Arrow's Fall Read online

  "Let me be the judge of that. After all, I'm the one who asked."

  "So you did."

  They rode in tree-shadowed silence for several leagues; Kris was minded to let her answer in her own time. The soft chime of bridle bells and their Companions' hooves on the hard surface of the Trade Road made a kind of music that was most soothing to listen to.

  "Ethics," she said at last.

  "Whoof— that's dry thinking!"

  "I suppose it is—" She plainly let her thoughts turn inward again; her eyes grew vague, and he coughed to recapture her attention.

  "You went elsewhere," he chided gently, when she jumped a little. "Now, you were saying— ethics. Ethics of what?"

  "My Gift. Specifically, using it—"

  "I thought you'd come to terms with that."

  "In a situation of threat, yes. In a situation where there was no appropriate and just punishment under normal procedures."

  "That— child-raper."

  "Exactly." She shivered a little. "I thought I'd never feel clean again after touching his mind. But— what could I have done with him? Ordered his execution? That... wouldn't be enough of a punishment for what he did.

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  Imprison him? Not appropriate at all. And much as I would have liked to pull him to bits slowly, Heralds don't go in for torture."

  "What did you do to him? In detail, I mean. You didn't want to talk about it before."

  "It was a— kind of twist on a mind-Healing technique; it depended on the fact that I'm a projective Empath. I can't remember what Devan called it, but you tie a specific thought to another thought or set of feelings that you construct. Then, every time the person thinks that thought, they also get what you want them to know. Like with Vostel— every time he would decide that he was to blame, he'd get what I put in there."

  "Which was?"

  She grinned. " 'So next time I won't be so stupid!' And when he'd be ready to give up from pain, he'd get, 'But it isn't as bad as yesterday, and it'll be better tomorrow.' Not words, actually; it was all feelings."

  "Better, in that case, than words would have been," Kris mused, shooing a fly away absently.

  "So Devan said. Well, I did something like that with— that thing. I took one of the worst sets of his stepdaughter's memories, and tied that in to all of his own feelings about women. And I kept point-of-view, so that it would appear to him as if he were the victim. You saw what happened."

  Kris shuddered. "He went mad; he just collapsed, foaming at the mouth."

  "No, he didn't go mad. He locked himself into an endless repetition of what I'd fed him. It's an appropriate punishment; he's getting exactly what he put his stepdaughters through. It's just, at least I think so, because if he ever changes his attitudes he can break free of it. Of course if he does—"

  she grimaced "— he might find himself dancing on the end of a rope for the murder of his older stepdaughter. The law prevents the execution of a madman; it doesn't save one who's regained his sanity. Lastly, what I did should satisfy his stepdaughter, who is, after all, the one we really want to come out of this thing with a whole soul."

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  "So where's the ethical problem?"

  "That was a stress-situation, a threat-situation. But— is it ethical to—say— read people during Council sessions and act on my information?"

  "Uh—" Kris was unable to think of an answer.

  "You see?"

  "Let's go at it from another angle. You know how to read people's faces and bodies— we've all been taught that. Would you hesitate to use that knowledge in Council?"

  "Well, no." She rode silently for a few more moments. "I guess what will have to be the deciding factor is not if I do it but how I use the information."

  "That sounds reasonable to me."

  "Maybe too reasonable," she replied doubtfully. "It's awfully easy to rationalize what I want to do— what I have no choice about in some cases.

  It's not like thought-sensing; I have to actively shield to keep people out.

  They go around shoving their feelings up my nose on a regular basis, especially when they're wrought up."

  Kris shook his head. "All I can say is, do what seems best at the time.

  Really, that's all any of us do."

  :Verily, oh, Wise One.:

  Kris ignored his Companion's taunting comment. He was going to question her further, but broke off when he caught the sound of a horse galloping full out, heading up the road toward them, the hoofbeats having the peculiar ringing of a Companion.

  "That—"

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  "Sounds like a Companion, yes. And in full gallop." he rose in his stirrups for a better view. "Bright Lady, now what?"

  Steed and rider came into sight as they topped the hill.

  :That's Cymry— : Tantris' ears were pricked forward. :She's slim. She must have foaled already.:

  "It's Cymry," Kris reported.

  "Which means Skif— and since I'll bet she just foaled, it isn't a pleasure-ride that takes them out here."

  The last time they'd seen the thief-turned-Herald had been a bit over nine months ago, when he'd met with them for their half-term briefing. Cymry had spent the time frolicking with Rolan, and both she and her Chosen had forgotten about the nearly-supernatural fertility of the Grove stallions. The result was foregone— much to Cymry's chagrin as well as Skif's.

  Talia knew Skif better than Kris did; they'd been very close as students, close enough that they'd sworn blood-brotherhood. They had been close enough that Talia could read him better at a distance than Kris could.

  She shaded her eyes with her hand, then nodded a little. "Well it isn't a disaster; there's something serious afoot, but it isn't an emergency."

  "How can you tell at this distance?"

  "Firstly, there's no emotional-surge. Secondly, if it were serious, he'd be absolutely expressionless. He looks a bit worried, but that could be for Cymry."

