If I Were a Herald
Chapter 24
Who I Am
Look! The beginnings of a plot! Can it be? Oops, you missed it. Sorry.
Hits page is still being anal, have sent a report about it to support. Hopefully ff.bug will get around to fixing it—and hopefully they won't read my story in the meantime! Because then they'd remove it first and ask questions later. That would sure take care of the problem—no story, no hits.
Just for the record, since I believe that, including this chapter, I have used it three times, and still haven't translated it, "Futue te ipsum et caballum tuum" means "Fuck you and your horse too."
Nawyn: Thank you for your review! It afforded me no end of amusement. I'm glad you liked Lyrna—she can't seem to make up her mind whether she wants me to kiss him or kill him. I think it's the whole duty thing. Or maybe she's just manipulating me.
Fireblade K'Chona: I cannot believe that I forgot all about Kalenel. I'll bet she's Velgarth's version of the Goddess of Death—the Kal'enedral and all, you know. And of course there's the similarity to the name Kali. Especially with Misty's mention of the Kali cult in Burning Water (at least I think it was that book), it makes sense.
Tempeste-Silere: Just, thanks for the review. And I will try to continue to update quickly, but exams come… sometimes first, sometimes second. They really should come first. Papers due this week, exams next week. My life is going to be living hell.
A/N (11/29/05): You want a good laugh, go look up historyspork on livejournal. It's hilarious. And if you want to make comments like that about my story—or any of my stories—go ahead and put them in a review. Because really, half my stories are supposed to be absurd, and I try to be a good sport about these things. Maturity helps.
Singing wasn't the only thing I did at the Gentle Doe. There were other types of performances as well. I could juggle three balls of various sizes—and various shapes. There were stories to tell and jokes to relate. My eyes twinkled merrily as I pulled copper coins from behind children's ears. The kids loved me. I loved them right back.
Jacoby just watched me. The tingly feeling I got whenever I intersected his gaze was becoming commonplace. Something that I could ignore.
Well, most of the time.
"Hello, pirate." I cursed the way my pulse quickened at his nearness. I'm a Herald, damnit! I'm a Herald, and he's a pirate, and we can't even be friends, much less lovers.
Ah, but you wanted to be a pirate, now didn't you? said a little voice in my mind.
Oh, shut up, I said right back. It's bad enough that Lyrna's against me on this one; I'm not going to argue with myself.
"'Ello, songbird," he replied.
What was with him, anyway? Did he want revenge?
:Look at his face, Chosen.:
He looked pretty angry to me. His face was set in hard lines, and there was a tic in his left cheek.
:His eyes, you idiot. Look at his eyes.:
Oh, no. The eyes were dangerous territory. The eyes were—oh. He had that look again. I think I'm going to melt in a puddle of feminine wiles.
:Chosen, that made absolutely no sense whatsoever.:
It's not making sense to me, either. Seriously, did this guy never give up? I forced my voice into some semblance of normalcy. "You're not very good at taking a hint."
"That was more than a hint."
"Yeah, well, subtle didn't seem to be working, so I figured I'd go with the sledgehammer." I've never been too big on subtle. Too easy to misinterpret.
"Why are ye afraid to admit what ye are?"
"I'm not," I said firmly.
:You're afraid: Lyrna said.
:Oh, shut up. That's not what he's talking about.: "Hell, half my friends are gay, les or bi. Er, shaych. I mean they're shaych. I have nothing against it. Just leave me the hell alone."
"Yer attracted, lad. I know ye are."
Well, no shit, Sherlock. Of course I was attracted. But it wasn't like he thought at all. And I was determined to resist. I was the only twenty-three-year-old virgin in the Herald corps and damn proud of it. And I was bound and determined to stay that way until I married. It was part of who I was.
:You have to be the most stubborn person I know. Really, Chosen, what's the point of waiting:
We're as stubborn as mules with our blood on fire when we ain't at Sunday mass. We'll look any man straight in his eyes and say, "Kiss my Irish ass."
