Sun in Glory and Other Tales of Valdemar

bones. One, two, three, four...'

'Where did he come from?' Jors interrupted, unsure of how high the other man could count and not really wanting to find out.

'Don't know. Now, he is my friend.' The broad brow furrowed as he searched for words. 'Some mean people aren't mean now because he is my friend.'

That was hardly surprising. Rock was a big dog. Probably a hunting dog of some kind who'd gotten separated from his pack and managed to finally find his way back to people.

'Why did you call him Rock?'

'So when kids are mean, it doesn't matter.'

'I don't understand.'

Brock stared down between Calida's ears and chanted, 'Brock, Brock, dumb as a rock.' Then he grinned and turned just far enough in the saddle to meet Jors' gaze. 'Rock isn't dumb. I fooled them.'

He looked so proud, Jors found himself grinning in return. 'Yes, you did. That was very smart.'

'I am a smart Herald.'

It was a good thing he didn't need affirmation because Jors had no idea of what to say. :And now,: he sighed quietly as large drops of cold water began splashing against his leathers, :it's raining.:

:I know. I'm getting wet.:

:So am I.:

:I'm bigger. There's more of me, so I'm more wet.:

In a very short time all four of them were so drenched there was little point in comparisons. Fortunately, as they crested a rise in the trail, the tanners' holding came into sight on the other side of a small valley. Neither Companion needed urging toward the river running through the valley center although they both stopped well back from the bank. The water was brown and running fast, the log bridge nearly awash.

:What do you think? Is it safe?:

Gervis stepped cautiously out onto the edge of the logs. :If we move quickly.: But Calida hesitated.

:What is it?:

:Calida says the river's already undermining the bridge supports. That the bridge is going to wash away.:

:Tell her that if it does, better we're all on the side with shelter. I'm half drowned and half frozen and Brock's got to be colder still. She's got to get him out of this weather.: Eyes wide, the mare stepped up beside Gervis who took her arrival as his cue to leap forward. One stride, two, three. As Jors watched anxiously from the other shore, Calida slowly followed, placing each hoof with care.

Wood screamed a protest as the bridge supports caved.

The huge logs dipped and skewed out from the bank, dragged by the river.

Calida half-reared as her front hooves scrambled for purchase in the mud.

Brock bounced over the cantle and disappeared.

'No!' Jors threw himself to the ground. Stumbling to the Companion's side, he grabbed the mare's saddle and heaved. Step by step, as she managed to work her way forward, he worked his way back until, to his amazement, he saw a very muddy Brock holding on with both hands to Calida's tail, his feet in the river. A heartbeat later, with solid ground, beneath all four of them, he dropped to his knees and gathered Brock up into his arms.

'Are you all right?'

He looked more surprised then frightened and returned the hug with wet enthusiasm.

'I fell.'

'I know. The bridge broke.'

Brock twisted around to look, and clutched at Jors' arm. 'I'm sorry!'

'It's okay. It wasn't your fault.' His heart slamming painfully against his ribs, Jors grabbed a stirrup and hauled himself onto his feet. 'Come on, we're almost there.'

* * *

The tanners' holding looked deserted as they stumbled up to the buildings. Jors called out a greeting, but the wind and rain whipped the words out of his mouth.

Brock grabbed his arm. 'Smoke,' he said, pointing to the thin gay line rising reluctantly from a chimney. 'I'm cold.'

'Me, too.'

All thoughts turned to a warm fire as they made their way over to the building, the Companions crowding in close under the wide eaves.

:We'll be right back as soon as we find someone.:

:Hurry, Chosen.: Gervis sounded completely miserable. Covered in mud almost to his withers, his mane hanging in a tangled, sodden mass, he looked very little like the gleaming creature who'd left the Waystation that morning. Calida, if anything, looked worse.

Jors considered leaving Brock with the Companions, but the other man's breathing sounded unnaturally hoarse so he beckoned him forward as he tried the door. The sooner he got him inside the better.

The door opened easily. It hadn't even been latched.

'Hello?'

Stepping inside wasn't so much a step into warmth as a step into a space less cold. It looked like they'd found the family's main living quarters although the room was so dim, it was difficult to tell for sure. The only light came from a small fire smoldering on the fieldstone hearth and a tallow lamp on the floor close beside a cradle.

'No.' Brock charged across the room, trailing a small river in his wake. 'No fire beside baby!'

Remembering what Lorrin had told him about Brock and babies, Jors held his position by the door. The younger of two, what he knew about babies could be inscribed on the head of a pin with room left over for the lyrics to Kerowyn's Ride.

Squatting, Brock picked up the lamp. 'No fire beside baby,' he repeated, began to rise, and paused. 'Baby?' Leaning forward, he peered into the cradle.

'Is it all right?' The lamp and the fire together threw barely enough light for Jors to see Brock. He couldn't see the baby at all.

Setting the lamp down again, Brock stretched both hands into the cradle. When he stood and turned, he was holding a limp infant across both palms, his broad features twisted in sorrow. 'Baby is dead.'

:Jors!:

Jors spun around as the door slammed open and five people surged into the room.

They froze for an instant, then the man in front howled out a wordless challenge and charged.

Bending, Jors captured his attacker's momentum then he straightened, throwing the other man to the floor hard enough to knock him breathless. The immediate threat removed, he faced the remaining two men and two women. 'I am Herald Jors. Who is in charge here?'

'I am,' the older woman snarled.

The hate in her eyes nearly drove Jors back a step. He didn't need Brock's whispered

'mean lady' to know who she was. It took an effort, but he kept his voice calm and understanding as he said, 'The child was dead when we arrived.'

'Dory came to say the babe was sick, not dead,' she spat as the younger woman ran silently forward and snatched the body from Brock's hands. 'The Moonling killed him.'

'He did not...'

'You're here and he's there,' she sneered. 'You can't see what he did.'

Spreading his hands, he added a mild warning to his tone. 'And you weren't even in the building. I understand this is a shock...'

'You understand nothing, Herald.' She placed a hand on the backs of the two remaining men and shoved. 'Have the guts to support your brother!'

They sprang forward, looking like nothing so much as a pair of whipped dogs.