Brightly Burning (34 page)

:Have her come out and pull some right now,:
Kalira interrupted.
:As much as she likes, as long as she doesn't snatch me bald.:

“Kalira's outside, and she says to come and get some,” he told her, and was rewarded with her wide eyes and enchanted smile. She didn't even stop to get a cloak; she followed him right outside, and gasped in delight to see Kalira standing at the door, shining in the lamplight.

“Is it really all right?” she asked the Companion, much to Lan's amusement.

Kalira snorted and bobbed her head, and Macy carefully approached her. With great delicacy and care, Macy separated out individual hairs to pull, gathering them carefully into a thin, silvery hank. Long before Lan had thought she would be satisfied, she patted Kalira's neck and said, “Thank you! Thank you so much!” and stepped back.

“I'll save the hair from her currycomb for you,” Lan promised, tucking the embroidered patch into a pocket, and mounting.

“Will you? Thank you, Lan! Can I come visit you?” She was the only person who had shown any real interest in visiting him, and even if it was more to see Kalira than to see him, Lan was touched.

“Surely. Give me some warning, so I can make time in my classes, but absolutely.” He found himself warming unexpectedly to her, and looking forward to her visit.

“I will! Thank you again! I've got to go in, I'm about to freeze—” She flashed him another smile, and darted back inside the door. A trifle bemused by this unanticipated epilogue to the Feast, he and Kalira turned away from the door and started up the street toward the park.

:I hope your Midwinter Feast was more fun than mine,:
he said to her, breathing in air that wasn't overheated and too-heavily scented for the first time that evening.

:I wish yours had been as enjoyable as mine,:
she replied with sympathy.
:Never mind; we'll be back with Tuck tomorrow, and you'll have—:

Her head came up, startled, as people suddenly emerged from both sides of the street to block their way. Deliberately.

Kalira paused, but Lan felt her gathering herself for a leap or a run—or both.

A woman with an angry, tear-streaked face stepped forward. Her clothing was mourning of the deepest, most complete black to the least button and bit of embroidery, and very rich. She looked up at him as if at a monster. “Are you Lavan Chitward?” she asked, in a harsh voice.

He nodded. “Yes, Lady. I am.”

She stepped forward again and seized Kalira's reins.
“You murdered my son!”
she snarled, as Kalira shied and tried to dance away from her. She held on with the strength of the demented.
“Murderer!”
she continued savagely. “I know not how, but
you
killed my boy, my Tyron! And I will have justice, no matter what the Guard may say!”

Lan sat frozen with shock; Kalira's wide eyes and twitching muscles seemed to indicate that she was, too. Torn between fear and guilt, his heart pounded—and his head began to ache—

Apparently the people with her had not anticipated this sort of confrontation—or perhaps, they had not anticipated that Lan would turn out to be a Heraldic Trainee. A tall man with Tyron's square jaw and blond hair, wearing clothing that was a match with the woman's, stepped out of the crowd and took her elbow. “Leave it, Jisette,” he hissed at her. “You're overwrought. Can't you see that this is a Companion?”

“A Companion with a murderer?” she sneered.

“This is just a trick! His family thinks they can fool everyone by tricking him out with a uniform and a white horse, but they can't fool me!” Her eyes showed the whites all around, and she shook Kalira's reins furiously. “I know better! Liar! Slanderer! Murderer!
Murderer!
”

The man looked both at her and at Lan doubtfully, not sure whether to believe her. Lan felt as if he was going to have to double over from the pain behind his eyes, and that terrible red mist began to creep over his vision. He knew, he
knew
what was coming, and he wouldn't be able to stop it!

But that seemed to shake Kalira out of her shocked trance.
:I think not!:
she said crisply, and with a toss of her head, somehow slipped out of the bridle entirely. She ducked her head and whirled, leaving the woman with the empty bridle in her hands, and before Lan had any idea of what she was doing, she was pounding back down the way they had come, leaving the Jelnack entourage uselessly blocking the street.

The surprise of her action jolted Lan out of his paralysis, and as he lurched forward, he seized her mane to steady himself. As soon as he had gotten a double handful, she changed direction, quick as a cat, dashing down an unfamiliar street.

His stomach spasmed, and his head pounded, but the mist faded as she changed direction again. This time she raced straight down a broad street meant for huge cargo wagons, which was as empty now as an avenue through a cemetery. Her hooves rang on the cobblestones, but there were no noises of anyone following, and when she came to a dead end, she slowed and finally stopped.

:Hush, and hold still,:
she ordered. There was an odd sort of
snap
in his head, a single stab of pain from one temple to the other. Then his headache was gone completely, and with it the cramps and heaving of his gut.

:There.:
She sighed gustily.
:And don't you even dare think that crazed woman might be right! You are
not
a murderer, and if you ask me, it's pretty easy to tell where Tyron learned how to be a sadistic manipulator.:

Lan, who'd had his mouth open to say something of the sort, shut it.

:And no “buts” out of you either!:
Kalira continued, shaking her head angrily.
:Miserable woman! I
wish
I'd had something to leave on her shoes!:

The unsubtle image that accompanied that was enough to get a feeble chuckle out of him. She snickered.

