Chapter seven and this is the last 'official' chapter. I have to type up the epilogue and post it, but other than that, this fic is mostly finished. Thanks to everyone who read it!

"You got made a full Herald?" Jem sounded impressed. Two years had put muscled onto his wiry frame, and deepened his voice. If Gryphon's gossip was right, Jem was one of the tyrannical assistants to Featherfire, and all line up to become a full Herald himself in another year or two.

"How could you tell?" Kev asked, his eyes wide in mock surprise.

Jem tapped his own forehead and grinned. "I've got ways of knowing things when a new set of Whites isn't a dead giveaway."

Keighven laughed. Jem joined him.

When the banter had played itself out, Kev asked a bit more serious line of questions.

"Where's Nadav?"

Jem looked a little worried. "He's out in the Companion's field right about this time of day, every day. The Companions don't mind an extra two-legger foal with them and the stable lads sure don't complain about an extra pair of hands to help with chores. Why?"

Kev shrugged. He wasn't altogether certain himself what had prompted the question on his part. "Just curious, I guess. I haven't seen much of him since I first came here."

"And you won't," Jem added in. "He's taken to being a shadow on the Companion's field. Some of the Heralds say he's more of their ilk than of human." Jem frowned a bit. "But if that's true, why won't any of them Choose him?" he cried out.

His voice dripped anguish and confusion.

It was plain to Keighven that Jem wanted the best life possible for his brother and had figured that life as a Herald was the best it got.

"I don't know," Kev answered solemnly. It was times like these when he felt Gryphon attentively listening in the back of his mind. Times like these, when he felt as though he was being judged against an unknown scale and found wanting in some way.

Since this was about Companions though…

:Gryphon?:

:Yes?:

:Do you have any ideas why Jem's brother, Nadav hasn't been Chosen? Pure speculation will do for now if you don't have a concrete answer, but Jem seems to be rather frustrated with the answers Kadin has been giving him.: There was a pause and an absence in the back of his mind for a brief moment, then Gryphon returned.

:Nadav will never be Chosen,: Gryphon reported, :unless overwhelming need demands it. The lad is going to be Healer trained shortly, though. He's been a mind-Healer to several traumatized Companions already.:

"Huh." Kev looked at Jem who had been waiting for his conversation with Gryphon to conclude.

"What?" the young man asked, perhaps a tad bit more sharply than intended.

Kev grimaced a bit. He hated being the bearer of bad news.

"Nadav never will be Chosen," he said, holding up a hand to forestall any arguments Jem might have put up. "I have it on very good authority from Gryphon. The only reason is that he'll be much more useful as a mind-Healer. He's already been doing mind-healer's work on Companions in the Field."

Jem looked surprised. "On Companions?"

Kev nodded.

"I never suspected…So that's why he spends so much bloody time with them! Here I was, thinking he was pining away after the notion of being a Herald, and really he's helping keep our other halves sane. Remarkable."

Jem sounded so much older than his mere sixteen years. So adult…

"Why wouldn't Kadin tell me, then?" Not an accusation, but a humbling plea for understanding.

"I'm not sure," Kev answered. "Gryphon is much more open with me than any other Companion seems to be with their Heralds. It might be that he's the only one privy to sensitive information, or it's possible he's the leak in an otherwise impenetrable system."

:I heard that.:

:You were meant to.:

"Or maybe he's got permission to be spilling secrets in your ear," Jem mused.

Before Keighven could reply, Jem was an excitable child again, and out the door lest he be late for weapons practice.

:What should I be bringing?: Keighven asked Gryphon, toying with a crust of bread left over from his meal. He didn't particularly want to return to his room just yet, but it was good to have an idea of what he might need so he could request items from Supply in advance.

:All Whites,: Gryphon answered promptly. :Extra soap, lots of blankets, a pair of fluffy pillows, sewing kit, basic leatherwork kit, trial rations, maybe something musical to do if you get bored in spare time. Hmn…: He seemed to be thinking. :Letter writing materials, I suppose, if you plan on writing to the people around here. Marti would be thrilled to get a letter from you. So would Joselyn, if she's here to get it before you return.:

:That's it?: It didn't sound like much, but Kev also had a feeling that putting it all together would make for a disastrously large pack. :I thought we were going circuits – you know, the whole 'travel light' bit?:

:That is traveling light,: Gryphon argued. :We're going to be on the road for about a year and a quarter – the usual stint is a year and a half, but Silver's Gates can keep us from the extra road time. There will be villages, towns – we can get what we need from them. It's different for special Messengers. Thank the gods your not one of those. They redefine what light travel is.:

:Oh?:

:Try surviving for two weeks with nothing more than your belt purse, a set of twenty or so arrows, a bow and your Companion.:

Keighven blinked. He couldn't imagine it, though there had been times in his life, far ago and long away, when he supposed he could have done that.

