The Angry Boy

by Tantris

Heralds are not perfect human beings. They are people with flaws and failings like all of us. They have their gifts but they must also have courage and determination in order that their flaws may be turned to facets of what makes them Heralds. They may not do Great Things, but they may rise to greatness by what they do. As always, the Valdemar Universe belongs to Mercedes Lackey.

88. Chapter 88

The Angry Boy Chapter 88

"There are wheels within wheels in this village and fires within fires."- Arthur Miller, The Crucible

Bredin and Kensie sat by the fireplace in the Redruth officers' common room, wrapped in down comforters and with mugs of hot kava in their hands. When they left The White Horse Inn after lunch, the snow had been a gentle fall of soft flakes. Within a candlemark, the snowfall became a major storm. In the near-whiteout, only the piles of snow marking the edges of the road had guided them. Anything more than a hundred yards away disappeared in the swirling white. The wind blew straight towards them, freezing them through their winter clothes. They reached the gates of Redruth guard post just before the dark grey skies turned black.

"No alcohol." Healer Bram Lubeck admonished. "Worst thing you can do when you are cold."

Amused by the Healer's 'mothering,' Bredin and Kensie grinned at each other over their mugs. Heralds Amos and Lars, who had arrived the night before, bit their lips and waited patiently for the newcomers to stop shivering. The four Heralds would share Midwinter with the guardsmen. So long as no emergency arose, they would spend a sennight together before resuming their circuits in the new year.

The four told stories of their circuits. Amos and Lars wanted to hear about Bohrsholding, which Bredin and Kensie reluctantly shared. Lars told how he had 'rescued' Bard Gerard Ducas from a middle-aged dowager. Goodwoman Clara Morel had convinced herself that Bard Gerard's songs contained coded love-notes intended for her. She had lured the Bard to her home and held him prisoner, demanding that he openly avow her as a condition of freeing him. Though Gerard's bardic gift was insufficient to overcome her obsession, he had strong mindspeech and reached out to Lars for rescue. Lars freed the bard and left Goodwoman Morel in the care of a mindhealer.

Amos had not been present when Captain Mazur's men annihilated the bandit gang near Foxboro, but he told the two how Ragnar had discovered the bandits, scouted their camp and taken out two of the three pickets undetected, enabling Captain Mazur to carry out a surprise attack. Bredin and Kensie had heard the bare bones of the story before and nodded approvingly as Amos told the detailed story. Kensie smiled in satisfaction, happy that Ragnar had turned out so well.

"He was pretty bothered by the killing, especially the young picket. Said the boy looked like his younger brother." Amos said. "Belelme said we had to help him in a ritual. She led us to a special place – she called it a 'node', he called it a 'place of power' – he drew a circle and made a prayer. You'll never guess what happened next."

Bredin and Kensie had heard Randen's story from Adrian. "A great ghostly eagle manifested." Bredin said.

"Not an eagle, but the Windrider!" Amos said. "You could have knocked me over with a feather."

"The Windrider? Not the Eagle?" Kensie said.

"Definitely the Windrider." Amos confirmed. "I was tired, but I wasn't dreaming. Besides, Belelme saw it, too."

"Oh, come on!" Lars said. "This is not the Festival of Fools. You can't be serious." Lars had not heard any of this before.

While Kensie and Amos told Lars what they knew about Ragnar and the manifestations Randen, Perry, Derris and Inetia had seen, Bredin focused on something else. Ragnar had seen the Windrider. He thought back to his conversation with Lacaral at Gillhold. Lacaral said that Ragnar was not Chosen because he was not Valdemaran. Bredin compared that to the tale of Alberich's Choosing. Kantor, so the story went, had actually rescued Alberich from inside Karse. Alberich was definitely not Valdemaran when Kantor Chose him. Ragnar had Gifts; the Companions definitely liked the boy and considered him worthy of being Chosen; with the appearance of the Windrider, Lacaral's 'reason' that Ragnar had not been Chosen made less sense than ever. Bredin sensed Lacaral listening closely to his thoughts. ::Well?::

::He is still not Valdemaran.:: Lacaral paused. ::Yet.::

::Supposedly, Alberich was vehemently opposed to becoming Valdemaran even after Kantor Chose him.:: Bredin said. ::So why not Ragnar? Why wait?::

There was a long pause. Bredin sensed that Lacaral did not want to discuss the matter. He held the link to his Companion, making it clear he wanted an answer. Lacaral pawed the floor like a nervous horse.