:Never mind. We'll see what that family has to say when the Guard comes tomorrow to charge her with stealing my bridle. She'll have a hard time convincing anyone that I'm not a Companion then!:
She turned and proceeded at a walk back to a cross-street.
:I hope they lock her up as a madwoman. It would serve her right. Now—let's go home.:

She picked up her pace to a trot and took a long and complicated route back to the Palace. It was after midnight when they entered the Palace gate, and although Lan wanted to take off her tack and groom her himself, she ordered him to bed.

:We're leaving in the morning so that
you
don't have to have anything to do with those wretched people,:
she told him.
:You'll need all your sleep.:

He wrapped his cloak tightly around him, and trudged up the pathways to the Collegium. He was quite, quite certain he wasn't going to get that sleep. By now the fire in his room would have burned out even though he had banked it, and the room would be icy—and he couldn't rid himself of the certainty that Tyron's mother was right. . . .

But when he opened his door, warmth met him, and there was a mug with a note on it from Elenor, ordering him to drink what was in the mug or suffer unspecified consequences.

Evidently Kalira had been having some choice words with . . . someone.

He was too tired, mentally, emotionally, and physically, to argue with anyone. He hung up the Formal Grays, drank the mug, and crawled into his bed. And the next thing he knew, it was morning.

A
CCOMPANIED by two Guardsmen on horseback, Pol rode Satiran down into the quarter where the Jelnack household had their imposing home. Lan was well on his way to the Chester farm by now, but before he had left, Pol had gotten an earful from Kalira via her sire. He had a clear and precise picture of what had really happened. As Kalira had said so venomously, Companions did not have the luxury of forgetfulness.

As a consequence of last night's debacle, Pol had called an emergency meeting among interested parties that included himself, the Seneschal, Captain Telamaine, and King's Own Jedin, thus covering all authorities. To his great relief, even the Captain was full of righteous indignation at the Jelnacks' high-handed assumption of authority after the Guard had already made it clear that the case was closed. As a consequence, Telamaine had been only too ready to assign him a pair of escorts to reinforce his authority. Herald Jedin had been ready to go himself along with Pol, and would have, had his presence not been required by the King. As for the Seneschal, even Greeley agreed that the Jelnacks had to be dealt with, and swiftly. If one powerful family flaunted the law and the authorities and got away with it, others might well decide to make their own laws as well. When that started, it could end with feuds and blood in the street.

The one good thing that had come out of this disgraceful episode was that Kalira had amply demonstrated her ability to control Lan's Firestarting Gift. In fact, she had more than controlled it, but explaining that, as well as the “how” of it, would have only confused the non-Heralds.

Pol had promised Jedin that he would give him an explanation later, but hadn't specified a time. Knowing Jedin, though, he could expect to be interrupted at almost any time with a demand for information—

:Pol? Are you there yet? Are you busy?:
As he had expected, it was Jedin, right on cue.

Pol suppressed a smile in spite of how angry he was with the Jelnacks.
:Not even halfway; everyone and his horse seems to be out on the street this morning. I suppose we can blame all the Midwinter Fairs outside the walls for that; it's not enough anymore to go to the one nearest you, evidently the current fashion is to see all of them, and clog the streets in doing so. I take it you have a moment for that explanation?:

Jedin had one powerful advantage as a Mindspeaker; he had Rolan for a Companion, who could boost his powers to an unmeasured extent. He could, if he chose, probably reach any Herald within the borders of the entire country of Valdemar at need.

Pol waited courteously for a donkey-cart to cross in front of him as Jedin digested this.

:Ah! Very wise of her!:
Jedin had evidently been puzzled about that. It was unlike even a Trainee to abandon a confrontation when calling for help would have brought reinforcements within a reasonable time and running could confirm doubts or accelerate a dubious situation.

:But—:
Jedin now thought of the obvious ramification of Kalira's actions.
:If Kalira was helping him keep his power dammed, he must have been in agony.:

He felt Jedin's involuntary wince of pain.
:She did
what?
I don't want to think about that too hard.:

Neither did he.
:She only told me that Companions are just made to deal with things like that. She didn't seem to have taken any harm from it.:

With the King's Own satisfied, the King would shortly be informed of what had transpired. And that would lend Pol the full authority to say and do whatever was required in the next candlemark or so. He wasn't going to do anything to bend or even stretch the law, but he was going to assume a great deal of authority.

All things considered, he hoped he would be able to dump the really unpleasant duties on Jisette Jelnack's own family members. He was certainly going to try, at any rate.

The Midwinter Fairs started the day after the Midwinter Feast and ran for the next seven days. Most folk who could afford to took the day after Midwinter Feast as an additional holiday from work, which was probably wise, given the amount of food and drink that was consumed the day before. It was supposed to be the children's day—this was when they got their presents, usually waiting on a table for them in the morning. Perhaps the entire custom of giving the children their gifts now instead of at the end of the fortnight when the adults exchanged presents was to keep them quiet while their elders recovered from their overindulgence. . . .