If I Were a Herald

Chapter 13

The Female of the Species

Disclaimer: Don't own it. The poem belongs to Kipling, don't know who owns the music.

Fireblade K'Chona: Unfortunately, I don't have a copy of Arrow's Flight to reference. Palm Court may be the Center of the Universe, but it doesn't have much in the way of libraries. I'll just write it off as that they changed the rules between the time when I became a Herald and the time when Talia was Chosen. And mostly, I plan to keep my magic a secret. I'm well aware what screwy things could happen if I do let the cat out of the bag. I am going to go to Lake Evendim. Eventually. I actually have quite a bit of the Evendim stuff either planned out-slash-written, because that's when things really start getting good. But there's a year between now and then that I need to fill with random stuff. I believe I've read all of the Valdemar books. The Last Herald-Mage, Heralds of Valdemar, Mage Winds, Mage Storms, Vows and Honor, Oathblood, Sun in Glory, Sword of Ice, Brightly Burning, By the Sword, Exile's Honor, Exile's Valor, The Mage Wars, Darian's Tale, Take a Thief. Unfortunately I'm at college, so I don't actually have the books to reference. I kinda meant to nab them when I went home for Fall Break, but my trunk was overpacked as it was. Now for sending you those songs… hmm. I may need to get my friend Jay back over here. I'm really not a techno person.

Nawyn: Me? Diplomatic? Uh-uh. Ain't gonna happen. They could send me on a courier mission, to get a message to one of the spies. I could do that. But diplomacy ain't my strong point. Introducing pop songs in Karse sounds like a great idea.

Dusule: Yay! A new reviewer! Although I would appreciate some more detailed feedback.

When the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride,
He shouts to scare the monster, who will often turn aside.
But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When Nag the basking cobra hears the careless foot of man,
He will sometimes wriggle sideways and avoid it if he can.
But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When the early Jesuit fathers preached to Hurons and Choctaws,
They prayed to be delivered from the vengeance of the squaws.
'Twas the women, not the warriors, turned those stark enthusiasts pale.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man's timid heart is bursting with the things he must not say,
For the Woman that God gave him isn't his to give away;
But when hunter meets with husbands, each confirms the other's tale—
The female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man, a bear in most relations-worm and savage otherwise—
Man propounds negotiations, Man accepts the compromise.
Very rarely will he squarely push the logic of a fact
To its ultimate conclusion in unmitigated act.

Fear, or foolishness, impels him, ere he lay the wicked low,
To concede some form of trial even to his fiercest foe.
Mirth obscene diverts his anger—Doubt and Pity oft perplex
Him in dealing with an issue—to the scandal of The Sex!

But the Woman that God gave him, every fibre of her frame
Proves her launched for one sole issue, armed and engined for the same,
And to serve that single issue, lest the generations fail,
The female of the species must be deadlier than the male.

She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast
May not deal in doubt or pity—must not swerve for fact or jest.
These be purely male diversions—not in these her honour dwells.
She the Other Law we live by, is that Law and nothing else.

She can bring no more to living than the powers that make her great
As the Mother of the Infant and the Mistress of the Mate.
And when Babe and Man are lacking and she strides unchained to claim
Her right as femme (and baron), her equipment is the same.

She is wedded to convictions—in default of grosser ties;
Her contentions are her children, Heaven help him who denies!—
He will meet no suave discussion, but the instant, white-hot, wild,

Wakened female of the species warring as for spouse and child.

Unprovoked and awful charges—even so the she-bear fights,
Speech that drips, corrodes, and poisons—even so the cobra bites,
Scientific vivisection of one nerve till it is raw
And the victim writhes in anguish—like the Jesuit with the squaw!

So it comes that Man, the coward, when he gathers to confer
With his fellow-braves in council, dare not leave a place for her
Where, at war with Life and Conscience, he uplifts his erring hands
To some God of Abstract Justice—which no woman understands.

And Man knows it! Knows, moreover, that the Woman that God gave him
Must command but may not govern—shall enthrall but not enslave him.
And She knows, because She warns him, and Her instincts never fail,
That the Female of Her Species is more deadly than the Male.

"You win. Again," Jorjie said in a resigned voice. "I don't see how you do it. Honestly, you must know what cards are coming up before the rest of us see them. There's no other explanation."

