If I Were a Herald

Chapter 41

The World Is Not Enough

Mad-4-Manga: Yes, it really happened. I poked this guy on both sides, and he jumped—and his desk jumped with him! It was hilarious. Absolutely priceless. And she's always missing Earth. Even when she likes Valdemar better. Because I'm always missing home. And yeah…Kali's being dense and drunk and thinks Lyrna's delusional. Somebody brought the wine, probably a servant. I'm not sure. It was just kind of there. Maybe Kali put it there and forgot about it. I'll figure it out in the rewrite. Unfortunately, I do not know the Jello theme song. Don't watch TV enough. Baccus would be Latin. Modified. Comes from Bacchus, the Roman god of wine and partying. My family on my mother's side is the Baccus Clan, and our symbol is a cluster of grapes. Kali hasn't questioned the weird dreams because she's totally over questioning things about this world. After all, it shouldn't even exist. So if it's going to throw crazy-weird half-real dream-sequences at her, well, let it. She's not going to give it the satisfaction of showing her disbelief. As for the judge being perturbed…sure he was! But Kali wasn't there to see it when she disappeared, and when she appeared she was out of his line-of-sight. In fact, nobody noticed her appearance. And I still can't figure out what you meant by "bad poetry land." 'Splain, please?

Dark Angel Lytha: Ah, modeling class. I took that. Basically what it taught me is that I've got natural poise. As long as I sit up straight. And…thanks for the suggestion. It's very good. I was playing with the idea, but now it seems I must use it. Herald Kali and Jacoby at a New College Wall. Oh joy.

Fireblade K'Chona: Well, this is getting on towards the end of the story, so…not much action here. The climax was the fight with Mortimer.

A/N (1/4/06): Well, I'd meant for my drunken binge to span but a single chapter, but here's another one…brought on by an event I'm remembering from my life, but much altered to preserve anonymity, and told from first person point of view. You could say it was more inspired by reality than taken from it. So, for my unexpected chapter, here's a song from the only James Bond movie I've ever seen. The hangover part is purely from my imagination and information gleaned from others. I have never had a hangover and never plan to, unless I feel the need as part of my research. I'm currently re-reading Agents of Light and Darkness by Simon R. Green. If you like my style (and anyone who's read this far had better), look him up. His Nightside books have a bit darker humor than my own stories, but the humor is there, and I love it. "Tourists are not encouraged, and are occasionally shot at on sight." "When Lady Luck Comes Calling…Run." "I eat out, mostly. Partly because the Nightside has some of the best restaurants in this and many other universes, but mainly because I have neither gift, the time, nor the interest to cook for myself. Though of course in an emergency I am quite capable of sticking something frozen in a microwave and nuking it till it screams." Which, in the Nightside, may well be meant literally. John Taylor, the main character, is a really kick-ass kind of guy. He's got a reputation to make the devil proud and the ability to bluff his way through almost any situation—thanks to said reputation. He's also aware of his limitations and quite willing to go the side of the better part of valor in order to survive. And he rocks. Any questions? Go read Nightside. You'll like it. "It was a good day for someone else to die."

Sunlight seared my eyelids. I groaned and pulled the covers over my head. Oh, go away, sun. Just go. Clouds, come. I wish I was Stormwind so I could command the weather. Unfortunately, I wasn't, and the thin blanket just wasn't doing the trick. I groaned again and opened my eyes.

With wakefulness came a pounding in my head that would not be ignored. Hell hath no fury like a hangover. Now where's that wine?

The wine was on the table, still uncorked. Well, at least I hadn't spilled it on the carpet. I must have had the presence of mind to set it down before going to bed. Not enough presence of mind to keep from spilling what I was drinking, though. My shirt stuck to my chest like the sticky residue from a candy bar. Ugh.

Now, to take stock. The cotton balls filling my mouth could be destroyed with a swill of wine and a swipe at my teeth with a cloth. No, the cloth made my tongue feel even drier, but at least it got rid of the fur that had grown on my teeth overnight. Another gulp of the wine got rid of that extra dryness.

