'Conscious or unconscious?' Dethor retorted and shrugged. 'You've been a real part of things for maybe a fortnight. And I would never in a hundred thousand years think to trust you with this— except for Taver.'
:Why Taver?: he asked Kantor silently. :Why, if Companions are as fallible as any other?:
:Because Taver can make mistakes, but never that kind of mistake. Never, ever, a mistake in judging a person's character, his heart, and soul,: came the reply—and then he got the sensation that Kantor was conferring with someone else.
Talamir and Dethor watched him closely, weighing his least expression, just as Kantor added, :Come outside, if you trust me. There is something more you need to have that Taver wishes to share with you. And not just for making this decision.:
There were so many overtones to that deceptively simple statement that it was Alberich's turn to start with surprise. There was more than a hint that this was something as important as anything that anyone had ever told him in all of his life—something life-shatteringly important. And a subtle shading that this was something Taver had never shared with any other Herald.
Not even Talamir. Not even Talamir.
Suddenly, he had to know what this thing was. 'Rude, I do not wish to be,' he said abruptly. 'But think on this—with no eyes on me—I must, for a little.' He stood up even as he said this, and the other two Heralds watched him measuringly, but with a leavening of understanding.
'You don't have to give us an answer right away,' Talamir said, as if making up his own mind about it. 'But if you would consider it—'
'Tedrels—and now this—' Alberich shook his head. 'I must think alone. But consider it, with all seriousness, I will. And—I will answer you soon.' He did not define 'soon.'
The other two remained in their seats as he stalked off, head swirling dizzily with a dozen contradictory thoughts.
He wanted to go back to Karse. The very notion of the Tedrels being near there made his skin crawl. He wanted to hide here, and never hear of Karse again. He didn't want this new job that Talamir and Dethor had suggested, and yet, if he didn't take it, the tasks would be done, but by men who left their thinking and their morality in the hands of others, and merely followed orders... and never cared what the repercussions would be, never wondered if they had done the right thing, never thought at all. The bare idea was repugnant.
And he wanted to see just what this secret that the Companion Taver held could be. And how could it possibly, possibly, have any relevance to him?
Taver was waiting outside, just out of sight of the windows of Dethor's sitting room, with Kantor beside him. The sun was setting, and the air lay thick and sweet and still among the trees around the salle—but there was a hint of the bitterness of dying leaves in the sweetness, and the poignant suggestion of autumn coming soon, soon.
:Thank you for coming,: Taver said gravely, directly into Alberich's mind, startling him. Taver's mind-voice was distinctive; rich and deep, with a little breath of echo to it. There was a certainty and a stillness to it, as if Taver was a great tree, with his head in the clouds and his roots reaching down to the bedrock. And powerful, without ever making Alberich feel the power as anything other than potential.
'You are welcome,' Alberich replied awkwardly, pulse hammering in his throat, feeling as if he was the one being granted the favor. This was strange. This was very strange. Perhaps the strangest thing that had happened to him since he had arrived here. That odd thing that they called his Gift fluttered in the back of his soul with something that was not—quite—warning.
:I think—I hope—that what I have to show you will make many things clearer for you,: Taver said, with infinite gentleness. :Please, come and place one hand upon my neck and look into my eyes.:
Puzzled, Alberich did as he was told. He touched the electric softness of Taver's neck—looked into living blue—
And paradise engulfed him, as the heavens opened up and spilled out glory.
«»
And when he came to himself again, he was lying on the grass, staring at the hooves of the two Companions—silver hooves, why didn't I notice that before?— with a mind so full it felt as if it couldn't possibly fit in the narrow confines of his head.
