Magic's Pawn (20 page)

“You will?” squealed Wendi, whose older sister was fostered with Vanyel’s mother. “Really? Ratha told me you were as good as a Bard!”

“Well,” he shrugged, then smirked, “I won’t say I’m a bad hand at the lute. And I know a ballad and a dance or two.”

“Done,” said Jesalis. “A bargain.”

“Bless you, my dear,” he replied, with honest thankfulness. “I wouldn’t be able to live without your forgiveness. Now, if you’ll all excuse me - the sooner I get this nonsense over, the sooner I’ll be able to go back to my bed.”

They giggled and turned back, retracing their footsteps. While he watched them, they disappeared behind the hedge again, heading in the direction of the maze.

When they were safely out of sight, he trudged - to all appearances,
most
unwillingly - across the bridge and up a little rise, heading a little indirectly for the pine grove.

He went past it, walking through soft grasses that ranged from knee-high to closely cropped. And despite what he had told the girls, there were no “traps” lurking beneath the grass for the unwary. That
did
surprise him, a bit; he was no stranger to long walks across pastureland and the hazards thereof.

What on earth do the Companions do - drop it all in one corner? I suppose
-
the stories say they’re as intelligent as a human. I suppose it’s possible. Likely, really. They still
eat
grass, like horses, and who’d want to eat in the privy?

After first making certain that there was no one about to see him, Vanyel doubled back to the pine grove, and pushed aside the heavy, scratchy boughs. He almost had to force his way past them; the needles caught in his hair and clothing and the branches closed over his head almost immediately, shutting off most of the sunlight. A few feet inside the grove there was no direct light; he walked through a pine-scented twilight gloom, with boughs lacing together just barely above his head, and a thick carpet of dry needles at his feet. The needles crunched a little, releasing more piny scent, but otherwise his own footsteps were almost noiseless. Some

where in the distance he could hear birds calling, but their songs seemed to be furlongs away. This place looked enormous now that he was inside it, much larger than it had appeared from outside; magical, almost mystical, and far removed from the bright green-and-gold Field just a few feet away.

This wasn’t
the
Grove; that was a good deal farther into the Field - but this stand of ancient pines was giving Vanyel a pleasant, shivery sort of feeling, making him feel somehow more aware and alive.

“ ‘Lendel?” he called softly into the blue-green quiet under the pine boughs, his voice muffled by the rows of straight, columnar trunks of shaggy ebony all about him. He turned, slowly, trying to see past the shadows; peering beneath the feathery branches.

“Right here,” came the reply from slightly behind him, and a white shape ghosted up on his right, resolving itself into -

A Companion. The first that Vanyel had ever seen at close range. And Tylendel beside her, one hand on her snowy, arched neck.

“This is who I wanted you to meet. Van - this is Gala. She already knows about you, Van, she knew last night. We’re mind-linked; I told her everything, and she wanted to see you right away.”

Vanyel felt strange and awkward. Those sapphire eyes held an intelligence that was rather frightening, but the
form
was a horse. How in the
Havens
did you introduce yourself to a horse?

The silence grew; he stared into Gala’s eyes, swallowed, and finally made the attempt.

“Hullo,” he said, shyly, looking straight into those eyes and hoping to speak directly to the intelligence there; trying to ignore the fact that he was feeling more than a bit intimidated and foolish. “I - I hope you don’t mind - “

Gala snorted, and Tylendel chuckled.”She says to tell you that she’s been hoping I’d ‘find a nice mate and give her a chance for a little peace’ for a long time. She says it’s altogether disconcerting to be sidling up to a handsome stallion and find
me
in her head asking for bedtime stories!”

That was the
last
response he’d expected. Vanyel choked down a laugh. “ ‘Lendel, you didn’t!”

He nodded, as Gala tossed her own head. “I most certainly did, but
only
once. It was after Nevis, and I was,” he faltered, and looked to the side, “rather lonely.”

