“If stuff like that is out in the dark, I’d be afraid of it too!” She relaxed a little. He isn’t going to be difficult. Thank the gods. “I don’t know if being awake is going to make any difference to that, but I’d rather meet it awake than asleep. So let’s talk. You know everything that’s important about me—”

  He started to protest, then saw the little grin on her face, grinned back and shrugged.

  “All I know about you is that at some point in your life you decided to make a big fat target out of yourself.” She fixed him with a mock-stern glare. “So talk.”

  Eldan put down his sewing, and moved over to her side of the fire, stretching himself out on their combined bedroll.

  Also a good sign.

  “To start with, I didn’t ‘decide’ to become a Herald; no one does. I was Chosen.”

  The way he said the word made it pretty clear that he was talking about something other than having some senior Herald come up and pick him out as an apprentice. To Kero it had the sound of a priestly Vocation.

  “Before that, I was just an ordinary enough youngling, one of the middle lot of about a dozen children. We had a holding, big enough that my father could call himself ‘lord,’ if he chose, but he made all of us learn what hard work was like. When we were under twelve, we all had chores, and over twelve we all took our turn in the fields with our tenants. One day I was out weeding the white-root patch, when I heard an animal behind me. I figured one of our colts or calves had gotten out—again—and I turned around to shoo him back to the pasture. Only it wasn’t a calf, it was Ratha.” Eldan sighed, and closed his eyes. As the firelight flickered over his peaceful expression, Kero guessed that memory must be one of the best of his life.

  Silence for a moment. “So what’s Ratha got to do with it?” she asked, when he didn’t say anything more.

  “What‘s—oh. Sorry. The Companions Choose us. You can’t just march up to Haven and announce you want to be a Herald, and your father can’t buy you an apprenticeship. Only the Companions make the decision on who will or will not be a Herald.” Ratha whickered agreement, and Kero glanced over to see him nodding his head.

  Well, if they’re like the leshya‘e Kal’enedral, that makes sense. A spirit would be able to see into someone’s heart, to know if he’s the kind of person likely to forget how to balance morality and expediency. Ratha looked straight at her for a moment, and his blue eyes picked up the firelight in a most uncanny manner. And he nodded again. She blinked, more than a little taken aback.

  “When they’re ready to go out after their Chosen, Companions will show up at the stable and basically demand to be saddled up. It’s kind of funny, especially to see the reaction of new stablehands.” He chuckled. “I was there one day when six of them descended on the stable, each one making it very clear he wanted to be taken care of right now, thank you. I had someone call in some of the trainees before the poor stableboy lost his mind. Anyway, I knew what Ratha’s standing in the middle of the vegetable patch meant, though to tell you the truth, I’d always fancied myself in a Guard uniform, not Herald’s Whites. I think my parents were rather relieved, all things considered; one less youngling to have to provide for. And we weren’t that far from Haven, they knew I’d be back for visits, probably even several times a week. Mama made a fuss about ‘her baby’ growing up, of course, but it’s always seemed to be more as if she did it because she thought she should.”

  Both of them grinned at that. “Couple of my mates have had send-offs like that,” Kero offered. “And no doubt in anybody’s mind that they weren’t just as cared-for as anyone else in the family, just when the tribe’s that big, somebody has to go eventually.”

  “And it’s a relief when it’s on their own. Aye.” Eldan nodded vigorously. “Other than that, things were no different for me than for any other youngling at Collegium. Average in my classes, only thing out of the ordinary was the animal Mindspeech. Had a turn for disguise. Got to know this little bit named Selenay pretty well, gave me a bit of a shock when I found out she was the Heir, though!”

  Knows the Queen by given name, hmm? The thought was a little chilling; it pointed up the differences between them. To cover it, she teased, “If I’d known that, your price would have been higher.”

  He opened his eyes to see if she was joking, and smiled when he saw that she was. “That’s it,” he concluded. “That’s all there is to know about me. No famous Rides, no bad scrapes until this one. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

  Kero snorted. “As if Heralds could ever be ordinary. Right. Tell me another one.”

