Brightly Burning

hysteria. He was listening.

'And if those boys had been trampled beneath their hooves, what then?' he persisted. 'Do we kill the horses because their panic overwhelmed their reason?'

'So this—thing—inside of me—is like a herd of wild horses?' Lavan said tentatively, his eyes beseeching Pol for the comfort of confirmation.

Pol nodded, firmly. 'Very like. Quite as unreasoning. If you had been Chosen and come to us before this ability of yours got so inextricably entangled with your fear and anger, perhaps it would have been like a herd of horses harnessed into a team. But—!' he continued, holding up a finger to forestall any interruptions. 'That is only a 'perhaps'—and a herd turned into a team can still break free and stampede. I don't know enough about your Gift to tell you anything for certain.' He sighed and rubbed the back of his own neck. 'I don't think anyone ever has.'

Lavan scrubbed tears from his face, leaving behind a smear of ash, and sniffed, then gulped. 'Now what?' he said, in a very small voice.

'Now we train you as best we can,' Pol said, feeling a terrible weight of responsibility descending on his shoulders. 'Kalira says that she can control this Gift of yours, and I have never known a Companion to be wrong about something when she is so very certain of her ability.'

'What about—' Lavan waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the city. 'What about what I did at the school?' His eyes pled for forgiveness, for some sort of redemption.

Pol looked to Satiran for help. What would they do? What was the moral and ethical course to steer through this morass? It seemed to him that whatever they chose to do, it would be wrong!

:For now...: Satiran pondered. :For now, nothing. I believe that Captain Telamaine will decide to permit the parents of the dead boys to come to their own conclusions, without revealing that Lavan has any unusual Gifts.:

Pol wondered if Satiran or Kalira had put that plan into the Captain's head. Then again—probably not. Telamaine would not have been put in charge of the Guard here in Haven if he was not able to arrive at compromise.

'People are going to find out eventually,' Pol protested.

:Perhaps. But memories fade. It is entirely possible that no one will connect Trainee Lavan with Lavan Chitward by then—or put a Firestarting Gift together with the disaster at the school.:

:Even if they do,: Kalira interjected, :there is nothing they can do about it. I suspect if they dared to bring it up before the Crown, the King would have a few choice words to say about the kind of person who gains his amusement from torturing and abusing the weak and undefended.:

Pol couldn't help it; however grave the situation, he couldn't stop his lips from quirking into a little smile at the way Kalira leaped to Lan's defense.

Then he sighed. It wasn't entirely a moral or ethical course, but it was the closest he could see to steering one. 'Go to bed, Lavan,' he said at last, feeling quite as weary as Lavan. 'This is more than we can deal with in a single night. Just remember this, every time that you start to feel afraid, or guilty, or angry. Companions don't Choose wrongly. That is something we all know, at the core of our souls.'

:And if you forget,: Kalira said, half amused, and half fiercely, :I will certainly remind you.:

Pol walked Lavan to the door, where the Healers had been waiting impatiently; this time they took him to a different room, one on the ground floor, where a large window could be opened to the garden. These rooms were used for Heralds, so that their Companions could be near them. Kalira settled herself in for the night at the window, and Pol and Satiran walked slowly back to the Collegium, side by side.

'What are we going to do with this one?' Pol asked, unable to see how this situation could ever be made into a success.

:We'll do what we have to,: Satiran replied. :We'll do what we have to. But there's something else I think you should know—:

Pol braced himself. A hundred dire possibilities ran through his mind, but once again, the story of Lavan Chitward was going to surprise him with the unexpected.

:This—is not just Kalira's Choice,: Satiran said hesitantly. :I think—I think it's a lifebond.:

TEN

POL was not finished for the night, after all.

No sooner had he crossed the threshold into Herald's Collegium, he was surrounded by people; Captain Telamaine, the Lord Marshal and his Herald, Marak—the Seneschal and his Herald, Trevor—and the King's Own, Herald Jedin. Pinning him into the poorly-lit entryway, none of them were willing to let him pass until each of them had gotten a say in matters.