I saw a dream which made me afraid, and the thoughts upon my bed and the visions of my head troubled me. – Daniel 4:5
Bredin went with Lacaral to his stall. He groomed his Companion carefully and left feed and water before going into the house.
Shortly after Bredin got home, Asen came in with Twyla Cork on his arm and Davan and Alva Cork behind them. Perry Cork trailed behind his parents. All five were grinning broadly.
Asen and Twyla stood in front of Zelar and Enro, who knew what was coming. Formally, Asen asked his parents for permission to marry Twyla; her parents had given their permission less than a candlemark before.
Zelar jumped up and embraced the young couple while Enro pounded his son on the back.
For the next three candlemarks, the two families discussed wedding plans and celebrated. The couple would make a formal betrothal at the Temple of the Twain two days after midwinter and the wedding would take place on Spring Day.
The Corks finally left and the family went to bed much later than usual. Even after the long day, Bredin once again struggled to get to sleep as visions of the town flooded into his brain. Bredin tried the meditation techniques that Father Milo had shown him, but they only helped a little.
Bredin eventually fell into an exhausted sleep for a few candlemarks. He woke early as he had before and went out to groom Lacaral.
After breakfast, Bredin did some chores for his parents, chopping wood for his mother and sorting and hanging some hides for his father.
By midmorning, he was done. As he promised Lacaral, he mounted his Companion and they spent two candlemarks exploring Bredin's favorite childhood haunts. The time with Lacaral eased the tension Bredin felt and helped him to relax. By the end of the ride, Bredin felt rested.
In the afternoon, Bredin again went to the temple and practiced combat exercises and meditation. In the evening, he visited Rhys and Tag at Rhys' parents' house. Bredin answered the Warfields' questions as carefully as he could, though he could see they didn't entirely believe him.
His friends talked about their lives since Bredin left. Rhys had passed his twelfth birthday a moon ago and now worked full time with his father, learning how to shape iron at the forge. Bredin saw how his friend's shoulders and arms had strengthened and complimented him. Rhys grinned and flexed his arm.
Tag was working in his father's butcher shop. He did little of the meat cutting. He was usually cleaning offal or removing feathers. He complained about his menial duties.
Bredin sympathized with his friend and tried to reassure him that his father would give him more responsibility over time. Tag shrugged.
His friends' stories reminded Bredin of how he had once dreamed of succeeding his father as a saddler. When Bredin rode home, he talked to Lacaral about it.
::You would have been a good saddler, Chosen.:: Lacaral said. ::But you would not have been a happy one.::
"Why not?" Bredin asked.
::You wanted more; you wanted to see the world and not wait for the world to come to you. As a saddler, you would use only a fraction of your abilities. I'm not talking about your mindgifts, I am talking about your intelligence and curiosity. You can't stop thinking about things and you need to think about more than how a saddle sits on a horse's back.::
::Or a Companion's?:: Bredin mindspoke back impishly.
Lacaral gave a small buck and Bredin laughed.
The next few days passed quietly. Bredin's sleep continued to be plagued by visions; his only respites were his rides with Lacaral and his meditation sessions at the temple.
The midwinter celebrations. Including the midwinter feast and the midnight fire were much as Bredin remembered, but now he found himself standing apart, more an observer than a participant. He realized he no longer thought of Bransat as home.
The day after midwinter, Herald Ylsa arrived in Bransat with a parcel for Bredin. She handed it to him with a quick wink and said "I hear you are going to need this" before she and Felara galloped off.
Bredin looked at the parcel, wondering what could be in it. The parcel was bulky, but not heavy. He looked at Lacaral "What is it?" He asked his Companion.
::Just something I figured you might need.:: Lacaral's mindvoice was smug. When Bredin went to untie it, Lacaral snorted. ::Take it inside, first.:: The Companion made a chuckling sound and moved off to his stall.
Obediently, Bredin took the parcel inside and put it on his bed. He opened it to find a set of Formal Grays, complete with boots. He went back out to the stable. "What's it for?" He asked Lacaral.
Lacaral gave a physical and mental snort. ::You have a formal event tomorrow. We can't have you looking less than your best. You have to do the Collegium proud.::
Bredin almost asked Lacaral how the Collegium knew to send the Grays, but stopped himself. He knew the reason. "You arranged this with your horsey friends, didn't you?" He accused.
Lacaral teased his Chosen, feigning innocence. ::I might have mentioned something to Rolan, who might have said something to Talamir, who might have spoken to Elcarth, who might have realized that Ylsa was coming this way anyways and arranged with Gaytha to put together some clothing for a formal occasion to send along with Ylsa. It is only a few pounds and Felara wouldn't mind the weight.::
Bredin laughed. "I suppose I should find a pear or an apple for you."
