If I Were a Herald

Chapter

One More Day

Fireblade K'Chona: Now there's an idea. I could so take that Sun and Shadow thing and run with it. Poor Herald Kali's going to be in a right mess when she gets back to Haven.

Tempeste-Silere: Yay! You're back. I was beginning to wonder about you. And thanks for the suggestion—I'll have to incorporate that somehow. Bringing Jacoby to a movie…rubs hands together in glee

It was while I was singing "A Pirate Looks at Forty" that I realized something was wrong. I'd been singing for free drinks for the past month. As was my habit, I compared the lyrics of the song to my life. The ocean was calling, still calling to me. I didn't know where it was, and it was calling. But Lake Evendim's call was stronger. That call had a direction. "And I have been drunk now for over two weeks," I sang, and realized it was true. I hadn't been sober enough to have a hangover in a fortnight. Or at least not sober enough to notice.

This had to stop.

:So you finally noticed: Lyrna commented in my mind. :I don't envy you when you do sober up.:

"Shouldn't be too bad," I commented to the thin air. "There was that one time I was drunk off my ass. Loaded to the gunwalls and spewing up my guts. Morning after lasted all day, but I've had worse headaches from the Strattera I take. Used to take."

:Yeah, but what about that time after your Wall? You were whining and complaining the entire day. Said your head felt like a grenade had gone off three feet from your ears.:

Yeah, I had said that, hadn't I.

My audience looked at me oddly. They were restless, expecting another song. So I obliged them, turning my prayer to music, a song that had touched my heart the first time I heard it. "You've heard a multitude of prayers on my behalf. I pray one more is not too much to ask. I've tried to fight this battle by myself, but it's a war I can't win without Your help. Tonight I'm as low as any man can go. I'm down and I can't fall much farther. Once upon a time You turned the water into wine; now on my knees I'm turning to You, Father. Could You help me turn the wine back into water?"

And then a miracle happened. As I sang, gradually things became more clear. The fuzz was gone from my mind, leaving only a pounding due to a month of hard drinking. Another ache was present as well, the ache I'd been trying not to feel.

He didn't want me.

He was alive, I knew that. Alive and free. My dream had been real. There was a bond, a connection between us. I would've known if he was dead. Alive and free, and he hadn't tried to contact me.

He didn't want me.

:Don't be ridiculous: Lyrna chided. :Do you really expect him to come into the heart of Haven, risking his life in the process, just to see if there might still be something between you? He's probably just as convinced that you don't want him. After all, you haven't tried to contact him, either.:

"Curse you, you bloody horse," I growled. Lyrna was right; I hadn't given him any indication that I ever wanted to see him again. Except for that once, when I said I loved him. And I hadn't even said it to him. Was it too late to rectify the situation?

:You'll never know unless you try.:

So I'd go find him. But first I needed a plan.

:Just go up to him and say, "I love you, I want to marry you, I want to have children,": Lyrna suggested.

I snorted. "That's what you do if you never want to see a man again. They leave skid marks." Besides, I couldn't marry him. He was a pirate. It wouldn't be allowed. He wouldn't allow himself to be tied down, especially not to a Herald.

Or would he? If he loved me, anything was possible.

Dream on, girl. That pirate doesn't have room in his heart for love.

Seeing that the audience was again getting restless, I took my bows and motioned for the next act to take the stage. There was one, now that I'd made this low-down dive a popular place to visit. I'd been hogging the attention long enough.

:You got any better ideas:

"Just give me a minute, would you? My head feels like Judgment Day."

:I can imagine: Lyrna said smugly.

"You watch yourself. I know how to get a Companion drunk. Vanyel could only theorize, but I figured it out. Keep talking and you'll get to experience a hangover firsthand." After reading Magic's Price, I'd spent long hours imagining ways to get a Companion drunk, just to pass the time, and I'd finally hit on something that I thought would work. Intravenous injection of high doses of alcohol. It would have to be carefully calculated, of course, and I'd have to find a needle, but I imagined that the druggies of Valdemar were much the same as the druggies of Earth. Surely one of them had a needle they'd be willing to sell. Or, better yet, steal one from the Healers' Collegium.

:That's not helping you get your man: my Companion chided.

"Shut up, horse-face."

:Seamonkey: she shot back.

