Magic's Price

“I would say not, milady,” Stefen replied. “By this time tomorrow it'll be all over the Kingdom.”

He winked at Treven as Shavri turned back to the priest. To Van's amazement and anger, Treven winked back.

:You didn't -: he Mindsent to Jisa.

The anger in his eyes was met by matching anger in hers. :Of course we did. The first thing we did was tell the servants and two of the biggest gossips in the Court, one of whom is Stef.:

:Why?: he asked, anger amplifying his mind-voice so that she flinched. :Why? To make your mother a laughingstock?:

:No!: she flared back. :To keep you and her from finding some way to annul what we did! We thought that the more people that knew about it, the less you'd be able to cover it up.:

:The Companions spread it about, too,: Yfandes said, complacently. :I was told by Liam's Orser just as you found out.: “Dear gods,” he groaned. “It's a conspiracy of fools!”

Jisa looked hurt: Yfandes gave a disgusted mental snort and blocked him out.

Stefen stepped back a pace and straightened his back, taking on a dignity far beyond his years. “You can call it what you like, Herald Vanyel,” he said stiffly, “and you can think what you like. But a good many people think that these two did exactly the right thing, and I'm one of them.”

And with that, he turned on his heel, and followed the frantic page to the doorway at the back of the room.

As the priest nodded in satisfaction and took Shavri's arm, Vanyel threw up his hands in a gesture of defeat, and left before his tattered temper and dignity could entirely go to shreds.

As the Seneschal had pointed out, it was done, and couldn't be undone. In the week following, Shavri forgave her daughter, Jisa reconciled with Vanyel - but the Council was unlikely to accept the situation any time soon. As Stefen remarked sagely, in one of the few moments he had to spare away from Randale's side, “They'd gotten used to having a pair of pretty little puppets that danced whenever they pulled the strings. But the puppets just came alive and cut the strings - and they don't have any control anymore. Younglings grow up, Van - and when they do, it generally annoys somebody. Do you want a potential King and Queen, or a couple of rag dolls? If you want the King and Queen, you'd better get used to those two thinking for themselves, because that's what they're going to have to do.”

Vanyel hadn't expected that much sense out of Stefen - though why he should have been surprised by it after all their long talks made him wonder how well he was thinking. The young Bard was showing his mettle in the crisis; not only easing Randale's pain for candlemarks at a time, but soothing Shavri's distress and bringing about her reconciliation with Jisa and Treven. That left Van free to deal with Council, Court, and outKingdom; making decisions in Randale's name, or waiting for one of the King's coherent spells and getting the decrees from him. The two of them worked like two halves of a complicated, beautifully engineered machine, and Vanyel wondered daily how he had gotten along without Stefen's presence and talents before this. The Bard seemed always to be at the right place, at the right time, using his Gift in exactly the right way, but that wasn't all he did. He made himself indispensable in a hundred little ways; seeing that no one forgot important papers, that pages were on hand to fetch and carry, and that Shavri and Randale were never left alone except with each other. He had food and drink sent in to Council meetings; saw to it that ambassadors felt themselves treated as the most important envoys Valdemar had ever harbored.

If it hadn't been for Stefen, Vanyel would never have survived that week.

As it was, by the time the crisis was over, both of them looked like identical frayed threads.

And that was when the second shoe dropped.

Vanyel opened the door to his room, and stared in surprise at Stefen. The Bard was draped over “his” chair, head thrown back, obviously asleep. As Vanyel closed the door, the slight noise woke Stefen, who raised his head and rubbed his eyes with one hand.

“Van,” he said, his voice thick with fatigue. “S-sorry about this. Shavri sent me out; they got two Healers that can pain-block now - they finally caught the trick of it this morning.” He shifted around and grimaced as he tried to move his head. “I couldn't make it back to m'room. Too damned tired. Ordered some food for both of us and came here. Didn't think you'd mind. Do you?”

Vanyel threw himself down in the other chair and reached for a piece of cheese, suddenly ravenous. “Of course I don't mind,” he said. “But why in Havens didn't you take the bed if you were so tired.”

Stefen frowned at him. “I put you out of your bed once. I'm not going to do it again. There's your mail.” He pointed to a slim pile of letters weighed down with a useless dress-dagger. “Just came as I dozed off. Pass me some of that cheese, would you?”

Vanyel passed the plate to him absently and used the paperweight to slit the letters. He worked his way down through the pile, and then froze as he saw the seal on the last one.