  Skif spotted them and waved wildly, as Cymry slowed her headlong pace.

  They hastened theirs— to the disgruntlement of the pack-mules.

  "Havens! Am I ever glad to see you two!" Skif exclaimed as they came into earshot. "Cymry swore you were close, but I was half-afraid I'd have 11

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  to ride a couple of hours, and I hate to make her leave the little one for that long."

  "You sound like you've been waiting for us— Skif, what's the problem?"

  Kris asked anxiously. "What are you doing out here?"

  "Nothing for you; plenty for her. Mind you, this is strictly under the ivy bush; we don't want people to know you've been warned, Talia. I slipped out on behalf of a lady in distress."

  "Who? Elspeth? Selenay? What—"

  "Give me a minute, will you? I'm trying to tell you. Elspeth asked me to intercept you on your way in. It seems the Council is trying to marry her off, and she's not overly thrilled with the notion. She wants you to know so you'll have time to muster some good arguments for the Council meeting tomorrow."

  Skif reined Cymry in beside them, and they picked up the pace.

  "Alessandar has made a formal offer for her for Ancar. Lots of advantages there. Virtually everybody on the Council is for it except Elcarth and Kyril— and Selenay. They've been arguing it back and forth for two months, but it's been serious for about a week, and it looks as if Selenay is gradually being worn down. That's why Elspeth sent me out to watch for you; I've been slipping out for the past three days, hoping to catch you when you came in and warn you what's up. With you to back her, Selenay's got full veto— either to table the betrothal until Elspeth's finished training, or throw the notion out altogether. Elspeth didn't want any of the more excitable Councillors to know we were warning you, or they might have put more pressure on Selenay to decide before you got here."

  Talia sighed. "So nothing's been decided; good. I can deal with it easily enough. Can you ge
t on ahead of us? Let Elspeth and Selenay both know we'll be there by dinner-bell? I can't do anything now, anyway, but tomorrow we can take care of the whole mess at Council session. If Elspeth wants to see me before then— I'm all hers; she'll probably find me in my rooms."

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  "Your wish is my command," Skif replied. As all three knew, Skif knew more ways than one in and out of the capital and the Palace grounds. He'd make far better time than they could.

  They held their pace to that of the mules as Skif sent Cymry off at a diagonal to the road, raising a cloud of dust behind him. They continued on as if they hadn't met him; but Kris traded a look of weary amusement with her. They weren't even officially "home" yet, and already the intrigues had begun.

  "Anything else bothering you?"

  "To put it bluntly," she said at last, "I'm nervous about coming back home— as nervy as a cat about to kitten."

  "Whyfor? And why now? The worst is over. You're a full Herald— the last of your training's behind you. What's to be nervous about?"

  Talia looked around her; at the fields, the distant hills, at anything but Kris. A warm spring breeze, loaded with flower-scent, teased her hair and blew a lock or two into her eyes so that she looked like a worried foal.

  "I'm not sure I ought to discuss it with you," she said reluctantly.

  "If not me, then who?"

  She looked at him measuringly. "I don't know..."

  "No," Kris said, just a little hurt by her reluctance. "You know. You just aren't sure you can trust me. Even after all we've shared together."

  She winced. "Disconcertingly accurate. I thought bluntness was my besetting sin."

  Kris cast his eyes up to the heavens in an exaggerated plea for patience, squinting against the bright sunlight. "I am a Herald. You are a Herald. If there's one thing you should have learned by now, it's that you can always trust another Herald."

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  "Even when my suspicions conflict with ties of blood?"

  He gave her another measuring look. "Such as?"

  "Your uncle, Lord Orthallen."

  He whistled through his teeth, and pursed his lips. "I thought you'd left that a year ago. Just because of that little run-in you had with him over Skif, you see him plotting conspiracy behind every bush! He's been very good to me, and to half a dozen others I could name you, and he's been invaluable to Selenay— as he was to her father."

  "I have very good reasons to see him behind every bush!" she replied with some heat. "I think trying to get Skif in trouble was part of a long pattern, that it was just an attempt to isolate me—"

  "Why? What could he possibly gain?" Kris was fed up and frustrated because this wasn't the first time he'd had to defend his uncle. More than one of his fellow Heralds had argued that Orthallen was far too power-hungry to be entirely trustworthy, and Kris had always felt honor-bound to defend him. He'd thought Talia had dismissed her suspicions as irrational months ago. He was highly annoyed to find that she hadn't.

  "I don't know why—" Talia cried in frustration, clenching her fist on her reins. "I only know that I've never trusted him from the moment I first saw him. And now I'll be co-equal in Council with Kyril and Elcarth, with a full voice in decisions. That could put us in more direct conflict than we've ever been before."

  Kris took three deep breaths and attempted to remain calm and rational.

  "Talia, you may not like him, but you've never had any problems in keeping your dislike out of the way of your decision-making that I've ever seen— and my uncle is very reasonable..."

  "But I can't read the man; I can't fathom his motives, and I can't imagine why he should feel antagonism toward me— but I know he does."

