I am always doing that which I cannot do, in order that I may learn how to do it. - Pablo Picasso
Going everywhere on Lacaral's back attracted more than the envy of his fellow trainees. It also attracted the attention of the highborn of the Court. Though Bredin and Lacaral did not go near the gardens and promenades frequented by the nobles, their travels between the collegium, the salle and the stables were inevitably conspicuous. Those who prided themselves on their pedigrees did not appreciate encountering a commoner who, in their view, 'put on airs.' They resented looking up – literally – to one whose birth rank was far below their own.
The highborn shared their displeasure among themselves. A few who knew Bredin, like Urson Felthan and Lovat Astey, and knew the reason he rode Lacaral at all times, laughed at their peers' vexation and told the others why. The young nobles were not placated. Nor were they amused when Kensie made a joke of it, asking if his fellow highborn if they would like to parade their lack of riding skill at all times.
"We ought to pull him down and teach him a lesson." Olaf Futcher said.
Kensie, who was standing nearby, put in a comment. "I wouldn't try that. With that unarmed combat training he has received, he would have you flat on your back in the time it takes you to breathe twice. In fact, he could probably take down two or three of you."
"How do you know that?" Olaf asked.
"He tumbled me when he'd only been in training for a couple of moons." Kensie said. "He was eight and I was twelve at the time. He's had four more years of training since then."
Evan Aitken chimed in. "Taking you down wouldn't be much of a challenge, would it?" Olaf snorted.
Kensie frowned at the insult, then shrugged. "If you don't believe me, try it. On your own heads be it."
"He's from Bransat, isn't he?" Evan Aitken said. "It seems that your vassals have learned to disrespect all of their betters from your poor example."
Kensie shrugged again. "Once he got a Companion, he was no longer my vassal. Not that I wanted him as my vassal. He was always a rude little snot. Before he started that training, I used to beat him regularly. Never did learn his place."
There was a low rumble behind him. Kensie turned to see Kantor ten yards away, ears pinned and tail swishing.
Evan laughed. "Look how they stick up for their own." He said.
"Well, they are intelligent as anyone…." Kensie began.
"They're smart for horses," Evan conceded, "but don't buy that cant the Heralds peddle. Nothing but trick ponies. You're not just craven, you are gullible."
Kensie looked angrily at Evan, his mouth hanging open as he bit back a retort.
"Going to challenge me, coward?" Evan sneered. Kensie went expressionless and Evan laughed once more. "Thought not. Steel puts you to flight." He tossed the last over his shoulder as he walked away.
Kensie looked back at Kantor, who shook his head angrily and strode off in the other direction.
Bredin was not oblivious to the lordlings' annoyance. He flushed each time he noticed their hostile stares. At first, he would tug his forelock to them, which usually drew an acerbic remark from Lacaral citing the faults of the noble in question. ::He can't sleep without a night light.:: Lacaral would say of one. Or, speaking of another: ::He pays whores to whip him.::
Bredin would either stare back at the young lord incredulously or snort at Lacaral's gossip, which only served to annoy the highborn more.
Eventually, Bredin would just stare straight ahead, nodding acknowledgement if one of them caught his eye, but otherwise ignoring the angry looks. Twice, he encountered Lord Kensie, whose only response was to eye Bredin up and down, then strike a 'riding' pose while smirking at Bredin.
Lord Rubin Larkin's reaction was the most embarrassing for Bredin. Rubin, a passionate horseman and believer that every horse deserved a skilled rider, would always smile at Bredin and offer advice. "Come on, sit up. Shoulders back. You're leaning to the right. Lacaral needs you to be in balance!" Despite his solicitousness, Rubin still thought of Companions as a superior breed of horse. Remarkably intelligent and possessing magnificent conformation, but horses nonetheless, and requiring precise and accurate riding to express their carriage and gaits in the best possible way. His well-intentioned advice, given publicly along the paths between the collegium, the salle and the stables, made Bredin blush and feel humiliated, though Bredin could not get angry with the young lord.
