself accept the love she didn't deserve. Her heart had been healing slowly under Deilan's care, but now despair rocked her soul.
She pushed it away, into the dark corner of her soul, where she hid her pain, and she also pushed aside Deilan's love. Love was a delusion, and all it caused was pain. Without its confusing influence, she could now see clearly that she was doing this only for the people that needed her, and not for her own sake.
Deilan rode through the gates into the palace proper, and walked to the Companion stables. There Liara slipped off his back and turned to face the two men standing next to the door.
"I understand you are Deilan's Chosen? Liara?" asked the nearer man. Liara nodded in reply. "Greetings. I am Dean Gareth of the Colegium, and this is Jepson, the Orientation Instructor. If you would be so kind as to follow me, I will tell you a little about this Colegium."
*
They had passed into Valdemar by the time dawn touched the sky, but it all seemed the same as Karse to the exhausted Liara. Deilan had found a Waystation, and she had been too exhausted to do anything but remove his tack and fall onto the straw filled pallet that served as a bed.
Liara woke up some hours later to find the Sun high in the sky, and she sat up, ruthlessly pushing away the haunting nightmare that had awoken her. Deilan was asleep in the doorway of the Waystation, but he roused quickly when she stood up.
:Well, Chosen, what of this morning?: He asked her.
"Too late in the day to ride out." She replied, gathering her torn and damaged clothes and walking out into the sunlight dressed in only her shirt. "And I want a wash in that spring. I vote we stay here today, and ride out tomorrow." He nodded agreement and she slipped into the cool spring.
She washed thoroughly, determined to remove every speck of blood from her person. Her clothes were all damaged past repair, but she cleaned her weapon belt thoroughly, removing every bloodstain from the beautiful knives and returning them to their sheaves.
:What will you do for clothes?: Deilan asked curiously.
"What I did the first time, Love." Liara replied absently, concentrating carefully on the ragged assembly. "Make some." With that comment, the pile began to shimmer and dissolve, and she carefully harvested all the energy that she could before releasing her powers again.
What she made was a plain tunic and leggings of black leather, with matching boots. She dressed swiftly, and approached the uncharacteristically silent Deilan.
"Deilan?" she inquired. "What are you thinking of?"
:You called me "Love",: He replied quietly. :Did you mean it?:
Guilt struck Liara, but she pushed it aside, consciously accepting for the first time the bond she had with Deilan. "Yes, Love, I meant it." She replied gently, and they stood together for a while, reveling in the sense of belonging the bond gave them.
Finally Liara broke the silence, laying her hand gently on Deilan's glossy white shoulder. To her surprise, he shied violently away.
:Your hand is like fire!: He told her in shock. :What is wrong with it?:
Dismayed, Liara examined her hand. The wound that Brecke's polluted sword had made still bled sluggishly, and her entire hand felt slightly burnt.
"The fire . . ." she whispered. "It went inside my hand! It's part of my nature - the fire won't leave again. It will never heal, and my hand will be made of living BloodFire until the day I die!"
:What should we do? You might set things on fire by accident.: The idea was frightening. People would be suspicious already of her Karsite background, but this would completely alienate the Heralds.
"I could make a glove, like my clothes, and make it unburning. It would stop the fire getting out." Liara decided, and called her power again, forming a glove of ice and magic to contain her BloodFire hand. Deilan sniffed it tentatively, and buried his nose in her palm.
:All better!: he declared delightedly. :Well, Chosen, now that you will not burn with a touch, how about you find the brush that will no doubt be in the Waystation and groom me?:
The rest of the day was spent easily, in preparing for the start of their journey on the morrow, but despite the early night, Liara did not sleep well. Terrible nightmares haunted her dreams, and her eyes the next day were black ringed.
They moved today at a more leisurely gallop than yesterday's all out charge. By noon they saw a village, and Deilan slowed.
:Can you speak Valdemaran?: he inquired.
:Yes.: She replied, for the first time, in mind speech, sensing his wish for quiet. :Why?:
:You can ask at the village for travel food, and they will willingly supply you. If they do, they get half taxes next year. Ask at the Guardhouse.:
So Liara rode up to the Guardhouse and dismounted. She was surprised at his immediate politeness; in Karse, things would not have gone well from this point.
"Excuse me, sir," Liara asked, hiding her nervousness. "But Deilan tells me that you may be able to supply me with some Wayfood."
The man's eyes lit at the mention of the Companion's name. "Deilan! You've finally Chosen!" he exclaimed. Then he turned to Liara. "Well miss, we can give you plenty of supplies, but you will have to ask at villages again. If you'll wait here, I'll go get Daron, the baker, to get you some supplies."
The guard also gave her a strip of copper with the word "Stonewall" engraved deep in on side.
"You'll get tokens like this from the villages that help you. Give them to the colegium, and we get the Privilege Tax next year."
With a hurried thanks, Liara remounted the impatient Deilan, and they rode on.
It took ten days to reach Haven, and it was late in the evening, so Deilan went quickly through the gates into the city. Liara was surprised by the size of the city. Until recently, she had lived her entire life in a village of only fifty people, and the size of Haven was very intimidating.
But in spite of that, she sat tall in Deilan's saddle, and went to the Colegium with confidence. Every step, she knew, took her away from her previous life.
Guilt struck her then, that she could so easily brush away her crimes and let herself accept the love she didn't deserve. Her heart had been healing slowly under Deilan's care, but now despair rocked her soul.
She pushed it away, into the dark corner of her soul, where she hid her pain, and she also pushed aside Deilan's love. Love was a delusion, and all it caused was pain. Without its confusing influence, she could now see clearly that she was doing this only for the people that needed her, and not for her own sake.
Deilan rode through the gates into the palace proper, and walked to the Companion stables. There Liara slipped off his back and turned to face the two men standing next to the door.
"I understand you are Deilan's Chosen? Liara?" asked the nearer man. Liara nodded in reply. "Greetings. I am Dean Gareth of the Colegium, and this is Jepson, the Orientation Instructor. If you would be so kind as to follow me, I will tell you a little about this Colegium."