"Are you accusing me of cheating?" I asked in a wounded tone. "Need I remind you that I am now a full Herald. I'm incorruptible. I would never cheat."

"More like incorrigible," Stefany muttered. "You and that pirate of yours. What was his name again?"

"He doesn't have one," I replied, reshuffling the cards. I'd been teaching all my old friends how to play Egyptian Rat Screw, one of my favorite games. The problem was that I always won. I couldn't even make myself lose. It was a matter of pride. The thing was, the way I'd learned it, you had to hit your forehead before slapping the cards, so I'd gotten to be able to move really fast. This whole just slap business was ridiculously easy.

"So make one up," Rachel the artificer suggested.

In my mind, I already had. Captain Jack Sparrow. That was what I called him. Even though his hair was different, even though he dressed differently, he and Jack were one and the same. After all, of what other pirate would I dream? "Let's just call him Jack," I said. "Captain Jack. Like Jack Daniels. There's a song about that, you know."

Stefany laughed. "You have a song about everything. Go on, sing it for us."

So I did.

I dealt again, this time for a different game, Speed. I wasn't nearly as good at that one, and Rachel managed to win the round. When asked how she won so handily, she replied with a mathematical formula. She'd been one of my Calc students, wanting to know everything about Calculus, even the small amount of multivariable stuff that I remembered. It wasn't much. There'd been a cute guy who sat right next to me in class, and we'd talked all the time rather than pay attention.

"We should teach this one to the guys," Rachel said. "Maybe Corwin would like to play." She snuck a sly grin at Jorjie. By this time the entirety of all three Collegiums and the Blues knew that Jorjie and Corwin were seeing each other. There wasn't much that could be kept secret with an entire campus full of Bards living right on our doorstep.

"Corwin is kept quite busy with his duties as a Herald," Jorjie said primly. "Unlike some people." She shot a pointed glance in my direction.

I shrugged. "I'm supposed to be a courier, but there's no messages that need sending at the moment." Hoo boy, had I had a fit when they sprung that one on me. Me, a courier? Yeah, sure, I'd get to travel, but that was not the way to make friends. Besides, riding on a bloody horse all bloody day was not what I wanted to do with my life. More like riding a ship… or a pirate…

:You'll have plenty of new material for your stories: Lyrna reminded me.

"Oh, shut up, nosey."

The others ignored my comment, knowing that it was directed at my Companion. I was even worse than the other Heralds when it came to talking to thin air, especially when there were other people around.

"Let's go find Corwin," Rachel said. "I'll bet Jorjie knows where his rooms are."

At that, my former roommate blushed a furious red.

"Say, Kali, there've been rumors going around about you and that guy you were dancing with at the party," Stefany said to me. "Any truth to them?"

"Nope. I'm still as innocent as the day I was born."

Rachel snorted. "I'll bet. You probably came out kicking and screaming, and bit the nurse's hand."

"Well, don't know about that, but I sure did enough kicking before I was born. Friday the 13th, it was. Mine was the only birth that actually went as planned. C'mon, let's go find Corwin. Maybe he could beat me at ERS."

Corwin wasn't in his room, so we trooped around the Collegium halls until we found him. He was playing dice with a group of his friends.

"Howdy y'all," I said to them.

Corwin squinted at me, but let it pass. He wasn't about to ask me for an explanation. He'd learned his lesson while we were on circuit together.

"We were playing cards—Kali knows some cool games from her homeland—what was it called again?"

"America," I replied.

"Right," Rachel continued. "So she was teaching us, but she kept winning. Any of you boys think you can put a stop to that?"

They grinned. "No girl's gonna beat us."

So I showed them how to play. "Yeah, you just slap the cards when two of the same kind come up in a row. Or if there's two of the same kind with another sandwiched between them. And if a face card comes up, the next person has to put a certain number of cards down, depending on which face card it is. But if another face card comes up it goes on to the next person."

Eight, ten, four, seven, nine, nine—

Slap!

Four hands came down at once, with mine squished on the bottom of the pile. Pain lanced through my fingers and up my arm. The game had begun.

"Ow," Corwin remarked. His hand was right atop mine, so he'd gotten it almost as bad. "This game is dangerous."

