AN: Thanks to everyone who has read/reviewed this little studying distraction of mine. Given how much I'm loathing hormone action and regulation you might be treated to a more regular posting schedule (As in not once every 4 months)
wizard116: thanks for sticking with me over the many monthed hiatus, hope you enjoy the next few chapters.
Tessabe: I'm not sure yet if Lana is going to be chosen. She has a few choices of her own yet that may get in the way of one of those: I choose you moments. Thanks, for the advice on computer woes.
The noise was unbearable. One single wrong move had cost him his sanity. Was it truly Tristan's fault that he hadn't gotten a decent candle mark's worth of sleep since his ill fated nap in Companion's field? Was it his fault he had fallen asleep during a group strategy activity? Hardly, at least to Tristan's mind.
The fact that he had woken up to twenty pairs of eyes surrounding him like a caged animal on display had not made matters better.
However, the last straw was Tristan's none too graceful screech on awaking. He didn't care how important it was to maintain a relatively sane front around the monsters. He didn't care how much money certain students were pumping into the Collegium, or that one day the grey clad ones might save Valdemar. He wanted to scream. Whatever deity had decided to give Tristan enough patience to handle his oftentimes unruly Strategy and Stealth class, had just decided to withdrawn patronage.
"Did any of you happen to finish the deuced exercise before staring at me like a Hawkbrother just out of the Vale?" His battle to maintain some semblance of control was won in his tone of voice, but his beat red face and bulging eyes betrayed a different story to his very wise class.
When no one dared to speak up Tristan's face grew slightly purple. "Perhaps, you should finish the exercise. You might find it handy for the quiz we're having tomorrow."
: Darling, perhaps you might want to consider not having an aplitic fit in the middle of class. Remember, whatever quiz you give them, you just have to grade.
: True, but that's only if I give a quiz. Not if I give the threat of a quiz. Lyra, why is it exactly that I'm playing with the kiddies again?
: Because dear, this way you get to stay in Haven and play spy. The only price you have to pay is actually being a functional member of society during the daylight hours. And yes, I know that daylight doesn't constitute anything before noon.
: Then what in the Star eye's name am I doing teaching the first hour class?
: Someone higher up, has a sense of humor? And recalls just how very many classes you missed during your Grays.
: Sometimes, horse you're more trouble than you're worth.
Tristan felt Lyra's muffled amusement radiate down their very close bond
: Always, chosen you're more trouble than you're worth.
Sometimes, it really wasn't worth being connected to a talking horse especially, when she usually got the last word in. Tristan focused his attention on the remaining time of his class. Hopefully, he wouldn't fall into the troubled sleep he'd been having of late.
(Companion's Field, several hours and a few chastised students later)
Two Companions stood at the far end of the field quietly distancing themselves from the herd. One was, muscled, large, and under the correct circumstances, very deadly. The other, just as large, but build with a cleaner line. They looked like images from a sculptor's workshop, one the unfinished product and the other a well sanded masterpiece. That is, if sculpture could engage in a heated argument.
: Kantor, I'm going to ask you one more time. Why was Tristan allowed to continue in this work? For that matter why was I?
: Lyra, one would think that you allowed your Chosen to make such a large miscalculation in order to remove him from this work.
Kantor's mind voice held no accusation, only a ready knowingness that invariable irritated the slightly younger mare.
: Lyra, I above all others, know of your dislike of this sort of work. But you must face facts. You and Tristan have a skill at this that if trained properly could do far more good than harm. And I trust that whatever allowed you to go along with Tristan's rash plan has been resolved.
Lyra shocked him by mentioning one of the subjects few Companions brought up, even amongst themselves. : Kantor, until the gods decide to take away the last memory I had of my past life, it will never be resolved. Until I can forget watching my Chosen bleed to death as my own time was drawing near it will never be. Why it is I can remember that moment as if it was in this lifetime and yet don't even know her or my name from that time I cannot tell you.
: Little sister, let it go. Your chosen is safely in the Collegium. He is alive and he has a duty and a part in this life that you should not deny him.
:Perhaps, but remember brother there are reasons we recall our past lives.
: And there are reasons that we live new ones. Do not let the past cloud your present. Now, what were you attempting to tell me before we got into one of our more famous fights? Honestly, we should have outgrown that particular trait before we left to Choose.
: Tristan's having nightmares.
Her statement implied that it was more than the after effects of an empath seeing a child slaver's trading ring. But the statement wasn't what alerted Kantor to the seriousness of the situation. Lyra's normal vibrant and robust mind voice had become small and confused.
: Has he told you why?
: No, but they started after we met the young steel throwing woman. I'm worried as to how this all will work out. I have a feeling that the end of this child slavery ring is going to bring with it more than the surprise of the leader's identity. I wanted to know why Alberich thinks that Tristan has a vital part in all of this. And I wanted to know if he foresaw anything in relation to the girl.
: You're not the only one who's Chosen keeps secrets.
: Sometimes it seems that we are more often the guided than the guides we are supposed to be.
Kantor's sent a sardonic wave of amusement through to Lyra. In the warmth of the sunshine Lyra rested her head against Kantor much like she had done as a foal. When the world had seemed simpler and she had not yet the memories of too many lifetimes weighing on her spirit.