Valdemar 06 - [Exile 01] - Exile’s Honor Page 6

  In fact, their friendship dated from the hour that Talamir had been Chosen by Taver as King’s Own Herald on the death of his predecessor—a premature death, brought on by too much stress, too much work, and a brainstorm. Talamir had been so young, uncertain in his office, and disoriented by the bond with Taver, which was so strong, and so life-altering.

  Sendar, on the other hand, had been a very young King, but not at all uncertain in his office. Young, he might have been, but he’d been schooled in his duties since he could toddle. He’d been a handsome young man then, blond and tall and strong, with chiseled features worthy of a god, and an idealistic nature tempered with that finely-honed sense of irony. He was handsome still, though there was as much gray in his hair as gold, and age and care had continued to wield a cruel hand against those features, chiseling lines of worry that gave him a rather stern look. Kingly, but there was no doubt that people found him intimidating on occasion. His own sardonic sense of humor didn’t help on those occasions; he rather enjoyed being intimidating now and again.

  “He promised that he would give us a trial,” Talamir told the King, knowing how Sendar would react. Sendar liked audaciousness; he’d loved it in his Queen, who had boldly proposed to him rather than the other way around, who had met every challenge, even the illness that killed her, with spirit and determination.

  Sendar laughed as Talamir had expected, a dry little chuckle.

  His daughter, Princess Selenay, who had been staring rather fixedly at nothing at all as she listened, made a face. “I don’t see what’s so funny,” she objected.

  Selenay might one day grow into the dry wit her father possessed, but at the moment, she was in a stage where she took everything quite seriously and earnestly. Talamir found that uniquely endearing, as did her father.

  “Not funny, my dear—ironic,” Sendar told her. “A Karsite, of all things, giving us a chance to prove our good intentions. If you’ll recall your history, you’ll know why that seems ironic.”

  Selenay hesitated, toying with the end of her single braid, then evidently decided to be as forthright as her father. “He must be a man of honor, or Kantor wouldn’t have Chosen him, so why should that be ironic? Can’t Karsites have men of honor, too? It seems to me he has every right to require us to prove ourselves.”

  “Perhaps because the Karsite leaders have broken every pact they ever made—and have even made war on their own people?” Sendar suggested mildly.

  She flushed as Talamir gave her an opaque look, but persisted. “Why should that mean he shouldn’t demand we prove ourselves, though? The Karsites—well, how much do we know about them? Next to nothing; maybe in their minds they had honorable reasons to break their pacts. I mean, I should think that this man would have more reason to be suspicious—”

  Sendar shook his head.

  :Chosen, don’t just dismiss her because she’s young,: Taver cautioned. Clearly, this had gone from a discussion of one man to a more abstract problem.

  “Well, I still don’t see why, just because there are a few bad people in charge of things in Karse, we should assume that nearly everyone that comes from there is bad,” she said stubbornly. “Well, look, one of them has just been Chosen! I don’t see why there shouldn’t be as many men of honor there as here.”

  “The problem with that assumption is that once a man of honor sees what his leaders are doing is wrong, shouldn’t it be incumbent on him to do something about it?” Talamir asked the princess, who made a little grimace of impatience. “With the sorts of things that the Sunpriests have been doing, even the most devout worshiper of Vkandis is going to run out of excuses for their excesses.”

  “What if he can’t?” she asked. “Do something about it, I mean.”

  “If nothing else, he should leave,” Sendar pointed out. “By giving his support to a bad leader, he reinforces the position of that leader. People see that he is good, and since he continues to act in support of the leader, however inadvertently, they assume there is must be very compelling reasons for the leader to act as he is, and they continue to bear the intolerable.”

  Talamir nodded. Selenay looked uncertain, but not entirely convinced.

  She’ll learn, he decided. Experience, that was what she needed. “The point is that it’s rather ironic, that this Karsite, who has already had his own leaders turn against him and try to execute him for the use of a Gift that has been the saving of their own people, should then expect us to prove ourselves to him. Not that we blame him at all, we just find it ironic.”

