Magic's Price

“But what, Father?” Vanyel asked gently. “You can say what you like. I won't be offended by the truth.”

“It's just - all our lives we've been told how we can depend on the Herald-Mages, how they'll help us when we need them - then when we need them, we get told there aren't any to spare, they're all down on the Karsite Border or off somewhere else - and here one of our own is a Herald-Mage - it just goes hard.” Withen was obviously distressed, and Vanyel didn't blame him.

“But Father - you were sent help. You said so yourself. They sent you a Herald,” he pointed out.

“A Herald?” Within scoffed. “What good's a plain Herald? We needed a Herald- Mage!”

“Did you give her a chance?” Vanyel asked, quietly. “Or did you just assume she couldn't be of any help and lead her around like a child until she was convinced there wasn't any real need for her?”

“But - she was just a Herald -”

“Father, nobody is 'just' a Herald,” Vanyel said. “We're taught to make the best of every ability we have - Heralds and Herald-Mages. The only difference in us is the kinds of abilities we have. She would have done exactly as you did. She probably would have been able to help you, if you'd given her the chance. She wouldn't have been able to invoke a spell and destroy the creatures for you, but it's quite probable a Herald-Mage wouldn't have been able to either. I have no doubt she could have found the ones in hiding, perhaps, or uncovered their weaknesses. But you didn't give her a chance to find out what she could do.”

“I suppose not,” Withen said, after a moment. “I - don't suppose that was very fair to her, either.”

Vanyel nodded. “It's true, Father. There aren't enough Herald-Mages. I'm afraid to tell you how few of us there are. I wish there were more of us, but there aren't, and I hope when you are sent help next time, you won't think of that help as 'just' a Herald.”

“Because that's the best help Haven can give us,” Withen concluded for him.

But he didn't look happy. And in a way, Van understood. But there was that stigma again - ”just” a Herald - when there were Heralds who had twice the abilities of some of the Herald-Mages he'd known.

It was a disturbing trend - and unfortunately, one he had no idea how to reverse.

“Father, which would you rather have in a pinch - a Herald with a very strong Gift, a Gift that's exactly the kind of thing you need, or a Herald-Mage who may be able to do no more than you could on your own?” He paused for effect. “There have been no few Herald-Mages killed down on the Karsite Border precisely because they were mages, and because of that they tried to handle more than they were capable of. If I were spying on the enemy, I'd rather have a strongly Mindspeaking Herald doing it for me than a Herald-Mage who has to send up a flare of mage-fire when he needs to talk! If I were hunting up magical creatures, I'd rather have a Herald with powerful FarSight than a weak Herald-Mage who'd light up like a tasty beacon to those creatures every time he uses his magic.”

“I never thought about it that way,” Withen mumbled. “But still -”

“Please do think about it, Father,” Van urged. “And please talk to others about it. Valdemar is short of friends and resources these days. We have to use everything we can, however we can. You have a powerful influence on the way people think in this area -”

“I wish your brother thought that,” Withen mumbled, but he looked pleased.

“If you decide that I'm right, you can make an enormous difference in the way things are handled the next time. And that just may save you a great deal, including lives.”

Withen sighed, and finally met his eyes. “Well, I'll think about it, son. That's all I'll promise.”

Which is about as much of a concession as I'm ever likely to get out of him. “Thank you, Father,” he said, hoping it would be enough. “That's all I can ask.”

Dinner proved to be entertaining and amazingly relaxing. Only the immediate family and important household members assembled in the Great Hall anymore - there wasn't room for anyone else.

Vanyel was partnered with the priest who had replaced the late, unlamented Father Leren; a young and aggressive cleric with a thousand ideas whose fervor was fortunately tempered with wit and a wry good sense of humor. The young man was regrettably charismatic - before the meal was over, Van found he'd been lulled into agreeing to broach a half dozen of those ideas to his father.

Treesa had kidnapped Stef and enscounced him at her side, with herself and Withen between the Bard and Vanyel. Since that was pretty much as Van had expected things would go, he ignored Stefs mute pleas for help throughout the meal. Given how much effort he'd been going to in order to avoid the less platonic of Stefs continued attentions, he found it rather amusing to see the Bard in the position of “pursued.”

Immediately following dinner, Withen claimed his son for another conference. This time it included Withen,