Lacaral was amused by Lord Rubin's earnest helpfulness. He tolerated Rubin's patronizing, indulgent tone when he spoke to Lacaral as though the Companion was a clever and beloved pet. When Bredin challenged Lacaral, pointing out that Lacaral had bristled when Bredin spoke in the same tones, Lacaral retorted ::You know better, he doesn't. Besides, he means well.::
::That doesn't help me.:: Bredin said as Lord Rubin stroked Lacaral's crest firmly and cooed "You are such a good boy."
::You could benefit by trying what he suggests. He is giving you good advice.:: Lacaral leaned into Rubin's fingers and arched his neck. ::He is also very good at scratching exactly the right spot.::
Bredin fumed, but said nothing; he tried to sit a little straighter. He managed to thank Lord Rubin politely as they parted company.
Two sennights after Bredin began riding Lacaral everywhere, three young lords decided they had had enough of his 'impudence.'
Bredin and Lacaral were making their way from Bredin's riding lesson to the Iron Monk's Temple when Kadhael Corbie, Evan Aitken and Olaf Futcher blocked his path. The three young lords set their ambush at a point where Pitcher Road narrowed on the approach to Temple bridge.
As Lacaral came down the road, Kadhael and Olaf stepped in front of the Companion, blocking the road.
"We have had enough of your insolence, sirrah!" Kadhael snarled. "Get down off that horse and show respect for your betters."
Remembering Father Toma's warnings about reacting angrily, Bredin bobbed his head and tugged his forelock. "I apologise if I have offended your lordships, but Herald Keren has ordered me to…"
"Shut up, bumpkin, and get down!" Evan Aitken called out from behind them.
Bredin glanced behind to see Lord Evan grabbing for him.
::Hang on, Chosen!:: Lacaral mind-shouted to Bredin as he reared up. The stallion deliberately lashed out with his forelegs, striking the air above the young lords' heads. Lacaral's hooves came nowhere near the two before him, but the move was sufficient to scare Kadhael and Olaf, who threw themselves onto the filthy pavement.
Bredin grabbed Lacaral's mane and wrapped his legs as far as possible around the stallion's barrel as the Companion launched himself to soar over the two prostrate lordlings.
Bredin ooffed and wrapped his arms around Lacaral's neck as the Companion landed and galloped a few dozen yards. Somehow, Bredin managed to hang on until they were across the bridge and Lacaral resumed his walk.
Behind them, Evan helped his accomplices to their feet while the passers-by pointed at them and laughed at their soiled clothing.
Bredin wanted to return to the Collegium and explain what had happened, but Lacaral insisted on going on to the temple. ::Tell Deacon Tsareyn what happened.:: Lacaral ordered and he left Bredin at the temple door. Since Lacaral would know if Bredin did not, Bredin told the combat master what had occurred.
Deacon Tsareyn listened carefully as Bredin told his tale. A grin slowly spread across his face when he heard of the two young lords throwing themselves down in the muck. "You did exactly the right thing, lad. If you had dismounted, you would have either been beaten or forced to fight. Worse, your Companion might have had to intervene directly. I will send Brother Wosam back to Temple Bridge to see if he can find some witnesses to back you up.
"Meanwhile, you have some training to do." The Combat Master pointed to a spot on the mat and assumed the ready stance.
By the time Bredin's lesson was over, Brother Wosam had gotten statements from several witnesses, who were only too happy to describe how the young lords had been humiliated. Deacon Tsareyn and Brother Wosam accompanied Bredin back to the Palace, where the Provost-Marshal, Dean Elcarth and the Queen's Own were waiting for Bredin.
Bredin quailed when he saw the three, certain he was in serious trouble.
Elcarth read the anxiety in Bredin's posture and spoke first. "Relax. Lacaral told Rolan all about what happened. As you expected, Lords Kadhael, Evan and Olaf did make a complaint. However, it is they who are in trouble, not you. Accosting a Herald or a Trainee is a serious offence. We just wanted to hear from you before we haul them onto the carpet."