  “I collect rocks,” he offered.

  “Great pastime for someone who spends his life on horseback.”

  “I didn’t say it was easy,” he protested, laughingly.

  Kero laughed with him. “I should confess, then. I make jewelry. Actually, I carve gemstones. Now that is a portable hobby.”

  “I used to write bad poetry.”

  She glared at him.

  “I stopped.”

  She made a great show of cleaning her knife and examining the blade. “Wise man. If you’d told me you still did, I’d have been forced to kill and eat you. And the world would have been safer. There’s nothing more dangerous than a bad poet, unless it’s a bad minstrel.”

  She said that with such a solemn face that he began laughing. “I think I can see your point,” he chortled, “I think in your position I’d start using my extra pay to put bounties on Bards!”

  “I’ve thought about it,” she said wryly. “And not entirely in jest. Traditional Bardic immunity can lead to some misusing their power, and Bards have no one making sure they behave themselves the way the Healers and you Heralds do.”

  “Only the Guild,” he acknowledged, soberly. “They’re pretty careful in Valdemar, but outside? I don’t know. I’ll bet Karse is using theirs.”

  “They’re using their Healers,” Kero pointed out. “No Healing done outside a temple of the Sunlord. When they’re in the mood, they even go hunt down their poor little herbmen and wisewomen. The only reason they don’t go after midwives is because the priests can’t be bothered with something that is only important to females.”

  Eldan’s expression sobered considerably. “I didn’t know that. There wasn’t anyone like that in the villages I’d been watching. Makes you wonder. About what else they’re using, I mean.”

  “That it does,” said Kero, who had a shrewd notion of what they were using. Dark magics? It was likely. And no one to stop them. You might as easily stand in the path of a whirlwind.

  And all that was pitted against the two of them.

  The night seemed darker, outside their cave, after that. and when they made love, it was as much to cling to each other for comfort as anything else.

  The hunt stayed in their area for longer than Kero had expected, which led her to believe that the priestesses were getting some kind of indication of where they were. During that time, she got to know Eldan very well; possibly better than he knew. A mercenary learns quickly how to analyze those he will be fighting against or beside—and everything Kero learned led her to trust Eldan more.

  Despite having used his powers to spy on the Karsites, he was truly sincere in his refusal to abuse them. He hadn’t been so much prying into peoples’ minds as simply catching stray thoughts, usually when people were speaking among themselves. As Kero had herself learned, there was a “pre-echo” of what they were about to say, a moment before the words emerged, and to someone with her Gift, those thoughts could be as loud as a shout.

  To Kero’s mind, that was no more immoral than setting spies in taverns, and establishing listening holes wherever possible.

  As her concussion healed, they split the chores between them—the only exceptions being hunting. Eldan would happily eat what she killed, but he couldn’t bear to kill it himself. That was fine with Kero; he knew what plants and other growing things were edible, and she didn’t. So she hunted and he gathered, in the intervals between Karsite patrols, a situation she found rather amusing.

  Two days after the hunt moved on, they left their hiding place. The hunters had made no effort at concealing their tracks, which pleased Kero no end. That meant that the Karsites were convinced their quarry was somewhere ahead of them, and they wouldn’t be looking for them in the rear.

  They traveled by night, despite the demons, or whatever they were. Kero had the feeling that Need was both attracting the things and hiding herself and the Herald from them. Kero did her best to recall every little tidbit she’d ever read or heard about such things.

  Some information didn’t seem to apply, like Tarma’s story about Thalkarsh. Whatever was being used to find them didn’t seem terribly bright, which argued for it being something less than a true demon.

  Maybe a magical construct, but more likely an Abyssal Plane Elemental. Just about any Master-level mage could command one of those, and they weren’t too bright. They were attracted by places where the magical energy in something or someone made a disturbance in the normal flows of such energy—but once they were in the area, they would not be able to find the source of the disturbance if it was strong enough to hide itself well. Just as it was easy to see a particularly tall tree from a distance, but next to impossible to find it once you were in the forest.