:They sound superhuman,: he commented, rising to exit the dining hall.

:Not quite superhuman,: Gryphon replied, :but very nearly. They need Companions with exceptional speed and endurance, which is why you're not a Messenger. You're just a plain old Herald who risks his life in stupid ways every other day.:

:As opposed to every other candlemark?: Kev grinned into that.

:If you're done eating, you should get down to Supply before the wait gets long. There are quite a few Internees getting ready to leave by the end of this week.:

:Will do. Thanks for the heads-up.: Taking Gryphon's advice, Keighven pushed out of his seat and headed down for Supply. A few other White-Clad strangers followed him, chatting casually with each other. He ignored them.

"What do you need?" The middle-aged woman behind the desk put Keighven in mind of Featherfire right away. Her brusque demeanor was the same as that of the slowly aging weapons teacher.

"I'm leaving for a circuit at the end of this week," Kev said. "It's my first time out, but –"

"Aha, newbie." The woman grinned. "So, where are ye goin' an' who be yer mentor then, laddie?"

"The Kleimer region, and Silver."

The woman's eyes went wide. "Silver's t'be takin' ye, then? Well, I'll be. An' him jest a wee little mite, hisself. Huh. Well, you be takin' care o' him, then, Herald. I don't care how damn high in rank he is – you're still his senior in years and worldly experience. Don't let him be a hot-headed fool. Damn Ashkevron blood breeds true."

Keighven blinked. "Is that it then?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah. We'll 'ave yer kit ready before the last day o' the week, don' ye worry."

Kev thanked her and disappeared back outside to the light blazing hallways.

He didn't have anything else to do for the rest of today… Featherfire had taught him everything he needed to know about hand-to-hand combat and integrating it with sword work. He had no peer in the arena – or the salle, rather. There were no depressed minds calling to him.

All he had to look forward to was a year and a half – maybe less – of travel on a circuit with a virtual stranger. Well, he could always find Gryphon and ask him about the Mage-Herald…

:Gryphon – are you too busy for a talk and a grooming?:

:Never!: the Companion answered cheerfully. :I'll meet you in my stall and we can talk as long as you care to brush me.

:Vain creature.:

:You're the one who offered,: Gryphon pointed out.

:So I did. All right, I'll meet you there.:

Keighven made his way across the Collegium grounds to the Companion's Field and from there to the lean-to that served as shelter. On his way in, he made sure to snag a currycomb and a soft brush to use on Gryphon.

The stallion was waiting for him in one of the big box stalls, eagerly swishing his tail.

:What did you want to talk about?: he asked as Keighven set to work currying his coat.

:Silver, and this Internship.: There wasn't really a need to beat around the bush, after all.

Gryphon leaned into the curry comb. :Right there – yes. Now what did you want to know about Silver?:

"Everything, I guess," Keighven muttered. "I only know he's a Herald-Mage, he's adept class, chosen by two Companions and he's around seventeen." He paused to clean the currycomb. "What I don't know… I don't know his Companions' names, I don't know who he's friendly with, what people mean when they refer to him as Ashkevron blood…"

:To answer the last first,: Gryphon cut in, :Silver is a descendant of Herald-Mage Vanyel Ashkevron, which is what everyone means when they refer to Ashkevron blood. You've heard of Herald-Mage Elspeth and the Tayledras Mage Darkwind?:

Keighven had come across the names in his history studies.

:Silver is descended from those two, and Elspeth was from Vanyel's bloodline herself. And if you can recall from your truly ancient history studies, Vanyel Demonsbane was as powerful as five full Heralds, all by himself.:

Keighven was impressed in spite of himself.

"Does it mean anything in particular for him, then?" he wanted to know.

