Arrows of the Queen (28 page)

Before very long, they no longer had to act. It seemed natural to accept her as one of them.

Elspeth was a silent observer for a week or two when Alberich evidently decided he had an idea he wished to try. And in a fashion typical to Alberich, he did so without telling Talia about it beforehand.

When he'd finished with Talia, his eye lighted on Elspeth, seemingly by accident—though Talia was well aware that where lessons were concerned
nothing
Alberich did was by accident. “You—child!” he barked. “Come here!”

Talia saw Elspeth's chin begin to tighten and her nose to tilt up—a sure sign that she was about to revert to her old behavior. She managed to catch the girl's eye and made what Elspeth had taken to calling the “Royal Awful” face. Elspeth giggled and fingered her bracelet, all haughtiness evaporated, and she obeyed Alberich with commendable docility.

“Look, all of you,” he said, giving a short practice blade to her. “At this age, she has learned no bad habits so there is nothing for her to unlearn. She has more flexibility than an acrobat, and she'll learn more quickly than any three of you put together. Name, child?”

“Elspeth, sir.”

He demonstrated one of the primary exercises for her. “Can you do that?”

A tiny frown between her brows, Elspeth did her best to imitate his movements. He made some minor corrections, then ran her through the exercise several more times, the last at full speed.

“There, you see?
This
is what you are striving to imitate—the agile and receptive mind and body of the young child. And watch—”

He suddenly attacked her in such a way that the natural counter for her to make was the exercise he's just taught her. She performed so flawlessly that she drew impromptu applause from the other students.

“At this stage, once learned, never forgotten. Try to emulate her.”

At Alberich's command, they returned to sparring with one another. He beckoned to Talia. “You have charge of this one?” he asked, as though he had no idea of Elspeth's identity.

“Yes, sir,” she replied respectfully.

“I should like to include her in the lessons. This can be arranged?”

“Easily sir. Would you like to learn weapons-work, instead of just watching, Elspeth?”

“Oh, yes!” the child responded eagerly, her eyes shining. “Only—”

“Yes? Alberich prompted.

“You won't hit me
too
hard, please, sir? Not like you hit Griffon.”

Alberich laughed, something Talia hadn't seen him do very often. “I gauge my punishments by the thickness of my students' skulls, child. Griffon has a
very
thick skull.”

Griffon, who was close enough to hear every word, grinned and winked at the girl.

“I think,” Alberich continued, “That you have not so thick a skull, so I shall only beat you a little. Now, we might as well begin with what I just taught you.”

Talia realized as she watched them that Alberich had helped to deliver the death-blow to the Brat.

Now there was only Elspeth.

 

After that, though there were occasional brief lapses, the child was able to maintain her good behavior with very little effort. Throughout the hot days of that summer, she rapidly became the pet of the Collegium, although she was never in any danger of being spoiled as everyone remembered only too well what the Brat had been like.

Rather than simply watching things, she began volunteering to help. At archery practice she brought water and arrows to replace those broken, at weapons practice, chalk and dry towels. She did her best to help groom Companions and clean tack, and not just Rolan and his gear, but turning a hand to help anyone who happened to be there. When it was Talia's turn at chores during “their” afternoons, Elspeth even insisted on doing her share; Mero the Cook soon began looking forward to having her in the kitchen and always had a special treat for his helpers on the days that she and Talia shared the work. Elspeth even had a certain fascination for the mending chores, never having known before how it was that torn clothing came to be repaired. She was not very good at it though, not having the patience for tedious work, and preferred to do something active, like sorting the clothing into piles of “still good enough,” “wear only to work out,” and “hopeless”—her own terms, quickly adopted by the rest. “Hopeless” was a particular favorite—the mender in question enacting mourning scenes over the offending garment. It got to be a regular game, one all of them enjoyed to the hilt.

By the time the leaves were turning, no one could imagine the Collegium without Elspeth running about with the trainees.

 

One chilly afternoon, with the last dessicated leaves blowing against Talia's window, there was a quiet knock on her door. When Talia opened it, Sherrill was standing there—in Whites.

Talia was speechless for a moment—then hugged her friend as hard as she could, exclaiming breathlessly, “You did it! You did it!”

Sherrill hugged back, one happy tear escaping from her eyes. “I guess I did,” she said when Talia finally let her go. “You're the first to know, except for Elcarth.”

“I am? Oh, Sherri—I don't know what to say—it's wonderful! I'm so glad for you! When are you leaving on your assignment?”

“Next week,” she said, seeming to feel more than a little awkward suddenly, “and I had another reason for coming here—seeing as I'm sort of your mentor—well—there's something I have to tell you about before I leave.”

“Go on,” Talia replied, wondering why her friend was so ill-at-ease.

“Well—what do you think of—boys?”

“I never really thought about it, much,” she replied.

“I mean, do you like them? You seem to—like Skif a lot.”

“I'm not like Keren, if that's what you mean.”

“No, it isn't,” Sherrill squirmed in frustration. “You know—about babies and all that, right?”

“I should hope so, seeing as they'd planned on marrying me off before I came here!” Talia replied with some amusement. “And I think I've helped Keren with more foals than you ever have in just one year on foal-watch! I think they wait for me!”

“Well, do you know how
not
to have them? I mean, you must have noticed that you don't often see a pregnant Herald, and we're hardly a celibate bunch....”

“Yes in answer to your second question,” Talia said, thinking wryly of the nocturnal activities of her next-door neighbor Destria. “But no to your first!”

