If I Were a Herald

Chapter 3

Philosophy

Nawyn, thanks for the two thoughtful reviews. You're right that I seem to be fitting in a bit too well, but remember, they're used to getting people from all over, with all different backgrounds, Chosen as Heralds, often showing up with nothing but the clothes on their backs—Talia, for instance, or Skif, although those of course are, chronologically, after this story. And I've always found that I'm cursedly adaptable to any new situation, as long as I know what to expect—which, in this case, I do, having read every Valdemar book I could get my hands on.

I woke to somebody pounding on my door. "Go away," I groaned, pulling the covers back over my head. "M'alarm'll wake me at seven thirty, an' that hour's bloody unholy enough."

Someone pulled the covers away, leaving the light to glare in my eyes. "Morning, sleepyhead. Time to get out of bed. Classes start in half a candlemark, and you haven't eaten yet!"

A face came into focus above me, but it didn't belong to either of my new roommates. Another minute and I'd identified it: Jorjie. My newest roommate. Everything came back in a rush. The Gate, Lyrna, Karlene. Those godscursed tests.

So far I'd been too shocked to stop and examine my situation. Everything had happened so fast, I hadn't had any chance to act, just react. They'd worked me to exhaustion last night, first testing my knowledge, then my skill with a blade. Everything ached. I had bruises and strains in places that didn't bear thinking about.

Now was the time to stop and think. First question: was any of this actually real, or was it a dream? Well, if I was coherent enough to ask that, it couldn't be a dream. I'd never actually had a dream where I wondered whether I was dreaming or not. There was that one time that I'd known I was dreaming, but there hadn't been any question about it. Crazy dream, that. Some psycho lady was pointing a gun at me, but I pushed right by her, telling her she wasn't real.

Next question: what was I going to do about it? I could always tell Lyrna where she could stick the thrice-cursed bond between Herald and Companion, run off to Evendim, and become a pirate. Or I could attempt to Gate back to my dorm room—or anywhere else on campus, for that matter. I could visualize second court lounge—there was the wall, lime green with those weird letters, and the open space into the kitchen, which was red. If I decided to stay—and that was a big if—I was going to make the best of my situation. I remembered a yahoo group I'd been in, a Valdemar rpg—something about painting the Companions purple. That had been fun. No matter what happened, I was going to enjoy myself. That was my philosophy on life.

At that point my conscience decided to make an unwelcome appearance. Where will I do the most good? The answer to that was here, learning to be a Herald. Whatever Gifts I had or didn't have, there had to be a reason Lyrna Chose me. There was always a reason. Admittedly, most Heralds were little better than glorified cops who couldn't be corrupted, but they were, in their own way, just as necessary as the heroes. And this was rather reminiscent of West Point.

Speaking of West Point… "What, no waking before dawn for physical torture?" I asked, finally gathering the will to get out of bed. Most of that came from the fact that I was bloody freezing without the covers.

Jorgie looked horrified. "Torture?"

"It's a joke," I said. "Play on words. It's really called physical training—PT for short. But to the participants, it feels more like torture. Spent a week at a military academy. Loved every minute of it."

Jorgie threw me a set of Grays. "Here, try these on. They should be your size."

They were, though a little tight around the shoulders. The trousers were slightly too large around the waist, and not quite long enough. Ah well. I was used to that. Nothing ever fit me quite right. "These'll do for now, but I think I'll need the top to be a size bigger. And the pants are shorter than I like." I figured they belonged to Jorjie; she was about six inches shorter than me, with long, silken blonde hair and a petite frame. Delicate was the word to describe her. Her hips, however, were slightly larger than mine, though her waist and shoulders were smaller. Built like a Barbie doll.

"Talk to Karlene, she'll get something in your size. Come on, hurry up, there won't be any food left."

Jorgie's fears were entirely unfounded; there was still plenty of food when we arrived, a veritable feast, and much better than college fare. Eggs that actually tasted like eggs and didn't need liberal amounts of salt and pepper to make them edible—one could even distinguish between white parts and yellow parts; bacon and sausage that tasted like bacon and sausage should, crisp and greasy and all over my fingers. Weird stuff that looked slightly frightening at first, but I figured it was worth a try, and actually turned out to be halfway decent. Rolls that were no longer right out of the oven, but still light and fluffy and better than anything I'd had before besides fresh homemade bread.

I was about ready to call it a meal when things began to go wrong. A couple of highborns caught sight of me—I could tell they were highborns by the way they looked down their noses—and sauntered over. All of them wore the blue uniforms of unaffiliated students. "Look what we have here. A country bumpkin."

Now, I saw nothing wrong with being a country bumpkin, not that that's what I was. It was just that I was acting like any normal college student would, licking the grease off my fingertips and wiping my hands on my pants. My grey pants. There were going to be stains in them if I wasn't careful. It was the way they said it that got to me. Like I was trash, to be crushed beneath their feet. I never could stand people who thought they were better than me.

I stood to face them. Only one was taller than me; the rest were several inches shorter. So my hair wasn't brushed, and my eyes were still full of sleep; I could still glare down at them.

They raised their chins higher, so they could continue to look down their noses at me. Ridiculous. I opted for my most patronizing look.

"Actually, I'm a member of high society, I simply choose to disregard the customs. Who really needs a different fork for every course, anyway? And by the way, if you don't want to go cross-eyed, maybe you should stop looking at your noses. Although if you don't mind giving everyone else a great show, by all means, go ahead."

"It speaks!" the tall one said in mock-astonishment. I looked him up and down and assessed him to be the leader. The others hung behind him a bit, looking to him for guidance.

"It bites, too," I replied, then gave them my best vampire-hiss. I wasn't going to let them get to me, but damned if I was just going to let this go. This was too good an opportunity to pass up. I was still mad over the disappearance of my lightsaber—someone had stolen it at the Battle of Hastings—and I was looking to take it out on someone. Anyone. Besides, this bantering was fun. These boys were nowhere near my league when it came to insults. If I had to be insulted by them, I'd give as good as I got, with a flair and a flourish.

"Kali, this isn't a good idea," Jorjie muttered. I ignored her.

"You don't scare me," Leader-boy sneered.

"Well you don't scare me, either, so we're even. You know, in the good old days, children like you were left to perish on windswept crags."

His eyes took on a glint that I guess was supposed to be dangerous, but really just looked mildly insane. "Take that back."

I crossed my arms. "What if I don't want to?"

"Take it back, I said."

"I'm a bloody Herald-trainee. You're not my boss. You can't make me do anything."

"Kali, you don't know what you're saying. That's the son of Councilor Johan."

"I don't care who his father is, he's a bloody jerk. And ugly besides."

"Watch your language, farmgirl."

"You think I'm not? Not only are you a bloody jerk, you're an ass besides. May horseturds fall on your head."

He was really pissed now. He swung at me wildly. I ducked, letting his own momentum carry him off-balance, then grabbed a bowl of gravy and dumped its contents on his back.

"This probably isn't a good idea, but ye gods, I've waited too long for this," Jorgie muttered. She grabbed a handful of sausage and flung it at the other boys, then yelled, "Food fight!"

I grinned at her. "Oh, what's the use of livin' if you never learn to laugh? Why look at me, I grew up down among the riff and raff. But you won't catch me gloomin' 'round without a hint of smile; and when I have to do a thing, I do it right with style."

She gave me a measuring look, ignoring the eggs dripping down her hair. "You planned this, didn't you?"

"Nope. Just seized the opportunity." I laughed and slobbed potatoes all over FitzJohan's face.

Now it's your job to seize the opportunity and review!