“That seems a bit arbitrary.”
:So’s life. Next question.:
“So, then just what happened to the Herald Mages?”
:Two factors came together. Magery was a distraction. It’s hard enough to be a good Herald. Heraldry is a full-time job by itself. Magecraft is a full-time job as well, one that doesn’t tolerate very many mistakes. Most of the Heralds who tried both were either not very good at either or had serious control problems. More than a couple blew themselves up, or lost control at the wrong moment. In your world it would be like having a nuke, incredibly powerful, but one that you were pretty sure the safety worked. Mostly sure.:
“What about Vanyel? Oh, I see. Never mind.”
:Magery was going away anyway . . . in Valdemar, at least. Vanyel was the hot mash after the rubdown, as we Companions say.:
He tossed his head at Dave’s obvious confusion.
:For a guy who writes about horses, you don’t know very much. The cherry on the sundae, then.:
“I write about horse racing. I’m an investigative reporter.”
The Companion looked at his POS car. :So, how’s that working out for you, then?:
“You were talking about Vanyel?”
:He was wired tighter than a banjo, and losing it on all sides. He lasted as long as was needful, but only just. His Companion was all that was holding him together at the end. The magic requires a wildness inside that just doesn’t mesh well with the discipline that is required to be a really good Herald. Most Herald Mages never mastered the level of discipline needed to be good Heralds but got too much to really embrace the wildness . . . they were the battle cruisers of our world, a compromise design that didn’t work very well.:
“That’s from World War II. Firepower of a battleship, speed of a cruiser. Looked great on paper. German sub killed one with one shot.”
:It was the Bismark, actually, sank the Hood. British battle cruisers got roughly handled at Jutland in the first go, but the Brits didn’t learn the lesson for another war. Figured that just because the idea hadn’t worked didn’t mean it wasn’t still a good idea.:
“Hmmm, that might be a bit obscure for my readers . . . Maybe the Windows ME of Valdemar?”
:No, that’s not right, either. The HM’s worked . . . it was the internal contradictions that they couldn’t resolve.:
“OK, how about like a spork . . . compromise design that works okay, but not outstandingly, and does two mutually contradictory things.”
:Hmmm . . . let me think about that one. Van’s going to be spinning like high-speed lathe in his grave to be compared to an eating utensil, but I guess it does sort of capture the essence of the idea. Vanyel, the most powerful Herald Mage to ever come down the pike . . . as a spork.: The Companion considered it a moment. :Okay. Spork it is.:
It was the obvious question, so Dave asked it. “How do you know so much about our world?”
:I read a lot.:
“How. I mean how do you turn the pages?”
The Companion gave him a very long look. :E-book. Next question?:
Dave looked at his notes, momentarily off stride. “Umm, yeah. Lessee. Okay. But magic eventually came back, right?”
:It never really left. We just sort of locked it out of Valdemar until we were ready . . . until our hands were tipped anyway. Magic had grown more wild and more dominant among people who were wild anyway and didn’t care about consequences. So, we brought it back . . . in a way that shaped it as a tool we could use. It was a tool, a weapon, but secondary to the Herald/Companion team. That remains the core of what we bring to the fight. The wildness of the magic brought under the control of the Herald, under discipline, not competing with it.:
“You said there were two reasons.”
:Yes, with the Herald Mages underfoot, we had an internal elite . . . it got to the point where being a Herald wasn’t quite good enough. There was something a notch higher, a Herald Mage, that you were either born with or not. A lot of people thought it was descended from the male line, so every HM who peed standing up was hip deep in noblewomen ready to breed their own mageling on the spot . . . and not a few noble husbands looking the other way.
:It created real problems within the Heralds, and not the least when the sovereigns saw their magecraft dim, those that had them. There were even whispers among the nobility that not only should heraldry be a condition of sovereignty, that magery should be as well. We were well shut of it.
:Now, it’s good enough to just be a Herald. Those that have magecraft now have an extra weapon, but that’s all.:
“Umm, Okay, then. Internal elites. Let me write that one down.” Dave tapped his pencil against his jaw, the way he had seen reporters do when they were going to ask a thoughtful question. “Okay, then. What about all of the bratty nobles. Every book has at least one. Aren’t they an elite?”
:Same deal, really. Valdemar is an old-fashioned monarchy, common people, nobles, honcho. Garden variety. None of that “constitutional” business. The sovereign’s is absolute but is subject to outside interests. The nobility forms the foundation of the power of the sovereign . . . and that foundation can shift when interests diverge.:
“Oh, that’s crass.” Dave said.
:It’s pragmatic. The Companions are the mortar that holds the foundation of the kingdom together . . . there isn’t a noble family that can’t count exactly the number of Heralds in their ancestry and exactly how many the other noble families have had.:
“So, if someone gets crosswise with the monarchy, then no more Heralds?” :Not exactly, more to say that if you stray too far from the ideals of Baron Valdemar . . . but it’s sufficient that the major Houses are unlikely to take the chance. So, it amounts to the same thing.:
“Wow. Good old fashioned interest politics.”
:Is there any other kind?:
“Now who’s being cynical?”
:Think it through . . . where does succession lie?:
Dave considered a moment, walked back to the car and opened the trunk. He pulled out a marked-up DAW copy out of the cardboard box that served as his filing cabinet. He tucked his notepad into his pants pocket. He riffled through pages. “Sovereign and consort are both Heralds?”
:And?:
“The only way your family gets a shot at being in the royal bed is to be a Herald.”
:Yes. The system is very stable, Sovereign to Heir, to Sovereign to Heir. All in neat succession . . . with the distaff side coming usually from the noble houses, so each major family has an equal shot. No pun intended.:
“Okay, so much for the heroics, then. It’s all about maintaining social order.”
:That’s one reason why is called “Being Chosen,” Dave, and not “Being Random.” Every Choosing serves a larger purpose.:
“Okay, then, I’ll bite. What’s with all the orphans, sneak thieves, and wretched refuse that get pretty ponies?”
:Well, Dave, it’s one part literary convention . . . who wants to read about a bunch of rich kids who get all the prizes? You can get that on the news.:
“I thought you said it was history?”
:Of course, Dave. The woman has to eat, and pure history is pretty dry. Why not sex it up a bit? Doesn’t take much. Some literary conventions are pretty darned universal. Noble falling on his fundament and getting his comeuppance, usually at the hands of poor but proud girl, who flummoxes him all before they fall in love and get married . . . snooty rich girl meets poor guy with heart of gold. Same tale, reverse the genitalia for