"That's what makes it fun," I said with a wild glint in my eyes. "You should learn the game Spoons. I've seen blood drawn when that game was played."

The game lasted for about ten minutes; the guys were really very good, for beginners.

I still won.

I woke before dawn to a calling in my head. With a groan, I pulled the covers over my head and tried to get back to sleep.

:Kali Baccus Rainwater, get your lazy butt out of bed: Lyrna shouted in my mind. :There's a fire in one of the labs—some of the Blues were up doing a midnight experiment and the device exploded.:

That woke me up. I stumbled out of bed, tripped over the sheets, and landed face-first in a pile of dirty laundry. Since I was already there, I threw on whatever was nearest to hand. The pants ended up going on inside out, and I pulled on the shirt while running to help put out the fire.

I could smell the smoke from across the campus. Black smoke billowed up against the grey light of false dawn. Wood crackled and snapped. Bleeding idiots, what did they think they were doing? The comment was directed both at the Blues who had conducted the ill-fated experiment and whoever had made the lab out of wood.

:You could put out the fire: Lyrna urged. :Just a little spell to call up some water. There was one in that book you were reading last night—you could get the water from the river, it's not that far away.:

:No: I replied adamantly. I MindSpoke because I barely had enough breath to run; there was none left over for idle chatter. :Absolutely not. I won't use magic unless there are people in danger. Do you know what that could do to the future of this world:

:Well, no: Lyrna admitted.

:Neither do I, but I can imagine. If any of the other Heralds find out that I have magic, it could change things beyond repair. Elspeth wouldn't need to go to the Hawkbrothers to be trained, she'd never meet Darkwind or Firesong, they might not be able to defeat Ancar—:

:Okay, I get the idea.:

:Stick to matchmaking, horse. Just stay away from me when you do.:

:I resent that remark. If you were anyone but my Chosen I'd kick you for calling me "horse.": Lyrna must have been in a bad mood; I'd called her "horse" plenty of times before and she hadn't commented on it. Of course, it wasn't surprising when one considered that she'd probably been woken from sleep by this stupid artificer stunt, same as me.

:Yeah, well, I'll consider myself kicked.: I put on a last burst of speed and arrived at the site of the disaster. Smoke still billowed from the charred wood frame, but the fire had been contained. I joined the bucket brigade, wishing that we had someone with the Firestarting Gift. But that Gift was rare and hard to control. Rather like the Mage-Gift—

Except the people of Valdemar still believe in the Firestarting Gift. One of Vanyel's last spells had been one of forgetfulness, to make the people of Valdemar forget that there had ever been such a thing as a Mage-Gift. There were some, like Jorjie, who seemed rather resistant, but most wouldn't have noticed even if I had used magic. Still, there were those few, of whom I had to be wary until I had learned who they were.

The fire sizzled and went out under the pressure of all the water from the bucket brigade. All around, Heralds collapsed against their Companions, and Bards, Artificers, and Healers collapsed against each other, or simply in heaps on the blackened grass. Lyrna was there to lend me support. "I am going to bed," I announced to no one in particular. Even though I'd only been there a short while, I was too exhausted to mount the usual way, and too sleepy to try anything more complicated without risking life and limb, so I just leaned on Lyrna's shoulder as I walked back to my room. I negotiated the stairs on my own, stumbling about like I was drunk, and collapsed into bed, not even bothering to change or pull the covers over my body.

Flames danced on the thatch roof, licking hungrily at the nearby buildings. Burning, burning. There was no hope for this house, but perhaps for those around it. I joined the line bringing water from Lake Evendim to the burning home. My lifebonded stood next to me, handing me buckets as they came into his hands. I handed them off to the next in line, careful not to spill too much of the precious water, while not taking too much time and endangering the entire town.

Another line stretched out beside us, children carrying the empty buckets back to the lake to be refilled.

A cry came from inside the house. Oh, God, there was a baby in there. A helpless innocent. I looked at my lifebonded, but his eyes reflected fear and uncertainty. He was a pirate; I could not expect him to go after a dying child. Especially not at risk to his own life.

I started toward the building, but my lifebonded grabbed my arm. "No," he said, his voice rough from breathing smoke. "I won't let ye go in there. It's suicide."