  That was how she explained it to Eldan, anyway, but something forced her to couch it in vague terms that could apply to the mental Gifts as well as the magical. Although she couldn’t explain away the part about it being magic-made itself, she found herself telling him glibly that the thing might be a creature out of the Pelagirs, invisible and intangible, but nevertheless there. Where that explanation came from, she had no idea, but she sensed that he accepted it a little better than he would have taken anything that smacked of “true” magic.

  They found a hiding place by the light of dawn—an overgrown hollow, covered completely with leafy vines so that she wouldn’t have guessed it was there if she hadn’t been paying close attention to the topography of the land. The vines themselves were supported by bushes on either side of the hollow, but nothing actually grew down in the hollow itself. It wasn’t as secure as a cave, and it certainly wouldn’t form much of a shelter if it rained, but it was big enough for all four of them, and offered excellent concealment.

  It was then, as they made love in sun-dappled shade, that Kero realized there was something out of the ordinary in her relationship with this man. She felt much closer to him than she had ever felt to anyone, except perhaps Tarma and Warrl, and found herself thinking in terms of things he might want as much as things she wanted.

  It was such a different feeling that finally she was forced to admit she was falling in love with the man. Not just lust (though there was certainly enough of that in the relationship), but love.

  Shallan would have laughed her head off. She always claimed that one day the “Ice Maiden” would thaw—and when she fell, she’d go hard.

  Looks like she was right, Kero thought with a feeling very like pain, curling up against his back, with her head cradled just behind the nape of his neck and one hand resting on his hip. Damn her eyes, anyway. I wonder how much money she had riding on it?

  It certainly hadn’t been hard to fall for him. He was kind, personable, clean, very easy on the eyes; a “gentleman” in every sense of the word. He treated her like a competent human being, neither deferring to her in a way that made it seem as if he was patronizing her, nor failing to say something when he disagreed with her. He did not treat her like a freak for being a fighting woman the way most civilians did.

  In fact, he treated her like one of the Skybolts would have, if she’d taken one as a lover. He treated her like a partner, an equal. In all things.

  She moved a little bit closer; it was cold down in the hollow, but she wanted spiritual comfort as well as physical. Right now she was feeling very lost....

  He knows my best-kept secret. He’s shared his thoughts with me.

  Was that enough to make up for the differences between them?

  Was anything?

  Eldan crouched in the shelter of the branches of a tree beside Kerowyn, and fretted. I have to get back. Selenay needs to know all this, and she needed to know it a month ago. Every moment wasted here could cost us.

  But the Karsite patrols on the road below didn’t seem in any mood to indulge his needs. Even though the sun was setting, painting the western sky in pink and gold, the riders on the blue-shadowed road running between the hills below them showed no signs of heading back to their barracks. Kerowyn glanced over at him, and her lips thinned a little.

  “You’re not making them get out of the way any faster by fuming,” she whispered. “And you’re tying your stomach up in knots. Relax. They’ll leave when they leave.”

  She just doesn’t understand, he thought, unhappily, as the riders disappeared around a bend, heading north. How am I ever going to get it through to her? She doesn’t care when she gets home—hellfires, she hasn’t even got a home—

  “Look, I need to get back to the ‘Bolts just as badly as you need to get home,” she continued, interrupting his train of thought. “We could still try cutting back toward Menmellith—”

  If we go to Menmellith, it’ll take three times as long to get back. Dammit, why can’t she understand? He knew if he said anything, he’d sound angry, so he just shook his head vehemently, and tried to put on at least the outward appearance of calm. She looked away, her expression brooding, the last rays of the sun streaking through the boughs of the tree, and striping her hair with gold. He wondered what she was thinking.

  She wants to avoid Valdemar. I want to bring her into Valdemar with me. If she can just see what it’s like, she’ll understand, I know she will.