  “I can see that,” the girl replied with a frown. “But I can also see why he has even more reason to want us to prove ourselves.”

  “What do you propose we do with this fellow?” Sendar asked, changing the subject. “There are bound to be objections to his presence once more people discover where he’s from.”

  “I don’t see any point in even trying to keep that a secret,” Talamir replied, shaking his head. “It’ll be out no matter what we do. It’s a pretty problem, and one that isn’t easily going to be solved. We can hardly expect people to set aside old grievances.”

  “It’s one I wish we didn’t have.” Sendar looked as if he was getting a headache. “I suppose all these things happen for a reason, but I would be happy enough for this to be occurring in someone else’s reign.”

  :Everyone always says that,; Taver observed.

  Taver should know. :I suppose they do.:

  “So, so, so. You and I have enough on our plate, I would say, without complicating our lives with this most difficult of Trainees.” Sendar pursed his lips. “Who can we delegate to bring the young fellow over to our side and make him admit to himself that his own leaders didn’t deserve his loyalty?”

  “Gerichen,” Talamir said, instantly. “That young Sunpriest. He’s—” He groped for words. “He’s transparent. Eventually, I suppose he’ll learn to mask what he’s thinking, but for now his openness will work for us.”

  “All very well, but what about within the Collegium?” Sendar persisted. “We need a Herald—”

  “Jadus, I think. He’s taking a turn at instructor this term. And Elcarth. Both of them are so utterly different from anyone Alberich will have encountered before.” He thought for a moment longer. “I’ll have to keep an eye on things, though. The instructors can hardly be expected to act as nursemaids to him. I’d like to assign another Trainee to him, but there just aren’t any that are adult at the moment. I can’t have anyone younger acting as his guide. He’ll resent it—”

  Sendar nodded, but Selenay spoke up.

  “Make him my bodyguard,” she suggested.

  They both turned to stare at her.

  “Well,” she said defensively, “If you make him my bodyguard, I can help him to settle in. He won’t be offended, and in fact, he’ll probably be flattered. After all, it isn’t as if a mere Captain would ever be made the personal guard to anyone important in Karse! Making him my guard will show that we trust him, and I think that could be very important in making him trust us. Don’t you think?”

  “Actually,” Sendar said slowly. “Yes. I do.”

  “And while he’s at it, he can teach me Karsite. Someone ought to know how to speak it.”

  :Brilliant,: Taver enthused. :Absolutely brilliant!:

  “Even if the rest of the Council will have apoplexy?” Talamir asked dubiously.

  Selenay raised her chin. “Yes. And I think you ought to tell them that this was my idea. They might as well get used to the notion that I can think for myself. I’m too old to be chucked under the chin and called ‘little one’ and told not to bother my pretty head about things.”

  Which is going to come as a shock to no few of them. Talamir kept his sighs strictly mental. Evidently the gods had decided that he was going to have to make do with fewer candlemarks of rest from now on—because he certainly was not going to leave all of this to the sole attention of Heralds Elcarth and Jadus, worthy though they might be.

  “So be it.” Se
ndar gave his blessing and dismissal all in one, despite Talamir’s misgivings. Admittedly, though, the misgivings were all concerned with other people’s reactions to Alberich, and not anything having to do with Alberich’s trustworthiness. Kantor was convinced; so was Taver. That was all that Talamir needed. “Talamir, I’d like you to organize Elcarth and Jadus. Let them recruit Priest Gerichen, not you.”

  “Oh, that shouldn’t be difficult,” Talamir admitted. “I suspect that Gerichen’s superior already has something like that in mind, since he brought the fellow along this afternoon on his official pastoral visit.”

  “Then once he’s on his feet and ready to be integrated into the Collegium, Selenay, I’d like you to see to the bodyguard business,” Sendar continued. His daughter nodded, her eyes bright.

  “Easily done,” she replied confidently. She looked like a cat that had just made off with an entire jug full of cream and a brace of trout to boot. Very pleased with herself.

  :She should be,: Taver put in.

