Brightly Burning

thought was a reproving glare.

Privately Lan still thought that Tuck had no idea of what they were getting into, but he didn't say anything more. He was touched and comforted, knowing that Tuck would be there for no other reason but that they were friends. Bless him!

Tuck would be facing their enemy, not with a formidable Gift at his disposal, but with nothing more than a bow and arrows and Mindspeech. Surely Tuck had more to fear from this conflict than Lan did.

'I don't know why Elenor is coming along, though,' Tuck continued, frowning at his fingernails. 'She can't even fight, and she's not a regular Healer.' He shrugged. 'Maybe it's to take care of people who've seen too much fighting.'

'I don't know why she's coming either,' Lan admitted. A draft touched his neck and he put another log on the fire. 'And I hate to sound like I don't like her, but I don't think this is the right thing for her to be doing, and I wish they'd let her stay here.'

Tuck made a face. 'War is no place for girls,' he intoned, self-importantly. 'She's going to take one look and beg to go home.'

Of that, Lan was far from as sure as Tuck. 'I think you're wrong there,' he countered. 'I think she's more likely to try and do too much, and hurt herself trying. She hasn't got all the practice that the older Healers have, so she'd know how to pace herself.' He sighed. 'It doesn't matter anyway. They said she should go, and she's going to.'

The real reason that he wished Elenor wasn't coming along was very personal; he didn't understand her, or the way she was acting around him. Kalira only said she'll outgrow it, when he asked his Companion's opinion, but wouldn't tell him what Elenor was supposed to outgrow.

For a while, Elenor would be fine, just like always, a regular friend. A little bossy, maybe, but sometimes girls were like that. Then for no reason at all, she'd go melancholy and calf-eyed, and if he pressed her to say something or explain what was wrong, she'd just go sullen. Or worst of all, a couple of times she'd gone bursting into tears and running away. And when he saw her again, she'd pretend it hadn't happened.

He was afraid that she was under as much stress as he was; after all, her mother was already in the fighting, her father was going there, and so were her friends. Though her odd behavior had predated the announcement of war—

But she probably heard things from Herald Pol that no one else did. She probably knew there was going to be war way before the rest of us.

He certainly hoped so; selfishly, he didn't want to have to deal with anyone else's troubles, and he certainly didn't want to find himself burdened with a weepy girl on a long trip.

:Not that long,: Kalira corrected. :Six to ten days, at the most. We'll all share carrying Elenor as the double rider, and you have no idea how fast and far we can go in a day.:

Six to ten days! Lan would never have believed anyone but Kalira—why, it took the average caravan a full month to go from Haven to the Southern Border, and that was on the main road, pushing hard, with fit horses in the traces, not oxen, which would be a lot slower!

He supposed he could put up with Elenor for ten days, anyway, and once they were at their assignment, she'd have too much to do to have time for bouts of self-pity, or whatever it was.

'I know what you're going to be doing, but I wonder what they'll want with me,' Tuck said, looking worried and self-conscious as the thought occurred to him. 'I mean, all I've got is Mindspeaking—'

'You'll be with me, because it takes everything Kalira has to keep me from—losing control,' Lan told him. 'She won't have anything to spare to Mindspeak anyone but me. You'll be my contact with whoever is giving orders, through the Herald that's with him. We'll be behind the main front lines, somewhere high, I expect, where I can see what I need to hit or herd.'

'But anybody would do for that,' Tuck began anxiously.

'Oh no. I don't want some stranger!' Lan replied sharply. 'I don't want somebody who might grab my elbow, or shout in my ear when I don't respond, or anything else! You know what not to do around me!'

'I guess,' Tuck responded, with relief and the respect only someone who had seen Lan's latest practice sessions would possess. Lan was just grateful that his year-mates gave him respect and not the poorly-disguised fear that his own parents showed. Of his family, once the secret that he was responsible for the Merchants' School fire was out—and the fact that the King himself was Lan's personal protector—only Macy wanted anything to do with him. He'd even gotten a note of groveling apology from that loud-mouthed uncle who had so disparaged Heralds at the Midwinter Feast. If it hadn't given him such a sour taste in his mouth, it would have been funny. It was very clear from the note that the stupid lout didn't mean a word of his apology, he just didn't want his nephew to casually incinerate him in a fit of pique.

Macy, thank the gods, was still just as comfortable with him as ever, and he wished, in a way, that he could take her along as well. But if war was no place for Elenor, it was doubly no place for Macy.

'I wish Macy could come,' Tuck said, in a wistful echo of his own thoughts. Tuck rolled over on his back and stared up at the ceiling. 'But she'd be lost out there, and probably scared, too.'

'I think she'd be more annoyed than scared, and frustrated that there wasn't anything she could do,' Lan responded, out of his new respect for his little sister. Macy had not only done what he'd suggested and found new teachers at the Guildhouse, she'd informed their mother in no uncertain terms that embroidery for fancy garments was a waste of time and resources under the present circumstances, and that for the duration she was going to be making banners and badges for Guard units. And what was more, she was spending her free time making lint bandages for the Healers and knitting socks and fingerless gloves for the archers, and her mother could just hold parties without her help.

The end result was that their mother had been shamed into organizing the entire Guild to do the same. The numbers of fingerless gloves streaming southward would probably ensure that every archer in the Army had warm hands before too long.

'Macy would just drive us all crazy because she couldn't really do anything,' Lan repeated confidently. 'But if this goes on for very long, I wouldn't bet on not seeing her. She's just as likely to get trained as a Healer's assistant so she can follow us.'