My eyes flashed with anger. "You can't stop me. Let me go! I have to do this."

"Leave it be," another man said. "No one can go in there. The child is dead already, and any rescuer will suffer the same fate."

A young slip of a girl—she couldn't be more than fifteen—darted through the bucket brigade and raced into the burning house. She was drenched in lake water. Perhaps it would protect her. I cheered her on as the others continued to fight the flame.

An eternity later, she reappeared, clutching a tiny child to her chest. Both their faces were streaked with tears, and the child had ugly burns. I shoved my way toward them. I only had a small amount of Healing Gift, but anything I could do would be welcome. I placed my hands on the child's forehead and concentrated on repairing the damage caused by the fire. Slowly, carefully, I knitted the skin back together. The burns faded with his cries. He would be scarred for the rest of his life, but at least he would live to bear those scars.

I sensed the presence of my lifebonded at my shoulder. "That was a damnfool stunt," he said to the girl.

"But it worked," she said. Even he couldn't refute her logic. "That was my home," she added mournfully. "Now I have nowhere to live. Both my parents died in the fire. Me and Barnaby are on our own."

Somehow it seemed to me that I was moving in a morass, of which everyone around me was free. Yes, they were tired, but they were also alert. Their profiles were clear, even that of the captain, my lifebonded. I could see his face, though it was obscured by smoke and soot. That should have been important, but I couldn't for the life of me remember why.

As the fire fizzled and went out, he took me into his arms and kissed me. He tasted of smoke, but also of man. The kiss reaffirmed his love for me. He would never let me go, never try to live without me.

The boatswain ran up to him, panting with exertion. "Cap'n, the ship's fine. The fire didn't spread to the harbor. The crew resents bein' conscripted for bucket brigade, but they'll learn."

"Aye. Fires can't be allowed to rage out o' control. They're a danger to all people, not just the city-dwellers." So perhaps he was motivated more by love for his ship than for any humanitarian reason, but he'd been out there with the others, risking his life to save the buildings in a port town he'd be leaving the next day. I sent a jolt of love down the bond, and he smiled at me, a smile that damn near melted my heart.

"If only ye were real."

I woke to sunlight streaming through my window. It was much later than I usually woke, but since fighting the fire had sapped our strength we were allowed a few extra hours of rest.

My eyes fluttered closed, intent upon ignoring the light as well as the cold that was creeping up my legs. However, a pounding on my door prevented me from resuming my much-desired sleep.

"Awr, g'way, I was havin' a good dream," I mumbled into my pillow. Well, maybe not that good, but at least it had a hot pirate.

"Herald Kali? Are you in there?" a voice I didn't recognize called through the door.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a-gettin', I'm a-gettin'." I rolled out of bed, thankful that I hadn't bothered to change out of my clothes. The pants were still inside out and the shirt was covered in ash, but at least I was decent. I opened the door and peered at the page through eyes that I suspect looked like I had the hangover of the century. I certainly felt like it. It was almost like I had a reaction-headache from overextending one of my Gifts—but I hadn't used a Gift, except in the dream. "Howdy. Ye got a good reason fer botherin' me at this ungodly hour?" Admittedly, it was past ten, but it certainly felt ungodly.

The page gulped. "The king requests your presence in the Council chamber, ma'am."

"I hope I have enough time to shower," I muttered, more to myself than to the page. "Thanks, kid. Tell his Majesty that I'll be down there as soon as I'm decent."

The king. King Roald wants to see me. Me. What have I done wrong this time? It can't be a prank—I haven't done one of those since the Wall. Could it be that? But why didn't he take me to task for it before?

One of the luxuries of being a Herald was a personal bathroom inside my quarters. I turned on the shower and stripped off my clothes as I waited for the water to warm up. Then I went on a hunt for some clothes fit for an audience with the king. The clothes I'd been wearing, even if worn properly, just wouldn't do. It'd have to be Formal Whites. I actually rather liked my Formal Whites; whenever I wore them, I felt like a child playing dress-up. Once I'd finally located them, I dumped my Formal Whites on the bathroom counter where they would, hopefully, not get wet, then stepped under the steamy spray.

