Magic's Pawn

with that spoiled brat of a nephew in a few minutes, she told herself sternly, using the thought to sober herself. And I haven't the foggiest notion of what to do with him. Other than have him strangled - no, that's not such a good notion, it would please Withen too much. Great good gods, the man has turned into such a pompous ass in the last few years! I hardly recognized him. That ridiculous letter a week ago could have come from our father.

She smoothed her hair with her hands (checking to see that the knot of it at the base of her neck had not come undone), tugged on the hem of her tunic, and made sure that the door of the Work Room was closed and mage-locked before heading up the hall toward her personal quarters. The heels of her boots clicked briskly against the stone of the hallway, and she nodded at courtiers and other Heralds as they passed her.

If only Treesa hadn't spoiled the lad so outrageously, there might be something there worth salvaging. Now, I don't know. I certainly don't have the time to find out for myself. Huh. I wonder - if I put the buy into lessons with the other Herald-trainees, then leave him to his own devices the rest of the time, that just might tell me something. If he doesn't turn to gambling and hunting and wild parties - (I he becomes bored with the flitter-heads in the Court -

She pushed open one half of the double doors to the new Heralds' quarters, and strode through. Her own suite was just at the far end and on the left side of the hall.

Changes, changes. Five years ago we were crammed in four to a room, and not enough space to throw a tantrum in. Now we rattle around in this shiny-new barracks like a handful of peas in a bucket. And me with a suite and not getting forlorn looks from Jays or Tantras because one of the rooms is vacant. I can't see how we'll ever get enough bodies to fill this place . . .

The door stood slightly ajar; she shoved it out of the way, and paused a few steps into her outer room, crossing her arms and surveying the trio on the couch beneath her collection of Hawkbrother featherwork masks at the end of the room.

Only one of them was actually on the couch; Vanyel. Beside him, only too obviously playing his jailers, stood a pair of Withen's armsmen. On Vanyel's right, a short, stocky man - axeman, if Savil was any judge. On his left, one about a head taller and very swarthy; a common swordsman. And Vanyel, sitting very stiffly on the edge of the couch.

Savil heaved a strictly internal sigh. Lad, a year obviously hadn't improved you except in looks - and that's no advantage. You're too damned handsome, and you know it.

Since she'd last seen him, Vanyel's face and body had refined. It was a face that could (and probably did) break hearts - broad brow, high cheekbones, pointed chin, sensuous lips - fine-arched black brows, and incredible silver eyes; all of it crowned with thick, straight, blue-black hair most women would kill to possess. The body of an acrobat; nicely muscled, if not over-tall.

And the posture was arrogant, the mouth set in sullen silence; the eyes sulky, and at the same time, challenging her.

Lord and Lady. Do I believe my fool brother, or do I take the chance that a good portion of what's wrong with the boy is due to Withen trying to mold him into his own image?

While she tried to make up her mind, she nodded at the two armsmen. 'Thank you, good sirs,' she said, crisply. 'You have performed your duty admirably. You may go.'

The taller one coughed uneasily, and gave her an uncomfortable look.

'Well?' she asked, sensing something coming-something she wasn't going to like. Something petty and small-minded -

'The boy's horse - '

'Stays, of course,' she interrupted, seeing the flash of hurt in Vanyel's eyes before he masked it, and reacting to it without needing to think about which way she was going to jump.

'But, Herald, it's a valuable animal!' the armsman protested, his mouth thinning unhappily. 'Lord Withen - my lord - surely you've beasts enough here - '

'What do you think this is?' she snapped, turning on him with unconcealed anger. Gods, if this was symptomatic of the boy's trip here, no wonder he was sullen.

Take the boy's horse, will you? You bloody little - She took control of herself, and gave them irrefutable reasons to take back to their master. They were, after all, only following orders.

'You think we run a damned breeding farm here? We haven't horses to spare. The boy will be taking equitation lessons, of course, and he's hardly going to be able to go over the jumping course on foot!'

'But - ' the armsman sputtered, not prepared to give up, 'Surely the Companions - '

'Bear their Chosen and no other. ' She took a deep breath and forced her temper to cool. The man was making her more than annoyed with his obstinacy, he was making her quite thoroughly enraged, and if this was a measure of what Vanyel had been subjected to over the past few years, well, perhaps the boy wasn't entirely to blame for his current behavior.

'I said,' she told the men, glaring, 'you may go.'

'But - I have certain orders - certain things I am to tell you - '

'I am countermanding those orders,' she Answered swiftly, invoking all of her authority, not just as a Herald, but as one of the most powerful Herald-Mages in the Heraldic Circle, second only to Queen's Own, Seneschal's, and Lord-Marshal's Herald. 'This is my place, and my jurisdiction. And you may tell my brother Withen that I will make up my own mind what is to be done with the boy. If he wants to deposit young Vanyel in my care, then he'll have to put up with my judgments. And you can tell him I said so. Good day, gentlemen.' She smiled with honeyed venom. 'Or need I call a Guard to escort you?'

They had no choice but to take themselves off, though they did so with extreme reluctance. Savjl waited until they had gone, and were presumably out of hearing range, before taking the letter she'd been given out of her pocket. She held it up so that Vanyel could see that it had not been opened, then slowly, deliberately tore it in four pieces and dropped the pieces on the floor.

Margret is going to have my hide, she thought wryly. II she's told me once not to throw things on the floor, she's told me a hundred times -