Chapter 34

A/N Sorry about the longer than expected delay. On the plus side, I got to pick up "Closer to the Heart" and read through it. Helped flesh out a bit more! Valdemar has had moveable type since Mags' time. Yay!

GRIEF.

By the time he got back to his room, Kyminn was sure he was too numb to feel anything beyond a soul-draining exhaustion. In spite of that, he was unable to stifle the muted groan of pain that boiled past his lips when he saw the letter propped conspicuously against his lamp.

He wasn't sure if it was the fatigue or the sorrow that made his hands shake so, blurring the words and making them hard to read.

Healer Kyminn,

Both the Heraldic and Healer Circles thank you for the service you offered today. If you are not already aware, know that your warning – and your work with the injured – helped save many lives today. The work of Healers and Heralds is such that it is easy for one's efforts to seem overlooked, or as though one's efforts were for naught. Know that this is not the case.

You should know that the injured have been distributed to Temples and Healer's Halls throughout Haven so that no one location is overburdened. Although we at the Healer's Hall have received several of the injured, rest assured that we are well staffed for their care. In light of the many other demands upon your time, do not feel that you must place yourself at our service.

Finally, given the events of today, your classes for tomorrow have been cancelled with the exceptions of your afternoon classes with Heralds Dethor and Keren.

Regards

The note was signed by the Dean of Healers and Herald Talamir.

Too tired to parse whether he should be happy or hurt that his services were not required, Kyminn let the note slip from his fingers, and pausing only long enough to divest himself of his smoky and stinking uniform, crawled into bed.

SCENE BREAK

Kyminn was at the stables well before his scheduled class with Herald Keren. The day before, poor Vik had been taken from an equitation class into the heart of the city and thence handed off to a complete stranger. Kyminn hadn't even been aware that a Guardsman had been detailed to make sure the beasts of those attending the disaster had been seen to. Kyminn felt a profound guilt that he had forgotten his horse during the crush of events.

To make matters worse in his mind, on returning to the stables, Kyminn hadn't even argued with the groom who had, deferentially but firmly, stated that the stable hands had been instructed to "Care for the beasts of those who had been down in the city as though they were the King's own Companion hisself," simply handing off his horse yet again in favor of his own needs.

Kyminn was reassuring himself by touch and by Gift that Vik had taken no harm from Kyminn's dereliction. The voice, pitched loud enough to break his concentration yet not so loud to concern a horse, broke into his inspection.

"Well sir? Does he meet with your satisfaction?"

Kyminn gave the senior groom a brief, grateful nod. "Very much so Tem. Thank you and my apologies." He ran a hand down Vik's neck, feeling the horse relax under the familiar touch.

"T'was nothing sir. He was a bit off once't you'd left – you have that way of making any beast feel easy. But we gave him a good wash down and rub, and once we got the stink of smoke out of his nostrils he settled quick enough."

A grimace. "I should have been here. I should have seen to him. It's my responsibility."

"Sir, we'd had our orders from a fair bit higher on the hill, if you take my meaning. We were told clearly that those that work for the crown and city might not always be in a fit state to do all for themselves. To help those folks, well, there's pride for us in that service sir. It's not a taking advantage sir, it's letting us do what we're here for. You ken?"

Kyminn wrestled with that for a few minutes. Part of him felt that, fatigue and crises aside, he should have done more. The rest of him recognized just how poor shape he'd been in the night before, and how, with his energy drained and his mind numb, how he might well have missed something. What if he had, say, let Vik drink to foundering because he, Kyminn, was too tired to notice? Wasn't it better, that corner of his mind argued, to realize when to let someone better equipped take over a situation?

As he slowly stroked Vik's neck, Kyminn realized that had the emergency happened in the wilderness, he would have done essentially the same thing – ground-tied Vik somewhere safe and then dealt with what was in front. In yesterday's case, it had been shoving Vik's reins at the nearest shape in Guard blue and shouting "I'm a Healer!" before pushing into the melee.

The problem, Kyminn realized, was one of nuance. It wasn't so much a case of his making a poor decision, as that he had done so without recognizing that there was one to make. Clearly, he needed to take that extra moment and think, rather than surrendering to the situation. He was lucky this lesson had not been profoundly more painful.

Kyminn sighed. "Thank you Tem, I think I do understand. And please thank all the other stable hands for the good care they gave Vik and all the others yesterday. We really couldn't manage without you, you know."

Tem's smile was bashful. "I thank 'ee sir, and I'll be sure to pass it on. Nah then, will you be wanted Max today then?"

His first true smile of the day, "Yes, but I can take care of it, thank you."

SCENE BREAK

SORROW.

Kyminn's brief flash of ease vanished as soon as he saw Herald Keren. Dantris' unwontedly dim coat and his Herald's closed expression brought home Jannen and Niko's deaths like a fist to the heart. Herald Keren was always an exacting taskmistress, but today there was an extra, painful wall of distance between Heralds and those around them.

Kyminn impulsively accorded her a profound bow of respect and acknowledgement, saying only, "Herald Keren, with your permission I'd like to run Max through the advanced exercises and then report to you for a critique. Is that alright?"

Keren nodded, a measure of bleak thanks in her expression. Heralds would do their duty, as always, but some days it was harder than others.