My stomach growled, demanding sustenance. I tried to placate it with more wine, but to no avail. It rebelled, threatening total revolt if I didn't fill it with something solid.

:The kitchen: Lyrna prompted.

My feet stumbled their way to the kitchen while my hands kept a tight hold on the wine bottle. Tight grip or not, my rather uneven gait had me spilling most of the bottle down my shirtfront before I reached my destination. No matter. There was more of this somewhere—if only I could recall where.

I didn't even bother to identify the food in the pantry. Whatever was closest at hand would have to do. If my stomach wasn't happy, too bad for it. It would just have to deal. I was not feeling in a mood to be charitable. I hadn't been for a while, not since—

I took a quick drink of wine to stave off that thought.

Somehow my feet recalled the way to the wine cellar, where I managed to retrieve a few more bottles of the miraculous stuff. Along the way my stomach lodged another protest, so it was back to the pantry for me.

That was where my friends found me. Sitting with my back against the cupboard door, drinking down the last of a bottle of wine.

"There you are!" Stefany exclaimed. So they'd been looking for me. Well, that wasn't much of a surprise. I'd been back over a week and hadn't tried to see them. "Kali, you're a mess. It's broad daylight, and you're drunk as a lord."

"Better than being sober," I mumbled to my bottle. After trying to coax a few more drops out of it, I gave it up as a lost cause. It wasn't like I didn't have other bottles to console me. I grabbed for one and missed. The side of my hand brushed the top of the bottle, causing it to wobble precariously. On my second grab I managed to secure it. A few moments of intense concentration and the cork was no longer an issue.

"Give me that," Jorjie told me in a voice that managed to convey her disgust all the way through my drunken haze. Before I could react, she grabbed the bottle out of my hand. After spending three years as roommates, we were more sisters than friends, so she could get away with a lot. Even stealing my bottle when I was dead drunk.

"Give it back," I slurred. My movements were too uncoordinated to get the bottle from her hand. She kept it just out of reach until I ceased my efforts.

"Kylie says you're heartsick," Jorjie said. Her Companion would know that. Damn equines. Always butting their noses where they weren't wanted. "You sure look it." Her concerned gaze dug deep into my soul.

"Lyrna's been gossiping," I said grumpily.

"And if she has?" Jorjie challenged.

Reft and bereft of shay'kreth'ashke. The words flashed through my mind. No—it couldn't be. Lyrna had been imagining things. She so wanted me to find someone. There was no lifebond. There couldn't be. A lifebond would mean Jacoby actually cared about me. And he didn't. I knew he didn't.

Rachel touched my arm. "Someone's broken your heart. It's that pirate, isn't it? I heard you helped him escape from prison. I'd kill him, if he wasn't already dead."

Jorjie's watch over the wine had relaxed somewhat. In the hopes that I could get it before she could stop me, I dove for the bottle. Quick as a flash, Jorjie grabbed it and held it aloft. "Oh no you don't. You've already poisoned your system enough."

With a sigh, I turned my attention to Rachel. My hand stole up to rub my nose, which I'd injured in my reckless dive for the bottle. Rachel's artificer mind wasn't going to be content with my ignoring her. "He's not dead. And you're not going to kill him."

"Why not? You've offered to kick butt for us on occasion. It's time we returned the favor. So far, you've gotten in major trouble for socking that obnoxious wannabe bard in the eye, you sent my stalker ex to the threshold of hell, and you've glared off unwanted attention more times than I can count."

"Yeah, that was fun," I admitted. The memory brought a faint smile to my lips. The Bardic wannabe had taken a liking to Stefany, and had had the temerity to write her love poetry. He'd mutilated every rhyming meter ever invented. That had been back in our Trainee days. When Stefany had expressed her pain at hearing his singing—he couldn't hold a note or come even close to being on-key, and his voice would've made the deaf cringe—I'd taken matters into my own hands and given him a beaut of a black eye he didn't soon forget. Dean Lysander had shaken his head and assigned me to a month of double duties.

