Magic's Pawn

Savil finally untangled the rest of her, sat up in her chair, and took a quick look around. As she'd ordered, Mardic was still standing weary guard over the door to the rest of the suite, and Donni was drowsing, slumped against the door to the garden. Vanyel was not going to give them the slip a second time, however unlikely the prospect seemed. It hadn't seemed possible the last time.

She gave Mardic a jerk of her head and a Mindsent order; :Out, love, this needs privacy,: and woke Donni with a quick Mindtouch. Donni came completely awake as soon as Savil touched her, a talent the Herald-Mage envied. She pulled herself to her feet with the help of the doorframe at her back. Then both of them left for their own quarters, closing the door into the common room of the suite behind them.

Savil got up stiffly, every joint aching, and sat on the side of the bed, taking both of Vanyel's hands in her own. They were like ice, and bloodless-looking. 'I stopped you because had to,' she replied. 'Because - Vanyel, self-destruction is no answer. Because we've already lost one we loved - and I couldn't lose you, too, now - '

'But I deserve to die - ' His voice was weak, and broke on the last word.

And he wouldn't look her in the eyes.

Oh, gods - what was going through that head of his? What had he convinced himself of? 'For what?' she asked, her voice sounding rough-edged even to her. 'Because you made some mistakes? Gods, if that was worthy of a death sentence, I should have been sharing that knife!'

His hands were chilling hers; she tried to warm them, chafing them as gently as she could. 'Listen to me, Vanyel - this whole wretched mess was one mistake piled on top of another. I made mistakes; I should have watched 'Lendel more carefully, I should have insisted he talk to Lancir when his brother was killed. That's one of Lancir's jobs; to keep our heads clear and our minds able to think straight. Dammit, I knew what 'Lendel was capable of where Staven was concerned! And he would not have been able to hide that obsession from a MindHealer! 'Lendel made mistakes - the gods themselves know that. He should have thought before he acted; I'd been trying to get him to do that. We - the Heralds - accept mental evidence! All he had to do was ask for a hearing, and we'd have had the material we needed from his own mind to put the Leshara down. You made mistakes, yes, but you made them out of love. He needed help, asked you for it, and you tried to help him the only way anyone had ever taught you was right. And, gods, even Gala made mistakes!'

Her voice was harsh with tears, and with her own guilt, and she was not ashamed to let him hear it. 'Van, Van, we're only simple, fallible mortals - we aren't saints, we aren't angels - we fall on our faces and make errors and sometimes people die of them - sometimes people we love dearly - '

She choked on a sob, and bowed her head.

He freed a hand and touched her cheek hesitantly; his fingers were still snow-cold. She caught and held it, and looked back up into his eyes, seeing worse than grief there before he dropped them.

'You thought the world would be better with you out of it, is that it?'

He nodded, dumbly, and his hands trembled in hers.

'Did you stop to think how I would feel? You were 'Lendel's love. Didn't you think I'd come to care for you at least a bit, if only for his sake?'

How was she to reach him - when she'd never been good with words? 'I've buried him today. Did you think I'd be indifferent about burying you as well? What about Jaysen? I'd left him to watch you. How do you think he feeis right now about his carelessness? What do you think he'd have felt if you'd died? And - gods help us - what did you think Yfandes would do?'

I 'I thought - I thought she'd find somebody better,' he faltered, his voice quavering a bit.

'She'd die, lad; Companions very seldom outlive their Chosen. And she Chose you. If you die, she dies; she'd probably pine herself to death, and she does not deserve that.'

He shrank into himself, pulling even farther away from her, and she cursed her clumsy words, her inability to tell him what she really meant without hurting him further. 'Van - oh, hell - I'm not saying any of this the way I wanted to. Listen to me; you're sick, you need to rest and get well. We'll deal with this later, all right? Just - don't take yourself out of this world right now, there are folks who'll have holes in their lives if you go. And I'm one of them.'

He nodded; he didn't look convinced, but now she had exhausted what little eloquence she possessed, and didn't know what else to say to him.

So she tried one last tactic. Let me just keep him alive - if I can do that, maybe we can help him.

'Will you promise me, on your word of honor, that you won't try to do yourself in again? If you will, I'll trust you, and I won't leave guards on your doors.'

He swallowed, pulled his hands out of hers, and whispered, haltingly, 'I - promise. Word of honor.' He still wouldn't look her in the face, but she trusted that sworn word.

She nodded. 'Accepted. Now is there anything, anything at all, that I can do for you?' Maybe - 'Need to talk?'

He shook his head, and she sensed his complete withdrawal, and cursed again. Dammit, just when I need Lance the most, he's not here.

'Sure?' She persisted, even in the face of defeat; that was her nature. 'Vanyel - Vanyel, you're the only person I've got who knew 'Lendel from the inside the way I did. If - if you need somebody to mourn with…'

He shook his head again, avoiding her eyes altogether, and she sighed, giving up. 'If you change your mind- well, rest, lad. Get better. Call, if you need anything - mind or voice, either, I'll hear you.'

He nodded slightly, and closed his eyes again, leaning back and turning his face to the wall. That face was as white as the pillows beneath it, and it made her hurt all over again to see that lost look of his. She waited for another response or a request of some kind, but he slipped right back into an uneasy, shallow slumber. Finally she eased off the bed, gathered up Andrel's cloak from the chair, and left him alone.

Andrel arrived at sunset in response to her invitation to fetch his cloak and share food and thoughts. They'd had more than one intimate little supper in their lives, many of them in this very room, but none so gloom-ridden. Mardic and Donni had gone off to cautiously interview some of Vanyel's circle of admirers, to see if there was