Sun in Glory and Other Tales of Valdemar

Simpler language but pretty much the official reason, Jors allowed. 'How long has he believed himself to be a Herald?'

'As long as I've been here. I'm surprised you haven't heard about him from other Heralds. You can't be the first he's latched on to.'

'He wasn't in the reports I read and I...' About to say he doubted Brock would come up in casual conversation between Heralds, he frowned at a distinct feeling of unease. 'I should go now.'

'There's no need to go to the Waystation tonight, I've plenty of room.' Her smile edged toward invitation. 'I doubt anyone will accuse you of favoritism if you stay here.'

'No. Thank you. I need to...' The feeling was growing stronger. '...um, go.'

He doubted she'd be smiling that way at him again, but personal problems were unimportant next to his growing certainty that something was wrong. Taking the steps two at a time, he hit the ground floor running and headed for the stables. :Gervis?:

:We can feel it, too. Calida says it's close.:

It wasn't in the stables or the corral, but when Jors opened the small door, a pair of huddled figures tumbled inside.

Brock lifted a tear-drenched face up from matted gray fur and wailed, 'Heralds don't cry.'

'Says who?' Jors demanded, dropping to one knee.

'People. When I cry.'

'People are wrong. I'm a Herald and I cry.' He stretched out a hand, keeping half his attention on the big dog who watched him warily. Herald's Whites meant nothing to Rock, and he didn't lower his hackles until Gervis whickered a warning of his own. 'What happened? Did someone hurt you?'

'Heralds don't tattle!'

His various tormentors had probably been telling him that for years. 'If someone does something bad, we do.'

'No.'

'Yes. If we can't make it right on our own, we tell someone who can. Bad things should never be hidden. It makes them worse.'

Brock drew in a long shuddering breath and slowly held out his arm. Below the ragged cuff of his sweater was a dark bruise where a large hand had gripped his wrist.

'Is that all?'

'Rock came. The man ran away.'

'Who was it?'

'A bad man.'

No argument there. 'Do you know his name?'

'A bad man,' Brock repeated, wiping his nose against the dog's shoulder.

:You catch him and I'll kick him.: The Companion's mental voice was a near growl.

:Calida says she'll help.:

* * *

'It's a bad bruise, but it is just a bruise. Healer Lorrin wrapped it in an herb pack and she says he'll be fine. He won't stay, says he's not sick enough, but I can't just let him wander off into the night.'

'Coors you cand.'

'And I can't take him to the Waystation and I can't stay with him because that would be seen as losing impartiality. So, do you mind if he spends the night with Calida?'

Isabel managed a truncated snort. 'Fine wid me, bud you'd bezd ask her.'

Leading Gervis and the chirras out of the stable, Jors turned for one last look at Brock curled up against Calida's side. The elderly mare had been pleased to have the company and had positioned herself in such a way that Brock could pillow his head against her flank.

Rock had snuggled up on the young man's other side and although his face was still blotchy, Jors had never seen anyone look so completely at peace.

:Why do you two care about him so much?: he asked as he mounted.

:He believes he is a Herald.:

:Yes, but...:

:And he acts accordingly.:

* * *

The next day during petitions, the mayor tripped over Rock sprawled by the table.

Jerking his chain of office down into place, he snarled, 'That dog is vicious and ought to be destroyed.'

Jors pushed Brock back into his chair. 'Who says this dog is vicious?'

The mayor's lip curled. 'I heard he attacked a man last night.'

'I heard that, too, Herald,' called out one of the waiting petitioners.

'Brock, show everyone your arm.' The bruises were dark and ugly against the pale skin. 'The man Rock attacked did that and would have done more had the dog not come to his master's defense. This dog is no more vicious than I am.'

'We've only your word on that, Herald. You can't truth-spell a dog.'

'No, but I can truth-spell the man who made the accusation if he's willing to come forward.'

No one was surprised when he didn't.

Mid afternoon, as Jors was returning to the hall after a privy break, the town clerk fell into step beside him and apologized for the mayor's earlier behavior. 'It's just he feels responsible for the whole town, and it weighs on him and makes him short-tempered.

Believe me, Herald, he's a whole different man when he can take that chain off.'

'Mister Mayor wears the town. The town swings heavy heavy.'

Brock's explanation suddenly made perfect sense.

* * *

It had been arranged that Brock would spend another night with Calida.

'Companions need Heralds. Lady Herald is sick. I am not sick. I am here.' He threw his arms around Jors. 'I see you tomorrow, Brother Herald.'

'No, not tomorrow, Brock. Tomorrow, I'm going to see the tanners.' Tanning was a smelly business, tanners set up their pits downwind of towns, far enough away they could work without complaint but not so far they couldn't get skins or find buyers for their hides.

These particular tanners had chosen distance over convenience and had settled nearly a full day's travel away. The townspeople he'd spoken to about them had made it quite clear that the animosity was mutual. No one went near the place unless they had to. 'I'll stay overnight, then go back to the Waystation the next day. The day after that, I'll be back in town. That's why I brought my chirras in today, so he won't be left alone at the station.'

'No.'

'It's okay. Gervis travels very fast, I won't be gone long.'

'No!' Brock released him, stepping back just far enough to meet Jors' eyes. 'Don't go!' Pulling the hair back off his face with one hand, he grabbed the Herald's wrist with the other. 'See?' An old scar ran diagonally from the edge of a thick eyebrow up into his hairline.

'The tanners did that?'

'I bumped mean lady's cart. Don't go.' His eyes welled over. 'Mean lady is there.'

Jors pulled free of Brock's grip and squeezed his shoulder. 'I'll be fine. Really. The mean lady won't do anything to me.' The sort of people who'd strike a frightened Moonling were unlikely to be the sort who'd strike a healthy young man in Herald's Whites. 'But I have to go and check on them. They haven't been into town for a long time and it's almost winter.'

'Not alone.'

'Don't worry, I'll have Gervis.' He gave the trembling shoulder another squeeze, then swung himself up into the saddle. 'You stay with Calida, and I'll see you in two days.'