::That would be appropriate, considering the effort required to keep you presentable.::
Bredin snorted. "I will try not to disappoint Your Majesty."
Lacaral pinned his ears and bared his teeth at his Chosen. Bredin laughed and kissed his nose.
The next day, Bredin attended his brother's betrothal in his Formal Grays. Other than the Priest and Priestess of the Twain, Bredin cut the most impressive figure in the group.
Bredin was embarrassed; he didn't intended to outshine Asen and Twyla at the ceremony, but most of the people present could talk about nothing other than his appearance and how impressive Bredin was. Even the Priest made a comment about how Bredin's presence had made the betrothal ceremony an impressive start to the new year.
After the ceremony and the betrothal feast, Bredin told Lacaral how he wished he had just worn his ordinary Grays.
::Did Asen or Twyla complain?:: Lacaral asked.
"No, Asen even said it made his betrothal look more important. Twyla said she wished that you had been there." Bredin said with a touch of exasperation. "I don't want my family thinking I'm the only important person."
::Would you prefer your family to think that they weren't important enough that you should look your best for them?::
Bredin thought about Lacaral's question for a moment. "But it isn't right. Today was their day, not mine."
Lacaral touched his muzzle to Bredin's cheek. ::It's a curse for every Herald. People put you up on a pedestal and won't ever let you just be ordinary.::
"But I am ordinary!" Bredin protested.
::No, Chosen, You're not. You never were. Even if I had never found you, you would not have been ordinary.::
"But why does it make it more important to them if I am there? If they had been betrothed a sennight ago, it would have been just as good for them. I don't want to put my brother in the shade."
Lacaral got a wicked glint in his eye. ::It's just as well that they didn't send along my formal tack, then. If I'd been braided up in my full rig, nobody would have noticed the ceremony at all.::
Bredin rolled his eyes. "I am sure everyone would have been over-awed by Your Majesty."
Lacaral laughed in Bredin's mind. ::They already are, Chosen. They already are.::
Bredin filled Lacaral's bucket. "Eat up, nag."
He laughed as Lacaral pinned his ears. With a pat on his Companion's neck, Bredin left the stall and went back to the house.
Bredin rose early again the next morning after another restless night filled with visions of the people of Bransat. One more night, he thought, then he could go home.
Bredin blinked at the thought. For the first time, he realized that the Collegium, not Bransat, was his home.
With the midwinter celebrations over, Rhys and Tag had returned to work in their fathers' shops. Bredin helped his mother with chores around the house and cut some more wood. He visited the temple for two candlemarks before noon.
After a lunch of bread and cheese, Bredin saddled Lacaral and rode out along the road to Wellmead, stopping at the inn where he and Lars had snacked.
Lars and Cealine arrived a quarter-candlemark later. The two trainees drank kava and had a sweet roll before mounting up and heading back to Bransat.
Once on the road, Bredin at his yearmate more closely. Lars looked tired, his attention wandered and he yawned frequently. He asked Lars why.
"My Gift." Lars said immediately. "I kept seeing visions of things from the past. Some of them were pretty awful. They gave me nightmares.
"Cealine says I have to see Kyril as soon as we get home. I hope you don't mind, but I'd like to get away as soon as possible tomorrow morning." Lars yawned as he finished.
"I had Gift problems, too." Bredin admitted. "My Farsight kept showing me everything that was happening in the village. I don't think I got a good night's sleep the whole time I was here.
"Lacaral says it's because there are no shields here. He says that my gift has been getting stronger all along, but there are so many shields at the Collegium that my gift had not bothered me as much."
Bredin spent a final evening with his family. He and Lars left well before sunrise the next morning. Zelar insisted on them having breakfast, but Enro and Bredin's brothers had barely risen by the time the two trainees mounted up. After quick farewells, the trainees were in the saddle and riding out through the quiet streets of the village.
They pressed the pace, arriving at the Collegium two candlemarks after noon. As Bredin untacked and groomed Lacaral, the Companion passed along a message. ::Renda says that Kyril will see you in a candlemark.::
After cleaning up, Bredin hurried to the Seneschal's Herald's office. Lars was already there.
Regular classes in the Collegium did not begin again for another three days, so the two spent most of their time drilling with Kyril and, when the Seneschal's Herald was too busy, Herald Ylsa.
Both boys tried hard, but only Lars seemed to make progress. Frustrated, Bredin worked harder. Although Kyril ordered him not to, Bredin practiced on his own. Like a sore tooth, he could not ignore his problem. Even when riding Lacaral or practicing in the salle, his inability to ground and center gnawed at him. By the end of each day, Bredin usually had a reaction headache; the healers provided him with willowbark tea to relieve the pain and help him sleep.
His failure irritated Bredin. He even snapped at his yearmates on two occasions. He apologized immediately. When he tried to explain, they waved it off: Their own Companions had already told them about Bredin's problem.