Then there'd been that guy who was stalking Rachel. Seriously creepy. My Empathy had told me he was up to no good—as if I'd actually needed that to read his intention. When he turned his attentions on me, Rachel finally agreed that maybe teaching him a lesson would be a good idea. And not a minute too soon. I'd found him in an alley, where he'd cornered some poor, innocent girl and was trying to force his attentions on her. She'd been all tied up. It had been my pleasure to beat the living shit out of him. The only reason he was still alive was the authorities had arrived in time to drag me off his unconscious body. Back home, lethal force was permitted in defending a girl's virtue. Rachel still hadn't told me why on Velgarth she'd dated him in the first place.

Rachel continued, "If you won't let me kill him, at least let me try to knock some sense into him. I've been working on a great spring-trigger trap. I could bring him to you in a net and let you sort it out. What's his name? I'll need that if I want to find him. And do you know where he is?"

"Jacoby, and he's probably on the Falcon. And you're not going to hunt him down."

"She won't have to," Jorjie said cheerfully. "I have prior claim."

"What prior claim?" I wondered.

"Never mind that," Jorjie said. She handed me the bottle.

Now I was really suspicious. Why was she giving me the wine, when she'd spent so much effort keeping it from me? Whatever. It was in my possession now. I wasn't about to let the opportunity pass me by. My head resting against the cupboard and both hands holding the bottle in the hopes of keeping it steady, I took a long pull.

"Now, why don't you tell us how you met him?" Jorjie prompted.

Eventually, they managed to draw the whole story from me. Our first meeting, with Jacoby bleeding to death in the alley, and me pouring my own blood down his throat. How Jacoby had pursued me even when he thought I was a guy. The whole mess with Mortimer—although I left out the fact that Mortimer had been a mage. Something other than my concern for the future of Valdemar kept me from disclosing that important bit of information. I was already too far gone for such petty concerns to move me.

The tale unfolded in bits and pieces. When Rachel heard of my ill-fated back-stabbing-turned-seduction in Mortimer's cabin, she was ready to resurrect the bastard just so she could kill him again. I snapped at her not to say such things, illogically afraid that the mere mention of his name would bring him back. With Ma'ar, who knew what was possible. Mortimer, the ever living.

Even when I'd finished with the story, I didn't admit to them the depth of my feelings for Jacoby. They wouldn't understand. Of them, only Jorjie had felt love—and her love was still with her. Her love was a Herald, worthy of trust. Corwin would always be there for her. Not like Jacoby.

"Forget him," Rachel advised. "He's not worth it."

"Funny, he said the same thing." The bottle dangled precariously from my hand. Jorjie smiled at me encouragingly, but the tension in her body spoke of her readiness to rescue the wine if such a thing proved necessary. "But I'm the one who's not worth it. Not worth his love. I would have given him the world, but the world is not enough. I'm a failure as a woman and a failure as a Herald. I have nothing left."

"You have us," Stefany said. "That's got to count for something. What good are friends if they don't stick with you through the hard times?"

My mouth quirked up at the corners despite my best efforts. "'A friend will help you hide. A good friend will help you hide a body.'"

"Exactly," Rachel said. Even Jorjie nodded, although less emphatically than the other two. This talk of bodies didn't sit well with a Herald like her. "Now what bodies would you like us to hide?" Her voice suggested that Jacoby's body would be first on the list.

"He was perfect," I lamented. "Just perfect for me. All I'd ever dreamed of in a man." Except commitment.

"You'll find someone worthy of you," Jorjie assured me. "You're a beautiful woman, and still young. All you need do is look."

"Nobody will want me now. I'm a disgrace. And I don't want them. Jacoby is all I'll ever want." Morose, I turned to the bottle for comfort. At least it understood, and didn't try to judge. "Huh. I think I'm going to die of unfulfilled desire."