::I am not a horse!:: Lacaral objected.

::Indeed, you are not. But you are trying to divert the conversation. Is Ragnar going to be Chosen?::

::Every person and every situation is different.:: Lacaral temporized.

::Is he going to be Chosen?:: Exasperated, Bredin 'raised' his mindvoice.

::Yes.:: Lacaral's mindvoice was almost a whisper.

::When will…:: Bredin bit off the thought. Obviously, the Companions had their own reasons for when they Chose as much as they had reasons for who they Chose.

::Obviously.:: Lacaral chuckled, relieved that Bredin would not press him further. ::She is much more patient than Losanir or I.::

::She‽:: Bredin's eyebrows shot up.

::I should not have said that.:: Lacaral said. ::I definitely should not have said that.::

Urson Tewkes-Felthan came into the room to invite them to dinner. Overhearing the end of the conversation, he added his own experience of seeing the Eagle manifest at Watford. The four Heralds rose and went to the mess hall.

###

The next morning, they all turned to the packets of letters waiting for them at the guard post. Bredin picked up a letter from his mother, who assured her son that all was well. Bredin's eyes bulged as he read how Count Wyeth had offered to have Bredin's nephew educated alongside his son Martin. The two boys, drawn together by a shared mania for Companions, had become inseparable friends. To indulge his youngest, Count Martin allowed the friendship to continue; by educating Leif alongside his own son, the Count could make it seem he was training the son of a saddler as a 'proper' aide for his own son. Count Martin told Asen and Enro he would see Leif obtained a good position when the boy came of age. The promise to put his grandson among the highborn was irresistible to Enro: He insisted that Asen accept.

Bredin looked up from the letter. "Kensie, do you know what your father has done?"

Kensie did not respond. His jaw hung open and his eyes bulged as he read. Bredin noticed the letter was written in green ink. Kensie frowned, pointing at a line and scanning the paper closely from top to bottom as though piecing together a puzzle.

"Kensie?"

Still no response. Kensie was oblivious to everything other than the sheet in front of him. Lars and Amos looked from Bredin to Kensie and back. Amused by Kensie's total absorption, they grinned at each other and Bredin. "Maybe one of his former bedmates is pregnant." Lars joked.

Keeping an eye on his partner, Bredin went back to his own letter.

At last a white faced Kensie raised his head and looked at Bredin. "Bredin, we have to talk. Do you feel like going for a ride?

"Are we not invited?" Lars asked.

::I think this is something between the two of them.:: Cealine said to her Chosen. From Amos' expression, Belelme was telling him the same thing.

"Off you go." Amos said. He and Lars returned to their own mail.

Bredin nodded. He and Kensie went first to the Herald's quarters, where they donned winter cloaks. By the time they got to the stables, the Corporal Summer had already saddled Losanir and Lacaral.

"Your Companions want to go somewhere." The stablemaster said. "Damned cold day for a ride."

"Thank you, Lance." Kensie said. "We all need a bit of fresh air."

"Won't get much fresher than today." Corporal Summer shook his head as icy air came through the open door.

There was a thin overcast and the day was bitterly cold. Bredin and Kensie mounted in the yard and headed out the main gate. The guards assumed they were on 'Heralds' business' and asked them no questions.