Regular classes resumed on the fourth day after Bredin's return. Bredin tried to concentrate on his studies to distract himself. All of his instructors noted how he was bothered. None of them made allowances; Bredin would have to learn how to focus on the task at hand.
Not even Collegium gossip could engage Bredin's attention. The Heralds and Trainees gleefully shared the story of how Queen Selenay had twisted the tails of the nobles at a council meeting when they had plotted to force her to choose a husband from one of their families. Bredin was indifferent.
Bredin was completely uninterested when Jan told him that Kensie's sister Naril had been hurriedly engaged to Lord Benal Foster, the only child and heir of Baron Kieran Foster. Naril had been making inappropriate advances to handsome young men in Poldara. Countess Lora found out and prevented anything irredeemable. Lora wrote to Count Wyeth and they had hurriedly arranged the match with Benal. Count Wyeth finalized the contract with Baron Foster on his Midwinter visit to his family in Poldara.
Lord Benal was no prize. Though his father was very wealthy, Benal's preference for muscular men dressed in masks and black leather who would whip him and beat him was notorious. Even nobles who thought of their daughters as mere trading pieces in the game of politics were reluctant to consider Benal as a prospective husband for their offspring. Baron Kieran desperately sought a bride for his son, hoping that Benal would get his own heir and continue the family line. Naril's dowry had been modest.
Bredin did not care. He was fixated on getting his gift under control. Damnably, his efforts seemed to aggravate the problem. Even amid the shields of the Collegium, Bredin's gift now presented him with a nightly procession of visions of the Collegium and Palace. All of his classes and practices suffered as a result.
On the fourth day of classes, Bredin lost his temper completely. He lashed out at Lacaral.
Just after luncheon, Bredin was in his regular riding lesson with Keren, who was making Bredin and his yearmates ride without reins or stirrups. As usual, Bredin was barely staying on. The day was mild, though a light snow was falling. The snow melted as it touched the saddle making it slightly slippery.
The trainees circled Keren in canter as she ordered them to stretch their arms upwards, then sideways, then straight ahead, then sideways again. "OK. Trot." She ordered.
Lacaral made a smooth transition, but Bredin was unprepared. He lurched forward and hit the pommel between his legs. He gasped in pain.
::Chosen, you have to keep your seat better than that.:: Lacaral teased. ::How will you please the ladies if you ruin yourself?::
Worn down and tense from his struggles with his gift and frustrated at his clumsy riding, Bredin snapped. Grabbing the reins in his hands, he slapped the end hard against Lacaral's neck.
Lacaral pinned his ears and bolted towards the stable with Bredin clinging to the pommel. Lacaral reached the manure pile. With a twist and a buck, he launched Bredin neatly into the middle of it before trotting off towards Companions' stable.
The softly falling snow had melted into the manure pile, turning the noisome pile into a sodden mass. Bredin was plastered with the smelly result.
To compound Bredin's humiliation, the first person he saw as he righted himself in the muck was Kensie Poldara. The young lord bent over his stallion's neck roaring with laughter at Bredin's predicament.
The next person who Bredin saw was an absolutely furious Keren. Kensie, seeing the coming explosion, rode away quickly, leaving Bredin alone with the equitation instructor.
"How – dare – you – strike – a – Companion?" Keren spaced her words apart to express her outrage. "How – dare – you – strike – your - own – Companion?"
"He, I, we…" Bredin fumbled. He flushed in shame. How could he have hit his friend?
"It is a criminal offense to strike a Companion." Keren was not letting up. "You have no better friend in the world and you hit him. Why?"
Tearfully, Bredin asked himself the same question. Lacaral's taunt was nothing, really. Tears flowed down his face. "I am sorry." He said.
Keren gave him a look of disgust. "Apologise to Lacaral, not to me. Then go and get cleaned up. You have just earned a fortnight mucking stalls in the regular stables." She turned on her heel and went back to the class.
Bredin hauled himself out of the muck. He went first to Companions' stable, where the hands had already untacked, groomed and blanketed Lacaral. Lacaral was in his stall. When Bredin arrived at the door, Lacaral turned his rump towards Bredin. ::Go away.:: was all the Companion would say.
Head hanging, Bredin slouched towards the Collegium. Gaytha met him at the door and directed him to the 'mud door' around the side. There, she made Bredin strip off his befouled uniform and put on a loose shift. Gaytha insisted that Bredin rinse most of the muck off the uniform before she allowed him to go to the bathing room.
After washing, Bredin went to his room and lay down on his bed. He wept into his pillow.
Within a few sunwidths, there was a knock on the door. Bredin ignored it. There was a second knock, which Bredin also ignored.
"Trainee Bredin, you are not excused from your lessons." Elcarth's voice carried firmly through the door.