Vanyel touched the hand still resting on Gala’s neck. “Not anymore, I hope.”

Tylendel glanced from the hand resting lightly on his own to Vanyel’s face, and half-smiled into his eyes. “No,” he replied quietly. “Not anymore.”

The quiet, the peace of the shadowed grove let them ignore everything except each other. Caught in the spell of that place and that pose, neither paid any attention to the passing of time -

Until Vanyel stumbled forward, propelled by a hard shove in the small of his back. Tylendel grabbed him to keep him from falling, both of them too startled to do more than emit rather undignified squeaks of surprise.

Gala danced backward a few steps, making sounds Vanyel would have been willing to stake his life were
laughter.
It was pretty obvious that she’d shoved him into Tylendel’s arms with her nose.

Tylendel burst into gales of laughter; he clutched his stomach, nearly incoherent, and gasping for breath. Gala snorted and bobbed her head, and he doubled over again.

They’re talking,
Vanyel finally realized, as Tylendel wheezed.
Or - well, I guess she’s teasing him. Gods above and below, all the stories are
true!
I
wish I could hear them.

His stomach fluttered uncertainly, and he tasted the sour bite of what could only be jealousy. Tylendel and Gala were sharing something he never could - something they’d had for years before he had come along. In this, he was, he would always be, the outsider. That realization condensed into a hard, cold lump in his throat, and besides the bitter taste of jealousy, he shivered in a sudden chill of loneliness. And just a touch of doubt.

He could really have about anyone he wanted, couldn’t he? So why should he bother with me? How can I know if he means what he told me?

But before he could throw himself into a mire of depression he found he had his hands full; keeping the trainee from falling over, while Tylendel struggled to breathe around his laughter, and gasped like a stranded fish.

“You wouldn’t!” Tylendel choked, as tears ran down his cheeks, and he pulled away from Vanyel to advance on his Companion in mock threat - the effect somewhat spoiled by the fact that he had to catch hold of a tree trunk as something she “said” made him bend over again with laughter. “Don’t you dare! Gala, I’ll do
no
such thing! You
rude
little bitch!”

Gaia danced in place, her hooves making no sound at all in the thick carpet of needles. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and Vanyel had, for one moment, a disconcerting double-vision image of the prancing Companion and an equally mischievous young woman of about Tylendel ‘s age, laughing soundlessly at her Chosen.

This was worse than before. Vanyel felt
completely
alone - and left altogether on the outside.

Tylendel, not noticing his distress in the least, managed to get himself back under control, and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand as he straightened up.

He assumed a stern expression. “Now see here, you wicked young lady,” he began, when she turned the tables on him by whickering and reaching out to nuzzle his cheek.

Vanyel saw his eyes soften as he folded immediately. “Oh, all right, I forgive you,” he sighed in defeat, putting his arms around her neck and resting his cheek against hers. “But you had damn well
better
not - “

What it was Gala had “better not” do, Tylendel did not verbalize; nor was Vanyel entirely certain he wanted to know. He had the sneaking suspicion that it would be no little embarrassing.

Finally Gala shook herself free and shoved her Chosen in Vanyel’s direction - a good bit more gently than she’d shoved the latter. And as if in apology, she paced forward and gave Vanyel a brief caress with her nose, rather like a soft kiss, before trotting off into the blue twilight under the pine boughs and out of sight among the trunks.

Silence followed her going.

“Well,” Tylendel said, at last. “That was Gala.”

Vanyel replied with the first thing that came into his head. “You really love her, don’t you?”

“More than anything or anybody except you and Staven,” Tylendel replied, almost apologetically. “I’m not sure I can explain it - “ He bit off what he was saying, as if something in Vanyel’s expression told him how depressed this meeting had made him.

“Van,” he reached out hesitantly toward Vanyel’s shoulder, then pulled his hand back, as if unsure whether to touch him. “I didn’t bring you here to hurt you.”