The guardsmen had already cleared the roads near Redruth and the Companion's hooves chimed on the hard ground. A mile from the post, they left the road and wandered into the fields. The Companions ambled easily in the light, powdery snow.

Kensie handed Bredin the letter from his father. "Pay special attention to the first three paragraphs."

With no need to guide Lacaral, Bredin dropped the reins and read.

My Dear Son

You will need to congratulate your brother on making you an uncle. Mina is expecting their first child in late spring. The healer says she is healthy and the pregnancy is progressing normally. She should be in no danger.

Bredin looked up. "Congratulations! Now we'll both be uncles!"

"Keep reading." Kensie said.

Word of your triumph at Bohrsholding is the talk of the Court right now. Even Viscount Aitken concedes he was wrong in his opinion, though the Corbies are insisting that the credit belongs mostly to Herald Bredin. I was somewhat nonplussed as your letter said little about it; apparently you were in far more danger than you let on. Please pass along my congratulations to Herald Bredin as well. I am afraid he is receiving far less credit than he should. It pleases me that you have become friends.

Bredin raised his eyebrows. Count Wyeth was less concerned about rank than he thought.

::When you have high rank, it is easy to be unconcerned about it.:: Lacaral said.

Earl Orthallen congratulated me before the entire Court. The only person who did not applaud was Lord Orthallen's aide, Sir Wallis Mittel, which many considered odd, not knowing of your mutual antipathy. Lord Orthallen seems unperturbed by Sir Wallis' dislike, which is very public. Sir Wallis continues to avow vengeance though his father has attempted to discourage his loose talk. Still, Earl Orthallen seems to trust him and sends him on regular missions.

Bredin bit his lip, thinking back to his and Kensie's previous conversations about Orthallen and Wallis. He wondered what Count Wyeth was driving at.

Bredin scanned through the rest of the letter, which contained references to Court and family affairs. Count Wyeth did mention taking Leif on as company for Martin with a reference to the two boys' obsession with Companions. At the very end, Count Wyeth asked Kensie to pass good wishes to Bredin.

Bredin finished reading and looked at Kensie. "What am I supposed to see?"

Kensie gave Bredin a tight-lipped glance before staring ahead. "My father agrees with you. He thinks Lord Orthallen is the person trying to kill me. He also thinks Orthallen is using Wallis Mittel for that purpose."

"I noticed your father put particular emphasis on Lord Orthallen and Sir Wallis, but you imply there is a message behind the words." Bredin said.

Kensie sighed. "You are right. The letter contains code words we use to give warnings. The word 'congratulate' tells me to pay attention. Repeating it three times means 'You are in grave danger'. He also used the word 'danger' itself to emphasize it.

"We put any information we have in the third paragraph. Repeating a name three times means that person is suspect or a threat; note that my father mentions both Orthallen and Wallis at least three times. He also thinks that Bohrsholding was aimed at me and that Wallis is acting as Orthallen's agent." He grinned wryly at Bredin. "I have to admit your deductions were remarkable, coming from someone who has never been in the Court or met Lord Orthallen."

"I have met Lord Orthallen." Bredin said. "The day I swore my oath to the Queen and the Circle. The Council was there and Lord Orthallen shook my hand."

Kensie rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."

"I do." Bredin conceded. He smiled back. "Aside from that brief congratulation, I've never had any conversation with him. But you know what they say about forests and trees. Sometimes it's easier to see when you stand outside. Does your father say anything else?"

"You can't say very much with a vague open code." Kensie said. He grinned. "He does tell me to stick close to you though. He thinks I'm safer with you around."

Bredin grinned and handed the letter back to Kensie, who folded it and put it in his pocket.

"Canter?" Kensie asked.

The Companions launched into a gallop, spraying snow behind them.

###

Bredin's jaw dropped, then he laughed. Kensie looked mildly annoyed at the laughter. Bredin lifted the beautifully balanced knives, sheathed in white leather, from the wrapping. The cunning wrist sheaths would drop the knives in the wearer's hand with a flick of a wrist. Holding up one, he touched the Windrider sigil stitched into the leather. "Is that Losanir's hair?" He asked.

