Heart of the Exiled (19 page)

Yes, I know what he meant
. Rephanin smiled and kissed Heléri’s brow.
He was wishing me luck
.

Eliani was trying to cram an extra tunic into her saddle packs when an insistent knocking sounded on her chamber door. She glanced toward her window, where the predawn light was creeping in around the tapestry, and went to answer.

Luruthin and Vanorin stood outside. A faint scent of mulled wine accompanied them.

She grinned. “Did the lodge keeper chase you out? You were not singing, were you, Luruthin?”

Luruthin shook his head, and Vanorin dropped his gaze. Her jest unsuccessful, Eliani felt a jab of concern. She opened the door wider.

“Come in. What is wrong?”

The two males exchanged a somber glance. Eliani pulled chairs away from her table for her guests and sat across from them on her bed.

Luruthin cleared his throat. “We went to the Three Shades.”

She nodded. It was common to share the falls with visitors, and Vanorin had expressed interest.

“We saw a shade.”

Luruthin’s voice dropped to a whisper on the words, and his face paled. Remembering her own fear at seeing a shade beside the waterfall not long since, Eliani bit back the teasing remark that rose to her lips and answered gently.

“You had seen one before, I recall.”

“Not like this.”

She listened as he described the apparition they both had seen. It sounded horrifying, much more so than the shade she had seen, which had only stood at the foot of the falls and then walked across the pool. Vanorin added little to what Luruthin said; he seemed stunned.

“I know we must depart today, but—Eliani, would you send a message to Heléri for us, asking her advice? She might know what it means.”

“Of course. Give me a moment to contact Turisan.”

She drew her legs up beneath her and closed her eyes, sending the signal of warmth to Turisan’s brow. It took some concentration, for she was not yet practiced, but he answered.

Yes, love? I am going to the training field—

Could you visit Heléri on the way? Luruthin and Vanorin wish to ask her advice
.

Very well
.

She explained about the shade as he made his way to Heléri’s chambers and waited while he knocked on the chamber door. A moment later he spoke.

Heléri’s attendant informs me she is not here
.

Not there? Is the Council in session?

Not until midday. I can try to see her then
.

Yes, please do. Thank you, love
.

Turisan gave her a warm farewell, then their contact faded as both released it. Eliani opened her eyes.

“I am sorry, Heléri is not in her chamber. Turisan will try again later in the day.”

Luruthin looked disappointed but nodded. She wanted to catch him in a hug but refrained, only touching his arm.

“Luruthin? It was just a shade. They cannot harm us.”

He gave a fleeting smile and nodded before rising to go. Eliani caught up her cloak and followed him and Vanorin out, knowing that they shared an unspoken thought.

Shades were considered portents of ill. The appearance of this one was not auspicious for Eliani’s journey.

Turisan gazed at the guardians assembled east of the city, standing mutely with their backs to a brisk breeze off the plains. The fifty he had seen only a few days ago had been joined by hundreds more. Six companies stood there, as well as a rabble of unattached recruits so fresh that they had difficulty holding still.

Berephan shifted in his saddle and gestured toward the rabble. “Those are the newest. Have your pick of them or take the whole lot.”

Turisan raised a hand to shade his eyes against the morning sun. “If I take a hundred and fifty of them, may I fill out my companies with experienced guardians?”

“As long as you understand that ‘experienced’ in this case means those who have been training these few days. The seasoned guardians are scattered among all the companies, and I cannot let you have a hundred and fifty of those. Fifty, perhaps—enough to command your patrols.”

“I will need a capable commander to leave with them at High Holding. May I take Dirovon?”

“If he is willing.”

None of the newest recruits had a guardian’s cloak
yet. Some stood shivering in the morning’s chill with no cloaks at all.

“One hundred and fifty of these, then, and I ask that all the remaining cloaks in the city be held for my companies until they are all equipped.”

“Done.” Berephan’s gaze shifted, and he frowned. “Your magelord is arrived.”

Turisan turned to see a figure on foot approaching from the city. The hood of the cloak was drawn well forward, but by its golden color he knew it was Rephanin’s.

“You are displeased?”

“I do not see what benefit it will yield. Such mysteries belong to the magehall, not to us.”

“They belong to me, also.”

Turisan spoke quietly, but Berephan’s head snapped toward him, and he saw to his surprise that the warden was afraid. It had not occurred to him that a soul of Berephan’s experience—six centuries and more a guardian—could be frightened of mindspeech. Rephanin was right; mindspeech was sorely misunderstood, and that must be corrected.

Turisan dismounted and strode out to meet the magelord. They turned to walk back, the early sun bright in their faces.

“Greetings, Rephanin. Thank you for coming.”

“Forgive my late arrival. Which of the guardians are yours?”

“Some hundred and fifty of these.” Turisan gestured toward the recruits. “The rest will come from the established companies.”

“Let me speak to them.”

Turisan could just see the glint of Rephanin’s eyes in the shadow of the golden hood. The air between them
tingled with khi, and Rephanin’s voice was low and intense.

