Sword of Ice and Other Tales of Valdemar

Brayth had spirited her from Westmark to begin her training. A handsome child of local nobility, Martin surely had had his share of women, and Judaia had heard Lyssa, one of the Seneschal's granddaughters, bragging about Martin's prowess in bed. Why, then, has he spent the past five months finding every excuse in the Sector to avoid me? This night, Judaia decided, she would find her answer, one way or another.

'Ah,' Judaia said, her soft words shattering a long-held silence. 'I didn't know staring at love-making Companions could turn a man to stone.'

Martin startled, suddenly and obviously aware of his lapse. He closed the door with clear reluctance and turned to face Judaia. Rain plastered black hair in ringlets to his forehead, and water dribbled along the crest of one eyelid.

Martin looked so atypically undignified, Judaia could not suppress a laugh. 'I considered us lucky to get in before the rain. I should have known Martin would find another way to get himself soaked.'

Finally, Martin smiled. He flicked away the trickling raindrop and raked dripping locks from his forehead. He headed for the fire, his wet Whites brushing Judaia's dry ones as he passed, leaving a damp, darker line that the warmth would quickly dry. He sat in front of the capering flames. Judaia took a seat beside him.

Martin fumbled dagger and whetstone from his pocket, sharpening the blade for the twelfth time since its last use. 'Are you tired?'

'No. You?'

'Not yet,' Martin admitted. The conversation seemed to have come to an end, and he abruptly steered it in another direction. Among strangers or while riding Companions, they always chatted with an easy fluency that seemed to mock the choppy nervousness that characterized their more private moments. 'You're doing well, so far.' He scratched stone over blade.

'Oh, yes,' Judaia said, not bothering to hide her sarcasm. 'I've gotten pretty good at riding around watching you work. I'm probably the Heraldic expert at observing Martin.'

Martin glanced at the stone and steel in his hands as if noticing them for the first time. 'I'm sorry. I guess I haven't been giving you much responsibility, and you are ready for it.' Again, stone whisked over metal with a scraping hiss that set Judaia's teeth on edge. 'Next time, you get to check the tax records.'

Judaia had learned to care for her gear, too, and she put the appropriate amount of time and effort into the task. Martin's tending had become clearly excessive. 'Tax records? Tax records be hanged. Hellfires, Martin. I want to make a judgment. By myself. No interference from you.'

'A judgment?' Martin considered, whetstone scouring steel a dozen strokes before he spoke again. 'All right then. The next judgment's yours and yours alone. I'd better warn you, though. We're getting toward the Borderlands, and those people have a different idea of justice and a woman's place.'

'I can handle it.' Though excited, Judaia could not keep annoyance from her voice. Martin's long closeness had fanned her desire from a spark to a bonfire. There could no longer be any doubt about the source of that need. Lifebonded, no question. Yet Martin seemed as oblivious to the ultimate sanction as he was to her readiness for a more active role in their Sector patrol.

Another long silence followed, interrupted only by the ceaseless gallop of the rain and the slash of stone against steel.

Judaia could avoid the need no longer. She clasped a hand to Martin's arm to halt the sharpening, staring directly at him. Martin stiffened, then ceased his work. His eyes darted from floor to dagger to fire. Finally, he met her gaze.

AH of the emotion Judaia had suppressed came welling up at once. She did not waste words on caution or euphemism. Pent up frustration burst forth at once, and she no longer cared if she hurt or offended him. 'What's wrong with you?'

'What?' Martin parted damp strands of hair from his eyes. Startlement at her outburst quickly faded to apology. 'Look, I'm sorry. I guess I've been overprotecting you, but it is your first patrol and—'

Judaia interrupted, 'That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it.' 'What are you talking about?' 'I'm talking about you so free and confident out there.' Judaia gestured vaguely northward, toward Haven and the towns and cities they had policed. 'Then, every time we're alone together, you're currying Tir-ithran bald. Or you're cutting enough wood to fill six way stations summer to summer.' She released his arm so suddenly, the whetstone tumbled from his fingers.

Now, Martin echoed Judaia's anger. 'Well excuse me for being thorough.'

'Thorough?' Judaia leaped to her feet. 'Thorough! If you get any more thorough, you're going to whittle, that dagger to a toothpick. You're not just being thorough; you're avoiding me.'

Martin sheathed his dagger and put away the whetstone. 'Yes,' he admitted.

A blatant confession was the last thing Judaia expected to hear, and it completely arrested her train of thought. 'What?'

Martin rose, again meeting Judaia's eyes, candor clear in his green-gray stare. For a moment, his shielding slipped, and she caught a glimpse of deep struggle, honor against need. Then, he hurriedly rebuilt his defenses. 'Yes. I am avoiding you.'

'Why?' Surprise dispersed Judaia's anger, leaving only confusion in its wake. 'I feel ... I mean we both know . . .' Words failed her, and she discovered an awkwardness as petrifying as Martin's had seemed. 'That we're lifebonded? Yes, I know.' Judaia could do nothing but stare, jaw sagging gradually open without her will or knowledge. At length, she managed speech. 'You know? Then why are you avoiding me?'

'Because I made a vow to Lyssa that she would be my one and only, that I would never sleep with another woman.'

Judaia did not know which shocked her more, her own disappointment, the tie to Lyssa, or the promise like none she had ever heard before. 'Are you lifebonded with her, too?'

'No.'

'Then why would you make such a promise?'

Martin shrugged. 'She wanted me to, and I did. Life-bonds are uncommon enough I never expected to form one.'

Judaia saw the hole in Martin's logic at once. Lyssa, she knew, had slept with many others, as recently as the night before Martin left to patrol the Sector. 'Did she make a similar vow to you.'

'Yes.'

Judaia considered a tactful way to inform Martin of Lyssa's deceit and found none. Though she hated herself for the cruelty she might inflict, she chose a direct approach instead. He deserved to know the truth. 'I'm sorry, Martin. Lyssa hasn't kept her vow.'

Martin took the news too easily for it to have been a surprise. 'Lyssa is not a Herald.'

Judaia stared, not believing what she was hearing. More than anything in the world, she wanted Martin, and she knew now that he felt as strongly for her. Yet, the pledge that shackled him had become one-sided and the integrity of a Herald his undoing, as well as her own. 'But it's not right!' she shouted, the agony of the thwarted lifebond writhing within her. 'It's not fair.'

Martin's eyes went moist, the green-gray smeared to a colorless blur. ' 'Fair' is not the issue.' Once again, he looked away, and this time Judaia applauded his decision to dodge her stare. 'A Herald's vows,' he said softly, 'take precedence over desire. Honor always over right.'

Suddenly, Judaia felt very tired.

Stormy night passed to crystalline day, free of humidity. Rainbows scored patches of sky and pooled along spiders' webs, but their beauty did little to raise Judaia's mood. She rode at Martin's side in silence. Overtended buckles and bridle bells reflected silver fragments of sunlight; clean whites and curried Companions shed the brightness until it seemed to enclose them like a divine glow. Birds flapped and twittered from the forests lining either edge of the roadway, feasting on insects drawn by the warm wetness following a gale.

Martin whistled a complicated tune written by his Bardic brother. He seemed to have forgotten the events of the previous evening, returning to his usual brisk confidence and grace under pressure. The normality of his routine only amplified Judaia's pain. The lifebond, already a noose, now felt like a noose on fire.

Brayth sensed the Herald's pain, Mindspeaking with a tone pitched to soothe. .-What's troubling you, little sister?:

Judaia sighed, loath to inflict her sorrow on another, yet glad for a friendly ear. .-It's