Joshel shook his head at that point. “All right,” he said aloud, breaking the silence so suddenly that the non- Heralds started. He gave Vanyel a long-suffering look. “I don't know how you managed this,” he told the dumbfounded Herald-Mage, mixed admiration and annoyance in his expression, “I've never heard of all the Companions uniting to back a Herald against King and Council before. I hope you're right, Vanyel Ashkevron - and I hope this isn't going to be too much for even you to handle.”
One by one the others gave in, Shavri the last, possibly because Shavri's bond with her Companion was the weakest.
But finally even she acquiesced, though not happily. “I hope you're satisfied, Herald Vanyel,” she said, on the verge of tears. “I thought you were our friend -”
The others of the Council looked uneasy, embarrassed, or both, at this display of “womanly vapors.” Vanyel, who knew it was more than that, dared not waver from his resolve. He knew why she was trying emotional blackmail; she was afraid for Randale and Jisa, but there was too much riding on this for him to allow her to manipulate his feelings for her, Randi, and their daughter.
“I am, Shavri. But Valdemar comes first, you know that as well as I do,” he replied coolly, bringing home to her the same lesson he'd given Randale years ago.
“Then how
“Because I
“And what if he k-k-kills you?” Shavri said miserably. “What will protect us then?”
“Shavri,” he said, leaning toward her and catching and holding her gaze, “If I die, I'll either take him with me, or leave him so crippled he'll be no threat. So help me, I will protect Valdemar with my last breath, and if there is a way to protect her after my death, I'll find it!”
He stared into her eyes for a long moment, during which no one seemed to breathe. Then he sat back, breaking the spell himself. “But I don't intend to die,” he said, with a grim smile. “I intend to find this bastard, and make him pay for what he did to Savil and the others. And if I have your permission to do so -?”
Randale nodded wearily. “There doesn't seem to be much choice in the matter,” the King said. “For what it's worth, you have the permission of Crown and Council.”
Vanyel stood, and bowed with deliberate grace to all of them. “I'm sorry if you feel that your decision has been forced,” he said, “But I can't feel sorry that you came to it. Valdemar is more important than any one man, however powerful he seems to be. Thank you; I'll be leaving in the morning. Treven is ready to take full responsibilities as Randale's proxy and the Heir, Joshel knows how to contact my operatives in Karse, and Tantras can take over everything else I've been doing, just as he's done in the past.” He looked around at the various faces of the Councillors, his father included. “I'm not indispensable, you know,” he finished quietly. “No one is. You're all the most capable people I know, and if there's safety for anyone in this realm, it's in your hands, not mine, ultimately.
And with that, he turned and left the room before anyone else could break down-including himself.
Stefen slipped inside Vanyel's door and shut it behind him, quietly. Van was beside the bed, neatly folding clothing and stowing it away in his travel-packs. While he did not look up from his packing, Stefen knew that Vanyel was well aware he'd come in.
Stef bit his lip, unable to think of how to start, what to say. Vanyel continued to ignore his presence, perhaps hoping that Stef would become discouraged and leave. The silence lengthened, as Stefen's palms grew sweaty and his throat tighter and tighter. Finally he blurted out the first words that came into his head.
“Stef,” Van said without turning around, “I can't take you with me, you know that.” He sounded as distant and cold as if he were on the moon.
“Why not?” Stefen asked, around the lump in his throat. He was well aware that his words were very similar to what might be coming out of a petulant adolescent, and too anxious to care. “You're not going into Rethwellan
