Magic's Price

Vanyel raised his head tiredly. “What -” he began.

“You're not goin' past me in that state, Herald,” growled the guard, a tough-looking woman who reminded Van of his own sister, Lissa. “Old man like you should know better than to -”

Old man? He shook his head so that his hood fell back, and she stopped in midsentence, her mouth falling open.

“If there were any flies to catch,” he said, with tired good humor, “you'd be making a frog envious.”

She shut her mouth with an audible snap.

“Beg your pardon, milord Vanyel,” she said stiffly. “Just saw the white in your hair, and -”

“You did quite right to stop me, my lady,” he replied gently. “I'm obviously not thinking, and it's from cold and exhaustion. We're far from infallible - someone had better watch out for us. Now what were you planning on doing with me - aside from telling me what a fool I was to be out in this muck?”

“I was goin' to give you a blanket to wrap up in,” she said hesitantly. “Make you take off that soggy cloak. Gods, milord, it looks like you're carryin' half the road-muck 'twixt here and the Border on you.”

“I think we are, but the Palace isn't far, and that's where we're heading,” he said. “I think we can make it that far.” He managed a real smile, and she smiled back uncertainly.

“If you say so, milord.” She took her hand off Yfandes' rein, and stepped aside; he rode back out into the cold and snow.

But at least within the city walls they were sheltered from the wind. And it wasn't that far to the Palace. . . .

He must have blanked out for a while; a common enough habit of his, when he knew he was in relatively safe, but uncomfortable surroundings-riding on a patrolled road in the dead of winter, or waiting out an ambush in the pouring rain, for instance. The next thing he knew, he was in the dry and heated warming shed beside the stable; one of the grooms was at his stirrup, urging him to dismount.

:'Fandes?: he queried.

She turned her head slowly to stare at him, blinking. :Oh. We're home. I must have-:

:You did the same thing I did; the minute we crossed inside the city we went numb. Get some rest, love. I'm going to do the same as soon as I make my report.:

“Get her closer to the heat,” he told the groom, dismounting with care for his bruises. The warming shed was heated by a series of iron stoves, and on very cold nights, the door into the stable would be left open so that the heat would carry out into the attached building. “Get her dry, give her a thorough grooming, then a hot mash for her supper.”

:Bless you.:

“Put two blankets on her, and take that tack away. It needs a complete overhaul.” He took the saddlebags from the cantle and threw them over his shoulder, mud and all.

“Anything else, milord?” the groom asked, eyes wide with surprise at his state.

“No,” Vanyel said, and dredged up another smile. “Thank you. I'm a little short on manners. I think they froze somewhere back about a candlemark ago.”

:Where are you going?: Yfandes asked, as she was being led away.

:To my room long enough to change, then to report,: he told her. :Check with the others and tell me if Randi's holding Audience today, would you?:

:He is,: she replied immediately. :Stefs with him.:

:Good. Thank you. Go get some rest, you deserve it.: He found a little more energy somewhere, and quickened his steps toward the door.

:So do you, but you won't take it,: she replied with resignation. Van sent her a tired but warm mental hug.

He strode out into the snow, which was coming down so thickly now that it completely hid the Palace from where he stood :I'II take it, love. Later. Randi's good hours are too rare to