  Perhaps—but she still seemed very young to him. Too young to be so closely involved with this potentially dangerous situation. He could readily foresee Council members suspecting that Alberich was subverting the young Heir. . . .

  :Yes, but that’s supposed to be what she is going to do to him,: replied Taver. :Really, Chosen, if you think that a healthy young man is going to be indifferent to an intelligent and attractive young lady, and isn’t going to be influenced by her, you’re very much mistaken.:

  :You have a point. And I’m sure the thought has crossed her father’s mind as well,: he admitted.

  He sensed Taver’s amusement. :There you have it. If you take that line with the Council, it will be clear that Sendar believes Selenay can handle the responsibility.:

  :True. . . . : That would be all to the good.

  :And if you point out it was her idea, it gives her more validity in her own right.:

  :Also true.: He was glad that Sendar was seeing to it that Selenay was brought along as the Heir-in-fact as well as the Heir-in-name, but it meant a lot of work. Still, better a lot of work now than trying to bring her up to the job later, in a crisis. Because kings, even the kings of Valdemar, were mortal, and no matter what the circumstances, King Sendar’s death would precipitate a crisis.

  “Now, is there any sign of a repercussion down there along the Karse Border from this incident?” Sendar asked, and Talamir gladly turned the subject to the simpler one of espionage reports and troop movements. Well, relatively simpler.

  “At the moment, the best guess is that the incident has been completely suppressed,” Talamir replied. “There are no reports, not even rumors, from what our informants can tell us. We don’t even really know which little village Kantor won him out of, they’re keeping it so quiet. We think it’s Sunsdale, because that’s the only one that recently beat off bandits, but there’s no word of anyone escaping the Fires from there.”

  “It must be an acute embarrassment to them,” Sendar speculated. “Good. Let’s hope it stays that way. I would rather they didn’t have any more excuses to prod at us down there.”

  “You have a talent for understatement, Majesty,” Talamir replied, rubbing his brow absently with one knuckle. “‘Prod’ is not precisely how I would put it. But the mission you sent me on in the first place is a complete success; Joyeaus has got a Border-watch based on the old fire-watchtowers everywhere along the Border except on Holderkin lands—and there’s enough overlap that nothing larger than a bandit troop is going to slip past, even there.”

  “Then the damned, stiff-necked Holderkin can fight off their own bandits,” Sendar growled, “And may they wallow in their pride until they choke on it!”

  Her father’s outburst caught Selenay by surprise, and she directed a look of shock at Talamir. Talamir just raised his eyebrows in a silent signal that promised I’ll tell you later. She nodded very slightly.

  “Joyeaus promised that she can have word to Haven of real troop movements within half a day at the worst,” he continued. “It isn’t just on our side of the Border that those old watchtowers exist. We can see theirs, and they can see ours, and there has been unofficial cooperation among the foresters for generations about alerting each other to forest fires.”

  Sendar snorted. “Fire doesn’t stop at the Border no matter how many guards you post.”

  Talamir nodded. “The point is, of course, that we can see their watchtowers, and now ours will be manned in or out of fire season. And we’ve got one more safeguard in place. If one of our informants has a message too urgent to be sent by hand and he can get to one of the fire towers, he’ll light a fire beacon or flash a mirror—on their side. Not a big one, or for long, but it will be a signal. That will warn the local highborn that something is coming, and from what direction, which means we’ll have even earlier warning, if not the specifics.”

  “Remind me to find some appropriate way to thank my idiot South-Border highborn for having the sense to cooperate with each other for a change,” Sendar growled, though to Talamir’s ears, the “growl” sounded pleased and relieved.

  “Remind me” actually meant “Talamir, go figure it out for me,” of course. This time, however, it was a request that had been anticipated from the moment that Joyeaus had gotten all of the heads of the noble families to sit down at the same table and begin ironing out their differences. That young woman had the most remarkable talent for diplomatic maneuvering and soothing ruffled feathers that Talamir had ever seen. A touch of Empathy helped, of course, but mostly it was a knack for saying exactly the right thing at the right time, and being exquisitely sensitive to interpersonal nuances. She’d been utterly wasted on riding circuits. . . .