Ah, a nice, hot shower. There was nothing like it to make a person feel ready to face the day. By the time I was dressed, I was beginning to feel human again. I sent a thought down the bond between myself and Lyrna, but she was still asleep. Lazy girl. She hadn't been the one busy passing buckets full of water to the next in line.

I hurried through the palace to the Council chamber, where a meeting was already in session. Feeling rather like a child again, I eased open the door and slipped inside, to stand respectfully behind the king. Every eye turned in my direction. "You requested my presence?" I said, striving to keep my voice calm. It's just like the sergeants at West Point. Be respectful, and he won't bite.

"Ah, yes. You would be Kali?"

I nodded mutely. Of course the king wouldn't recognize me. He'd never seen me before. He certainly wouldn't stoop to partying with the wild bunch.

The old men on the Council viewed me with respect, not reproach. That had to mean something. I couldn't be in trouble, could I?

"Welcome, Kali. Have a seat. We were just talking about you, actually."

Well no wonder they were staring. Isn't it wonderful when people talk about you behind your back?

"About me?" I asked, sounding something like Will after Elizabeth said she'd had a dream about him. Gods, I hadn't seen that movie in over a year. That was way too long. A wave of homesickness washed over me. I wanted technology—lightbulbs, microwaves, DVD players, Johnny Depp. I sank into an empty seat somewhere near the king. To hell with propriety, I was a bleeding Herald.

King Roald nodded. "You are, as you must know, the only Herald-Courier currently in residence at the palace; the others are all out on missions. We have received intelligence that our agents in Karse may have been compromised. They must be warned."

Okay, so a simple enough mission. Infiltrate Karse, find the agents, warn them, and get back out before I get caught. Can't be that hard.

"I'm not wearing white," I said abruptly.

"What?"

"I'll go, but I'm not wearing white. It'll be bad enough that I'm on a white horse who's as swift as the wind. I have to have some sort of disguise."

One of the old balding guys leaned on his elbows and smiled in an entirely unpleasant manner. "There is one small problem, Herald. We have not yet agreed that sending you would be the wisest choice. You are very young, after all, and are not a man. Who knows what dangers you could face in hostile territory?"

My eyes caught fire at the insult. "I'm bloody well as capable as anyone else you could send," I snarled. "Before I was Chosen, I wanted to be in the Army—and the Army wanted me! I know damn well the dangers I could be facing. Both Lyrna and I will need to go in disguise. I can do this. Or didn't you hear about my exploits in the Forest of Sorrows?"

"Yes, indeed. The song mentions magic, which is, of course, quite impossible."

Damn. Forgot about that. "Yes, well, of course you can't trust bards to get everything right." A curse upon all bards. Another on their tongues. A double curse upon their songs, I swear. A triple curse upon this fool who chose to sing of me. And if I ever catch him, I will skin him then and there. "The point is, I know how to take care of myself."

"But not how to control your temper."

I raised my eyebrows, instantly calm. "Oh really? You think I can't control it? You think I didn't choose to explode at you? I am a master of disguise, an actress of the first degree. You need me for this mission, even if you don't want to admit it."

"A woman traveling alone will face greater dangers than a man," one of the other Councilors pointed out.

"So I'll go as a man. Taileffer the minstrel, a poor, bedraggled rhymester on a poor, bedraggled horse." I focused my gaze upon King Roald. "Please, your Majesty. You know I'm the best one for the job; that's why you sent for me. You know that women are quite as capable as men. Remember Tarma and Kethry."

King Roald nodded slowly. He remembered. "You're right, of course. There wasn't a man alive who could match either of those two ladies for survival skills. Still isn't, I'll bet."

"She can't go," said an old, withered man with grey hair. "She's just a girl, can't be more than twenty."

Actually, I was twenty-one. Didn't really matter. At times I still felt like I was five; at other times, like the wisdom of ages was packed into my brain.

"She's a Herald," the king pointed out. "We've sent younger Heralds out to war in the past. Lavan Firestorm was years younger than she is now."

"And he died."

"He still completed his mission," I said quietly. I really didn't relish the thought of dying, especially not before I had a chance to pass on my genes, but if it was necessary for the good of Valdemar, I'd do it. Louder, I said, "I don't even look like I'm from Valdemar. Maybe part Tayledras or Shin'a'in. And I speak Karsite," I added in that language. I'd been practicing as much as I could, wanting to be fluent in the language of the enemy so I could spy on them. I had a slight accent, but it wasn't Valdemaran, since the people of Valdemar did not speak English with an American non-accent. There was nothing to label me as a Herald except for my Companion.

The discussion raged on for what felt like hours, until finally the king and I had convinced everyone that sending me was the wisest course of action available. Lyrna woke up about halfway through and added her sleep-slurred comments in my head. :You're going to do what? No, not my pretty tail. I refuse to have dirt smudged into my coat. I can disguise myself just fine, thank you.:

"Better get going as soon as you can," King Roald suggested.

"Yes, your Majesty." I bowed and left. I suppose I could have curtseyed—I'd known how since I was five in Kinderdance—but a curtsey just isn't the same in trousers. So a bow would have to do.

It didn't take me too long to pack. I just threw together all of my older outfits and stuff I'd gotten from the free table, plus some sketchy piratey looking stuff I'd bought or discovered during the course of my stay at the Collegium. I had a wide range of weapons as well, from the daggers I stuck in my boots to the throwing knives strapped to my leg. Ever since I'd found the daggers, I hadn't been comfortable going out into the real world unless I was wearing them. They made me feel safe. As long as I wore them, no harm could get to me. I couldn't wear my sword and keep up my disguise as a poor minstrel, but the throwing knives were hidden by my long vest and the daggers were concealed in my boots. We'll take all yer booty, make off with the loot. We all have daggers concealed in out boot.

Lyrna carried me swiftly to the Karsite border. I'm not sure how long it would usually take on horseback, but surely much longer than the two days that it took us. Lyrna then cast her Mind-magic spell that caused her to look like a flea-bitten rag of a horse, rather than a tall, proud Companion. During the crossing, I kept tight hold of my favorite dagger. There were bandits on the border, encouraged by the Karsites to attack the Valdemarans on the other side. Hopefully that meant they wouldn't be desperate enough to attack a poor minstrel and his ragamuffin mount, but one could never be too careful.

As soon as we were across the border, something changed. There was something missing, something that had been with me so long I suddenly felt bereft. It was as if I was all alone in this world, no one else but me.

:I'm here: Lyrna said. :Don't get maudlin on me. I don't think I could handle that.:

"No, I'm fine. It's actually a nice sensation. No one watching—"

Watching. Of course! That was it. The Vrondi. They'd become so much a part of my life I'd taken to ignoring them. I knew what they were, so it didn't have to bother me. Three years of their incessant watching would have been enough to drive anyone mad, and Lord knew I wasn't entirely sane to begin with, but it was, somehow, a more stable kind of insanity than pure sanity. I'd decided not to let the Vrondi bother me, and they hadn't. Except now they were gone, and that was going to take some adapting.

Once in Karse, we had to slow our pace. It wouldn't do to be seen racing the wind on a Karsite road. Even so, Lyrna and I made good time, for which I was very grateful. I may have been adaptable, but there's only so much of sleeping on lice-infested mattresses in sketchy low-down dives of taverns that a body can take. I earned my way by singing pop songs in the taverns, confusing the hell out of my poor listeners.

I found the first spy a week into my journey. His accent was slightly off, his movements not quite natural. He was good, I'd give him that. I only spotted the inconsistencies because I was looking for them. It also helped that Lyrna pointed him out to me. She knew him because his Companion had told her what he looked like. But I could also tell why he may have been compromised.

"Heyla, Roger," I greeted him, slipping into the seat across from him. "Name's Taileffer. I'm new around here." :Can the Sun-Priests overhear us if we speak mind-to-mind:

My admiration went up several notches when his surprise didn't register in any of his movements, just in a slight widening of him eyes. :Not if you keep it private channel. Who are you: "Heyla, Taileffer. What are you doing in Karse? It's a dangerous place to be these days, especially for foreigners."

:Herald Kali. Just got my Whites, but they didn't have anyone else to send. You've been compromised. You need to get out of here, and fast.: "Looking for songs. The Pelagirs might have lots of strange beasts, but there are already songs about every single one of them. Nothing new under the sun."

:They sent you? Well, at least you speak Karsite. Although you have the strangest accent I've ever heard. You're not originally from Valdemar, are you: "Well, be careful, Taileffer. Don't get into more trouble than you can handle."

