Arrow's Flight Part 3

"I can imagine," Talia grinned, "Who won?"

"I did," Kris said from behind her.

"You wouldn't have if I'd thought of the sheep first," Dirk retorted.

"Sheep?" Talia said inquisitively. "Sheep? Do I want to know about this?"

Dirk snickered, and Kris glared at him.

"It's perfectly harmless," Kris answered, with just a hint of irritation. "When Lady Fiona's husband died, she and Guildmistress Arawell started a joint project to boost the fortunes of her family and Arawell's branch of the Weaver's Guild. They imported some sheep with an especially soft and fine fleece much like lambswool from outKingdom*quite far south. They've finally succeeded in adapting them to our harsher winters; the spring lambing more than doubled their flock, and it seems that everyone is going to want stock or fabric of the wool."

"That's not what we came here for," Dirk said firmly. "Sheep and discussions of animal husbandry*keep your filthy thoughts to yourself, partner!*"

"My filthy thoughts? Who was the one doing all the chortling a few minutes ago?"

"*do not belong at a revel. I claim the first dance with you, Talia, by virtue of the fact that my partner is going to have you all to himself for a year and more."

"And since that leaves me partnerless," Kris added, "I would very much like to claim our newest Chosen for the same purpose."

"Mother?" Elspeth looked pleadingly at the Queen. Kris' stunning good looks had made more than a slight impression on her, and that he should want to dance with her was a distinct thrill.

"My dear, this is your celebration. If you want to ride your Companion around the Great Hall, you could even do that*provided you're willing to face the Seneschal's wrath when he sees the hoofmarks on his precious wood floor."

Without waiting for further permission, Kris swept the girl into the dance.

Dirk lifted an inquisitive eyebrow at Talia.

"Oh, no," Talia laughed, "You don't know what you're asking. I dance like a plowboy, I have no sense of rhythm, and I ruin my partner's feet."

"Nonsense," Dirk replied, shaking unruly blond hair out of his eyes. "You just never had the right partner."

"Which is you? And I thought Kris was vain!"

"My dear Talia," he countered, swinging her onto the floor, "Truth can hardly be considered in the same light as vanity. I have it on the best authority that my dancing more than compensates for my looks."

Shortly, Talia was forced to admit that he was absolutely correct. For the first time in her experience, she began to enjoy a dance*it was almost magical, the way they seemed to move together. Dirk didn't seem displeased by her performance either, as he yielded her to other partners with extreme reluctance.

Kris, on the other hand, despite yearning glances from nearly every young woman present, danced only with women far older than himself, or with Elspeth or Talia.

"I hope you don't mind being used like this," he said contritely, after the sixth or seventh dance.

"Used?" she replied, puzzled.

"As a s.h.i.+eld. I'm dancing with you to keep from being devoured by them," he nodded toward a group of Court beauties languis.h.i.+ng in his direction. "I can't dance just with beldames, Elspeth has to take other partners, and the only Heralds I can trust not to try to carry me off are Keren, Sheri, and you. And those other two don't dance."

"It's nice to know I'm wanted," she laughed up at him.

"Did I just put my foot in it again?"

"No, not really. And I don't mind being *used.' After all, by now they all know we're a.s.signed together, so they'll a.s.sume we're getting acquainted. You can avoid people without anyone's feelings being hurt."

"You do understand," he said, relieved. "I hate to hurt anyone's feelings, but they all seem to think if they just throw themselves at me hard enough, I'll have to take one of them*short-term, long-term, it doesn't seem to matter. n.o.body ever seems to wonder what I want."

"Well, what do you want?" Talia asked.

"The Collegium," he replied to Talia's amazement, "That's where most of my time and energy go*and where I want them to go. I do a lot of studying on my own: history, administration, law. I'd like to be Elcarth's replacement as Dean and Historian when he retires, and that takes a lot of preparation. I don't have much free time*certainly none to spend on games of courtly love. Or shepherd-in-the-hay."

Talia looked at him with new respect. "That's marvelous; Elcarth's job is the hardest and most thankless I can think of. In some ways, it's even worse than mine. You might just be the one to handle it. I don't think you can serve the Collegium and still give another person a*a*"

"The amount of attention a decent pairing needs," he finished for her, "Thank you*do you know, you're the first person besides Dirk who didn't think I was out of my mind?"

"But what would you do if you did find someone you wanted?"