Kyminn worked Max carefully through the course for the allotted two candlemarks. The need to focus on staying linked with his mount and still pay attention to the intricacies of the exercises offered a welcome respite from his thoughts. If the water on his cheeks could be attributed to the wind of Max's passage, so much the better.

His session with the Armsmaster offered an equally welcome opportunity to exhaust his body. To his surprise, Dethor paired Kyminn with Kimel, Dethor's senior training assistant. A bit baffled as to why he – an absolute novice – would be paired with so senior a trainer, Kyminn nonetheless donned the padded training armor and started the drills.

"No. No drills today. Use what you have learned and defend against Kimel. Let's see what you've learned so far."

"Not much," was what Kyminn wanted to say, having had a bare two moons of practice. Knowing he was hopelessly outclassed, he still did his best, striving to execute each move properly. Kimel's attacks were almost negligent, overcoming Kyminn's defenses with embarrassing ease. Finally, Kimel bound Kyminn's blade, knocking it out of his hand in a move that left fingers stinging. At Kimel's nod, Kyminn picked up the blade and dropped into the defensive stance once again.

Over and over the scene repeated itself, Kyminn defended, using his limited repertoire of skill. As the attacks grew more intense, his defense got more desperate as he tried to adapt and shift without resorting to wild flailing and outright flight. Confused, frustrated, sore and angry, he folded it all inward, blocking it all off, leaving only a grounded focus. He was unaware that his teeth were locked in a grim rictus as he tried vainly to defend himself.

"Enough." At Dethor's word, Kimel immediately stepped back, breaking contact with Kyminn. The healer just stood there, exhausted and dazed, slowly coming back to awareness of the salle and his opponent. At a jerk of Dethor's head, Kimel nodded and stepped away, out of earshot. Kyminn eyed Dethor warily, carefully working his muscles to keep them from cramping up.

"A Herald died yesterday. So did his Companion." Dethor's words were quiet, for Kyminn alone.

"Yes sir." Kyminn wasn't sure what else to answer, how much it would seem like he was intruding on the Heralds' loss. He wanted to scream it, but instead concentrated on meeting Dethor's gaze.

"You knew him, I understand."

"Yes Armsmaster. Jannen and Niko were…friends of mine." He tried to keep his voice level, to match Dethor's.

"The pain of loss…it breaks some people. Makes them angry, stupid." Dethor nodded at the training blade in Kyminn's hand.

In a flash, Kyminn understood. This hadn't been – solely – an arms lesson. Dethor had used Kimel to remind Kyminn that the world did not, and would never, fight fair. That it would not pull its blows, even when one most wanted it to.

"Yes Armsmaster." Kyminn paused, wondering if he this had been a test, and if so, had he passed? Realizing that Dethor would refuse to answer either way, Kyminn simply added, "I'll return tomorrow then? I still have a lot to learn."

At Dethor's silent nod, Kyminn offered him a respectful bow and quietly departed.

SCENE BREAK

LOSS AND PASSAGES

A familiar thud-step and Randen's voice. "So this is where you've been hiding!"

Kyminn didn't look up from the book he was reading on cavalry tactics. "Since you had no trouble finding me, I clearly wasn't hiding," it was calm and a touch distant.

"I didn't look for you. I asked Derris where you were." Randen swung a satchel off his shoulder and placed it gently on the table beside Kyminn. Inside, something clinked faintly.

Kyminn looked up in surprise at his words. "You asked Derris?" He knew enough by now to know that although it was quite common for Heralds to have their Companions find other Heralds, it was highly unusual for a Companion to look for someone who was not a Herald.

Randen swung into the chair opposite Kyminn. The Healer's reference library had, for whatever reason, never become a gathering place for any except the occasional very dedicated scholars. It was not surprising that the two of them were alone in the silent space.

"Derris reminded me that Jannen was your friend too," Randen said simply.

"I thought…you'd want to spend your time with other Heralds right now," Kyminn admitted.

"I did, and I will again. And you're right, we don't tend to have a lot of friends outside the Circle. But that doesn't mean we don't, and it doesn't mean our friends don't get to grieve."

"I…thank you." Kyminn's throat was suddenly tight. "I didn't want to overstep."

"I know. And I'm glad Derris reminded me." Randen reached into the bag and pulled out a clear bottle and two heavy glass goblets. The Herald poured a generous serving into each of the vessels.

"What is this?" Kyminn eyed the dark amber liquid. It gave off a heady, fruity aroma.

"Double distilled pear and honey wine." Randen gave Kyminn a lopsided grin.

"Um. Speaking as your Healer, you do know that I should caution you against relying on spirits at a time like this, right?" Kyminn lobbed it out, more to see what Randen would say than in any real expectation that his words would have any effect.

"And if we were relying on spirits to drown our sorrows and manage our pain, you would be quite correct. However, that is not what we are doing. You see," and the lopsided smile reasserted itself, "Jannen had a singular ability to find hidden, undervalued treasures. Clothes, leather goods and," a gesture at the bottle, "fine vintages. He bequeathed me his collection of vintages. So we are going to enjoy this one, and reminisce, and grieve our friend."

"Well, in that case…" Kyminn held up the glass in salute. "Jannen and Niko. Gone, missed, not forgotten. To absent friends."

"Absent friends."