Arrow's Fall (20 page)

:I wish you’d spoken your mind to me before this,:
Kris told Tantris, just a hint of accusation flavoring the thought.

:It doesn’t work that way, little brother,:
Tantris replied,
:and you know that perfectly well. We only give advice when we’re asked for it. It isn’t our job to interfere in your personal lives. How do you think poor Ahrodie was feeling, with her Chosen making a muck of things and not even talking to her, hm? And Rolan can’t even properly talk with his Chosen. But now that you are finally asking—:

:Impart to me your deathless wisdom.:

:Now, now, there’s no need to be sarcastic. As it happens, I don’t like Orthallen either, but he’s never given anyone any real evidence of ill-will before this. All I’ve ever had to go on were my instincts.:

:Which are far better than any human’s,:
Kris reminded him.

:Well, don’t blame yourself for not seeing anything,:
Tantris continued.
:But when someone like Talia insists on a thing, it’s probably a good idea to lay aside your feelings about it and consider it as dispassionately as possible. Now that she’s got that Gift of hers in full control, her instincts in these matters are as good as mine.:

:Yes, graybeard,:
Kris thought, his good humor somewhat restored by the fact that Tantns wasn’t trying to make him feel guilty about the mess.

:Graybeard, am I?:
Tantris snorted and shook his mane.
:We’ll see about that.:
And he performed a little caracole, a half-buck that shook Kris’ bones, and a kick or two before settling back down to his original steady pace.

While Rolan could not Mindspeak Talia as Tantris could Kris, he was making his feelings abundantly clear. It was quite plain to Talia that her Companion thought she was indulging in a good deal more self-pity than the occasion warranted. Perversely, his disapproval made her feel all the sorrier for herself.

Eventually he gave up on her, and let her wallow in her misery to her heart’s content.

The weather, unseasonable for the edge of summer, was certainly cooperating; it was a perfect day for being depressed. The chill, leaden skies threatened rain, but it never quite made up its mind to fall. The few people they met on the roadway were taciturn and scant in their greetings. The threat of rainfall made folk in the villages they passed inclined to stay indoors.

Because they were traveling light, they would make the best possible time to the Border, even though they would be stopping to rest at night. According to Kyril, it was probable that they would proceed still on their own as far as the capital, since the Companions would be able to make far better time than any steeds the King could send with an escort. Which meant, given the probable speed of Selenay and her entourage, they would have several days at least to assess the prince and the situation before one of them rode back to meet the Queen on the Border.

That likeliest would be Kris; Talia, as Queen’s Own, was the better choice for envoy. Although her reason acknowledged the wisdom of this, her emotions rebelled, wanting it to be
her
who made that first contact with Selenay—and with Elspeth—and possibly, with Dirk, if he were well enough by then.

Nothing was going as she would have chosen; and on top of it all, she had been experiencing an odd foreboding about this trip from the moment Selenay mentioned it. There was no reason for it, yet she couldn’t shake it. It was as if she were riding from bad into worse, and there was no way to stop what was coming.

Talia remained turned inward, determined to control her own internal turmoil by herself. Weeping on Kris’ shoulder would accomplish nothing. Rolan was a solace— but this was a matter of dealing with her own emotions and her own control. A Herald, she told herself for the thousandth time, was supposed to be self-sufficient, able to cope no matter how difficult the situation. She would, by the Havens, control herself—there was no excuse for her own emotional weakness. She had learned to control her Gift—she would learn to school her emotions to the same degree.

The hard pace they were setting left little opportunity for conversation, but Kris was very aware of her unhappiness. Talia had told him in detail about the confrontation with the Heir as they were saddling up. He was sadly aware that there was little he could do to help her; it was extremely frustrating to see her in such emotional pain and be unable to do anything constructive about it. Not long ago, he would have fled the prospect of emotional demands. Now in the light of this morning’s introspection his sole regret was that he could not find some way to help.

When she’d lost control over her Gift, there had been something he could do. He was a teacher; he knew the fundamentals of training any Gift, and he had Tantris and Rolan to help him with the specifics of hers. Now...

Well, maybe there was one small way in which he could help her. If he talked to his uncle, perhaps he could make him understand that Talia was
not
a political threat. With that pressure off, the problem of dealing with Elspeth and Dirk might assume more manageable proportions.

They stopped for a brief lunch at an inn, but mindful of the time constraints they were under, they ate it standing in the stable-yard.

“How are you doing so far?*’ he asked around a mouthful of meat pie.

“I’m all right,” she replied. She’d already bolted down her portion so fast she couldn’t have tasted it. Now she was giving Rolan a brisk rubdown, and was putting far more energy into Rolan’s currying than was strictly necessary.

“Well I know you haven’t ridden much at forced pace; if you have any problems, let me know.”

“I will,” was her only reply.

He tried again. “I hope the weather breaks; it’s bad for riding, but I would think it’s worse for crops.”

“Uh-huh.”

“We’ll have to ride right up until dark to make Trevale, but the inn there should make up for the ride. I’ve been there before.” He waited. No response. “Think you can make it that far?”

“Yes.”

“Their wine is good. Their beer is better.”

“Oh.”

“Their heartbeats have two tails.”

“Uh-huh.”

He gave up.

They stopped long after dark when Kris was beginning to go numb in his legs, and staggered into an inn neither of them really saw. The innkeeper saw that both of them were exhausted, and wisely kept his other customers away from them, giving them a table right on the hearth and a good dinner.

