'A Herald must be the person we send to find us a mage-or mages.
That is because only a Herald is likely to be able to weigh the motives of those we consider, and find a person of sufficient ethics to do us any good. As to my qualifications, first of all, my rank is such that I'm not likely to encounter anyone who doubts my ability to negotiate. Now, Talia is the Queen's Own, but she also has a small child. I think it would be unreasonable to ask her to leave him for an indefinite length of time.
And there is a very sinister reason for her to avoid taking him with her; if someone captured her child, jemmie could be held to be used against her. ' Emphatic nods around the table gave her confidence to continue. 'As you know, Ancar has made an assassination attempt on me. I think he will find it harder-as Kero would say-to hit a moving target. There may be other Heralds who have sufficient rank to be able to negotiate, but of all of them, only Kero and I seem to be able to even speak of magic clearly, much less assess the capabilities of a mage. And Kero was a mercenary-frankly, the kind of mage we are looking for may hold that against her.' She spread her hands and shrugged. 'The answer seems obvious to me. And if I may be so blunt as to say so, I am expendable.
Mother has the twins, either of whom can easily succeed me as Heir.' She sat down carefully, and then the uproar began.
Elspeth had a pounding headache before it was over, and the arguments went on long past dinnertime and well into the night. Servants were sent out for cold meat, cheese, and other provisions, then called in again to light the lamps. Because of the nature of the arguments, young Heraldic trainees in their final year were brought in to serve at the table, and keep a steady supply of tea and other nonintoxicating drinks on hand. This was not the longest Council session on record, but it was certainly right up with the record holders.
And Elspeth was right in the middle of it all. Half the time, the Councilors went at her like a horde of interrogators, shouting questions, each one trying to make himself heard over the rest. The rest of the time, they acted as if she weren't even there, arguing about her and her competence at the tops of their lungs. Talia spared her a sympathetic glance or two, but she had her own hands full And besides, this was Elspeth's fight. It was up to her to win it; no one else was as convinced of her mission as she was. And her mother was still dead set against it.
So she fought by herself, grimly determined that she would win, no matter how long it took.
She did notice something odd, however. Every time it looked as though one of the Heralds would say something against her decision-he or she would freeze for a moment, sometimes in mid-sentence, and then fall silent.
Heralds often did that when their Companions were speaking to them, but Elspeth had never seen it happen so many times-or so abruptly. It was almost as if the Companions were arguing on her behalf, against their Chosens' better judgment. Elspeth even caught her mother in that momentary 'listening' pose.
Shortly before midnight, the Council was finally in reluctant agreement.
Elspeth could go; in fact, must go. She had succeeded, she and Selwin, in persuading everyone of the urgency of the situation. She had persuaded even her mother that she was the only person with the right combination of talents and credentials to successfully carry it off.
However, her route and ultimate destination would be watched over, at least inside Valdemar, and she would not go alone.
'You can't possibly go without an escort,' the Lord Marshal said firmly. 'I would say-twenty armed at the least.'
'Thirty,' said the Seneschal, over her squawk of outrage. 'No less than that.'
'Absolutely,' Lady Cathan of the Guilds seconded. 'Anything less would be inappropriate.' I'm trying to track down mages, she thought in exasperation. I'm trying to find people who are notoriously shy, and they want me to bring an entire army with me?
But she didn't say that; instead, she waited while the Councilors argued about the size of her escort, building it up until it did resemble a small army, then entered into the affray again when she thought she had a chance of being heard over the din.
'Impossible,' she said, clearly. All heads turned in her direction.
'Absolutely impossible,' she repeated, just as firmly. 'You're asking me to haul an entire armed force along with me. I'm trying to make speed-and I doubt if you could find fifty fighters with beasts able to keep up with a Companion even among the Skybolts. I may have to leave Rethwellan, and the presence of a troop like that could greatly offend the rulers of other countries that I might find myself in. But most importantly of all, insofar as my movements remaining a secret from Ancar, you might just as well post him a message every day telling him where I'm going, because that's how visible I'd be with that many armed fighters around me.'
That brought all the arguments to a dead silence. The Lord Marshal actually looked sheepish.
Now,' she continued reasonably, 'if you really want to make a big, fat target out of me, I wish you'd tell me. There are easier ways to get rid of me.'
'oh, come now,' replied Lord Palinor, the Seneschal, wearing a superior expression that made her want to bite something. 'Surely that's an exaggeration.'
