"It seems that his—outbreaks—occur when he undergoes great emotional stress. Therefore I suggest to you that you leave the guards on him, but instruct them to quickly remove anyone who seems to be causing this boy such stresses before they trigger another incident." Theran and his Herald exchanged a brief look (barely more than a flicker of amusement) as Captain Telamaine sighed with relief. This was something that the Guard could accomplish, and having a task defined evidently made him feel that he had some control over the situation. And without a doubt, Theran had been well aware of this before he even began issuing his edicts and orders.
Theran continued gravely, now giving his attention to his Seneschal. "His Companion also tells us, after minute examination of his memories, that the boy had no intention of killing or even seriously injuring his persecutors. We must also believe this, and thus, in a very real sense, what happened after that was an accident in truth." Theran waited, and this time it was the Seneschal who objected with a raised finger.
"You only said seriously injure—" he protested, his hair standing on end from his ceaseless toying with it, giving him the look of a frazzled heron. "So the boy was willing to hurt them!"
Theran snorted; his long friendship with his Seneschal allowed him to handle the man differently than the Guard Captain. "Oh, come now, Greeley! The boy had been beaten to a pulp, slammed into walls, and they'd started flogging him! What do you expect? It would take a saint or a martyr to be forgiving under that sort of circumstance, and although I do require many things of my Heralds, I do not require them to be more than human! Of course he wanted to hurt them! So would you, so would I, and so would any other man. If these juvenile tyrants weren't already out of my jurisdiction, I would be doing significantly more than merely hurting them, and with a certain grim pleasure, might I add! I am sorely tempted to administer a little royal justice to the ones that didn't die!"
Seneschal Greeley ran his hands one more time through his tousled hair, sighed, and shrugged, seeing the justice in the King's statement.
"Now, lastly, the point is that Kalira Chose this boy. Of all things, we must believe that where Companion's Choice is concerned, Companions are the final authority." He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts—or perhaps, consulting with his own Companion. "Given that, what are we to do with this boy, if not to accept that, and accept him into the Collegium for proper training? Kalira has no intentions of repudiating him. Are we to try and forcibly separate them? I submit that this would be the worst idea yet. Are we to banish them to some remote place? That accomplishes nothing, and leaves the boy untutored, uncounseled, undisciplined. That is an idea as poor as the first. So we accept him. We teach him, we make a Herald of him, we learn what he can do and we make proper use of it." King Theran stood up and swept them all with a challenge in his eyes. "That, as ever, has been and will be your duty, and it is a familiar one to all of you. And I will leave you to it."
He nodded to them all, and left the room as he had entered it, calm, strong, and utterly in control, leaving behind silence.
Finally one voice broke the silence; Herald Jedin.
"That, my friends," he said in a voice full of admiration, "is a King."
*
LAN slept through the night with a gentle murmur of reassurance accompanying his dreams. When he woke, it was to a cheerful whicker outside his window and a :Come on, lazy one, you can't lie abed forever!: in his mind. He never had a moment to doubt that this was all real; Kalira saw to that. She was a presence in his mind all night long.
When he woke, with the first morning sun streaming down outside the window, he saw her watching him from the other side of the glass. He didn't exactly leap out of bed—it was more of a crawl—but in spite of what had happened last night, he was still stronger than yesterday. The first thing he did as soon as he got to the other side of the room was to open the window so that Kalira could put her head inside. Throwing his arms around her neck, he put his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, reveling in the mere fact of her presence for a long, blissful moment.
:Do you know how wonderful you are?: he asked her silently, already at ease with this strange form of communication, perhaps because it was with her. Already it was easier than talking aloud; instinctive and comfortable.
:Silly boy,: she replied affectionately. :I'm neither more nor less wonderful than any other Herald or Companion.:
He didn't argue with her; he didn't exactly have a basis for comparison. :All I know is that you are the most marvelous person I've ever known.:
She whickered a chuckle and rubbed her muzzle against his cheek. :And I feel the same about you.: She cocked her head to the side, and her eyes twinkled merrily. :Convenient, isn't it?:
He had to laugh at that, and she shook her head, tossing her mane. :Well, what are they going to do to me today?: he asked her, certain that she would know.
:Pol and Satiran will be coming for you in a little. You should be ready for them,: she suggested. Loath though he was to take his arms from around her neck, he acknowledged the wisdom of her suggestion, and pulled reluctantly away.
This time he dressed himself, though his hands shook and his knees trembled with weakness. When one of the young Healer-Trainees, a pretty little chestnut-haired girl with a lithe graceful figure, entered with his breakfast, she looked blankly at first at the empty bed, then when he moved a little, her heart-shaped face betrayed her surprise to see him sitting at the open window.
"You don't need any help, then?" she said, her surprise turning into a smile. "Good for you!" She brought the tray to him and set the tray down on the window seat beside him, and he saw that she had eyes of mingled green and brown. "You'll be seeing my father in a bit, after he talks with your Healer. You're going to be a bit more complicated to settle in than most Trainees."
"Your father?" Lan asked, and then managed to put two and two together. "You mean that Herald that was here last night is your father?"
She dimpled charmingly. "Oh, I'm afraid so; Herald Pol is my father. It does get rather trying, sometimes, having a father who can keep track of you no matter where you go. I'm Healer-Trainee Elenor, temporarily at your service." She bobbed an impudent curtsy. "My mother is Healer Ilea, but she's in service on the Southeast Border right now. At least I don't have both parents hovering over me all the time!"
Lan smiled tentatively at her; he wasn't exactly used to having pretty girls dimple at him, but it was a pleasant experience. She looked to be just about his age, which probably meant she was a great deal farther along in her studies than he. "When did you start here? How long are you going to be a Trainee?" he asked.
"Oh, I've been a Trainee for more than five years, but I won't be one for much longer. Maybe a year," she told him with great confidence, looking around, then seating herself on the edge of the bed. "I don't know how long you'll be one; I suppose it will depend how much you already know. A lot of the Heraldic Trainees arrive here barely able to read and write, so the classes are all planned around that eventuality. Most of them aren't Chosen until they're twelve or thirteen, and they generally get their Whites by eighteen no matter how little they knew before they got here."