"Still sticking to that absurd oath you made?" Jorjie asked.

"Unlike you, I don't plan to eat my words."

"Sometimes it's necessary. Maybe if you had, you'd be happier now."

"If I had, I'd have even more regrets, and Jacoby still wouldn't be mine."

"Just think," Stefany said gleefully. She looked positively vengeful, like a person contemplating some damage she'd just inflicted upon her mortal enemy. I got the uncomfortable feeling that she and Rachel were in cahoots. "If you feel like that, think how he must feel. Guys have a tougher time of it that us girls. It can be painful for them if they don't get release."

"Oh, I doubt he's suffering," I said wryly. "He'll bed anything that has two legs and breathes."

:That's an upgrade from chasing anything with a pulse: Lyrna noted.

:So I'm feeling charitable.:

Since I felt like singing, but didn't have my fiddle with me, I began an a Capella rendition of "Lovers Untrue."

Stefany winced. "You're off-key."

Yeah, well, I'm drunk. "'Til he sighs and shakes his head. 'Well, I guess we must be dead.'" The song was typically Mercedes Lackey. To make light of infidelity. Ha. Cheating may be one of the traits of a pirate, but if any pirate cheated on me, he'd quickly find out what a bad idea that was. The only thing that protected Jacoby was the fact that we hadn't really been dating—and my undying love for him.

Another sip of wine and I launched into a painful performance of Brad Paisley's "Love Is Never Ending." No matter what Jacoby did to me, my love for him would never fade. And that's what made it all the more painful. If only I could hate him, I could wall myself off from the pain. Anger was a great anesthetic.

"That's it," Jorjie encouraged. "Sing it out."

This wasn't working at all. I was trying to drown Jacoby's memory in the liquor, not think about his with every breath. "You were the first thing that I thought of when I thought I'd drink you off my mind. When I get lost in the liquor, you're the only one I find. If I did the things I oughta, you still would not be mine. So I keep a tight grip on the bottle, getting loose and killing time. This killing time is killing me. Drinking myself blind, thinking I won't see. Man if I cross that line, and they bury me, well I just might find I'll be killing time for eternity. Now I don't know nothing 'bout tomorrow; I've been lost in yesterday. I spent all my life just dying for the love that passed away. There's an end to all my sorrow, and this is the only price I'll pay. I'll be a happy girl when I go, and I can't wait another day. This killing time is killing me. Drinking myself blind, thinking I won't see. Man if I cross that line, and they bury me, well I just might find I'll be killing time for eternity."

"You'll make it, Kali," Rachel said. "You're too tough to die of a broken heart."

I lifted my head, letting her see the tears streaming down my face. Tears. "I'm not tough. That's just a stance. Inside, I'm weak."

"Weak?" Jorjie demanded. "If you were weak, you would never have survived these last few years. Heralds aren't weak. And Herald Death is the strongest of us all."

"Herald Death has retired," I said bitterly. "She's been relieved of her duties."

"Yeah, well, Roald's gonna need you sooner or later. When he does, everything will be forgiven," Jorjie said.

"That's right," Rachel agreed. "There'll be some other crazy bard in need of rescue from bandits, or would-be assassins in need of interrogation."

"You've got your own cult following," Stefany offered. "A couple of rich girls with nothing better to do. They think it's so romantic how you rescued Jacoby."

"Yeah, well, just as long as they don't start sacrificing anything to me," I muttered. "And could someone tell them that I'm a terrible object of worship? I couldn't walk a straight line in this state, and I doubt I could fool even a drunk cop into believing I was sober."

"They don't worship you, exactly," Stefany corrected. "More like admire."

"If they come looking for me, tell them to fuck off. I'll be sacrificing bottles of liquor to the Goddess of Death in the nearest tavern." Still clutching the half-empty bottle of wine, I got unsteadily to my feet and lurched off in what I hoped was the direction of town.

Friends are wonderful, aren't they. Now…I still need more ideas for the visit home. What would you do if you went home after a very long vacation?