Brightly Burning

'Well, the puppet show was only there for a candlemark,' his father pointed out, with, at last, a hint of humor, and a faint smile. 'They had you captive for the entire afternoon and evening. I hope you weren't too bored with them.'

He shrugged. 'I didn't mind; it's a good thing for them to find out what we are, what we're like. Maybe it destroys some of the mystery, but it also removes ignorance.' He didn't say anything about the obnoxious relative; he didn't have to. 'But now, I really do have to go.'

His parents embraced him; his father heartily, his mother awkwardly. At that moment, he made up his mind that next year he would decline the invitation, even if he had to make up a reason why he couldn't come, even if the Chesters didn't invite him back. Maybe when he was finally a Herald, he'd start coming for the family gatherings occasionally, but not right now.

He drew back from them and nodded formally. 'You'd better get back to your guests,' he said. 'I'll show myself out.'

Without waiting for their response, he turned and headed for the door. But just before he reached it, his sister Macy squeezed between two of the adults crowding a doorway and rushed up to him. 'Here,' she said, pressing a small, thin package into his hand. 'I made this for you.'

As she waited expectantly, he unwrapped it. Her gift was one of the most beautiful pieces of embroidery he had ever seen her create. It was very much a miniature tapestry; a perfect copy of the crest of Valdemar, with every star in the background picked out in silver, every link in the Windrider's broken chains delineated completely.

'Good gods—I should think you'd go blind doing work like this!' he exclaimed, much to Macy's satisfaction; she dimpled with pleasure as he kissed her cheek. 'Macy, it's gorgeous. As soon as I get my hands on a needle and thread, I'll put it right on the shoulder of my cloak where everyone will see it! Thank you so much!'

'If it's all right, I'd like some hair from your Companion's mane and tail eventually,' she said, 'I want to make some woven jewelry.'

:Have her come out and pull some right now,: Kalira interrupted. :As much as she likes, as long as she doesn't snatch me bald.:

'Kalira's outside, and she says to come and get some,' he told her, and was rewarded with her wide eyes and enchanted smile. She didn't even stop to get a cloak; she followed him right outside, and gasped in delight to see Kalira standing at the door, shining in the lamplight.

'Is it really all right?' she asked the Companion, much to Lan's amusement.

Kalira snorted and bobbed her head, and Macy carefully approached her. With great delicacy and care, Macy separated out individual hairs to pull, gathering them carefully into a thin, silvery hank. Long before Lan had thought she would be satisfied, she patted Kalira's neck and said, 'Thank you! Thank you so much!' and stepped back.

'I'll save the hair from her currycomb for you,' Lan promised, tucking the embroidered patch into a pocket, and mounting.

:And I'll remind you.:

'Will you? Thank you, Lan! Can I come visit you?' She was the only person who had shown any real interest in visiting him, and even if it was more to see Kalira than to see him, Lan was touched.

'Surely. Give me some warning, so I can make time in my classes, but absolutely.' He found himself warming unexpectedly to her, and looking forward to her visit.

'I will! Thank you again! I've got to go in, I'm about to freeze—' She flashed him another smile, and darted back inside the door. A trifle bemused by this unanticipated epilogue to the Feast, he and Kalira turned away from the door and started up the street toward the park.

:I hope your Midwinter Feast was more fun than mine,: he said to her, breathing in air that wasn't overheated and too-heavily scented for the first time that evening.

:I wish yours had been as enjoyable as mine,: she replied with sympathy. :Never mind; we'll be back with Tuck tomorrow, and you'll have—:

Her head came up, startled, as people suddenly emerged from both sides of the street to block their way. Deliberately.

Kalira paused, but Lan felt her gathering herself for a leap or a run—or both.

A woman with an angry, tear-streaked face stepped forward. Her clothing was mourning of the deepest, most complete black to the least button and bit of embroidery, and very rich. She looked up at him as if at a monster. 'Are you Lavan Chitward?' she asked, in a harsh voice.

He nodded. 'Yes, Lady. I am.'

She stepped forward again and seized Kalira's reins. 'You murdered my son!' she snarled, as Kalira shied and tried to dance away from her. She held on with the strength of the demented. 'Murderer!' she continued savagely. 'I know not how, but you killed my boy, my Tyron! And I will have justice, no matter what the Guard may say!'

Lan sat frozen with shock; Kalira's wide eyes and twitching muscles seemed to indicate that she was, too. Torn between fear and guilt, his heart pounded—and his head began to ache—

Apparently the people with her had not anticipated this sort of confrontation—or perhaps, they had not anticipated that Lan would turn out to be a Heraldic Trainee. A tall man with Tyron's square jaw and blond hair, wearing clothing that was a match with the woman's, stepped out of the crowd and took her elbow. 'Leave it, Jisette,' he hissed at her. 'You're overwrought. Can't you see that this is a Companion?'

'A Companion with a murderer?' she sneered. 'This is just a trick! His family thinks they can fool everyone by tricking him out with a uniform and a white horse, but they can't fool me!' Her eyes showed the whites all around, and she shook Kalira's reins furiously. 'I know better! Liar! Slanderer! Murderer! Murderer!'

The man looked both at her and at Lan doubtfully, not sure whether to believe her. Lan felt as if he was going to have to double over from the pain behind his eyes, and that terrible red mist began to creep over his vision. He knew, he knew what was coming, and he wouldn't be able to stop it!