Okay, so I had to win him over. Somehow. I'd never been good at confrontation. I was getting better, but I still liked to avoid it. If I did confront him, likely we'd both end up yelling at each other, and nothing would be solved. There was too much anger. I had to get his attention, give him the message, without giving him a chance to explode. A letter might work, but it was too distant, too impersonal, and I would never know if he had actually received it.

My other option was giving him my message through music. Music could convey so much emotion. I could sing to him, and yet the rest of the audience would keep him off my back.

It would have to be perfect, and very practiced. There would be no room for mistakes.

I began to make my plans.

The first order of business was to get a pardon for Jacoby. Even if I failed to communicate with him, even if he still hated my guts for being what he most despised—a Herald—he deserved clemency. So I went to King Roald. He still owed me a favor, and it was time to call in that old debt.

"I thought we settled this way back," Roald said. "I was going to give Lyrna a medal."

"Which you never did. Now I'm asking for something else." I winced as my heart beat once with extreme force, bringing forth a matching pounding in my head. I felt like hell, but at least didn't look like it. I'd taken the time to freshen up, and finally put to use the make-up I'd packed to bring home, since I never used it at all. Six years ago. It felt like a lifetime.

"You're asking me to pardon a hardened criminal. Who should by all rights be dead. I'm still not sure how he pulled off that last escape. Rumor has it you were involved, but that's impossible. You were here the whole time."

I sighed and looked to the heavens. "Jacoby's a pirate, not a hardened criminal. He steals stuff, he doesn't kill people. Jimmy was the one who killed the guardsman—and he got Chosen. Jacoby's a good man."

"What do you know about pirates?"

"Plenty. I wanted to be one, so I made it my business to know all about them. Most are nasty bits of work, but some can be pretty cool. Jacoby's one such. About him I know even more than pirates in general. I sailed with him for, oh, a few weeks. He's the captain of the Bloodred Falcon—you know, the ship Mortimer was taking to get to Valdemar." Another pound, and another wince. Hungover was definitely not the best way to face the king.

"Not a very good track record, then," Roald observed wryly. "He almost brought a tyrant into Valdemar, and he locked you in his brig."

Damn him for being so cheery.

:That's not very nice of you. He is your king, after all.:

:Hey, where I come from, we have a President, not a king. I don't have to stand for all this royalty stuff. I could always go home.:

:Yeah, sure. Like that's ever going to happen.:

"That was a misunderstanding," I asserted. Roald just raised an eyebrow. "Okay, maybe not so much of a misunderstanding. His crew decided that I was a threat and voted to have me locked up. But he's a good man. Honestly. Goodness, I wish this place had DVD players—and I had PotC with me. Nevermind. Lyrna likes him. Don't you, love?" :Come on, horse-face. I need your help.:

:I resent that remark.:

"Please, Roald. You owe me a favor."

"Absolutely not."

"At least—let me sing you a song."

He looked suspicious, but acquiesced.

"His old man was rebel yeller, bad boy to the bone. He'd say, 'Can't trust a colored feller.' He'd judge 'em by the tone of their skin. He was raised to think like his dad: narrow-minded, full of hate, on the road to nowhere fast, 'til the grace of God got in the way. And he saw the light and hit his knees and cried and said a prayer. Rose up a brand new man; left the old one right there. Here's to the strong. Thanks to the brave. Don't give up hope. Some people change. Against all odds, against the grain, love finds a way. Some people change."

:It's not fair of you to use your Gift on the king.:

:It's just projective Empathy. I'm showing him the truth.: "You owe me one, Roald. I'm going to find him, and if you don't grant him clemency, I'm going to take the both of us far away from here—back to America, where I was born."

"What of your duties as a Herald?"

"To the lowest hells with my duties as a Herald. You relieved me of them, anyway. I love him, and love comes first—before duty, before honor, before any of the vows I've made to king and country. I have no loyalty to this land beyond its people. Lyrna Chose me so I could eliminate Mortimer. Well, I've done that. Now I just want to go home."

"You would do that? You would truly leave Valdemar with this pirate?"

"I once said that sometimes you have to choose the lesser of two evils, or the greater of two goods. This is one of those times. Valdemar doesn't need me. Jacoby does. He's a good man. Lyrna likes him—that should tell you something. And his son was Chosen."