:That doesn't answer my question.:
:The point is that my first time is going to be with the man I want for life. And if I already know I want him for life, then why not wait a little longer? Oh, and I don't like to break my word. Besides, he's gay.:
:I like him.:
:Of course. My Companion decides she likes a pirate right in the middle of an undercover mission.:
:Mortimer isn't here yet.:
"Lad. Ye alright?" There was real worry in Jacoby's tone. Oh, so he did care about my feelings. Or maybe just that I was warm and responsive.
I'm not a bloody lad. Don't you see? "Yeah, I'm fine." Hell, the point of the disguise is to keep men at bay. Maybe if I told him the truth—and only him—
Ha. Like he'd keep it secret. Then again—maybe he would. He wouldn't want to make a fool of himself by admitting that he'd been tricked. Presumably he already had a reputation for being shaych. He certainly seemed comfortable with it.
"Lad—"
I interrupted him before he could get any further. "You don't understand. I'm no lad."
"What's that supposed to mean? Be ye a eunuch?"
"Not a eunuch. A girl."
A slow grin spread across his face. "So the songbird is a lass?"
Oh dear. For some reason it hadn't crossed my mind that he could be bisexual. Even though he'd as much as admitted it in the prison. I just hadn't been paying attention. Damnit. I'm screwed. Literally.
:Only if you want to be.:
:Oh, look, the peanut gallery has finally decided to be helpful:
Then all rational thoughts were driven from my mind as his lips descended on mine. I stumbled backwards as he pressed forward, until my back connected with a wall. Oh, yeah, baby, that feels good. Mmm. I think—oh my goodness, is that what I think it is? In panic, I wrenched my lips away from his. There was no sanity left in his eyes, only desire. That left me in a quandary. I'd stopped responding to him when the panic set in, but by the same token I was in no form to escape from his grasp. His arms bracketed the wall around me.
Lyrna's MindVoice snapped me out of my panic. :Get a hold of yourself, girl! You're being kissed by a good-looking guy. You're supposed to swoon in his arms.:
:Correction: I was being kissed by the hottest guy on this entire planet: I shot back. But at least I was able to think. Time to use some of my feminine wiles.
A quick peck on the lips left him completely bewildered for the few seconds it took me to prepare my trick. I leaned back against the wall, bracing myself. My hands on his shoulders provided the lift. Knees up all the way to the chest. Feet came out and struck him in the stomach. Leverage provided me with enough force to knock him backwards a few steps. He stumbled, cursing. Deprived of support, I fell ingloriously to the floor.
Half a second later I was back on my feet, face-to-face with a spitting mad pirate. Lucky for me I'd had plenty of practice falling, or I would have been dog meat. "So ye wanna fight, eh? Come on, songbird. Show me what ye got."
My heart clenched at the nickname. "I don't want to fight you. I want you to leave me alone."
"Yer yellow, that's the problem. Now ye don' wanna fight. Yer scared I'll 'urt ye."
"What you can do to me is nothing compared to what I suffered—"
:Chosen:
I cut off abruptly, appalled at what I had almost revealed. Sun-Priests didn't make a practice of torturing random minstrels, but they did torture Heralds. With that information, it wouldn't have taken a genius to realize that my bluff to get out of prison hadn't been so much of a bluff after all.
Jacoby grabbed my wrists. I suppose now, looking back, that there was compassion in his eyes. But I can't be sure, because I was looking anywhere but there. Too dangerous.
I don't know what he hoped to accomplish—maybe talk some "sense" into me, maybe just restrain me so I couldn't lash out again. At that point reflex took over. Weaponsmaster Eduard had drilled self-defense into me until it was the next thing to instinct. Second nature. I twisted my hands out of his grasp and kicked him in the stomach. My foot connected with rock-hard abs. Yikes. That had to hurt me more than it had hurt him. Actually, I felt a sympathetic twinge in my stomach. Had to be my Empathy acting up.
