And Chesh the love she couldn't save

As they rode out from the inn the next morning, the countryside gradually changed from rural to urban. It was easy to see the signs that the capital had expanded in the past few years. Traffic was heavier here, and the going was slower. The closer they got to the city, the more obvious it was that it had been designed with an eye to future defense. Tremaine was taking no chances on being invaded. Unsurprising considering that Hardorn bordered the Empire, a country that had already attacked it once. Of course, he'd been leading the invasion, so he was hardly likely to forget.

As Iearnen meandered slowly through the rings of walls that surrounded the city, both Camon and Legacy were lost in observation. Camon commented on the architecture, and how different the styles were from Haven. Chesh, at heart a city creature, reveled in the sensation of being amid a press of people. The energy given off by a crowd was like sunshine on her skin and she happily soaked it up.

There was such a variety of people, something she'd always considered a positive sign. Dye merchants in brilliant clothes, a fresh faced shopkeeper passing over a squawking chicken and a jeweler holding a bracelet against a lady's skin. She resolutely looked away to see a gryphon sunning itself on a balcony. A visitor from Iftel? Or perhaps Valdemar. Now there was a rumour she'd hardly credited. She could cry when she thought of all the work it had taken to get past the great barrier around that country. Suddenly a voice rang out over the crowd.

"You, on the horse" An odd accent. Familiar. Legacy looked over, and froze. Oh Gods! It's not possible, he's dead. Two hundred years dead and the better part of me with him. Has he come back to haunt me? I was just starting to recover. She drew a shuddering gasp and the eyes, focused on Camon, snapped to her. A sneer formed on those lips that she seemed to remember so well, and the resemblance broke. My love never looked at anyone like that, not for any cause. It was one of the reasons she'd loved him, that he had a heart large enough to care for everyone. Even her with such a cruel mouth and harsh thoughts. Her mind started to work again. Of course, a descendant of Brightspot's. He must be what, my grandchild? Great-grandchild?


"You know boy, if you were going to bring your own personal perchi with you, why didn't you at least bring a pretty one?" Legacy felt a vague disappointment pass through her at the realisation that her husband's line had come to this. Not just the arrogance or rudeness, but the stupidity. What if she had been a visiting dignitary?
"I am Herald Camon. My companion is Iearnen, and my friend's name is Cheshire. You will address us correctly and politely."
"Or what boy? She'll refuse to screw me?" Camon tensed and Chesh quietly muttered,
"You were screwed the day you were born. You just haven't noticed yet." Loudly, looking pointedly at nothing over Camon's left shoulder, "Iearnen, Camon, My people have a saying; never wrestle with a pig. You both get dirty, but the pig enjoys it."

With that, Iearnen strode off towards the palace, leaving the unknown tayleydras behind. A few blocks later Iearnen started giggling (as well as he could) and as for the other two, well they just had to join in.

Rolan felt old. Of course he was, having survived and just plain outlived several generations of Companions, but now he felt it. It was the prospect of having to deal with Iearnen. It was common for Heralds to be unusual or unstable. It was even mildly expected, at least when they arrived at the Collegium. Companions however, were supposed to be stable, like rocks for their Chosen to rest upon. Any Herald who returned as a Companion had, presumably, been Judged and Approved. Knowing that didn't help. Iearnen still made Rolan nervous.

He feels like an accident looking for a place to happen. No, worse, like a disaster. If he's ever said a word to anyone except his Chosen it's news to me. The letter Talia had just received from Si'anne, saying that she was at Riverbend and Camon was coming on alone with Iearnen was not good news. The fact that she'd mentioned (in code) that Camon was still unable to sleep outside Haven unless mounted was not reassuring either. Rolan knew that Talia was still concerned about that and some of the other comments Si'anne had made. He couldn't help but feel that any breakdown that occurred would start with Iearnen. Rolan remembered trying to lecture him about the way he'd Chosen, staying overnight in his Chosen's former home, and taking two days to get back from a house that was essentially a candlemark from the collegium. What route he took I'll never know. The way he looked at me when I lectured him. And the way he kept staring off into space after I left too. Like he hadn't noticed I'd moved. Is it possible he's not a herald reincarnated? If he was grove-born, I'd know. For certain. Sometimes new companions are born, could he be one? Rolan considered it. Not likely, the way he knew Haven. He sighed. The idea of a neurotic companion was not one that appealed. He wondered if Iearnen could be something else? Something. . .wrong?
Rolan dismissed the idea. It was just too unlikely.