They took Bredin and the two monks to a small meeting room beside Elcarth's office. After Bredin told his story and Brother Wosam presented the Dean with the statements he had taken, the Provost-Marshall said "Well, their fathers have all been protesting already and demanding that you be disciplined. This is sufficient for us to haul the three of them into my office for a proper dressing down. I will do a lot of hinting about 'stern measures', but the reality is that they will probably get off with nothing more than a lecture in the presence of their fathers."
Talamir smiled. "Not entirely. Apparently young Trion Songer from Bardic saw the whole thing. He has already composed a mocking ballad about the event which is circulating around the Palace and Court. It is very well-written and funny. People are already joking about the three bowing down in the dirt before Lacaral and Bredin. It is going to take some time for them to live it down."
The five adults chuckled but Bredin fretted that this would make him a target for retribution by the high-born.
As Talamir guessed, Trion Songer's mocking ballad became an instant sensation in Court circles and throughout the city itself. The humiliation of the lecture the three young highborn received from the Provost-Marshall in the presence of their fathers was nothing in comparison to the ribbing they endured from their peers.
For Bredin, the main effect of the incident was a brief celebrity amongst the Heraldic and Bardic trainees. Several of the Heraldic trainees made a point of bringing treats for Lacaral when they visited the Companions' stable. The three lordlings and a few of their friends only glowered more angrily when they saw Bredin and Lacaral.
The oddest consequence in Bredin's eyes was an encounter with Kensie Poldara on the path between the salle and the stable a sennight later. Kensie grinned broadly as they passed. Reaching out to pat Lacaral's neck, Kensie said "Thank you, Lacaral". Kensie walked on, ignoring Bredin completely.
Despite the extra time with Lacaral, Bredin managed the feat of falling off his Companion twice more before Midwinter. Though Lacaral, Harrow and Keren all assured him that he was making progress, it seemed to Bredin the only progress he made was that his muscles became accustomed to the feel of sitting on Lacaral and he no longer ached after his rides.
Along with the slow growth of Bredin's equitation skills, his bond with gradually Lacaral deepened and strengthened. By Midwinter, they could mindspeak each other without actually touching, though not when they were beyond arm's length. They could also manage longer conversations without Bredin's head starting to ache.
Learning – or failing – to find his center and ground was another frustration as Bredin's promising start with Kyril slowed to a halt by the time Midwinter arrived. Kyril tried scores of approaches with Bredin. Bredin would follow the Senior Herald's instructions and seem to be getting closer to centering until his whole focus would dissolve entirely. Kyril frequently reassured Bredin that it was a matter of time, but Bredin would leave his practice sessions on the verge of tears.
Bredin's frustration compounded as his 'finding' gift grew. At first, he only 'found' items that people close to him were worried about and were intent on finding. Within a moon, Bredin's yearmates could simply ask him where something was and Bredin would tell them its location.
When Bredin mentioned this to Kyril, Kyril reassured Bredin, saying that his strengthening gift was actually a sign of progress and the fact that Bredin could find something at will indicated that his gift was growing. As an experiment, Kyril had Bredin locate things that were not lost; Bredin mastered the feat in a sennight. Kyril praised Bredin's progress enthusiastically. He predicted that, once Bredin was centered, he would develop full farsight, though he did not know what Bredin's range would be.
By Midwinter, Bredin was 'finding' things for the entire Collegium as well as for people he knew in Bardic and Healers. A few of the older trainees started seeking out Bredin for help in finding lost items until Elcarth got wind of it.
The Dean summoned the offenders to his office. Instead of berating them for their lack of consideration, he told them how Bredin's inability to center was frustrating him and that their requests were making it worse for him. Consideration of others was natural to anyone Chosen by a Companion; the Dean's conversations had the desired effect of the trainees ceasing their requests. They also took it on themselves to see that none of the others in the three Collegia bothered Bredin.
Like Kyril, Lacaral tried to explain that Bredin's growing gifts were part of his development as a Herald and would learn to control them once he achieved centering. The Companion's well-meaning reassurance only heightened Bredin's frustration.
