Magic's Promise

'Is that what I've been doing?' he asked quietly.

:Well - yes.:

'Then I should apologize. I can't afford to react automatically to things - not even in my personal life. And - gods. Not when I'm hurting people.'

A wash of relief. Then a tinge of sarcasm. :You're thinking. And about time, too. Now are you going to enjoy a long wallow in self-accusation?:

Something about the tone of her mind-voice - and the exact wording she'd used - made him pause for a moment. 'Wait a minute - let me look at this from another angle.' He made a mental checklist of all the young women Lady Treesa had pushed off on him, and what they'd done when he'd failed to succumb to their various charms. And the more he thought about I t-

'You are exaggerating, aren't you?' he accused.

:Well - yes. But the situation exists. What are you going to do about it?:

'Be careful, I suppose. But I'll have to watch what I say.'

:Good. You're still thinking.:

'The ones Mother keeps flinging at me are the hardest. If I tell them the truth, I'll hurt Father. I'll shame him, at the least. Even if I pledge them to silence, it'll get out.'

:So?:

'I don't know. But I'll think about it.'

:Now that is the Vanyel I Chose.: Her mind-voice was warm with approval :You’re not “just” reacting anymore :

'Havens, I've been going numb between the ears for the past year, haven't I?'

: Well - yes. You had reason but -

He nodded, slowly. 'This last year - I've gotten into a lot of habits.'

:Exactly. You can't let your heart or your habits control you. Not when you're who you are, and wield the power you do. Think about reacting emotionally in a battle situation. Think about even reacting reflexively, instead of tactically.: He did, and shuddered.

He always stopped at Halfway Inn - the name, he'd learned since, was a conscious pun - the hostelry that sat in the middle of the forest that cut Forst Reach off from the rest of the Kingdom.

In a way, what he had become had started here. The Inn had certainly marked his passage into a different world, though young Vanyel Ashkevron, more than half a prisoner of his escort, had not gotten the attention that Herald-Mage Vanyel got now.

It was an enormous place, and in the normal run of things very few travelers even saw the Innkeeper. A Herald was an exception. The Innkeeper himself saw to Vanyel's every whim - not that there were very many of those. The Inn was quite comfortable even for those who were less noteworthy than Vanyel.

There was less of the hero - worship here than there had been in other inns along the road. Vanyel was 'local”; everyone attached to the inn and most of those staying there knew his family, his holding. They seemed to regard him with proprietary pride rather than awe, as if the things he had done were somehow reflections on them; as if his fame brought them fame. And as if they had something to do with what he had become.

In a way, perhaps they had. If events that occurred here had not made him feel so utterly alienated from the rest of the world he might not have responded as strongly as he had to Tylendel.

He left Halfway Inn just after dawn, hoping to reach Forst Reach by early afternoon at the very latest. He had always made excellent time on this last leg of his journey every other time he'd made his trips home - though he always left much faster than he arrived. . . .

But he stopped Yfandes before they had traveled more than a candlemark, while fog still wreathed the undergrowth and it was dark beneath the silent trees. The air was damp-smelling, with the tang of rotting leaves, and a hint of muskiness. No birds sang, and nothing rustled the fallen leaves underfoot or the branches overhead. This forest was always quiet, but this morning it was too quiet,

'Something's wrong,' he said, straightening in his saddle, and pulling his cloak a little tighter around his shoulders.