Kensie glanced at the one Bredin held. "No. That's Lacaral's. Losanir's is in the one facing left."

Bredin looked at Kensie and snickered. The Companions chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Kensie asked. Still grinning, Bredin handed Kensie a package, wrapped in white tissue paper and tied with blue and silver ribbons. It was roughly the same size as the one Kensie had given.

"Oh, no!" Kensie said. Carefully, he unwrapped the gift, revealing an identical pair of knives and sheaths. Kensie roared with laughter. "Joyous Midwinter, Bredin!"

"Joyous Midwinter, Kensie." He stood and the two embraced, pounding each other on the back.

"Now I understand the strange look the cutler gave me when I told him the knives were a gift for my partner." Bredin said.

Amos and Lars applauded as Bredin and Kensie solemnly 'paid' each other two pennies for the knives. The four Heralds were holding their own little Midwinter morning celebration by a small campfire in the woods; they would join the guardsmen for the main feast that evening.

The four exchanged small gifts of candies or favored wines. All were now on circuit so anything that would not be used up or useful in itself was impractical.

They roasted sausage and chatted around the fire until midday. When Bredin commented that the Son-of-the-Sun in Karse would be lighting the First Fire in the Great Temple in Sunhame at that moment, Kensie produced a small bottle of cherisette and four small cups. Raising their cups to the sun, the Heralds toasted the New Year before dousing the fire and returning to the Guard Post.

###

"When you do your next visit to Thanesholding," Colonel Chase said, "I am sending three squads of guardsmen along with you. I am personally going to tell Elias Thane that on his way home from Watford. Captain Tewkes-Felthan will escort him all the way to the village gate. I want that bastard to know we are watching him."

It was two days after Midwinter and all four Heralds were meeting with the colonel before resuming their circuits tomorrow.

Bredin raised an eyebrow. "That's pretty harsh. We told them we would Truth Spell every one of them about their taxes on the next visit. They're going to be angry already. I don't want to provoke them further."

"I don't give a tinker's damn if they're provoked." The colonel said. "They're already full of their grievances. All the ones released so far have been utterly unrepentant and full of oaths against you two. I intend to put a lid on them and sit on it. I don't want any of them to think they can touch a Herald with impunity."

"Do you really think that is necessary?" Bredin asked. "They know the law. We already put a baker's dozen of them in prison for their last bit of idiocy. How could they think they could get away with anything?"

Instead of answering, Colonel Chase rang for Corporal Mueller, who appeared a moment later. "Corporal, get Einarson in here."

The clerk left and returned with Ragnar. Kensie, Bredin and Amos all greeted the scout cheerfully, then introduced him to Lars.

"Ragnar has been doing some casual scouting through the winter. There is usually nothing going on, but we've had the odd case of spies trying to slip through because they think we won't be watching." Colonel Chase said. "Ragnar, tell them what you've seen."

"Thanesholding has had visitors." Ragnar said. "From Karse. At least once, possibly three times. I found tracks in the snow between the village and the border. I am guessing there have been more visits. The one time I found a positive track, it hadn't snowed for six days; I followed the track – going both ways – from the border to the village gate. I found hints of tracks two other times."

"Could be a smuggler." Kensie suggested. It wasn't likely, but it was possible.

Colonel Chase snorted. "In the middle of winter? To Holderkin, the most isolationist people in the kingdom? They're up to something."

Kensie nodded, conceding the point. "But what?"

"I have no idea." Colonel Chase said. "But I want them to know we're watching them."