The inn was a big one, and catered to traders, carters, and other mercantile travel. The common room was nearly full, and noisy enough that Kris did not attempt conversation. Talia was just as glad; she knew she wasn’t decent company at the moment, and she rather hoped he’d ignore her until she was. After a meal which she did not even taste and choked down only because she needed to fuel her body, they went straight to their beds. She was able to force herself to sleep, but she could do nothing about her dreams. They were tortured and nightmarish, and not at all restful.

They again left before dawn, rising before any of the other guests of the inn, breaking their fast with hot bread and milk before swinging up into their saddles and resuming the journey.

Talia, having found no answers within, began resolutely turning her attention without. The sides had begun clearing, and by late morning they were able to roll up their cloaks and fasten them behind their saddles. When birds began voicing their songs, her spirits finally began to lighten. By noon she had managed to regain enough of her good humor to speak normally with Kris, and the whole mess she’d left behind her began to assume better proportions. She was still conscious of a faint foreboding, but in the bright sunlight it seemed hardly more than the remnants of her nightmares.

Toward midday Talia suddenly perked up and became more like her old self, for which Kris was very grateful. Riding next to a person who strongly resembled the undead of the tales was not his idea of the way to make a journey.

Diplomatic missions were not entirely new to Kris, though he’d not been senior Herald before. This
was
Talia’s first stint as an envoy, and they really needed to talk about it while it was possible to do so unobserved.

Kris was relieved by her apparent return to normal, and ventured a tentative prompting. She responded immediately with a flood of questions, and
that
was more like the Talia he knew, but he could not help but note (with a feeling of profound sympathy) her dark-circled eyes. While he was no Empath, he knew her sleep must have been scant.

By the time they reached the Border itself at the end of a week of hard riding, things were back on their old footing between them. They had discussed every contingency that they could think of between them (ranging from the possibility that Ancar should seem to be perfect in every way, to the possibility that he was a worse marital prospect than Selenay’s late consort) and talked over graceful ways to get them all out if the latter should be the case. Kris was fairly sure she was ready to face whatever the fates should throw at her.

As they rounded a curve, late in the afternoon of the fourth day of the journey, Talia got her first sight of the Border. The Border itself, here where two civilized and allied countries touched, was manned by small outposts from each Kingdom.

On the Valdemar side stood a small building, a few feet from the road, and a few feet from the simple bar that marked the Border itself. It served as dwelling and office for the two pairs of Guardsfolk stationed there. The pair on duty were checking the papers of an incoming trader; they looked up at the sound of hoofbeats, and grinned to see the two Heralds. The taller of the two left the trader’s wagon and took down the bar for them, waving them through with an elaborate mock bow.

A few lengths farther on was a proper gate, marking Alessandar’s side of the Border. It was manned by another pair of guards, this time in the black-and-gold uniforms of Alessandar’s army. With them was a young man in a slightly more elaborate uniform; a Captain of Alessandar’s army.

The Captain was young, friendly, and quite handsome; he passed them in without more than a cursory glance at their credentials.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he told them, “but I truly didn’t expect you here this soon. You must have made very good time.”

“Fairly good,” Kris replied, “and we started out a bit sooner than planned. We’ve been out in the field for the last year or so. Field Heralds are used to being ready to go at a moment’s notice.”

“As opposed to folks with soft bunks at Court, hm?” the Captain grinned. “Same with us. That lot stationed at Court couldn’t have a half-day of maneuvers without a full baggage train and enough supplies to feed a town. Well, I do have some basic orders about what to do with you . . .”

“You do?” Talia said, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh, it isn’t much—just wait until you arrive, then inform the capital.”

Talia recalled then what Selenay had said, that Alessandar was rumored to have some new system of passing messages swiftly. She also remembered that Selenay had asked her to find out what she could about it.

Evidently Kris had gotten similar instructions.

“Now
how
are you going to get further instructions about us in any reasonable amount of time?” Kris asked. “I know the nearest authority is several days away on horseback, and you don’t have Heralds to carry messages quickly.”

The young Captain smiled proudly. “It’s no secret,” he replied, his brown eyes frank. “In fact, I would be honored to show you, if you aren’t too tired.”

“Not likely—not when you’re offering to show us what sounds like magic!”

The Captain laughed. “From what
I
understand, you’re fine ones to talk about wonders and magic! Well, one man’s magic is another man’s commonplace, so they say. Come along then, and I’ll show you.”

Out of courtesy to him, since he was afoot, Talia and Kris dismounted and walked with him up the packed-gravel roadway to his outpost; a building much bigger man the one on the Valdemar side, and shaded on three sides by trees.

“Will it interest you to know that I may very well get my orders within a matter of hours, if someone is found of high enough rank to issue them before the sun sets?”

“That’s amazing! We can’t even do that,” Talia replied. “But what does the sun setting have to do with it?”

“You see the tower attached to the outpost?” He shook dark hair out of his eyes as he pointed to a slim, skeletal edifice of gray wood. This tower rose several feet above the tree tops, and was anchored on one side to the main barracks of the Border station. It had had both of them puzzled since it seemed to have no real use except perhaps as a lookout point.

“I must admit we were wondering about that,” Kris told him. “Are forest fires that much of a danger around here? I wouldn’t have thought so, what with all the land under cultivation.”

“Oh, it’s not a firetower, though that’s where the design is from.” The young Captain laughed. “Come up to the top with me, and I’ll show you something to set you on your ears.”

They followed him up the series of ladders that led to the broad platform on the top. Once there, though, Talia didn’t see anything out of the ordinary—just two men in the black uniform tunics of Alessandar’s army, and an enormous concave mirror, as wide as Talia was tall. Although it was not quite perfect, its surface a bit wavering, it was an impressive piece of workmanship. Talia marveled at the skill that had gone into first producing and then silvering such an enormous piece of glass.