  “I’ll see to it, Majesty,” Talamir murmured, glad that there was at least one small task that would be relatively easy to discharge.

  Unlike the untimely arrival of that unlikeliest of Trainees. . . .

  “Now, what about that tannery that Lord Wordercan wants to put in?” Sendar continued. “He’s been nagging at me for the last week. I know it’s something he wants, but I’m not sure the market can absorb that much more leather.”

  Talamir bent his mind to the business of the Kingdom, allowing himself to put the matter of Trainee Alberich aside for the moment—untimely, unlikely, and oh so inconvenient as he was. . . .

  3

  ALBERICH looked dubiously into the mirror at himself. The Healers had done a better job on his face than he ever would have thought possible, but nevertheless, he was scarred, and scarred badly. He looked as if someone had beaten his face with a red-hot whip several years ago. At least the scars weren’t a livid, half-healed red, or he’d be frightening children and horses. His weathered tan had faded as well in the time he’d spent recovering, and he was thinner, not that he’d been carrying any extra weight before. His cheekbones seemed especially prominent, and his mouth—

  Still stubborn, and they’d damned well better read it that way.

  He was wearing what was, apparently, the standard uniform for a Valdemaran cadet—

  :A Herald-trainee,: Kantor corrected. :I don’t believe that you will find that cadets and Trainees are at all equivalent.:

  This uniform was very new, and in fact, had been made to his measure while he was still staggering about trying to get his strength back. Some strange little fellow had invaded his sickroom one day, asked him to stand, measured him all over, took tracings of his feet, and vanished again. Today, one of these uniforms had appeared, along with a gentle-faced Herald he didn’t know, and Herald Talamir.

  The cut and design of this uniform was identical to the Heralds’ uniforms—well, all of the ones he’d seen other than Talamir’s. The difference was the color—a dark gray. Alberich approved of that color; it was a great deal less conspicuous than spotless white. It also suited his own somber disposition.

  “You cut a good figure,” Talamir said approvingly. “But then again, we don’t often tailor a Trainee’s new outfits to him; it would b
e a waste of time and effort, since most of them are youngsters, still growing.”

  “This isn’t the usual color for a Trainee,” the strange Herald (who had been introduced as Jadus) said apologetically. “We’re apparently out of the usual materials at the moment, and I’m afraid that you’re a bit larger than our run of usual newly Chosen, so you wouldn’t fit into the old ones from the common stock.” The man was older than Alberich, approaching middle age, with sandy hair, and expressive features so open and honest that Alberich knew he would never hold his own in a game of chance. But the one thing that Alberich noticed most about him were his hands, graceful, flexible, strong, but not powerful. They were not the hands of a fighter, not even an archer.

  The new Herald smiled and shrugged. “I suppose you’re lucky, actually. When I say ‘common stock,’ it’s because the uniforms are all parceled out by general sizes. Hand-me-downs, to be honest, worn until they aren’t fit to wear anymore, and cycled among all of those who wear the same size. We find that it’s not a bad thing, given that highborns or their families might be inclined to embellish any uniforms that were actually their property, which negates the whole point of having a uniform in the first place.”

  “Keeping to these, I think I will be,” Alberich replied, and shrugged. “Conspicuous already, I am.”

  “True enough,” Talamir agreed. “And perhaps by making you a trifle more conspicuous, we will at least make it evident that we aren’t trying to hide you.”

  Alberich flexed his arms and legs experimentally. It might be new, but this uniform had been laundered several times to soften the fabric. Linen shirt, a fine pair of well-fitting boots, heavy canvas-twill trews and tunic. At least it was a comfortable uniform, practical and easy to move in. It could have been much worse.

  He supposed that these garments would have to be made to take a considerable beating if they were to serve several sets of Trainees in their usual lifespan. Certainly Sunsguard Cadets were hard on their uniforms, and he doubted that Valdemaran boys would be any different.