:Only that he has two exceptionally famous names to live up to. Firesong K'Treva – also one of Vanyel's descendants – was just as powerful a Mage as Vanyel himself and was one of the members of the envoy to the Dhorshia Plains during the repeat Cataclysm.: Gryphon paused to stretch his neck. :You know, you could easily find this information on your own.:

"I could," Keighven agreed, "but then I wouldn't have a reason to give you an extra currying, would I? Besides, libraries are too confining for me."

:And a box stall isn't?:

"You know what I mean. It's easier getting history in plain language from you than from the more detailed history texts."

:I knew I should have paid more attention in History,: Gryphon sighed. :Woe betide me. What else do you want to know?:

"How about the names of his Companions?"

:Sunsinger and Shadowdancer.:

"No, really."

Gryphon horse-grinned sheepishly. :Sundance and Aren.:

Keighven thought for a long moment, trying to recall if he'd ever seen either one of them. Usually he could remember Companions, their names and their Heralds, but on these two he was drawing a blank.

"I don't think I know them," he admitted finally.

:I'd have been surprised if you did. Sundance and Aren don't actually stay in the Field with the rest of us. Most of the time they're holed up in the special place near the Mage's Collegium that Silver built for them.:

"What about this foray off into the middle of nowhere? I mean, the Kleimer region is awfully near Hardorn."

Gryphon blew bubbles in his water pail.

:I don't think it will matter overmuch,: he said finally. :The land is mostly healed. Ancar raped it, but it's been close to a century since then. Not that you'll ever get Tayledras to agree that land can heal that fast, but I don't think it's a danger any longer.:

Keighven put down the currycomb and picked up the soft brush, running the soothing bristles over Gryphon's neck and chest. The Companion made little whiffings of approval and his eyes half-closed.

"I still can't seem to stop thinking about Silver," Keighven growled half a mark later.

Gryphon didn't even open his eyes. :In a romantic-obsessive fashion or just obsessive?: he inquired.

"Neither. Just plain curiosity. Oddities attract that, sometimes, and even you have to admit Silver's as odd as they come.:

Gryphon yawned. :If I tell you a story, do you think it'll distract you long enough to forget them?:

"Maybe."

:What do you want to hear about?:

Keighven thought. "How about the Mage of Silence?"

Gryphon growled. :You know my memory is faulty anywhere past a thousand years. Choose someone more – recent.:

Keighven laughed. "How about you choose one of the old Monarch's Owns and tell me about him ore her?" he offered.

:Perfect. I can tell you about Talia. She was Chosen by Rolan at thirteen and she came from the old Holderkin lands…:

Keighven was impressed at Gryphon's grasp of the past in certain areas. He told the story of Talia so vividly that Keighven felt he was there.

:And that,: Gryphon concluded, :was Talia's first year at the Collegium.:

Kev's mouth dropped open.

"Only her first year?" he exclaimed. "It sounded like so much more than that…:

Gryphon snorted. :Yes, only her first year. It took her that damn long to feel even remotely accepted. Pity, really. I think she could have been incredibly powerful much earlier if she'd opened up sooner – but then she wouldn't have been Talia, I guess.:

"You sound like you know her," Kev commented. "Or knew her."

The Companion snorted. :Don't be ridiculous – she's been dead for nearly ten times my lifetime. And four or five times yours, as well,: he added, analyzing Kev with one big, blue eye.

"I didn't say you did," Kev pointed out. "Just that you sounded like you may have."

Gryphon softened a bit. :I'm a little bit of an addict for certain pages of history,: he admitted, :but in general the concept eludes me. I can remember and identify with people, but giant masses like the Tedrels are beyond me.

Keighven nodded. "I think I know what you mean." He paused, looking at Gryphon's perfect, untangled mane.

"Gryphon, do you mind if I braid up your mane and tail?"

The Companion seemed temporarily at a loss. He sidled back, away from Keighven and looked at him suspiciously. :Whyfore?:

Keighven shrugged. "Thought you'd want to be looking your best for a change. A fancy parade style for your mane, a fishtail plait for your tail…" He glanced critically at the Companion's hooves. "Although I could see ignoring a new coat of hoof paint."

Gryphon snorted. :I should think so!: he exclaimed, only a trifle indignant. :Well, if you promise not to make me look too silly, I suppose you can – decorate – me.

