Magic's Promise

Tashir shook his head, and Vanyel plowed on before anyone could stop him. 'First Councilor and Chamberlain, Herald Lores. Second Councilor and Seneschal, Kaster Ashkevron. He's Meke's right hand, Father, and he's Meke's accountant. Any objections so far?'

Withen snapped his mouth shut on whatever he was going to say, and shook his head.

'Right. Third Councilor, have somebody sent over from your local temple - pick a scholar. Fourth Councilor, the current Chief Elder of Highjorune. Fifth Councilor - huh. You'll need a Marshal, a good military advisor, I would think. Jervis.'

'Huh?' Jervis responded, 'I what?'

'He'll be very good,' Vanyel continued before he could object, 'and Radevel is certainly capable of taking over here as armsmaster. And since you're a bachelor, you'll need a Castelaine - otherwise you're never going to have cooked meals or clean shirts.' He went blank for a moment-until his eyes fell on Melenna.

' 'Lenna?'

She jumped.

'Think you'd be able to keep Tashir in roasts, herbs, and clean linen?'

'Me?' she squeaked. 'Me? Castelaine?'

'Of course, there's a catch.' Vanyel was beginning to enjoy this. 'You'll have to be ennobled, but Randi did give me full powers.' He saw with a hidden smile that Tashir was beginning to look happier. Melenna had stood up for him once already and she was the mother of his good friend Medren - two points already in her favor, at least in his eyes.

'But - but I - but I don't know a thing about - '

'B-beanshucks,' Withen rumbled, changing his epithet in mid-syllable. 'You've been doing Castelaine duty here for years. Treesa'll have vapors, of course.'

Savil interrupted him. 'Let her have vapors. If she doesn't want to mind Forst Reach, let Meke's lady deal with it. I know young Roshya. She's a bright little thing, and I know she's been properly trained. That's one of your worst problems here, Withen - too many trained hands and not enough jobs for them.'

Melenna turned anxious eyes toward Vanyel. 'Herald Vanyel? Do you think that I - could-'

'I think you'll do just fine. Now - does that solve all the problems?'

Because I'm about to run out of brilliant ideas, energy, and the ability to hold off pain.

'I think so,' Savil replied. 'I think we can start off by collecting Kaster and showing Tashir something of what he'll be dealing with.'

'You won't need me, will you?' Jervis asked suddenly.

''Probably not - at least not for a while.''

'Then I need a word or two with young Van here. Could you send to fetch me when you need me?'

Savil raised one eyebrow, but nodded.

The mob left, and Vanyel sagged as Jervis put a pitcher down on the table before him.

'Gods. That was a hell of a way to spend my first day out of bed.' He cast a wistful glance at the pitcher. 'I don't suppose that's wine, is it?' The Healer, used to fighters, who would use the infirmary as a good place to hold an impromptu party, had forbidden him wine. He was getting very tired of cider.

Besides, the drugs the Healer had given him were too strong. He wasn't taking them except to sleep, and the pain-dulling effects of alcohol would have been welcome.

'Well-cider,' Jervis said slyly, 'and help.' He reached inside his jerkin and held up a little bottle of apple brandy. 'Couldn't get wine past that snoop, but I could this. Figured you could use it. Little bird told me you probably weren't taking those pills.'

He poured a generous dollop of brandy into each mug before adding the cider; Vanyel accepted his gratefully. 'What little bird?'