don't believe what I Saw, to be frank, and I want a confirmation.'
Savil tightened her jaw, and told herself again that none of this had been Vanyel's fault. Besides, she was the only Herald-Mage at the Palace who was likely to have any feelings of charity toward the boy.
'I'll follow it. Have you got more to say, or - '
'I want you in there first. What I have to say is going to depend on whether you think I've gone over the edge or not.'
Savil raised one eyebrow in surprise, but moved in to stand beside the Healer. She reached out for Andrel's soothing Presence as easily as she could have reached for his hand; they'd been lovers, once, and had worked together often, both before and since.
They meshed auras exactly as hand would close on hand, and Savil followed the 'line' the Healer had established down past the churning chaos of Vanyel's sleeping surface mind to the dark, grief-stricken core of him. The measure of that grief would have reconciled her to him even had she felt him blameworthy; she'd known the depth of Tylendel's feelings, but it seemed as if Vanyel's had run at least as deep. Certainly his grief and loss were as profound as her own. More -
Oh, gods - it's just what I warned 'Lendel against. He's lost, he's utterly lost without 'Lendel -
But that was not what rocked her back onto her heels with real shock.
Savil had spent most of the past twenty years of her life as the one Herald-Mage most intimately involved in training young Herald-Mages, and the one most often set to identify youngsters with active Gifts and the potential of being Chosen. She had seen children with one, two, or (most commonly) no Gifts. Tylendel had been unusual in having Mindspeech, Fetching, Empathy and the Mage-Gift, all at near-equal strength. Most Heralds or Herald-Mages ftad one or two strong Gifts - and few had as many as three.
Vanyel had them all. Each channel she tested - with the sole exception of Healing - was open; most of them had been forced open to their widest extent. The boy had Mindspeech, Fetching, FarSight, Foresight, as much Empathy as Tylendel had shown, even enough Fire-starting to ensure he'd never need to use a tinderbox again, and the all-important Mage-Gift. His Mindspeech was even of both types, Thought-sensing and Projecting.
And - irony of ironies - as if the gods were taking with one hand and offering a pittance as compensation - the Bardic Gift.
This boy had more Gifts than any five full Heralds - and all of them had come into full activity in less than a day.
To her horror she could See that all the channels were as raw and sensitive as so many open wounds. The channels had not been 'opened,' they'd been blasted open. It was a wonder the boy wasn't mad with the pain alone.
Savil came up out of Vanyel's mind with a rush like a startled fish jumping out of a stream, and looked from the boy to the Healer and back in a state of surprise that closely resembled shock.
'Great good gods,' she said, 'What the hell happened to do that?'
Andrel shook his head. 'Your guess would be better than mine. I never cared much where our powers came from, I was just concerned with learning to use them effectively. But do you see what I'm up against with this boy?'
'I think so,' Savil replied, groping for the bedpost and sitting down carefully on the foot of the bed. 'Let me add this up. You've got backlash trauma from when the Gate-energy got pulled from him, and more trauma from when we sent it back into him; you've got the problems inherent when you wake Gifts late or early. You've got the problems with them being at full power from the moment they woke. Worst of all, you've got channels that were burned open or torn open instead of opening of themselves.'
'That, and more mundane emotional trauma and physical shock. I hope to the Havens that he doesn't come down with pneumonia on top of it all. I already fought off one fever, one his own body produced when it couldn't handle the energy-overload.' Andrel touched the back of his hand to the boy's waxen cheek, checking his temperature. 'So far, so good, but it's a real possibility. And I'm fighting off the effects of exposure, too. Savil, the child is a mess.'
'Lover, you have a talent for understatement.' Savil contemplated Vanyel's pinched, grief-twisted face.
Even in sleep he doesn't lose his pain.
'Now I see why Yfandes was so reluctant to let him out of her care. Until she gets him firmly bonded to her, he's going to have to be in physical contact with her for her to protect him. But what can we do? I can't fit her in here, I can't put him in the stables, not with the weather being what it is.'
'Try, and I'll call you up on charges,' Andrel replied, and Savil could tell that he was not joking. 'Do that in this chill, and you'll kill him. It's going to be touchy enough with him tucked up in a warm bed.'
'Well, how in hell do I protect him from his own powers?'
'Put your own shields on him, and hope nothing gets through.'
'I can't keep them up forever,' Savil reminded him acidly. 'I'm fairly well fagged out myself. A couple of hours is about all I can manage at this point.''
'Then go order -two graves, dammit!' the Healer snarled in sudden frustration. 'Because you're going to lose this one, too, if you don't do everything right with him!'
Savil pulled back, taken very much aback by the sudden explosion of temper. 'I,' she faltered, then as his words penetrated, and she thought of what was lying in the Grove Temple at this moment, lost her own precarious hold on calm.
She got up, stumbling a little; turned away from him and leaned against the doorframe, her shoulders shaking with her'silent weeping.
'Savil - '
Strong but trembling hands on her shoulders turned her back to face the room, and pulled her into an embrace against a bony chest covered in soft, green wool. 'Savil, I'm sorry,' Andrel murmured into her hair. 'I shouldn't have said that. You're exhausted, I'm exhausted, and neither of us are up to facing the problem this boy
