:I'm so nervous, I'm so nervous, did I forget something?: Five years later, Calsa was running around her room, trying to remember everything she had to pack.

:Yes you did. And then you unpacked it all just to make sure. Then repacked it. Twice.: Joshaylin's mindvoice was dry enough to rival a desert.

:Are you sure?:

He mind-sighed. :Look, if you don't believe me, your wonderful Companion, why don't you go ask Meyra or Tor. Or Aren. They've all finished their Circuits.:

:Good idea. Meyra!:

:Yes?:

:Come here and tell me if I've gotten everything.:

Meyra appeared in her doorway a few moments later. 'Childling, from the looks of it, you've unpacked everything twice. But if you want, I'll double-check for you.' She sat down on the bed and proceeded to remove everything for the third time.

'Yes, that's it. The only thing you don't have that you should bring is an extra pair of boots.' Cal slapped her forhead and went to find the elusive boots. Pulling the boots out from under her bed, they repacked.

'I can't believe I got them,' Cal said happily. 'I finally got my Whites. You got them two years ago!'

'Yes, but I'd been here longer than you at seventeen. Ok, that's it,' she said, replacing the last pair of socks, you're ready.' Cal still couldn't believe it. Every time she passed a mirror, she stared in surprise, almost wondering why she was in Meyra's Whites. But no, they were her own.

'Now, let's go get some supper. You're leaving early tommorow.'

They arrived later than usual, and Cal enjoyed the rare event of not cramming herself onto the end of a bench. Herald's Collegium was nearly full, about half of them Trainees. And that made for a crowded meal time.

'A fry out!' Meyra bubbled. 'I love it when they do these. We did them at home sometimes, and then we'd eat so much we'd barely be able to think of breakfast the next day.'

Cal just nodded, filling her plate with the little pastry puffs and breaded vegetable sticks she loved so much. Added with the tangy horseradish dip, it nearly rivaled her love of haish. True to her word, she had trotted down to the kitchens the day after her return and proceeded to instruct Cook Geran on how to make haish. Most of the Collegia liked it to some extent, but few as much as Cal.

'So, Cal, you did it.' The statement was accompanied by Tor's arrival with a plate of fried breaded fish. 'Feel any different?'

'A little. More responsible, I suppose.' The Weaponsmaster chuckled.

'Well don't think I'm going to go easy on you now.'

'The thought never crossed my mind. In fact, I was wondering if I might have to order more bruise balm from the Healers.'

***

'Goodbye Cal,' Meyra said, giving her friend a quick hug. 'And remember, if you die out there, I will kill you myself.' Cal gave a weak smile in return, then mounted Josh.

:Don't worry, beloved. Everyone does it sometime.:

'Coming, Calsa?' Herald-Mage Nessa trotted over on her Companion. 'We have to leave within the mark.'

'Yes, I'm coming.' She waved back to Meyra as she left, the two white spots slowly fading.

'Don't worry,' came a familiar voice, one that she instantly responded to after years of teaching. 'She'll be alright,' Weaponsmaster Tor said softly. 'She always is.'

***

'Do you  remember where we're going,' Nessa asked her charge.

'Sorrow's, Sector Two. We're to meet Herald Weston on the way down to pick up the chirra's and some of the cold-weather gear.'

'Good memory. And the first village on our circuit?'

'Shireton.' :Josh, are you sure we're going to be ok?:

:No one can be absolutly sure about anything. Fate has a tendancy to be like that.:

That didn't help her nerves much. Josh finally got impatient. :Think about it with your Forsight, not your nerves.: Once she did that, she realized that she was being stupid.

Nessa continued to drill her till they reached the inn, where they picked up two meat pies and continued on their way. Then the relentless questioning and teaching continued. The arrow-code came just after they stopped.

'You are familiar with the arrow-code?' Cal shook her head. 'For messages that for some reason, we ourselves cannot deliver, we use arrows. You know your pattern, correct?'

'Um, three breaks, two whole, two breaks, one whole. Then repeat.'

'There is also a colour code for the arrows. White banded arrows are just to show there's another Herald around. Green calls for a Healer, purple for a priest. Gray means you need another Herald, brown a message that will take further elaboration. Yellow means send part of the Army, how many you send affect how many unit Haven sends in return. Red is treason, blue is plague.'

'Do we need the last three that often?' Cal asked, hoping the opposite was true.

'No, but it's important to know them. Well, yellow gets used more than any of them, especially in the Evendam area. They have pirate season there like some places have cold season and a warm one.'

'The last one is black.' The Herald-Mage heisitated. 'Black can be done three different ways, and two of them don't even need to be black. A black arrow, whole but for your pattern means "All lost, rescue needed." Do your code and snap the arrow in half, and it changes to "All lost, do not attempt rescue." Remove the head of a coded arrow, and it means the code's Herald is dead. I have never needed to use a black arrow, and I hope I – or you, for that matter – never do.'