"I don't know*except that it isn't likely to happen. Face it, Talia, Heralds seldom form permanent attachments to anyone or anything. We're friends, always, and sometimes things get more intense than that, but it doesn't last for long. Maybe it's because our hearts are given first to our Companions, then to our duty*and I guess there aren't too many of us with hearts big enough for a third love. Non-Heralds don't seem to be able to grasp that. Not too many Heralds do, for that matter. But look around you*Sherrill and Keren are the only lifebonded couple I can think of, and I wouldn't be willing to settle for less than what they've got. Which is why I'm hiding behind you."

"You can't hide forever."

"I don't have to," he replied whimsically. "Just till the end of the revel. After that, I'll be safely in the field, accompanied solely by the only person I've met who thinks I'd be better off cross-eyed and covered with warts!"

Dirk reclaimed her after that; it was during that dance that she noticed that the number of white-clad bodies was rapidly diminis.h.i.+ng. "Where's everyone gone?" she asked him, puzzled.

"It's not often that we get this many of us together at one time," he replied, "so as people get tired of dancing, we slip off to our own private party. Want to go?"

"Bright Havens, yes!" she replied with enthusiasm.

"Let me catch Kris' eye." He moved them closer to where Kris was dancing with a spritely grandmother, and tilted an eyebrow toward the door. When Kris nodded, Dirk arranged for them to end the dance next to the exit as the musicians played the final phrase.

Kris joined them after escorting his partner to her seat. "I like that one; she kept threatening to take me home, feed me *proper'*and then *train me right,' and I know she wasn't talking about dancing or manners!" He laughed quietly. "I take it Talia's ready to go? I am."

"Good, then we're all agreed," Dirk replied. "Talia, go get changed into something comfortable, find something to sit on, and an old cloak in case we end up outside. If you play any instruments, bring them, too*then meet us in the Library."

"This is like the littles' game of *Spy'!" she giggled.

"You're not far wrong," Kris answered, "We go to great lengths to keep these parties private. Now hurry, or we'll leave without you!"

She gathered her skirts in both hands and ran lightly down the halls of the Palace. When she reached her tower, she agrin took the steps two at a time. She paused only long enough in her room to light a lamp before unlacing her dress and sliding out of it. Even though she was in a hurry she hung it up with care*there was no use in ruining it with creases. She changed into the first things that came to hand. She freed her hair from the ribbon, letting it tumble around her face while she carefully stored My Lady in her case, and stuck her shepherd's pipe in her belt. She slung the carrying strap of the harpcase over her shoulder, an old, worn wool cloak from her trainee days over all, picked up one of her cus.h.i.+ons, and was ready to go.

Well, almost. Remembering what Jeri had said about the cosmetics, she stopped at the bathing room at the base of the tower for a quick wash, then ran for the Library.

When she swung open the door to the Library, she discovered that the other two had beaten her there*but then, they probably didn't have several flights of stairs to climb.

Kris was all in black, and looking too poetic for words. Dirk was in mismatched bluish grays that looked rather as if he'd just left them in a heap when he'd picked up his clean laundry (which in fact, was probably the case). Both of them looked up at the sound of the door opening.

"Talia! G.o.d*you don't dawdle like my sisters do," Dirk greeted her. "Come over here, and we'll let you in on the secret."

Talia crossed the room to where they were standing, the first study cubicle.

"The he first to leave always meet here to decide where we're going to convene," Dirk explained, "And they leave something telling the rest of us where that is. In this case*it's this."

He showed her a book left on the table*on harness-making.

"Let me guess," Talia said. "The stable?"

"Close. The tackshed in Companion's Field; see, it's open at the chapter on the special bridles we use," Kris explained. "Last time they had to leave a rock on top of a copy of a religious text; we used the half-finished temple down near the river because we'd met too often around here. A bit cold for my liking, though I'm told those currently keeping company enjoyed keeping each other warm."

Talia smothered giggles as they slipped outside.

The windows of the tackshed had been tightly shuttered so that no light leaked out to betray the revelry within. Both fireplaces had been lighted against the slight chill in the air and as the main source of illumination. The three of them slipped in as quietly as possible to avoid disturbing the entertainment in progress*a tale being told with some skill by a middle-aged Herald whose twin streaks of gray, one at each temple, stood out startlingly in the firelight.

"It'll be quiet tonight," Kris whispered in Talia's ear. "Probably because the Palace revel turned into such a romp. Our revels tend to be the opposite of the official ones."