Roald raised his eyebrows. "I suppose, if you're that set on it, the least I can do is give him a second chance. Mind you, that's all it will be. I can't have him breaking laws with impunity."

"That's all I ask."

The Gentle Doe tavern was noisy, as always. The surroundings and people were familiar, though they did not recognize me. I had been here before, but not as myself. This was the site of some of my earlier adventures as Taileffer. This was where I'd met that blasted pirate captain in the first place.

I headed directly for the innkeeper. I didn't need to ask who he was, for I already knew. "My friend Taileffer said you might be in need of a minstrel," I said without preamble. "Is that true?"

The innkeeper—his name, I recalled, was Yendo—nodded eagerly, but there was caution as well. "Indeed. We don't get many songbirds in these parts. The pirates, you know. Girl like you, you sure you want to be here? Them pirates, they can get pretty nasty."

I did a sort of sideways shrug with my head. "I can defend myself. I'm a Journeyman back at the Bardic Collegium in Valdemar. The pirates are the reason I'm here. I'd hoped to get some stories about them."

"You're far from home," Yendo observed.

Another toss of my head. "Like I said, I'm a friend of Taileffer. He recommended this place. Says he fell in with a bunch of pirates in this very inn."

"I'd wondered what happened to him. Is he alright?"

"Fine. A bit depressed, but he'll get over it. I'll tell him of your concern. I'm sure he'll be touched. The point is, can you hire me? All I ask is bread and board free, in exchange for playing for your customers. I take requests, but there are some new songs I'd like to try out."

"You have yourself a deal, lass. What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't. Call me Kali."

"I'm Yendo."

We shook hands.

Yendo continued to look at me oddly. "You have an odd name. Oddly familiar as well."

This time I really did shrug, though inside I was cursing. "Perhaps Taileffer mentioned me." Damn. I shouldn't have used my real name. Of course I'm famous. Or infamous, take your pick. I'm the only person in this entire bloody world who could have defeated Mortimer. Herald Kali. Herald Death.

I had a few days' grace before he appeared, and I put them to good use, practicing my songs and making a corner for myself right next to the bar.

"I'm a rover, seldom sober. I'm a rover by degree. It's while I'm drinking, I'm always thinking how to gain my love's company."

Jacoby swaggered into the tavern and slid into a booth, looking just as irresistible as when I'd first seen him. Now was the time. I put my plan into action.

First, to catch his attention. For that, I needed a song that he would recognize, a song that only I would know. I started a lively tune on my fiddle. His head came up. I could almost see his ears straining, trying to identify the tune. He knew the song, but he was too drunk to recognize it.

Reminded me of me.

I began to sing the lyrics. Recognition dawned. He stared right at me as if he couldn't believe his eyes or ears. No, I couldn't be here. Not after over a month.

"And if I change my mind a million times, I wanna hear him say, 'Yeah, yeah, yeah, I like it that way,'" he whispered, looking right into my eyes. What was I doing here? Was I an illusion? Would I disappear if he looked away? Could I be real? No, it was impossible.

At the end, I segued right into the next song. "I've learned to never underestimate the impossible," I told him, returning his gaze. The rest of the audience didn't exist. It was just the two of us. "So don't tell me that it's over. Don't give up on you and me, 'cause there's no such thing as hopeless, if you believe."

My third song was a common enough song in Valdemar, though these men had likely not heard it, as it was partially about Heralds, and this wasn't Valdemar at all. It was called "The Face Within," and it told how a Herald would look beyond the faces people presented to the world to see the people they were inside.

I brought my attention back to Captain Jacoby. This next song was most important. I poured my heart and soul into the words, telling him with my eyes how much I meant them. "Last night I had a crazy dream. A wish was granted just for me; it could be for anything. I didn't ask for money, or a mansion in Malibu. I simply wished for one more day with you. One more day, one more time, one more sunset, maybe I'd be satisfied. But then again, I know what it would do: leave me wishing still for one more day with you." It helped that the melody was beautiful, and seemed particularly suited to my voice. The tune was not meant for a fiddle, but my voice rang out clear as a bell, proud and strong, and the screech of my instrument seemed a secondary concern.

I had my audience in thrall. They had no thought to request songs of their own. My Wild Talent was at work, making them feel the emotions I put into the music.

