Crossroads and Other Tales of Valdemar

“Gnhrr,” she replied.

He set her down, grinning from ear to ear. She sat down slowly on her bed, her hands trembling. Whites. He’d finally earned his Whites. He’d be on Circuit soon enough. He’d . . .

Terror struck her, fast and hard. She managed to regain her composure as he shut the door, picked his way across the floor, and took a seat in the only chair in the room.

“You look great,” she said at last. It hurt to smile, but she forced one onto her face. “Really . . . good.”

His grin faded. “What’s wrong?”

Their twin bond wasn’t legendary, but it was strong enough. He knew she was worried about something. And she knew he wouldn’t stop until he found what that something was.

“Enh.” She scrambled for an excuse. It was ironic, really. Her whole training rested on communication, and yet she couldn’t tell him that his becoming a full Herald was the one thing she feared most.

Her eyes lighted on the drifts of discarded paper. She couldn’t talk about her worry. She couldn’t lie to her twin. But she could be creative.

“I’m supposed to write a song,” she said, looking more than passably worried. “And—”

“Can’t write it?” A knowing look lit his face.

“Mm. And I know it’s going to affect the Bardic Council’s voting on whether I should be made a full Bard.”

She shrugged, focusing all her fear and frustrations into this one thing. This song. This damn song.

She said, “You think if I threw myself in the river and caught pneumonia I wouldn’t have to perform?”

His smile changed to a smirk. “I think some Herald would jump in after you, the Healers would stuff you to the gills with foul-tasting potions, and the Bardic Council would ask you to play from your bed.”

“Drat.” She flopped back onto her pillows and closed her eyes, then forced herself to ask the question she least wanted to know the answer to. “So when do you go on circuit?”

She heard him shrug. “Don’t know. There are only a few Heralds ready to head back out into the field. If I had to guess—and if I’m lucky enough to be one of the first picks for my internship—I might get to go with Herald Wil when he heads out again.”

Lelia’s eyes snapped open.

“Go with who?” she asked.

“Herald Wil?”

She sat up and eyed her brother.

“Uh,” he said. “What?”

She smiled. “Wishing you had that Mindtouch Gift, don’t you?”

“Dear sister,” he replied somberly, “I wish for that when I’m around any woman.”

“That’s him,” Lyle said, pointing across the common room and speaking as quietly as he could manage amidst the din.

“Where?” Lelia asked. “The brunette?”

“No, the blond.”

“Oh.” She squinted, and then brightened. “Ooooh. Havens! He’s not much older than us. Bwahaha.”

“You honestly frighten me sometimes.”

“Any idea where his quarters are?”

“You still haven’t told me why you—”

Just then, a knot of Lyle’s year-mates—all dressed in sparkling Whites—came flowing into the common room. One spied Lyle, and instantly he was surrounded and carried off. From the sound of things, they were all intending on heading into Haven to celebrate.

No matter. Lelia had her own work cut out for her. She eyed the exits, took the one closest to Herald Wil’s table, chose a shadowy corner to stand in, and then stood vigil on the door until he strolled out, a book tucked under his arm.

She let him get a little ahead of her, and started to follow.

The sun was setting when she emerged from the Collegium, the humid air heavy with the promise of rain. Her quarry was advancing toward Companion Field, a white shape trotting out to meet him.

Lelia slowed to a stop, gnawing on her lower lip. Vexing. Very vexing. She couldn’t shadow him, not with this much open land between them. He’d see her coming. And then—

What? She blinked, realizing she was being stupid. He’s a Herald. He has to like you. She lifted her chin. Go talk to him, ask him your questions, and write your song!

Yes, that was exactly what she would do.

Herald Wil leaned with his back to the fence, his arms folded over his chest and his eyes half-shut.

“It’s hot,” he confessed.

:Rain’s coming,: Vehs replied.

“Good. This weather is giving me a headache.”

:Bard’s coming.:

“What?” He opened his eyes fully to stare at his Companion.

Just then, he heard the crush and rustle of someone walking through grass. Turning his head, he saw a small form in rust-red walking toward him.

:Worse than a Bard,: he thought at his Companion. :It’s a Bard- trainee.:

“Pardon me, m’lord Herald,” the girl said. She was short and fine-boned, with straight black hair and dusky skin. Her voice was surprisingly low and mellifluous. “Can I ask you about Daryann?”

Wil stared at her for a moment, dumbstruck.

Then he gave her the best answer he could come up with on short notice.

Malesa looked up with a raised brow as Lelia stomped in and sat down.

“No song?” she asked.

Lelia growled inarticulately.

“I had to go back and rework a couple lines on mine,” Malesa admitted, patting the parchments spread out on the Library table. “I found I used ‘light’ no less than five times in the first six verses.”

Lelia mumbled and snarled.

“Silly error, really, but that’s what happens when you write something fast—”

“I found Herald Wil,” Lelia said.

Malesa blinked. “Herald Who?”

“The brother of Herald Daryann.”

“Bright Havens! Where?”

“He’s back from circuit,” Lelia continued through gritted teeth. “I spotted him in Companion’s Field.” She was omitting some truth by phrasing it that way, but she didn’t think Malesa would care that she had been stalking the Herald. “I went up to him and asked a question.”

“And?” Malesa asked, chin in hand.

“He said no.” Lelia looked down at the brown-and-gray quill Malesa had been using. “Do you think if I stabbed myself in the eye with that thing—”

“Plenty of stories about blind Bards playing harp.”

“Maybe if I got ink poisoning.”

Malesa smirked. “So he said no?”

“Emphatically.” Actually, what he’d done was swung up onto his Companion and ridden off. And the look he’d given her!

Fit to freeze hellfires, she thought with a shiver.

“What did you say?” Malesa asked.

“ ‘Can I ask you about Daryann?’ ”

“Did you introduce yourself?”

“Not exactly,” she said slowly.

“You just went up and asked him, ‘Hey, about that dead sister of yours. . . .’ ”