His very real distress forced Vanyel to pull himself together and try to
analyze
his feelings, instead of just wallow in them.

They were, to say the least, mixed. “I think I’m jealous,” he said, after an uncomfortable pause. “I know it’s stupid, she can’t ever have you the way I do - but I can’t ever share your thoughts the way she does.”

“Huh. You wouldn’t
want
to - “ Tylendel began.

“But that’s not the point,” Vanyel interrupted, backing a few steps away. “I can’t
know
that. You can tell me, but I can’t ever
know
that, can I?” He wasn’t sure what to do or what else to say, and so fell silent, turning away slightly and looking out past Tylendel into the shadows that had swallowed the Companion.

“Van,” he felt Tylendel’s hand fall lightly on his shoulder, and turned to look into his eyes. “Do you want to talk about this? Do you want to hear about what it’s like for us, how it started? Do you think that will help you understand?”

Not trusting his voice, Vanyel nodded.

“This will take a while; pick a spot to sit. Unless you’d rather go back to the room?” Tylendel raised one eyebrow inquiringly.

“No, I like it here; it somehow seems more private.” Vanyel faltered, and covered his hesitation by looking around for a good place. He finally chose a spot at the base of one of the bigger trees beside them, between two roots that were each as thick as his leg. He put his back against the trunk and slid down it to be cradled where the roots joined the tree.

Tyiendel pondered his choice for a moment. “Well, I can only see two ways I can talk and look at you at the same time, and since I don’t fancy shouting across the clearing - “

Before Vanyel had time to react, he’d stretched himself out along the ground and put his head in Vanyel’s lap.
“ - much
better,” he sighed.

Vanyel froze.

“Van,” Tyiendel said quietly, closing his eyes, “
I
won’t hurt you.
Not for any reason. I like being near you, with you. I need to touch people; and I won’t
ever
hurt you.”

Vanyel relaxed a little.

“I like this grove, too, though hardly anyone else seems to. It feels like there’s no time in here.” He kept his eyes closed, and Vanyel saw a little pain-crease between his eyebrows.

He gets those headaches; he told me last night
-
I
wonder - if he’d mind
-
if it would help
-

Vanyel hesitated for a moment, then began massaging Tylendel’s temples with gentle fingertips.

The trainee chuckled and Vanyel felt his shoulders relax. “You have about a hundred years to stop doing that,” he said. “I think I have the headache you claimed.”

“You were going to tell me about you and Gala and being Chosen,” Vanyel prompted, though the thought made him a little uncomfortable still. “I mean, you practically got my whole life story last night, and I still don’t know that much about you.”

“To begin at the beginning - I have a twin, Staven. He’s the elder by about an hour. Nothing like me, by the way; he’s taller, thinner, darker, and
much
handsomer. He’s the leader, I’m the follower. We’ve had a primitive sort of mind-link ever since we were born. Things happened between us all the time. Things like - oh, I blacked out when he fell down the well; he acted like he’d broken his leg when I broke
mine.
We always knew what the other one was up to.” He took a deep breath. “People knew all about
that,
but I had other Gifts, too, that I could use. Besides that mind-link, from the time I was about nine I had a touch of Thought-sensing for people besides Slav, and I had an ability to - make accidents happen to people I didn’t like.”

“Did that cause you problems?” Vanyel asked. “With other people, I mean. I should think they wouldn’t much appreciate that last.”

Tylendel shook his head slightly. “It didn’t crop up often enough for people to really notice - or if they did, they were too afraid of my father to say anything about it. I didn’t do it often, the accident-causing, I mean; it made me sick, after. Staven sometimes tried to egg me on, but it wasn’t something I’d give in to him about.” Tylendel paused, and bit his lip; his expression flickered briefly into one both dark and brooding before it lightened again. “It was the link between me and Staven that was the strongest and most predictable of the Gifts; it was pretty much limited to physical sensations, but once we figured out how to use it - “