  Somewhere north above the road, Ratha was scouting, uncannily invisible among the trees. He settled his mind, closed his eyes, and reached out for the dear, familiar presence.

  :Hola, hayburner!:

  :Yes, oh, hairless ape?: Ratha had seen an animal trainer with an ape at one of the fairs, and the beast had sported a pair of twin streaks in its hair that were nearly identical to Eldan’s. The Companion hadn’t let him forget it since.

  :Never let up, do you?:

  :I’m trying to lighten your mood, Chosen,: the Companion replied. :You are going to fret yourself right off that branch if you don’t calm yourself.:

  :Is that second patrol showing any sign of moving?: he asked anxiously, ignoring the advice.

  He felt Ratha sigh. :Relax, will you? They’ve settled in, but they haven’t set up a permanent camp. I think they plan on moving before nightfall. In any case we can get by them above the road; I found a goat track.:

  Eldan stifled a groan. The last time Ratha had found an alternative route, they’d been all night covering a scant league of ground. :How—ah—“challenging” a goat track?:

  There was a hint of amusement in Ratha’s mind-voice. :Challenging enough. It’ll be good for you.:

  Eldan Sent an image of his still-livid bruises. :That’s what you said about the last one you found.:

  :I have four legs instead of two, no hands, and I weigh a great deal more than you do. If I can make it over, you can.: Ratha sounded a little condescending, and more than a little impatient. :All the fuming in the world isn’t going to get us to Valdemar any faster. We’ll get there when we get there.:

  :You sound like Kero,: Eldan replied, opening his eyes a little and taking a sidelong glance at the mercenary. She had been watching him, and he saw her swallow and look away. She knew he was Mindspeaking Ratha, and as always, it bothered her. I wish she’d get over that, too.

  :She’s had many lessons in patience. You could profit by her example.: Ratha hesitated for a moment, and Eldan had the feeling the Companion would have said more, but was uncertain if he should.

  On the road below them, the Karsites finally reappeared, going back the way they had come. That just left the patrol Ratha was watching. As the last of the sun dropped below the horizon, the wind picked up, and gusted a chill down Eldan’s neck. He felt a little more of a chill at Ratha’s next words.

  :You are very—fond of this woman,: Ratha said, finally.

  :I think I’m in love with her,: Eldan told his Companion, cautiously, relieved to have it out in the open between them at last, but not certain he liked the phrasing or the tone of Ratha’s statement.

  :I—think you are, too,: Ratha replied, obviously troubled. :1 am glad for you, and yet I wish you were not.:

  Eldan had never hidden anything from his Companion, and he didn’t intend to start now. :Why?: he asked, bluntly, determined not to let things rest with that. :What’s wrong with her? I know you like her.:

  :The patrol is moving off now,: Ratha replied brightly.

  :Thank you. And you’re changing the subject.: Eldan wasn’t about to let Ratha get off that easily. :1 won’t be able to move out of this tree for at least half a candlemark. I’m not going anywhere. Just what, exactly, is wrong with Kero?:

  Ratha sounded reluctant to answer. :She doesn’t understand you—us. She can’t understand how we can be loyal to people we’ve never seen, be willing to stand between them and harm, and for no gain. She does not understand loyalty to a cause. And yet—:

  :What, yet?:

  :There is something about her that is very noble. She abides by her own code. And she has been very good for you. You are more—alive, since being with her.:

  :I feel more alive.: Eldan pondered Ratha’s statements; caught Kero watching him with an odd little smile on her face, and felt his heart clench. This strange, frighten ingly competent woman was not like anyone else he’d ever encountered. She was—like a perfect Masterwork sword; she could have given any of the famous beauties at Court tough competition, with her long, blonde hair, her finely chiseled features, her pale aquamarine eyes—

  Competition? No. She’d never take second place to anyone. She’s not only beautiful, she’s polished. There’s nothing about her that hasn’t been honed and perfected until it’s the best it can be. Beside her, any other woman looks like a pretty doll; no fire, no spirit. Except maybe the Heralds—but—