Heralds were sprawled over the floor of the tackshed in various comfortable poses, all giving rapt attention to the storyteller. There seemed to be close to seventy of them; the most Talia had ever seen together at one time. Apparently every Herald within riding distance had arranged to be here for the fealty ceremony. The storyteller concluded his tale to the sighs of satisfaction of those around him. Then, with the spell of the story gone, many of them leaped up to greet the newcomers, hugging the two men or grasping their hands with warm and heart-felt affection. Since they were uniformly strangers to Talia, she shrank back shyly into the shadows by the door.

"Whoa, there*slow down, friends!" Dirk chuckled, extricating himself from the press of greeters. "We've brought someone to meet all of you."

He searched the shadows, found Talia, and reaching out a long arm, pulled her fully into the light. "You all know we've finally got a true Queen's Own again*and here she is!"

Before anyone could move to greet her, there was a whoop of joy from the far side of the room, and a hurtling body bounced across it, vaulting over several Heralds who laughed, ducked, and protected their heads with their arms. The leaper reached Talia and picked her up bodily, lifting her high into the air, and setting her down with an enthusiastic kiss.

"Skif?" she gasped.

"Every inch of me!" Skif crowed.

"B-but*you're so tall!" When he'd gotten his Whites, Skif hadn't topped her by more than an inch or two. Now he could easily challenge Dirk's height.

"I guess something in the air of the south makes things grow, *cause I sure did last year," Skif chuckled. "Ask Dirk*he was my counselor."

"Grow? Bright Stars, grow is too tame a word!" Dirk groaned. "We spent half our time keeping him fed; he ate more than our mules!"

"You've done pretty well yourself, I'd say," Skif went on, pointedly ignoring Dirk. "You looked fine up there. Made us all d.a.m.n proud."

Talia blushed, glad it wouldn't show in the dim light. "I've had a lot of help," she said, almost apologetically.

"It takes more than a lot of help, and we both know it," he retorted. "Well, h.e.l.lfire, this isn't the time or place for talk about work. You two*you know the rules. Entrance fee!"

Dirk and Kris were laughingly pushed to the center of the room, as the story teller vacated his place for them. "Anybody bring a harp?" Kris called. "Mine's still packed; I just got in today."

"I did," Talia volunteered, and eager hands reached out to convey the harp, still in the case, to Kris.

"Is this*this can't be My Lady, can it?" Kris asked as the firelight gleamed on the golden wood and the clean, delicate lines. "I wondered who Jadus had left her to." He ran his fingers reverently across the strings, and they sighed sweetly. "She's in perfect tune, Talia. You've been caring for her as she deserves."

Without waiting for an answer, he began playing an old lullaby. Jadus had been a better player, but Kris was surprisingly good for an amateur, and much better than Talia. He made an incredibly beautiful picture, with the golden wood gleaming against his black tunic, and his raven head bent in concentration over the strings. He was almost as much a pleasure to watch as to listen to.

"Any requests?" he asked when he'd finished.

"*Sun and Shadow,' "several people called out at once.

"All right," Dirk replied, "But I want a volunteer to sing Shadowdancer. The last time I did it, I was hoa.r.s.e for a month."

"I could," Talia heard herself saying, to her surprise.

"You?" Dirk seemed both pleased and equally surprised. "You're full of amazing things, aren't you?" He made room beside himself; and Talia picked her way across the crowded floor, to sit shyly in the shadow he cast in the firelight.

"Sun and Shadow" told of the meeting of two of the earliest Heralds, Rothas Sunsinger and Lythe Shadowdancer; long before they were ever Chosen and while their lives still remained tangled by strange curses. It was a duet for male and female voice, though Dirk had often sung it all himself. It was one of those odd songs that either made you hold your breath or bored you to tears, depending on how it was sung. Dirk wondered which it would be tonight.

As Talia began her verse in answer to his, Dirk stopped wondering. There was no doubt who'd trained her*the deft phrasing that made the most of her delicate, slightly breathy voice showed Jadus' touch as clearly as the harp he'd left her. But she sang with something more than just her mind and voice, something the finest training couldn't impart. This was going to be one of the magic times.

Dirk surrendered himself to the song, little guessing that he was surpa.s.sing his own best this night as well. Kris knew, as he accompanied them*and he wished there was a way to capture the moment for all time.

The spontaneous applause that shook the rafters startled both Dirk and Talia out of the spell the music had wrapped them in. Dirk smiled with more than usual warmth at the tiny female half-hiding in his shadow, and felt his smile returned.