###

Captain Khal Alikan watched as the Heralds came into the tavern. The four young men were the sort of men he would love to have in his command – fit, poised and confident. Contrary to what he had been told, the other patrons did not fear the Heralds, but greeted them enthusiastically, even offering to buy them drinks. Not only did they decline the offers, they thanked those who made them. Instead of demanding favored seats near the fireplace and the minstrel, they took found a quiet nook near the back. A Sunpriest, Khal knew, would not only demand the best place, but expect to be served for free. If the young men were the ghouls Karsite demonology claimed them to be, they hid it well.

Captain Alikan observed the Heralds. He tried to be discreet, but everyone else in the tavern kept throwing glances at the Heralds, so his attention was hardly noticeable. That was why he was here, in Valdemar, instead of at home, spending the days of Sunreturn with his family. Black Robe Priest Rhithik had ordered him to go to Valdemar to study his enemies first hand. Khal Alikan cursed his own folly for both studying Valdemaran and letting the priest know he knew the language. His guts roiled. The Demon Riders appeared ordinary, but who knew what they hid behind their smiles?

Their horses, on the other hand, were anything but ordinary. As much as any highborn, Captain Alikan admired a good horse. Any nobleman would be proud to ride such a superb beast, blue-eyed or not. He smiled to himself. 'Maybe they are called Hell-Horses because a man would sell his soul to own one.'

The cheerful young men looked like any group of young officers out for a night of fellowship. When the minstrel struck up a song called "The Grey Stallion" – which Khal recognized as the same song he had heard in taverns in Karse, though the minstrel sung in Valdemaran, not Karsite – one of the Heralds blushed furiously while the others gave him mocking grins. Really, they were no different men than his own junior officers – the ones he trusted, that is.

Captain Alikan had observed the guardsmen as well. The men looked efficient and happy; their morale seemed higher than Khal's own men, even while performing the menial task of clearing roads. Captain Alikan shuddered at the thought of ordering Sunsguard to clear roads – they'd mutiny. Such duties were for prisoners and other scum. Incredibly, the commander of the guard post was a woman! The idea was almost heresy.

Overall, Captain Alikan admired his enemies, despite their strange ways. They were certainly better than the Holderkin peasants he'd been ordered to contact. The latter appeared ignorant, bigoted and mean-spirited. Their treatment of their women shocked even Captain Alikan's Karsite sensibilities.

The Demon Riders would leave tomorrow, ending his opportunity to observe them. By the time they were out of sight, Khal Alikan would be making his own way south.

###

"So what do you think of our little spy?" Lieutenant Ritter asked. Ritter spoke in a low monotone voice, calculated to be difficult to overhear in the hubbub of the tavern, but not obviously a whisper, which would attract attention.

He and Ragnar sat in another booth, watching Captain Alikan watching the Heralds. The lieutenant had been training the scout since the snows began, turning his gifts of observation and deduction from the open country to the subtler and more dangerous territory of people and towns. As part of the training, he was teaching Ragnar Karsite, which the young scout was learning quickly.

"Not really a spy. More of a scout." Ragnar replied. "He's trying to get a measure of the Heralds, but he hasn't been asking many questions. He's making up his own mind."

Ritter smiled at Ragnar over his cup. "Very good. So, what do we do with him?"

Ragnar frowned. He avoided looking at their target. "He hasn't really done anything illegal. From the look of him he's highborn, which means he's probably an officer. If we arrest him, we can question him, but what good is he in jail? I could kill him on his way home, but that would tell the Karsites we know they are up to something."

Ritter laughed and slapped the table. "You have talent for this game. Go on."

Uncertain, Ragnar bit his lip. If he'd found a lone enemy in the field, he'd watch the man and follow him back to his comrades. It wasn't quite the same, but…. "I say we let him go home. We watch for him. Whenever he shows up again, we learn a bit more about what he's after."

Ritter laughed again. "Good man. When does he leave?"

Ragnar glanced at the four Heralds. "He'll head home as soon as they're gone."

"And?" Ritter raised an eyebrow.

"I'll follow him right up to the border." The lieutenant and scout grinned and tapped their cups together.