Bredin sighed. He got off the bed and went to the door. He opened it and looked at the Dean. "You are due at your weapons class now. I will see you in my office after dinner. Do not skip dinner." The Dean turned and left.
For the first time in moons, Bredin trudged to the salle on his own feet. His yearmates had already finished warming up by the time Bredin arrived at the salle. Alberich said nothing about Bredin's lateness, merely ordering him to warm up before joining the rest. The exercises with his yearmates distracted Bredin from his funk, but his mood returned as he left the salle alone. None of his yearmates walked with him.
The late afternoon practice in unarmed combat was cancelled. The salle was closed for two days. A Heraldic and Bardic trainee had broken one of the precious mirrors in the weapons class following Bredin's.
Bredin wandered back to the Collegium stable, hoping to make amends with Lacaral. The Companion was not in is stall. Harrow told Bredin that Lacaral had wandered out alone into Companions' Field, even though the rest of the herd had taken shelter from the snow in their stalls.
Bredin returned to his room and tried to study until the dinner bell rang. He ate silently, not joining his yearmates' conversation. Sensitive to Bredin's mood, the others did not press him to join the banter.
After dinner, Bredin headed disconsolately to Elcarth's office. As he climbed the stairs, he met Trainee Mical and Bardic Trainee Adain coming down. The two who had been responsible for breaking the mirror in the salle looked as downcast as Bredin. As Bredin reached Elcarth's door, Dean Arissa of Bardic Collegium and Herald Alberich emerged. Bredin nodded to both of them and went in.
Bredin closed the door. Elcarth waved him to a seat. Bredin sat gingerly and braced himself.
"I am not going to give you a lecture." Elcarth said. "I expect you have been flogging yourself all afternoon. You don't need any more of that."
Bredin relaxed slightly, though he wondered what the Dean wanted.
"You have two serious problems bothering you: First, you are fighting to get your gift under control by learning to ground and center. Second, you are struggling with your riding.
"Those two problems have been pressing you. You've felt squeezed and pressured. Today, that pressure burst out."
Bredin nodded. "I didn't want to hurt Lacaral. I was just angry about everything. I'm a failure."
Elcarth snorted. "You are not a failure. You are above average in most of your classes. Your weapons work is coming along nicely and Grandmaster Toma tells me that your unarmed combat skills have impressed even Deacon Tsareyn. You get along well with your yearmates and help them with their study and practice.
"You are clever and witty, even if your wit is a bit caustic at times." Elcarth gave Bredin a look which told Bredin that Elcarth was thinking of his riddle about Kensie Poldara. Bredin flushed.
"The two problems that are bothering you have their roots in a third problem. You have a sharp temper. Grandmaster Toma spoke to me about that today."
Bredin looked at Elcarth in shock. "Father Toma was here today?"
Elcarth nodded. "As you have discovered, rumors travel faster than a Companion. The Grandmaster came to see me within a candlemark of your incident in the riding ring. He told me of your previous struggles with your temper."
Bredin hung his head. "I try." He said. "I really try."
"And for the most part, you have succeeded. As far as I know, this is the first incident since you arrived. Every one of your yearmates has had moments when their anger has gotten the best of them in the three moons since you arrived. I think you have done very well." Elcarth sounded satisfied.
Elcarth clasped his hands, seeming to meditate for a moment. "I also spoke to Keren and Kyril. We think you may be trying too hard. So, we have decided on a change of plan."
"A new plan?" Bredin asked.
"Yes. For the next sennight, you are going to spend the time that you would normally have your riding lessons and your practices with Kyril down at the Temple of the Iron God. There, you will be practicing meditation. After a sennight, you and Lacaral are going to have a session with Healer Crathach. He is a mindhealer and thinks he knows some techniques that will help you." Elcarth smiled as he spoke.
The mention of the mindhealer worried Bredin. "I'm not crazy, am I?"
Elcarth snorted. "Not at all. Healer Crathach thinks he knows another way to help you get grounded and centered."
Bredin left Elcarth's office. He sought out his yearmates in the second floor common room where they usually studied together. From the way they stopped talking when he came in, Bredin deduced they had been talking about him. He decided to face the issue.
"I'm sorry." He began. "I shouldn't have lost my temper."
Jill looked at him curiously. "You got mad at Lacaral, not at us."
Bredin sighed. "Lacaral hasn't forgiven me yet. I have to make it up to him."
Jill was sympathetic. "We know the riding and the gift problem has been tearing you apart. We wanted to help, but didn't know what to do."
"Just be my friends." Bredin said. "When I lost my temper, I let you all down. That's why I said I was sorry. I can't make it without you."
Jill hugged him. Rena hugged him from the other side. Jan and Lars shook his hand. "None of us can stand alone." Jill said.