Cal wondered what would have happened if Vanyel had sent Yfandes with an arrow earlier. Would he have lived longer? Would the Army have arrived in time to save him? She shook her head vigorously. It won't make a difference now.

***

They met Weston the next day, and spent that night in the Waystation. The compact little houses would barely hold the two Heralds, their Companions, and the chirra's, but it was only for one night. The next day, they made it to Shireton.

Shireton was the area's equivilant of a bustling town, but to Calsa, who had spent her life first in the Empire's capital, and then in Haven, it was tiny. As she realized this, she wondered how the smaller villages would seem.

'We're making fair time, I'd say. No records, but we aren't Special Messanger riders, so we don't have to worry about time.' Nessa seemed confident in her reading.

Shireton was a fast stop. There were no problems, no hidden angers or feuds, and all the Heralds had to do was collect the tax records. Then they continued.

Aloten was a different story. An almost-mob met them at the village gates, all of them angry and all of them wanting the Heralds to agree with their side of the truth.

The Mayor's daughter, Celica, had apparently been leading on several of the young men. All of them had believed that it was her intention to marry them, and when she had chosen a completely different man, one Trelon, who had moved to Aloten three years past, they had become enraged. Trelon was accused of "stealing" Celica from the various other young men, Celica of leading them on.

Cal reached out with her Empathy. :Oh, there are many ruffled feathers in this one,: she sent to Nessa. :The men's, because their 'beloved' 'abandoned' them, the womenfolk, because Celica tricked their men, and Celica and Trelon, for being accused.:

Nessa's hard voice rang out, silencing the voices. :Little trick I learned from a mercenary,: she sent with a bit of a chuckle. 'One at a time, please. May I hear from the men that were, supposedly, led on.' Five young men, none of them over twenty and three, stepped forwards.

'You,' Nessa said, pointing to the one on the left. 'Why do you say that Celica led you on?'

'The way she acted,' he said bluntly. 'She was always hanging around, coming over to chat, joking and teasing.' The others nodded. Cal spoke up, but not invoking the Truth Spell.

'And did she ever promise this to anyone of you?'

'No,' the first one said, the others shaking their heads. 'She never promised, but the way she acted implied it.' The angry murmer started to rebuild.

'Would Cilica please step forwards,' Nessa requested calmly. The girl did so. She wasn't a beauty, but her sweet brown eyes and confident air lent her a sort prettiness.

'I never meant to make anyone believe that,' she stated honestly. Cal placed the Truth Spell on her, knowing that the sight of it would calm the townsfolk. But she was fairly sure that the girl didnèt need it. 'I was just a little lonely, what with my sister having left to get married, and most of my friends busy with their own weddings. And they didn't mind whe I'd come and talk to them, so I assumed that we were … friends.' The blue never faltered, not even a flicker. 'I never thought that they believed I was … courting them or something.'

'So, what about this Trelon,' Calsa asked. 'Did you promise him anything.'

The girl turned red. 'Not at first, no. He was so sympathetic, and he'd let me rant on about anything, like not getting a new dress that I wanted, or why Wendy got everything.'

Cal sighed mentally. Obviously, this mix-up was more than just the surface. There was a slight tinge of jealousy in the girl, but embarassment at being jealous. Celica was angry at her townspeople for disbelieving her, and angry at herself for not knowing.

'But you did promise him something?'

'He asked me to marry him last week. I going to announce it the week before the priest was expected to arrive. Then Brendon proposed, and I had to let him know why, because I didn't think it would be fair to just say no.'

Nessa turned to the townspeople. 'So, the girl is not an oathbreaker, in fact, you would make her one by forcing her to renounce her acceptance. You're menfolk chose to see things one way, when really they were another.' They grumbled, but accepted it. And Calsa could have sworn she saw a few of the girls smile, as if thinking, Now that they aren't obsessed with Celica…

:Why do these things happen? And why do people get so worked up about them?: Josh had no answer. There was none.

They put the Companions in the enclosure, curried them and left the tack to be cleaned by the stablehands, as they had said to.

***

Okay, reviewer thankage:

Ivy Raine: No, Elspeth and Darkwind have no (yet) mentioned kids. So, put them in if you want, or leave them out if you don't. (I'm back to Dear Hawk mode, it seems)

Caoilte: Believe me, even I don't know more than vaguely where this is going. Or how long it will be. Looks like you'll have to tolerate me for a hwile.And though I can't blame you, I can still want reviews sooner. (Waves Ayria's soup ladle at you). Have a brownie.

Corrupted-innocent: Ja ne means thank you, no? And where did you get the Vanyel plushie. (Stares hungerly) I want one…

So, all ye reviewers, have haish! Or tortiere, depending on your preference.