"Well, we've paid our forfeit," Kris said, cutting short the demands for more. "It's somebody else's turn now."

"That's not fair," a voice from the back complained, "How could any of us possibly follow that?"

Someone did, of course, by changing the mood rather than ruining it by trying to sustain it. A tall, bony fellow borrowed Talia's pipe to play a lively jig, while two men and a woman bounded into the center to dance to it. That seemed to decide everyone on a dancing-set; Talia reclaimed her pipe to join Kris, someone with a gittern, and Jeri on tambour in a series of very lively round dances of the village festival variety. As these were both strenuous and of an accelerated tempo, those who had felt lively enough to dance were soon exhausted and ready to become an audience again.

Those who didn't feel up to entertaining paid their "entrance fee" in food and drink; Talia saw a good many small casks of wine, cider, and ale ranged along the walls, and with them, baskets of fruit, sausages, or bread and cheese. Stray mugs and odd cups were always acc.u.mulating in the tackshed, especially during the hot summer months when Heralds and students were likely to need a draught of cool water from the well that supplied the Companions' needs at this end of the Field. These handy receptacles were filled and refilled and pa.s.sed from hand to hand with a gay disregard for the possibility of colds or fever being pa.s.sed with the drink. Like Talia, most of the Heralds had brought cus.h.i.+ons from their quarters; these and their saddles and packs were piled into comfortable lounges that might be shared or not. A few murmurs from some of the darker corners made Talia hastily avert her eyes and close her ears, and she recalled Dirk's earlier comments about Heralds "keeping each other warm." From time to time some of these rose from the dark, and either left for more private surroundings or rejoined those by the two fires. And over all was an atmosphere of*belonging. There was no one here that was not cared for and welcomed by all the rest. It was Talia's first exposure to a gathering of her fellows under pleasant circ.u.mstances, and she gradually realized that the feeling of oneness extended outside the walls as well*to the Companions in the Field, and beyond that, to those who could not be present this night. Small wonder, with such a warmth of brotherhood to bask in, that the Heralds had deserted the main revelry for this more intimate celebration of their joy at the Choosing of the Heir. It was enough to make her forget the strange uneasiness that had been shadowing her the past three weeks.

As soon as she could manage it, Talia retrieved Skif from a knot of year-mates who seemed bent on emptying a particular cask by themselves.

"Let's go up to the loft," she said, after scanning that perch and ascertaining that none of the amorous had chosen it themselves. "I don't want to disturb anybody, but I don't want to leave, either."

The "loft" was little more than a narrow balcony that ran the length of one side and gave access to storage places in the rafters. Talia noticed immediately that Skif*very uncharacteristically*kept to the wall on the stairs, and put his back against it when they reached the loft itself.

"Lord and Lady, it's good to see you!" he exclaimed softly, giving her a repeat of his earlier hug. "We weren't sure we'd make it back in time. In fact, we left all the baggage and the mules back at a Resupply Station; took only what Cymry and Ahrodie could carry besides ourselves. I've missed you, little sister. The letters helped, but I'd rather have been able to talk with you, especially*"

Talia could sense him fighting a surge of what could only be fear.

"Especially?"

"*after*the accident."

She moved closer to him, resting both her hands on his. She didn't have to see him to know he was pale and white-knuckled. "Tell me."

"I*can't."

She lowered her s.h.i.+elds; he was spiky inside with phobic fears; of storms, of entrapment; and most of all, of falling. In the state he was in now, she doubted he'd be able to look out a second-story window without exerting iron control*and this from the young man who'd led her on a scramble across the face of the second story of the Palace itself, one dark night!

"Remember me? What I am? Just start at the beginning; take it slowly. I'll help you face it down."

He swallowed. "It*it started with a storm; we were caught out on the trail in the hills. Hills, ha! More like mountains! G.o.ds, it was dark; rain was pouring down so hard I couldn't even see Cymry's ears. Dirk had point, the mules were next, I was tail*it was supposed to be the safest place. We were more or less feeling our way along; sheer rock on one side of us, ravine on the other."

Talia had herself in half-trance, carefully extending herself into his mind. He was fighting down his fear as he spoke and beginning to lose to it.

"The trail just*crumbled, right under Cymry's hooves. We fell; there wasn't even time to yell for help."

Gently, Talia touched the fear, took it into herself, and began working away at it. It was like knife-edged flint, all points and slicing surfaces. As softly as flowing water, and as inexorably, she began wearing away at it, dulling it, muting it.