"You are a wholly despicable creature," I taunted to take my mind off my misbehaving Gift. "Hanging's too good for you. They'll never find a rope big enough to fit around your overinflated opinion of yourself. If Caesar were alive, you'd be chained to an oar. Futue te ipsum et caballum tuum."
:I doubt he even has a horse: Lyrna commented.
:Well, futue te, kai:
:I believe that was an illegitimate mixture of Latin and Greek, and not even close to being grammatically correct.:
:Shut up, horse.:
"I wonder, lass, can ye use that sword ye wear at yer side? Or be it just for decoration?"
I drew my sword. It came out with a distinct metallic ringing that always made my heart turn over with joy. A sword! I had a sword! Of course, I'd had it for the past six years. But still. I'd longed for one for so long. Well, three years before I'd gotten it.
Jacoby drew a short rapier from the sash around his waist. "Rules?"
"No rules."
We saluted each other, and the fight began. The dance of death. Only it was made even better by the fact that neither of us wanted the other to die. It was a contest between civilized people, disguised as a no-holds-barred fencing match. At least I hoped Captain Jacoby was civilized. At this point, I was none too sure.
Jacoby had trouble right from the start. He couldn't recognize my style, since it was a melding of different techniques, some of them never before seen on Velgarth. Most of it was Vanyel's preferred style of half-race, half-fight, and entirely unorthodox. Jacoby fought with finesse—a surprise to me, but not something that caused me to stumble in my technique—but his style was easy to recognize, typical of the Valdemaran nobles. Once I'd identified it, I could predict his moves with ease. Thrust, parry, slice, parry again, and a flick of my wrist to knock the blade out of his hand. The silver tip of my sword found its way unerringly to his throat.
"Never accost me again, do you hear?" I said in a voice that brooked no dispute. "I'll not be as forgiving next time. Savvy?"
He swallowed convulsively. "Aye, savvy."
That lasted for all of three days. I could see him talking with other pirates, presumably his crew. From the glances they were casting my way, I knew they were talking about me. Please, God, don't let him tell them I'm a girl.
Apparently he didn't, for they went back to their meal. I finished the song and waited for the applause to die down. A sip of whiskey settled my nerves and wetted my throat. Bad habit to get into, but I was going to need it as long as Jacoby stayed here. What was taking him so long to leave? He'd been here a week already; pirates usually only stayed in port for a couple of days.
"Songbird." Oh, no, not him again. But I knew it was. I'd recognize that voice anywhere. Beautiful voice. I could sit and listen to it all day.
:Then why don't you just ask him to marry you: Lyrna demanded irritably. She was rather put out that I refused to seduce Captain Jacoby—not that he really needed seducing. :Havens know he might just be crazy enough to agree.:
:Yeah, well, he probably has ten kinds of STDs. And no uppity Healers to get rid of them.:
:Actually, he's quite clean. Did you really think I'd let you have sex with someone who had a disease:
:Oh, go suck a lemon.:
:Stop being such a sourpuss.:
:I'm not going to screw him.:
:Your choice. I just think you're making a mistake. That one's quite a catch.:
:Okay, Lyrna. Spill. What do you know that I don't: She had that attitude about her. There had to be something.
:Oh, nothing: she said airily. :Nothing at all.:
More than a little cross, I demanded, "Why the hell are you still in Belt?"
"I, uh, me ship needs a quartermaster," he replied. "Crew can't agree on one, an' there ain't too many to choose from. No one in the crew knows 'ow to figure."
The downside to pirate democracy. If the crew couldn't agree on something, it just wouldn't get done. The captain only had any real power during battle, at which time his power was absolute.
Jacoby hooked his thumbs in his sash. "I just wanted to apologize for bein' such a bastard. I guess—I wasn't really thinkin'. An' I hope ye'll forgive me."
Oh, hell. This was not happening. I could deal with him being a bastard. Really I could. It helped me forget the fact that he was so infernally attractive. But this—he just looked so adorable. Disheveled hair, pleading expression. It made my heart ache just to look at him. So I fell back on my tried-and-true defense against heartache. I made a joke.
