Magic's Price

into a fist in front of him. “I'm Vanyel Demonsbane, and I can't even keep my parents safe in their own home, much less keep Randi alive.”

Joshe just shook his head; Vanyel could Feel the same anguish inside him, and unclenched his fist. “I'm sorry, Van. I wish I knew some answers for you. I should tell you one thing more before the Council meeting. The Heraldic Circle met today, and we're promoting Trev to full Whites.”

Vanyel felt the news like a blow to the stomach. To promote Treven so young could only mean one thing - the King had to be a full Herald, and the ForeSeers did not see Randale living through the next two years it would ordinarily take Treven to make his Whites.

Joshe nodded at Vanyel's expression. “You know what that means as well as I do,” he said, and turned back to the door to the Throne Room.

Van walked the few steps down the corridor to the Council Chamber. Unlike the rest of the Palace, this room looked, and felt, as if it were in use. Heavy use, from the look of all the papers and maps stacked neatly about, and the remains of a meal on a tray beside the door. Here, then, was where the business of the Crown was being transacted, and not the Throne Room. Evidently Audiences were just for those things Randale had to handle personally, or for edicts that needed to come from the lips of the Sovereign in order to have the required impact.

This treaty, obviously, was one of those things, which was why Tran had hustled him into the Throne Room. Randale was probably signing it now, with what there was of the Court as witness, which made it binding from this moment on.

Van took his usual seat, then slouched down in it and put his feet up on the one beside it. If Stef hasn't had a change of heart while I was gone, I could certainly use a massage, he thought wistfully. The fire in the fireplace beside him burned steadily, and the generous supply of wood beside it argued that it had become normal practice to keep the Council Chamber ready for use at a moment's notice. That was in keeping with the rest of Van's observations, so it meant that the business of the Kingdom was being conducted at any and all hours.

After being told of Treven's promotion, he wasn't surprised when the door behind him creaked open, and Treven eased into the room, wearing a brand-new set of Whites.

The youngster sat down in the chair beside Vanyel with an air of uncertainty, as if he didn't know what his welcome would be. Van watched him through half-closed eyes for a moment, then smiled.

“Ease up, Trev. We're still friends. I've come to the conclusion that you and Jisa did the right thing.”

The young man relaxed. “We've managed to convince Randale and Shavri, too,” he said. “Though Jisa and her mother came awfully close to a real fight over it. I'm still not sure how I kept them from each other's throats. Early training for diplomatic maneuvering, I guess.” He adjusted the fit of his white belt self-consciously.

“Feeling uncomfortable about that?” Van asked, gesturing at the white tunic.

Treven nodded. “I hadn't expected it quite so suddenly. I don't feel exactly like I've earned it. It feels like a cheat. And - and I don't like getting it because - because -”

The young Herald hung his head.

“I understand,” Vanyel said. “I'd think less of you if you didn't have doubts, Trev. I'll give you my honest opinion, if you want it.”

Treven grimaced. “Lady bless, that sounds like a bitter pill! Still - yes, I think so. At least I'd know what to measure myself against.”

Vanyel took his feet off the chair, and straightened his aching back before facing Treven. The young man's honest blue eyes met his fearlessly, and Vanyel felt a moment of satisfaction. There weren't many people who could meet his gaze.

“I think you were rushed into this, Trev, and we both know why. No, I don't think you're ready - quite. I think you will be when you have to be, if you don't let that uniform fool you into thinking the Whites make the Herald.”

Treven looked disappointed, and Vanyel knew he'd been hoping to be told - despite Van's warning that this would be an honest opinion - that he really was ready to be called a full Herald.

In some ways Treven was a boy still, and that had something to do with what Van had told him. He had a boy's optimism and a boy's belief in the essential fairness of the universe. This wouldn't have been a problem in an ordinary Herald - but neither belief had any place in the thinking of a Monarch. A King never assumed anything was fair; a ruler must always expect the worst and plan for it.

Treven would learn, as Randale had learned. As Jisa had learned.

As if his thought had summoned her, Vanyel felt Jisa's presence before she entered, the little mind-to-mind brush that was the Mindspeaker's equivalent of a knock.