"I Love You This Much" and "I Swear" went by in a blur. Jacoby didn't know the words, but he sang along. "'Cause I'm keeping you forever and for always. We will be together all of our days. Wanna wake up in the morning to your sweet face, always."

The question was in his eyes: Could it work? You are a Herald, I am a pirate. I'm not the right kind of man for you.

No, you're not, but you are the right kind of wrong. "I know all about, about your reputation, and now it's bound to be a heartbreak situation. But I can't help it if I'm helpless every time that I'm where you are. You walk in and my strength walks out the door. Say my name and I can't fight it anymore. Oh I know I should go, but I need your touch just too damn much. Loving you isn't really something I should do. I shouldn't wanna spend my time with you. Well I should try to be strong, but baby you're the right kind of wrong…. I should try to run, but I just can't seem to, 'cause every time I run you're the one I run to. I can't do without what you do to me. I don't care if I'm in too deep!"

Maybe he was convinced. If not, I only had one more chance. One more song, and then I needed a break. A request more than a song. "Could you would you ain't you gonna if I asked you would you wanna be my baby tonight?"

I took my bows and left the stage, more exhausted than the playing would explain. I'd put myself, my very essence, into the music. I'd been using a Gift, though what it was exactly I didn't know, and that took energy. More energy than I'd expected, I realized as the world around me faded away. First the brown sand covered my eyes. A ringing filled my ears. My mind fogged to the point where I couldn't think beyond the fact that I was about to faint. I knew that, knew how to counter it. All I had to do was kneel, and the blood would rush back to my head. Yet I was helpless.

My joints stiffened and locked. My skin tingled and went numb. Now I could feel nothing. I was disconnected from the world.

Someone was heading toward me. I felt him rather than saw. My Gifts, thank God, were still working, and though fuzzy were not overly affected by the shortage of blood to my brain.

Then everything went black.

I woke in my bed on the second floor of the inn. Yendo's young son, Kilany, hovered over me, concern etched on his face. "G'wan, get out o' here," I mumbled. "I don' need no 'elp."

"Beggin' yer pardon, miss, but Papa said otherwise. You've been out for near an hour."

:You're lucky it wasn't longer: Lyrna told me. :You really overextended that Gift of yours.:

"Yeah, yeah. I'm not a baby. It's not like I haven't fainted before, and it's not like I won't faint again. I know how to take care of myself." Although my head sure felt like it could use some major ice-treatment. Reaction headaches were about as much fun as hangovers. And they tended to hurt worse.

I sat up, but Kilany pushed me back onto the bed. "You up to taking on a pirate captain? There's one right outside yer door."

"Who, Jacoby? For crying out loud! Let 'im in. And you, leave. This confrontation is gonna be PG-13, at least, and you're only twelve."

"How'd you know that?" he demanded.

"State secret. Now go."

The child obeyed, although he shot me one last glance before he left. That one glance conveyed all the doubt in the world: about my sanity, and about whether I was going to survive the next candlemark.

"You are an idiot," Jacoby declared as soon as the door was closed.

"I love you too," I replied with a smile. "I come all this way to talk to you, and all you can do is call me an idiot?"

"Why didn't ye come sooner?"

"Why didn't you?" I countered. "I think we were both idiots. And you are still drunk. I can smell the beer from across the room."

He laughed ruefully. "That's probably the beer on me clothes that ye smell. How do ye feel?"

"Terrible," I replied. "But at least I recovered from my headache three days ago."

"Didn't think ye were the type to take to drinkin'."

"I'm a pirate," I replied. It was reason enough. Feeling better, I stood up and faced him.

"I remember ye sayin' somethin' about that."

"Yeah. I hijacked a canoe and stole a flag. Not much of a pirate. But I have sailed in a bay, which was connected to a gulf, which was connected to a sea, which was connected to an ocean, which is probably more than you can say. Ever sailed on the open seas?"

"Can't say I 'ave." He peered at me, concern etched into his face. "What do ye want?"

Muahahahaha! Evil cliffhanger. What will she ask of Jacoby? How will he reply? Can he give up piracy to be with her?

The sooner you review, the sooner I'll get the next chapter posted. Remember—three reviews before I'll even think about posting another chapter.

There's got to be a way to ask ff.mort to create a new category for fanfics. I don't suppose any of you know what it is?