“We've got something the Healers make up for us,” Sherrill said, obviously relieved that she wasn't going to have to explain the facts of life to her young friend. “It's a powder—you take some every day, except when you're having moon-days. It doesn't even taste bad, which is truly amazing considering the way most of their potions taste. You can also use it to adjust your cycles if you have to, if you know you're going to be in a situation where having your moon-days would be really awkward, for instance. You just stop taking it earlier, or keep on longer. I figured I'd better tell you about it, or it was possible no one would. I know you haven't needed it yet—but you might want it soon if the gleam I've been seeing in Skif's eyes means anything.”

“You remembered to tell me this on the day you got your Whites?” Talia asked incredulously, ignoring the comment about Skif. “Oh, Sherri, whatever did I do to deserve a friend like you?”

The powder worked just as well as the little sponges Sherrill had shown her how to use in place of the rag-clouts for moon-days, and Talia was more than grateful to Sherrill for telling her about it. Being able to adjust her cycles was wonderful in and of itself—which was just as well, since she never really got a chance to test the efficacy of the other application.

She and Skif were so often thrown together that Talia had lost any self-consciousness around him, and had certainly long since unconsciously relegated him to the category of “safe” males, especially after the help he'd been with the Hulda affair. It helped that they were much of an age and size and that the normally rowdy Skif muted his voice and actions around her, as if being aware how easily she could be startled or frightened by a male. They had started out being quite good friends—but now he was being attracted to her in another way, as his mealtime behavior had so ardently demonstrated. So what occurred next between them was hardly surprising.

After Talia had so nearly died in the icy water of the river, Alberich had assigned Sherrill to give her the same kind of swimming lessons a child of the Lake would have. Sherrill's last act before going out on her internship was to surprise Talia on the bridge and toss her into the same spot she'd been thrown before. The water was almost as cold, though the ice was scarcely more than a thin skin among the reeds. Sherri stood ready to haul her out if she had to, but Talia “passed” this impromptu exam with flying colors and chattering teeth.

Skif met her coming back to her room, laughing, shaking with cold, barefoot and dripping and wrapped in a horseblanket.

“Holy stars!” he exclaimed in shock. “What happened to you?”

“Sherri pushed me in the river—no, wait,” she forestalled his rushing off to meet out the same treatment to the innocent Sherrill. “It was on Alberich's orders. She's been teaching me what she knows, and she wanted a foolproof way of testing whether I'd learned or not.”

“Some test,” Skif grumbled, then to Talia's surprise, picked her up and carried her to her room.

“They don't
ever
let up on you, do they?” he complained, helping her out of her sodden clothing and building up the tiny fire in her room. “Holy stars, you do
twice
the work of the rest of us, and you
never
get a break, and then they turn around and do things like this to you....”

She turned unexpectedly and stumbled. He caught her, and she found herself staring into his brown eyes at a meager distance of an inch or two. He froze, then seized his opportunity and kissed her.

They broke apart in confusion a long moment later.

“Uh, Talia . . .” he mumbled.

“I like you, Skif,” she said softly. “I like you a lot.”

“You do?” he flushed. “I—you know I like you.”

“And you know who my next-door neighbor is. Nobody'd notice if we—you know.”

“You mean—” Skif could hardly believe his ears. Or his luck. “But you've got your good uniform on—you're going somewhere. Tonight maybe?”

“I've got a Council meeting, but after that....”

Alas for poor Skif—the Council meeting was long and boring, and Talia was a good deal more tired from Sherri's “trial by water” than she realized. She arrived at her room a little before him and sat down on her bed to rest. By the time he got there, much to Skifs chagrin, she was fast asleep.

He bit his lip in annoyance; then his expression softened. He covered her carefully with a blanket and gave her a chaste kiss on one cheek; she was so weary she didn't even stir.

“No matter, lady-o,” he whispered. “We can try again another time.”

 

“Bright Havens, little one!” Jadus exclaimed, seeing Talia's strained expression as she arrived for her nightly visit. “What ails you?”

“I—I'm not sure,” she replied hesitantly. “But everyone's so
angry
—I thought I could keep it out, but it won't stay out—”

“You should have said something sooner,” he scolded gently, using his own Gift to reinforce her shielding. “Elcarth could have helped you.”

“Elcarth was busy, and everybody else was too angry to get near. Jadus, what's wrong with everyone? I thought Heralds didn't get angry—I've never felt anything like this before!”

“That's because you weren't in any shape to sense the mood of the Collegium last winter, dear heart.”

“You're changing the subject,” Talia said, a bit tartly. “And if this affects Selenay or Elspeth, I need to know what it's all about.”

Jadus hesitated, then sighed and concluded that she was right. “It's not a pretty tale,” he said. “There's a young Herald named Dirk who became infatuated with one of the Court beauties. That's not too uncommon, especially the first time a Herald is assigned to the Court or Collegium, but she apparently played on it, built it into something a great deal more serious on his part. And all the time she was simply toying with him—intended using him for the rather base end of getting at a friend of his. When she was found out, she said some very cruel things—deliberately came very close to destroying his fairly fragile ego. She totally shattered his self-esteem; she's got him convinced he's worth less than a mongrel dog. He's been sent back to his home for a while; hopefully in the company of his family and friends, he'll recover. I pray so; Dirk is a good lad, and a valuable Herald, and worth fifty of her. I knew his father at Bardic, and the lad did me the service of visiting me now and again to pay his respects. The anger you feel is largely due to the fact that we are legally and ethically unable to mete out to that—woman—the punishment she richly deserves. And child, we
do
get angry; we're only human—and it hurts to know we are helpless to avenge what has been done to one dear to us because
we
obey the spirit
and
the letter of the law.”

Talia left Jadus deep in thought, wondering if
she'd
ever truly be worthy of that kind of caring.

 

Skif slipped Talia a note at breakfast. “My room, tonight?”

She smiled and nodded very slightly.