But the first Healer he ran into was a very familiar face, and one he had not expected to see tending to the wounded.
"Crathach!" he exclaimed, and seized the man's arms, grasping him by the elbows with both hands. "But—Talamir—"
"Come see for yourself," the Healer said, taking him by the elbow. Crathach led him out of the ranks of the Healers' tents, and into the ring of command tents. Alberich could not help but notice some gaps, where tents had been—and felt a stab in his heart.
But one tent still stood. Crathach led him to it. As with many tents used by Heralds, it was fully large enough for a Companion to fit inside, for Heralds sometimes preferred to know that their partners were as comfortable as they were. Inside, Talamir lay quietly in his cot, and lying beside him on a worn, rag rug was a Companion.
For one moment, Alberich's heart stopped. There was only one Companion that had that special look, that faint aura of otherworldliness—
Taver?
He stopped himself from blurting it just in time. The Companion lifted his noble head, and looked into his eyes.
:Not Taver, Weaponsmaster. I am Rolan.:
"Your pardon," Alberich murmured, a little unnerved.
The Queen's Own's new Companion nodded his acceptance of the apology. :It was a natural thought, and no harm was done. I am pleased to see you. We will probably be seeing a great deal of each other in the future, but if you will forgive me, I have my charge to tend for now.: The Companion turned his gaze back toward the quiet figure on the cot.
Talamir no longer looked like a corpse, but he had aged, and aged greatly, in—what? Less than two days? He had looked no older than Sendar, middle-aged at worst, before the battle; now he looked old, thin and worn-out with long struggle, his face etched with lines of pain. And he looked fragile. Alberich felt his heart wring with pity, and wondered if, perhaps, it would have been better for him if he'd been allowed to die.
But that was not his decision to make—
Vkandis be thanked.
Crathach tugged at his sleeve, and they left the tent to the Companion and his charge. "He did what I could not," Crathach said. "How he got here in so little time—well, I can't guess. But he did what I couldn't. I could only hold him just out of reach of death's gate; Rolan dragged him back to life, then full awareness, and made him stay."
"He has awakened, then?" Alberich asked, still in a murmur, with a glance back at the tent.
"Several times. He's quite sane, now, and he doesn't seem to want to die, but he's fragile, Alberich, very fragile. I've told the Queen that he's not to do much for a while, and she agrees." Crathach tilted his head to one side, and gave him a penetrating look.
"Hmph." Alberich traded him look for look. "Then, until you say, so shall I sit upon him, if need be."
"I knew I could count on you." Crathach slapped him on the back. "Now, I think the Queen wants you."
"So I believe, and I shall my leave take of you." He hoped Crathach would say something that might give him a clue to the Queen's mood.
But Crathach didn't seem to have any more idea than he did. "Ever since Rolan arrived, I've been too busy to go near the command tent," he replied and sighed. "And at the moment, my services as a Healer are in far more demand than those as a bodyguard."
Alberich grimaced. "Wish I could, that otherwise it were."
Crathach nodded. "And I. It is good to be able to use one's Gifts, but—" He could only shrug helplessly.
They parted then, but having seen Talamir alive, if not exactly well, Alberich's heart felt a little lighter.
But now it was time to face the Queen. And he was not looking forward to that. For no matter what Myste said, he was not at all sanguine about his reception. Surely Selenay would never want to see his face again, after what he'd done to her. If nothing else, she would never forgive him from keeping her away from her father's side, and who could blame her?
Probably she wanted to see him only so that she could tell him she wanted him to return immediately to Haven and confine himself to the salle from now on....
It was in this mood that he presented himself at the command tent.
The guards—his choice, he saw, with pride—let him past. He tried to slip in unnoticed, but Keren spotted him, and bent down to whisper in Selenay's ear. She looked up sharply.
"Herald Alberich—" she said.
Silence descended like a warhammer.
He cleared his throat awkwardly. "You summoned me, Majesty."
"I did. Come here, Herald Alberich." Queens did not say "if you please." Queens issued orders, and their subjects obeyed. As did he. He made his way between two ranks of officials and highborn who parted to let him pass, thanking his luck that the tent was not all that large, for to have to pass a gauntlet of only a double-handful of watchers was bad enough. She was sitting in her father's chair, at his table, and she watched him with a measuring gaze as he approached.
"Don't kneel," she said sharply, as he started to bend. "And look at me." She tilted her head to one side and looked him up and down. "You've gone back to your shadow-Grays, I see. Good; if you've no objection, except when we need you in Whites for—ah—formal occasions, I should like you to keep to them. It will serve very well to make it clear that while you are taking Talamir's place for some little while, you are not the Queen's Own."
He blinked. Surely he had not heard that correctly. "Majesty?" he faltered. "I am—what?"
"Crathach tells me that Talamir will not be fit for duty for a while. Until he is, I wish you to take his place, here, at my side." She smiled wanly. "At least until you resume your duties at the Collegium, that is. Crathach thinks Talamir will be ready by the time we reach Haven. I should like Keren to go back to what she does best in my bodyguard; meanwhile I need someone here beside me in the capacity of adviser as well as guard, someone with a level head who knows when his Queen needs to be dragged out of her saddle and sat upon."
"Yes, Majesty," he managed, and changed places with Keren, who looked only too happy to relinquish her position.
She resumed the business that he had interrupted, which seemed to concern those enemy fighters who had thrown down their weapons and scattered. Some of them, it was thought, had come north rather than south, and were trying to hide themselves in Valdemar.
There were several arguments ongoing as to the best way to hunt them down; brutal, savage plans, most of them. Apparently it was not enough that the entire command structure had been wiped out. There were plenty who wanted every single person who had so much as carried a bucket for the Tedrels hunted out and strung up on the nearest branch high enough to haul them off the ground, and the corpses left to hang there until they rotted away.
Selenay listened impassively until the various angry speeches had been made, then looked at Alberich.