:Yes, and with your permission, I should like to examine you as well, young Trainee,: Rolan told him gravely, with a slow swish of his braided tail. :I mean no disrespect to you or to Kalira, but I wish to be able to assure my Chosen, and thus every Herald in the Circle, that your power, though dangerous, is under control.:
He sighed, a little bitterly. "Even if the control isn't mine."
:That is hardly your fault,: the stallion replied instantly. :Your Gift was forced to ripeness, in order to defend itself and you. In a better world, you would have felt it slowly, slowly, stir; in four or five moons, as you began to feel that something odd was happening to you, Kalira would have come for you, and you would have had your Gift come upon you here, and after Pol had identified what it was.: Rolan sighed gustily, and Kalira echoed him, her flanks heaving under Lan's legs. :It is not a better world, and we must deal with things as they are. May I?:
Belatedly, Lan realized that Rolan was waiting for his answer. He could say no, but why should he? Actually, he felt rather better about the Companion rummaging around in his head than some strange Herald. And at least Rolan had asked permission first. "Go ahead," he replied.
He didn't know what to expect; what happened was the oddest sensation of having someone actually in his head with him, taking control of what he was thinking. He was whisked along at blinding speed through his own thoughts and memories; he didn't even have time to identify what they were before being flown through the next.
It happened so quickly that before he had quite grasped what was happening, it was over.
He shook his head dizzily, clutching Kalira's mane, the world trying to spin with him as the center.
:My apologies,: Rolan said, as his head steadied and the Grove stopped rotating. :Some effects are unavoidable. Thank you; you have allowed me to confirm Kalira's judgment and Choice. That can only be good for all of us.:
"I hope so," he sighed. "I really hope so."
Unexpectedly, Rolan took a pace forward, and briefly touched Lan's leg with his nose. :It is hard, having to prove yourself over and over, I know,: the Companion said sympathetically. :Please remember, when this happens so often you are sick of it—you will never have to prove yourself to us. Come to the Grove or the stables, and you will be surrounded by no one but friends.:
Lan looked down into Rolan's eyes, a much deeper sapphire than Kalira's sky-blue, and was moved for a moment almost to tears by the Companion's extraordinary promise. "Thank you," he said softly aloud, "I will."
He hadn't noticed another person had entered the Grove until a severe-looking, raven-haired man actually walked up and placed his hand on Rolan's shoulder. "Let's hope Rolan never has to make good on that promise," the Herald said, his lips slowly curving into a smile. "If I have my way about it, he never will." He held out his hand to Lan, who accepted it; the Herald's grip was firm without being intimidating. "I'm Jedin, and I'm pleased to meet you in person, Lavan."
It broke on Lan at that moment that the man who was shaking his hand was the King's Own Herald—the third most important person in the entire Kingdom! No wonder he looked as if that severe expression was habitual. "I—the—the honor is mine, sir," he stammered out.
Jedin's smile widened. "Not that much of an honor, I assure you. Plenty of people will tell you that they'd much prefer to see rather less of me than more. Did you realize that along with one rare Gift, you have a second?"
Lan shook his head, unable to think of anything that would pass for a Gift.
"You have the ability to inspire Companions to not only trust you, but to leap to your defense without ever actually meeting you themselves." Jedin raised one eyebrow. "I wish I knew why, but there you have it."
Kalira looked innocent; Rolan enigmatic. Lan could only shrug helplessly. "I don't know, sir," he said, as honestly as he could. "It doesn't make any sense to me."
"Hmm." There was a look in Jedin's eyes that made Lan want to squirm, a look that suggested that even though Lan didn't know any reason why the Companions should offer their friendship and defense, Jedin could think of one or two.
"Well, you'll have some learning to do before we find out, anyway," Jedin said after a pause. "And we two have some exercising to do, if we aren't to get fat and ugly." He slapped Rolan on the shoulder, and the Companion neighed laughter.
:Too late,: Rolan taunted, as Jedin put both hands on Rolan's back and vaulted into place without having to use anything to help him. :You're already ugly.:
Without waiting to hear Jedin's reply, the Companion cantered off under the trees.
"Were we supposed to hear that?" Lan asked aloud, a little aghast.
:We aren't horses, but we aren't some sort of heavenly creatures either, my love,: Kalira told him, moving out of the Grove in a slightly different direction. :We're a lot like our Heralds.:
It seemed that every passing candlemark brought another surprise or revelation; a breaking of one assumption, the bending of another. He wondered if he'd ever get used to it. Or would things settle down as he began to learn what life as a Herald would really be like, past the tales and the blaze of silver-and-white uniforms, the dazzle of Companions?
:You aren't the only case of bad timing right now,: Kalira went on as they came out of the trees and within sight of the stables. :Just the more serious of the two. Lada is in foal, and had to go after her Chosen with less than two moons to go. Poor things! Lada is probably going to drop tonight, and Wrenlet hasn't been here more than a fortnight! They're both going to have a bad night, I think. The stable has fireplaces, but it's drafty, and Lada's a bit on the small side. They'll be up all night at the least.:
"Is Lada's Chosen going to wait out the night with her?" he asked, all sympathy, for he had once taken foal-watch on one of his ponies.
:Oh, yes; how could she not?:
"That's a good point." He remembered how he'd felt about it, nervous, anxious, excited, and afraid—and that had just been a pony! He couldn't imagine how wrought up he'd be if it was Kalira who was going to drop a foal! He'd be worse than any anxious father in a joke!
:Well, you won't have to worry about that with me; I never saw a stallion worth going through that for,: Kalira said lightly, easing the sudden surge of anxiety the thought provoked. :Now if you were a stallion, I might consider it, but not for anyone else in the herd.:
He blushed, pleased and embarrassed, but not sure why. "Not even Rolan?" he ventured.
:Not even Rolan,: she replied firmly. He felt absurdly pleased by that, though he had no idea why he should be, and he held that feeling close inside to keep him warm as he walked through the chilling wind back to the Collegium.