Magic's Pawn

'He felt it; felt the death, knew what had happened. Lost all control, lost his mind for a while, like the fits he used to have - only, I think, worse this time. Now he's depleted himself down to next to nothing, his whole body's in collapse from the energies he put through it, his mind's in trauma from Staven's death. That's backlash shock.'

Vanyel,wasn't sure he understood, but nodded anyway.

Savil's face darkened to pure rage. 'May all the gods damn those fools and their feuding! Death after death, and still they aren't satisfied! Van, our job is to see we don't lose Tylendel as well.'

'Lose him?' Vanyel's voice broke, and he looked wildly after the Heralds and their unconscious burden. 'Oh no - oh gods - Aunt, tell me what to do, I can't let him - '

'I don't intend to let him die,' she interrupted him. pushing him after the other Heralds. 'The masquerade has been canceled, and to hell with what your father finds out; I'll deal with Withen myself, and I'll keep you here if I have to get the Queen's order to do it. You go with them, and don't you leave him, no matter what happens.' Savil bit her lip, and gave Vanyel another push when he looked at her with a fear that held him nearly paralyzed. 'Go - go on. He needs you, lad - like he's never needed anyone before. You're my only hope of getting him through this sane.'

The two Heralds that Savil had called Jaysen and Rolf got Tylendel stripped and into bed without the trainee giving any sign of returning consciousness. Vanyel hovered at the edge of the room, his hands clenched, his face throbbing and feeling as if it were nearly as white as Tylendel's. When they left - after giving him more than one dubious and curious glance - he installed himself in a chair at Tylendel's side, took his lover's limp, cold hand in his own, and refused to be moved.

He stayed there for the rest of the night; unable to sleep, unable to even think very clearly. Tylendel looked ghastly; his skin had gone transparent and waxy, there was no muscle tone in die hand Vanyel held, and the only thing showing he was alive was the shallow movement of his chest as he breathed.

Savil looked in once or twice during the night, but said nothing. Mardic came in at dawn to try to persuade him to get some rest, but Vanyel only shook his head stubbornly. He would not, he could not, rest; until he knew that Tylendel would be all right.

Savil left for a Council session - probably dealing with the feud - right after sunrise; with some reluctance, Mardic and Donni departed for their lessons a couple of candlemarks later. When Mardic failed to convince Vanyel to rest, Donni had tried to talk him into some food. He'd refused that as well, suspecting that - with all the best intentions in the world - she might have slipped something into it to make him sleep.

' 'Lendel, they've gone,' he said, when he heard the door open and close, just to have some other sound in the room besides Tylendel's breathing. 'It's just you and me. 'Lendel, you have to come back - please. I need you, 'Lendel.' He laughed, right on the edge of hysteria. 'Look, you know yourself that I'm too far behind on my History for Mardic to help me.'

He thought - maybe - he saw a flicker of response. His heart leapt, and he continued talking, coaxing, reciting bits of Tylendel's favorite poems - anything to bring him out of that unnatural sleep. He talked until his mouth and throat were dry, talked his voice into a harsh croak, left just long enough to get water, and returned to begin the monologue again. He lost track of what he was saying, somewhere around mid-afternoon; he was vaguely aware of someone checking on them, but ignored the other presences to keep up the flow of words. For by afternoon, there was no doubt; there was some change going on in Tylendel's condition, and for the better. He didn't know if it was the talking that was doing it, but he couldn't take any chances. He just kept holding to Tylendel's hand, saying anything that came into his head, however foolish-sounding.

Sunset arrived, turning the river beyond the windows briefly to a sword of flame; the light faded, the room darkened, and still he refused to move. Savil came in long enough to light the candles and whisper something - that he was doing the right thing, he thought, he wasn't sure. He didn't care; his whole world had narrowed to the white face resting on the pillow, and the slowly warming hand in his.

His eyes grew heavy, and his whole body ached, and his voice had thinned down to a whisper not even he could make out. He finally put his head down on his arms, intending to just rest for a moment -

And woke, feeling a hand tentatively caressing his hair. He started, jerking his head up off the coverlet, making his face pulse with pain.

Tyiendel regarded him out of blue-ringed, weary eyes; eyes so full of anguish and loss that Vanyel nearly started weeping. 'I heard you,' he whispered. 'I heard you, I just didn't have the strength to answer. Van - Staven - '

His face crumpled, and Vanyel slid oif the chair and onto the side of the bed, talking him into his arms and holding him as tightly as he could; supporting him against his shoulder, giving him what little comfort his presence would give. Tylendel's body shook with sobs and he clung to Vanyel as to the only source of consolation left to him in the entire world, and Vanyel wept with him.

They finally fell asleep like that; true sleep, not the state of shock Tyiendel had been in - Vanyel still fully clothed and sprawled between his chair and the side of

the bed; Tylendel clinging to him like a heartbroken child.

'Eat,' Vanyel ordered, setting the tray down in Ty-lendel's blanket-covered lap.

Tylendel looked nauseated and shook his head. 'Can't,' he whispered hoarsely.

'You mean 'won't,' ' Vanyel retorted almost as hoarsely, trying to ignore the fact that talking made the whole of his face ache. 'You've gone all day without food. Savil says if you don't get something down, you'll go into backlash shock again. I didn't spend all that time talking you out to have you drop back in again. Now eat, dammit!' He crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at Tylendel. The trainee eased a little higher up on the pillows supporting him in a sitting position and tried to shove the tray away. Unfortunately he was so weak he couldn't even lift it; he just moved it a palm-length away. Vanyel put it back precisely where he had placed it the first time.

Tylendel gave the perfectly good soup on the tray a look that would have been better bestowed on a bowl of pig swill, but picked up the spoon anyway. He swallowed the first spoonful with the air of someone who expects what he's just eaten to make a precipitate reappearance, but when nothing happened, gingerly ventured a second mouthful, and a third.

Vanyel sat warily on the edge of the bed, careful not to overset the tray between them. There was something very different about Tylendel since he'd reawakened - something secretive, but at the same time, impassioned. He could sense it in every word they'd exchanged. He thought he knew what it was, but he wanted to be sure.

'They're afraid I'm going to go mad, you know,' Tylendel whispered in a matter-of-fact tone when he was