"Excellent. Wait here." Keighven dashed out of the room and scooped up a bag he'd left in the tack shed when he first arrived. He'd been hoping for a chance to deck Gryphon out like a parade mount from when he'd still been in the Fighter's Collegium down south in the no man's land where Holderkin had once lived.

Uglyn nags ranging from dul grey to motely shades of brown had all been transformed by their handlers for the opening of some of the more prestigious Trials by Sword.

There were a few tricks Keighven had picked up, and he'd had the thought of trying them on Gryphon for some time now…

Gryphon eyed the bag with slight distaste.

:Remind me again why I'm letting you do this.:

"Because if you feel you look terrible, I'll regroom you back to your shiny silver self. Deal?"

The stallion whuffled softly. :Deal,: he agreed.

Keighven knelt to open the sack and dragged out fiery satin cords, all thin as air. Carefully, he separated Gryphon's forelock into eight even sections and began braiding the red satin into the first section, twining it around the thee parts of the braid. The living, glowing whiteness of Gryphon's mane brought out a similar fiery essence in the cord.

He went through the rest of the Companion's forelock in the same manner.

The rest of the mane seemed to be a more challenging effort for him. He couldn't very well cut Gryphon's mane after all!

:Try and I'll kick you into next week.:

So, there remained only one option. Again he set about dividing the Companion's mane into small sections for braiding, but instead of using the red cord in them, he wound them into little nubs along Gryphon's crest – balls of scarlet that flickered with a life of their own.

The mane was the hardest and longest to do. In comparison, the multi-layered fishtailing of Gryphon's tail was therapeutically simple. He wrapped off the end with a scarlet rope and stood back to survey his handiwork.

The regal Companion seemed to be a spirit of fire, rather than of ice now.

He grinned and reached into his bag to pull out another thing – a full set of barding in the exact colors of a full Bard's blood red.

If Gryphon were human, his mouth would have dropped to his knees in a dumbstruck expression. As it was, he looked very surprised.

:I can't wear that!: he exclaimed.

"Why not?" Keighven asked with a grin. "If we're not traveling, we're not on duty, and you could go around in rainbows for all anyone would care. Red suits you, and I'll be damned if I know why."

Gryphon seemed to be thinking. :It is lovely,: he growled. :Put it on me before I change my mind.:

Keighven chuckled and complied, amazed at how simple it was to get the barding in place. There wasn't a halter, or even a hackamore, but really the presence of one would have ultimately detracted from Gryphon's fierce magnificence.

"Let's go outside," Keighven suggested. He had thought about painting patterns with red ochre on Gryphon's flanks to wind down his hind legs like the living canvases back home, but he rather doubted the stallion would have appreciated it.

:What are you holding?: Gryphon asked instead.

"Paint," Keighven answered, kneeling to put it away. "I was going to do a rendition of a phoenix climbing up your flanks, but I'm not sure you need it. You do look magnificent."

:Do it.:

Keighven looked up. "What?"

:Do it. It won't last more than a few marks anyway.:

He stood and dipped his fingers into the red, then proceeded to do a fiery rendition of the eternal bird being reborn. The shape matched Gryphon's muscle pattern so that when he moved, the phoenix appeared to be fluttering its wings in the flickering flames.

:Well, does it look terrible?: Gryphon wanted to know when Keighven just stood there, staring at his handiwork.

"Not at all," the Herald-Internee assured him. "Want to go out now?"

Gryphon dipped his head. :I feel like rearing a few times in the open and declaring what I dangerous beastie I am,: he announced before trotting out past Keighven into the Field.

Keighven tucked the sack into the corner, feeling a little tired. A ringing cry outside woke him up and he sprinted outside to see what the fuss was.

Gryphon was on his hind legs, making a spectacle of himself, rearing against the backdrop of a blood red sunset. A few white blots Keighven guessed were Heralds were running in the direction of the Field, presumably to discover the nature of the disturbance.

:Before you scare everyone to the Havens and back - : Keighven began, but a sharp squeal from Gryphon cut him short. A clap of thunder overhead made him start, and suddenly there was a strange disturbance in the currents of the air near them.

Gryphon's hoof struck it. He made an odd noise, similar to a squelched squeal and disappeared. Without a second though, Keighven dove after him, straight into the biggest upheaval of his life.

Author's Note: The [Almost End - stick around for the very end, coming up soon in epilogue form!