"Hey, I know this plot!"
"What?" he asked, confused.
"It's standard romance. Boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl back. You're going to fall in love with me." I flashed him a brilliant smile. My smile had always been my greatest asset. "Now get. It's time to entertain the masses."
Masses indeed. The Gentle Doe was reasonably full, but it wasn't all that big to begin with. It was just coincidence—or my crazy luck—that Jacoby was staying here.
"When yer done, let me buy ye a drink," Jacoby offered.
I rolled my eyes. Mind if I sit down? Can I buy you a round? Haven't seen your face before, are you new in town? It's the same old line, oh, every time. Are you here alone? Can I take you home? "My drinks are on the house."
"What drinks? I ne'er see ye with anythin' but water."
That was because I downed my alcohol in the taproom. Usually before Jacoby arrived from wherever he spent his days. Supposedly looking for a new quartermaster, I'm sure, but probably gambling away whatever money he had left. "I prefer to have a clear head when I'm playing." And when I'm stalking an evil mage. Who should be arriving any day now.
Rumors of Mortimer were rampant. It was said that he was a rogue Tayledras, which I didn't believe for an instant. Sure the Tayledras had their share of baddies—didn't everyone?—but they were careful to keep them under control. My personal theory was that he was a blood-mage like Krebain or Leareth. Falconsbane. Ma'ar the bloody reincarnating bad guy, at it again. From the sounds of things, that's who he was. Mortimer. It meant Ever Living. It would be just like Ma'ar to pick that sort of name. After all, he was the bad guy who never died.
Well, Herald Death is going to fight the Ever Living Mage, and we'll just have to see who comes out victor.
"An' afterward? Can ye hold yer liquor?"
"Nope," I replied cheerfully. "But I can sure pretend! And I can make some mean hyper-beer. Had the entirety of the Bardic Collegium drunk for three days straight. Too bad I wasn't there to see it. Had to go on Circ—on my Journeyman tour. Frozen northern reaches of Valdemar in the dead of winter."
"What say we 'ave a contest. 'Ooever's drunker after ten rounds loses."
"Ten rounds of what?" Not that it really mattered. Ten rounds of anything would knock me flat on my back.
"Ale, o' course."
Ten rounds of that and I'd be puking up the meal I'd eaten at the Midwinter festival. Me and ale just didn't get along. "I don't drink ale, pirate. Can't stand the taste. How about whiskey?" Oh Lord, was I really agreeing to this? Yes, I was. I was insane. Totally off the wall. Stark, staring mad. Three fries short of a happy meal. Non compos mentis. Crazy. Lost my marbles. Evidencing mental breakdown. Wacko.
"A'right then. Whiskey. Tonight, after ye get off."
"Agreed. Now go."
I shut out his image and began another song. But I couldn't shut out the feel of him standing nearby. Without thinking about it, I could tell exactly where he was. It's just Empathy, I told myself. Nothing more. The man has some of my blood in him—like I wouldn't know where he was at all times!
Lyrna chuckled.
:Okay, horse. That's it. I am going to hunt you down and paint a big red target on your gleaming white hide if you don't tell me what you're hiding. And don't go all superior-Companion on me, because I know that Companions are guardian angels, and I know that you all used to be Heralds, except the Grove-born, who are somehow more special than the rest of you even though they're younger, they haven't experienced any past lives. I even know the bloody damned future. I can handle whatever you tell me. So what gives:
:Nothing that you need to know about, love.:
Three guesses as to what Lyrna knows that I don't! What's she hiding?
I've had a bad day… I'm updating in the hopes that more reviews will life my heart. Jokes are good. Teasing is accepted. Any ad hominem attacks will cause me to scream. Just a warning. Not that I think any of you would do that. You're all cool. It's just… New College is awesome, but the students don't know how to have a political discussion that does not involve mudslinging. Oh, and I don't need pity. I need a laugh. And I know I'm whining, and yes, I want some cheese and honey. Love you lots and may all exams rot in hell.