“I have never tried to speak to so many at once. Let me address them, call for your volunteers, and we will know by the response whether they have all heard.”

“Very well.”

The magelord turned to the assembled guardians. Turisan gazed at them as well, wondering which of them would be willing to go with him. High Holding was not an enviable post.

If any … hear … now
.

Turisan glanced sharply at Rephanin. He had heard a whisper, the words mostly indistinguishable.

Rephanin seemed not to notice his reaction. He spoke again, slightly louder than before.

If any of you can hear me, answer now
.

Frowning, Turisan looked back at the guardians. Why this request instead of the call for volunteers? He had scarcely heard the message himself, so faintly had it been given, and he stood immediately beside Rephanin.

No response came from the guardians. The magelord’s shoulders dropped slightly, then he drew himself up.

Greetings, guardians of Southf
æ
ld
.

This time Rephanin’s voice was strong, and the Guard’s reaction was immediate. A shiver seemed to pass through the ranks—all of them, even the farthest—accompanied by a murmur of wonder and fright.

I am Rephanin, master of the magehall in Glenhallow. I have been asked by Lord Turisan to assist him in addressing you. Pray give him your attention
.

Rephanin turned toward him, and Turisan realized he was being invited to speak. Swallowing sudden nervousness, he looked at the guardians.

I am Turisan of Jharanin—

As he spoke, he became conscious of the khi of hundreds of listeners and caught his breath. The sensation was muted—perhaps because Rephanin stood between him and his audience—but palpable nonetheless. He continued.

Today I am forming an advance to occupy High Holding. I will take one hundred fifty from the new recruits, another hundred and fifty from the established companies. All who are willing, step forward
.

For a long moment no one moved, and Turisan felt an awful dread that none of the guardians would voluntarily join his advance. Perhaps he had judged wrongly. Perhaps the mindspeech had frightened them off.

A guardian from the company nearest him—serious and bright-eyed, a seasoned campaigner by the dust ground into his boots—took a step forward, gazing steadily at Turisan. Another joined him, then several more.

The ranks sprang alive with movement, and Turisan watched in growing wonder as nearly every guardian present stepped up to volunteer. He looked to Berephan. The warden gazed back at him from the saddle, his expression unreadable.

“Well, make your choice of them.”

Turisan glanced at Rephanin. The magelord nodded.

I will wait
.

Smiling his thanks, Turisan hastened to his horse, mounted, and rode along the ranks, selecting guardians. He made sure to include the one who had been first to volunteer.

Dirovon, mounted on an elderly mare whose head was lowered in a manner expressive of stoic endurance, waited at the head of a company in the rear of the
assembly, one that had come from the camps in the foothills. Turisan smiled as he came abreast of his old friend. “I need a commander for the advance. Do you wish for the honor?”

“The honor of freezing my soul on the plains before Midrange?” Dirovon laughed. “Well, it is better than freezing out here. Aye, I will have it, but only for the sake of your companionship.”

“A poor reason to accept. My companionship will not be yours for long, as I must return to Glenhallow once you are established at High Holding.”

“Why, then, I accept because I tremble before you, Mindspeaker!”

Turisan grimaced, but Dirovon’s grin set him at ease. The captain handed his pennanted spear to his second and, leaving his company under her command, rode with Turisan back to where the new companies stood gathered in rough ranks, some still making their way forward.

Leaving Dirovon to organize them, Turisan returned to Berephan and made a formal bow from the saddle. “Thank you, Lord Berephan. With your approval, I have chosen my guardians.”

The warden looked at him long, in silence. Turisan sensed his discomfort but could not tell whether he was angry. He waited, and at last Berephan moved, nudging his horse toward the force that Dirovon was cajoling into order.

“You did not tell me what you meant to do.”

Turisan followed. “Did I not? I thought you had been present last night when I talked with Rephanin.”

“About his speaking to your companies, not the whole Guard. And I did not know you meant to speak to them as well.”

“If I have erred, I crave your pardon.”

Berephan’s brow creased in a frown. “I do not know whether you have erred.”

Berephan turned and summoned his herald with a gesture. The musician raised a silver-chased ram’s horn to his lips and blew the signal for dismissal. The Guard began filing away, back toward the training grounds to the east.

Turisan returned to where Rephanin stood and dismounted. “Many thanks, Rephanin. You have been a great help. May I offer you my horse to speed your return?”

Rephanin started to shake his head, then hesitated. “I—yes, if it is not a great inconvenience.”

“None at all. I will have my hands full here all the morning.”

Turisan offered the reins to Rephanin. “Give him over to the palace stable hands and ask them to send him back out to me.”

Rephanin took the reins. “Thank you. I am
most
grateful!”

Turisan laughed. “You could command a much better reward.”

“At this moment, you could give me no better.”

Rephanin mounted the horse, and Turisan thought he glimpsed fire in the gray eyes hidden within the hood’s shadow. Almost before Turisan could raise a hand in farewell, the magelord was off toward the city gates. Turisan watched him go, then turned to the shaping of his raw command.