"She doesn't seem nearly as clumsy when the Blues aren't around." Kris commented, obviously stating what he thought of the new trainee's recent acquirement of feet that wouldn't stay put beneath her. Kris and Dirk were in Weaponmaster Alberich's quarters, which were connected to the salle.  When they had become partners, they came to Alberich for extra lessoning. Now that those lessons were no longer necessary, they continued visiting him for supper when they all had the time to spare.

"Agree, I do. A master fighter, she will never be, but clumsy, she certainly is not." Alberich sipped his hot black tea—a Karsite taste with which Kris and Dirk never got accustomed. "My eyes on the Blues I have had. I can see nothing."

"You believe it's something more sinister?" Dirk asked.

"The Queen's Own she is, and untrained. Get her while she is young, and a person of authority, she will not grow to be."

"It's sad that she is in such a position. I'm not entirely certain she understands what a weighty responsibility she has. She's only a child." Kris lamented.

"Ah, but a child, she is not. A child, she never really was." In the presence of friends who he knew would not pass judgment on him, Alberich had slipped into Karsite syntax. The Valdemaran words and vocabulary had come easily to him, with his Companion's help, but he had been brought to Valdemar too old to fully grasp in what order the words should go. Around those he didn't know well, he made great effort to speak clear Valdemaran. After all, in the heart of Karsite's oldest enemy, not all would be as welcoming as his fellow Heralds.  

"Alberich is right, Kris. She's border-bred, just as I was. Children on the boarder are only small adults. They don't get to be childlike for very long."

Alberich nodded. "Spirit the girl has. A good Queen's Own, she will be."

Dirk nodded, but Kris could only sigh uneasily. He had a bad feeling in his gut about the fate of this woman-child. What Alberich said was true. She wasn't a child, and hadn't shown any hint of childlike behavior the last few months she had been here—but did that mean she was strong enough to deal with the pressures of rank? "I believe you. She'll be great, if she makes it through training."

"If she survives, you mean?" Alberich corrected. Leave it to Alberich to be able to see right through any niceties and get right to the point.

Kris flushed. It was in the minds of every Herald. What happened to Talamir was no accident, and very few pretended not to know anymore.

"Talia must survive. Depends on it, Valdemar does."

###

Her hair was lovely and golden. Her eyes were almost as blue as Ahrodie's.

Her name was Naril.

Dirk watched her dancing and laughing with the other nobles from the save vantage of a chair against the wall. He didn't care much for the court, but alas, that's where Naril was.

"Honestly, if you're going to spy on her, and drag me along, you could at least go talk to her and get it over with."

"Sure, I'll just go over there, and flash a brilliant "Herald Hero" smile and charm her with my rugged good looks and silver tongue." Dirk snapped.

"Fine, I'm going to dance." Kris shook his head as he walked away.

Dirk turned his attention back to Naril. She was the daughter of one of the noblest families around Haven—no more than sixteen, he was sure, and as pure and angelic as they come. Her pale creamy skin was flushed prettily from dancing. Her eyes flickered over to Kris, and Dirk felt a stab of jealousy.

Kris, who could have any woman in Haven he chose. He had the most poetic good looks in the entire Circle. Still, even though he had women flinging themselves at him left and right, he politely refused them all. Honest Herald though he was, no one would believe he was chaste enough to be considered for sainthood! He preferred to mingle with the old biddies of the court, and make them feel young.

Dirk's breath suddenly caught in his lungs. Naril was walking across the room. Across the room to Kris.

Kris, oh god. Why must you be so damned beautiful? Dirk watched Naril coyishly smile and laugh as she spoke.

Dirk watched for as long as he could, but turned away quickly. It was bad enough he got all the girls—must he take the one his best friend had his eyes on?

He stood from his chair and made his way to the door, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

"M'lord Herald Dirk?"

Go away. You don't want to talk to my ugly face, when Kris is right over there. Why would anyone even look his direction when Kris was anywhere in the vicinity?

Dirk turned to see who had tried to speak to him, and his heart literally stopped.

"Naril…I'm sorry…"

"I see there is no need for introductions after all." She said, her eyes bright with suppressed laughter.

Dirk glanced across to Kris who was taken up by a group of middle-aged gossips. He was frowning slightly, and he could tell that Kris was only halfheartedly paying attention to the women. Had he sent Naril to him out of pity? How dare he!

"Your friend was a little upset that I asked him to introduce us." Naril touched his arm, and sent shivers crawling down his spine. She lowered her eyes bashfully. "I suppose because I was only talking to him so I could get to you. I hope he isn't a jealous man."

"He's just used to getting the girls." Dirk commented curtly. He didn't mean for it to come out as bitter as it had. "I mean, he has that face…"

Naril cut him off. "Are you retiring for the night? Or could you spare a mark or two and walk in the gardens with me?"

Dirk smiled. Who gets  the girl this time, friend?