On the last evening before Midwinter break, Bredin vented his frustration, not to Lacaral, but to Losanir, whom he was grooming as a Midwinter parting gift. Lacaral was not present as Bredin brushed Losanir's muscular back firmly. Losanir was almost as powerfully built as Alberich's Kantor and very easy to pick out amongst the Companion herd.
Losanir had still not Chosen, although the Companion had had another false alarm about ten days after Bredin had arrived, going so far as to having himself tacked up and heading out from Haven. Losanir would not say where he had gone. After his return, Losanir disappeared into Companion's field for over a sennight, avoiding all contact with people or other Companions.
Though Bredin would groom Losanir at least twice per sennight, the Companion never sought out his brother's Chosen; Bredin had to seek him out. The unpartnered Companion seemed torn between appreciating Bredin's attention and the reminder that Losanir had not yet found his own bondmate. Occasionally, when Bredin was riding Lacaral, he would see Losanir watching them with his head hung low. When Losanir noticed Bredin's look, he would heave a heavy sigh and turn away.
As Losanir arched his back against Bredin's brush, Bredin complained. "Your brother keeps telling me I will get better at riding and with my Gift, but nothing seems to change. It seems to be getting worse. I'm never going to get the hang of riding. And I am never going to get my gift under control."
Losanir bent his head around to look at his erstwhile groom. He cocked an ear expressively.
Bredin touched Losanir's muzzle. "I know. Everyone says the same thing. 'You're doing fine. Don't worry.' But to me, it just seems to be going backwards. I wish Lacaral had Chosen someone else."
Losanir pinned his ears and stamped a hoof. He reached around and gave Bredin the gentlest of nips before snorting loudly and stamping once more.
"I don't mean it that way." Bredin said. "I love him and would do anything for him. It's just that he deserves better than me." Losanir shook his head and stamped again.
"Don't you think Lacaral should have a say in that?" A soft voice said behind Bredin.
Bredin's head snapped around. A very tall, thin man in Formal Whites stood there with his hand on the shoulders of his Companion.
There was only one Companion who had that look and presence that set him apart from all the others. Bredin had not met the Herald before, but immediately deduced who he was.
Automatically, Bredin bowed and pulled his forelock. "Honored to meet you, Herald Talamir." Rolan and Losanir both snorted and whickered in amusement.
Talamir smiled softly. "Please, Bredin, not so formal. I am a Herald like you will be, not a highborn. We are a band of brothers and sisters, there are no ranks among us."
Bredin eyed the Queen's Own skeptically.
"I think Losanir was enjoying the grooming – very kind of you to care for your Companion's brother, by the way. Why don't you finish that while I tell you something that will help you understand?"
As Bredin applied the brush once more, Talamir told the story of his own Choosing from a tent in the camp of his horse-trading family. Bredin could scarcely believe that the elegant man beside him had never slept in a building until Taver had brought him to the Collegium. "So you see, Bredin, birth means nothing among us. Whether Princess of the Blood or gutter-brat from Thieves' Market in Three Rivers or the child of a roving tribe of horse-traders, it is what you are, not your birth, that counts."
"It is what is in here and here" – Talamir pointed at Bredin's head and chest – "that counts. Or whatever the Companions see there.
"Lacaral Chose you because of what you are. Never fear that you won't measure up. You will if you keep trying. And you will keep trying. You wouldn't have been Chosen if you were the kind of person who would give up.
"And one more thing." Talamir continued. "You are part of Lacaral. You are his other half. It isn't just that you need him. He needs you."
Bredin contemplated this as he carefully brushed Losanir's tail. Talamir turned to leave. Bredin looked solemnly at him. "Thank you, Queen's Own."
Talamir smiled back at him and walked away.
The grooming done, Losanir touched Bredin's face with his muzzle before walking off in the other direction.
As Bredin put the brushes away, he heard Lacaral's chiming hoofbeats approaching. He knew it was Lacaral. From the feel, it could be no other. Wordlessly, he hugged his friend. His very best friend.