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  "I think you're overreacting," Kris replied, still keeping a tight rein on his temper. "I told you once before that it isn't you that's offended him—assuming that he really is offended— but because he's probably feeling like a defeated opponent. He expected to take Talamir's place as Selenay's closest advisor when Talamir was murdered."

  "And cut out the role of Queen's Own?" Talia shook her head violently.

  "Havens, Kris; Orthallen is an intelligent man! He can't have imagined that was possible! He hasn't the Gift, for one thing. And I am not overreacting to him."

  "Now, Talia—"

  "Don't patronize me! You're the one who was telling me to trust my instincts, and now you say my instincts can't be trusted, because they're telling me something you don't want to believe?"

  "Because it's childish and silly." Kris snorted.

  Talia took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Kris, I don't agree with you, but let's not fight about it."

  Kris bit back what he wanted to say. At least she wasn't going to force him to stay on the defensive. "If you want."

  "It— it isn't what I want. What I want is for you to believe and trust in my judgment. If I can't have that— well, I just don't want to fight about it."

  "My uncle," he said carefully, trying to be absolutely fair to both sides, "is very fond of power. He doesn't like giving it up. That in itself is probably the reason he's been displaying antagonism toward Heralds and you in particular. Just be firm and cool and don't give an inch when you know you're in the right. He'll settle down and resign himself; as you said, he's not stupid. He knows better than to fight when he can't win. You'll never be friends, but I doubt that you need to fear him. He may be fond of power, but he has always had the best interests of the Kingdom at the forefront of his concerns."

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  "I wish I could feel as confident about that as you do." She sighed, then shifted in her saddle, as if trying to ease an uncomfortable position.

  Kris began to make a retort, then thought better of it, and grinned. At this point a change of subject was called for. "Why don't you worry about something else— Dirk, for instance?"

  "Beast." She smiled when she saw he was laughing at her.

  "So I am. I'm sure he'll tell me the same. Oh, well, the best thing you can do for that little trouble is to let affairs take their natural course. Soon or late, he'll come to the point— if I have to push him myself!"

  "Callous, too." She pouted mischievously at him.

  "Believe it," he replied agreeably. "I'm going to enjoy teasing the life out of both of you."

  * * *

  Talia schooled herself to remain calm. As she had told Skif, there was nothing to be done right now. There were other things she wanted to find out before she took that Council seat in the morning, too— like whether the rumors that she had "misused" her Gift to manipulate others were still active. And who was keeping them active, if they were. At this point, it was a bit too late to try and find out who had originated them. As they approached the outer city and its swirling crowds, she was made aware of just how much more sensitive her Gift of Empathy had become.

  The pressure of all those emotions ahead of her was so strong she found it hard to believe that Kris could be unaware of it. She wished, not for the first time, that her Gift included Mindspeech; it would have been comforting to consult with Rolan the way Kris could with Tantris. She'd forgotten what living around so many people was like— and having had her Gift go rogue on her had made her more sensitive than she had been before she left. It wasn't going to be easy to stay tightly shielded day and night, but her enhanced perception was going to demand just that. She felt a flicker of reassurance from Rolan, and smiled faintly despite her anxiety.

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  They made their way down the increasingly crowded road into the outer city, outside the ancient defensive walls, which had sprung up over several generations of peace. The inner city held the shops, the better inns, and the homes of the middle class and nobility. The outer was given over to the workshops, markets, rowdier hostels and taverns, and the homes of the laborers and poor.

  The crowds of the outer city
were noisy and cheerful. As when she had first ridden into the capital, Talia found herself assaulted on all sides by sight, scent, and sound. The myriad odors of cookshops, inns, and food vendors vied with the less savory smells of beasts and trade.

  The pressure of all the varied emotions of the people around her threatened to overwhelm her for one brief moment, until she firmed up her shields. No, she thought with resignation, this is not going to be easy.

  The road led through a riot of color and motion, and the noise was cacaphonic, confusion without mirroring some of her own confusion within.

  The leather-workers kept to a section here, outside the North Gate, and both Talia and Kris were caught off guard by a puff of acrid, eye-burning fumes that escaped from a vat somewhere nearby.

  "Whew!" Kris gasped, laughing at the tears in his eyes and Talia's, "Now I remember why Dirk and I usually backtracked around to the Haymarket Gate! Oh, well, too late now!"

  The brief pause they made to clear their vision gave her a chance to finish making her shielding automatic. Back in their Sector— once she'd gotten her shields back— she'd tended to leave them down when it was only the two of them together. Shielding expended energy, and at that point she hadn't any to spare. Now she put in place the safeguards that would ensure that her shields stayed up even when she was unconscious— and felt a brief surge of gratitude to Kris for having re-taught her the right way to shield.

  * * *

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  Kris kept a careful eye on her as they made their way through the crowds.

  If she were going to break, now would be the time, under the pressure of all these emotions.

  :I wasn't worried.:

  :You weren't, hm? Maybe I should ask her to favor you with one of those emotional backlashes: