Magic's Pawn

The thought made him flush, his stomach twisting. Gods, what am I? Like him? I must be. Father will - oh, gods. Father will kill me, lock me up, tell everyone I've gone mad. Maybe I have gone mad.

Tylendel smiled suddenly at something he was reading; Vanyel's heart nearly stopped, and he wanted to cry. If only he’d smile at me that way - oh, gods, I can't, I can't, I daren't trust him, he'll only turn on me like all the others.

Like all the others.

He turned away from the window, invoking his shield of indifference with a sick and heavy heart.

If only I dared. If only I dared. 

Savil locked the brassbound door of her own private version of the Work Room with fingers that trembled a little, and turned to face her favorite protege, Tylendel, with more than a little trepidation.

Gods. This is not going to be easy. She braced herself for what was bound to be a dangerous confrontation; both for herself and for Tylendel. She didn't think he was going to go for her throat - but - well, this time she was going to push him just a little farther than she had dared before. And there was always the chance that it would be too far, this time.

He stood in the approximate center of the room, arms folded over the front of his plain brown tunic, expression unwontedly sober. It was fairly evident that he had already gathered this was not going to be a lesson or an ordinary discussion.

There was nothing else in this room, nothing at all. Unlike the public Work Room, this one was square, not circular; but the walls here were stone, too, and for some of the same reasons. In addition there was an inlaid pattern of lighter-colored wood delineating a perfect circle in the center of the hardwood floor. And there was an oddness about the walls, a sense of presence, as if they were nearly alive. In a way, they were; Savil had put no small amount of her own personal energies into the protections on this room. They were, in some senses, a part of her. And because of that, she should be safer here than anywhere else, if something went wrong.

'You didn't bring me in here to practice,' Tylendel stated flatly.

Savil swallowed and shook her head. 'No, I didn't. You're right. I wanted to talk with you; I have two subjects, really, and I don't want anyone to have a chance at overhearing us.'

'The first subject?' Tylendel asked. 'Or - I think I know. My family again.' His expression didn't change visibly, but Savil could sense his sudden anger in the stubborn setting of his jaw.

'Your family again,' Savil agreed. 'Tylendel, you're a Herald, or nearly. Heralds do not take sides in anyone's fight, not even when their own blood is involved. Your people have been putting pressure on you to do something. Now I know you haven't interfered - but I also know you want to. And I'm afraid that you might give in to that temptation.'

His mouth tightened and he looked away from her. 'So Evan Leshara can pour his poison into the ear of anyone at Court who cares to listen - and I 'm not allowed to do or say anything about it, is that it? I'm not even allowed to call him a damned liar for some of the things he's said about Staven?' He pulled his gaze back to her, and glared at her as angrily as if she were the one responsible for his enemy's behavior. 'It's more than just my blood, Savil, it's my twin. By all he believes, by all he holds true, we've got blood-debt to pay here - and Staven, for all that he's young, is the Lord Holder now. It's his decision; the rest of us Frelennye must and will support him. And besides all that, he's in the right, dammit!'

'Lord Holder or not, young or not, right or not, he's a damned hotheaded fool,' Savil burst out, flinging up both her hands before her in a gesture of complete frustration. 'Blood-debt be hanged, it's that kind of fool thinking that got your people and the Leshara into this stupid feud in the first damned place! You can't bring back the dead with more blood!''

'It's honor, dammit!' He clenched his hands into fists. 'Can't you even try to understand that?'

'It has nothing to do with real honor,' she said scornfully. 'It has everything to do with plain, obstinate pride. 'Lendel, you cannot be involved.'

She froze with her heart in her mouth as he made one angry step toward her.

He saw her reaction, and halted.

She plowed onward, trusting in the advice she'd gotten. Please, Jaysen, be right this time, too.

'This whole feud is insanity! 'Lendel, listen to me! lt has got to be stopped, and if it goes on much longer it's the Heralds who'll have to stop it and you cannot take sides!'

All right so far, she hadn't said anything new. Now for the fresh goad. And hope it wasn't too much of a goad, too soon.

' 'Lendel, I know you've never been able to figure out why both you and Staven weren't taken by Companions - well, dammit, it's exactly this insanity that's the reason your beloved twin didn’t get Chosen and you did. You at least can see the futility of this when you aren't busy defending him - he's too full of vainglory and too damned stubborn to ever see any solution to this but crushing the Leshara, branch and root! Your twin is an idiot, 'Lendel! He's just as much an idiot as Wester Leshara, but that doesn't change the fact that he's going to get people killed out of plain stupidity! And I will not permit this to go on for very much longer. If I have to denounce Staven to end your involvement with this, I will. Never doubt it. You have more important things to do with your life than waste it defending a fool.'

Tylendel's fists clenched again; he was nearly rigid with anger, as his eyes went nearly black and his face completely white with the force of his emotions - and for one moment Savil wondered if he'd strike her this time. Or strike at her, that is; if he came for her, she didn't intend to be where his fist landed. Or his levinbolt, if it came to that.