:I'm from America. It's a long, long way from here. Do you know where I might find Sarabeth: She was the other one I needed to warn. "Thanks for the advice."

:She's south of here, in the town of Kornis.: "Good luck finding those songs."

:Thanks.: Before anyone else could come question me for talking with a suspected spy, especially not the Sun-Priest who was watching me from the corner with hooded eyes, I stood up and left the tavern.

The Sun-Priest followed.

Mierde.

I couldn't very well lead him straight to Lyrna, so I went through the town on foot, heading for the exit. Lyrna could meet me there.

The Sun-Priest struck while I was in an alley. One minute I was walking normally, the next I'd been hit with a paralysis-spell. I hadn't been actively feeding my shields lest one of the Sun-Priests notice what I was doing, so my shields weren't at top strength, and the spell just speared right through them. The Sun-Priest circled me, like a tiger circling its prey. "Well, well, well, what have we here? A traitor, giving information to a Valdemaran spy?"

My face still worked. "What are you talking about? Let me out of this bleeding spell! I'm a minstrel, I claim bardic immunity." My voice shook a bit—okay, more than a bit—but that was all to the good. I was supposed to be terrified.

"It's not a spell, but a miracle. Vkandis Sunlord holds you imprisoned for your betrayal of his people."

Oh, puh-lease. You're a freaking fraud. All of your power comes from magic and trickery. There hasn't been a miracle in years. Not since Herald Vanyel's time. The great and terrible Vanyel Demonsbane. "I haven't betrayed anyone! I'm a minstrel, not a spy. I couldn't tell a Valdemaran from a Rethwellan."

"You're a Tayledras, probably one of their mages."

"If I were a mage, you'd be dead." Okay, so I was a mage, and he wasn't dead. But I was self-trained, and besides, I daren't use magic here, in the heart of the Sun-Priests' domain. "I wouldn't know one end of a spell from another. And I'm not Tayledras, I'm just from the Pelagirs. Really sketchy territory." Remembering that the people west of Valdemar knew the Tayledras only as the Hawkbrothers, I added, "What's a Tayledras, anyway?" :Roger! You'll have to find Sarabeth and warn her. I'm in major trouble here, and I have to get out fast.:

I probed the edges of the spell. Not very well-constructed, and extremely weak. A good stubborn force of will could break it. So that's what I did. I concentrated all my being on moving my leg. Slowly it moved, pushing the boundaries of the spell, until, with a jerk, the spell shattered into a million pieces.

"Ha!" said the Sun-Priest. "I knew it. You're a mage."

I faced him, glaring like Death itself. "You're wrong. I'm more than a mage. I am Kali, Goddess of Death. You dare to defy me, mortal?"

The Sun-Priest shook like a leaf, but stood his ground. I caught the tail-end of a mental cry for help disguised as a message announcing the discovery of a witch. "Vkandis Sunlord will strike you down for your blasphemy!"

"Oh yeah? I don't see a bolt of lightning."

I felt him gathering his magical energies to call lightning out of the sky. Let him try. My shields were now at full strength. I was drawing extra strength from some unknown source, and I didn't have the time right now to figure out where exactly it was. I was just grateful for the extra power. The lightning struck my reinforced shields and was absorbed, making barely a dent.

"Never, ever try that again," I said, my voice as cold as ice.

He ignored my warning and gathered up his magic to launch another attack. His fellows chose that moment to make their appearance. Now it was five to one in their favor, and all I had going for me was the fact that I had more power than any one of them. At least killing didn't require finesse.

Now it was my turn to call the lightning. My bolt struck home, lancing from my fingers through his shields. Dead—he's dead—I killed him—

But I couldn't dwell on that. At least it was a clean death.

I took out two more in the same manner. Dead, never again to harm innocent people. But never again to go home to their families, if they had them. Never again to spend time with their friends.

Lyrna charged into the fray as the last two gathered up their power to launch a final strike against me. Grateful for her timely rescue, I leapt aboard her back and let her carry me away. "You are an angel, love."

We raced all the way to the border, no longer worried about being discovered. The worst had already happened. Now the best we could hope for would be to lead the search away from Roger and Sarabeth. Hopefully they would be able to get away clean.