She sighed, and became a bit more civil. "Thank you, Guard. Send him and whatever damned escort he brought with him to my quarters; I'll get with them as soon as I can."
The Guard saluted and turned sharply on his heel; Savil shut the door before he finished his pivot, and turned back to her pupil.
"All right, lad, how long have we been at this?"
Tylendel draped an arm over his curly head and grinned. "Long enough for my stomach to start growling. I'm sorry, Savil, but I'm hungry. That's probably why my concentration's going."
She shook her finger at him. "Tchah, younglings and their stomachs! And just what do you plan to do if you get hungry in the middle of an arcane duel? Hmm?''
"Eat," he replied impishly. She threw up her hands in mock despair.
"All right, off with you - ah, ah," she warmed, wagging her finger at him as he made ready to dispel the barrier the quick and dirty way; by pulling the energies into the ground. "Properly, my lad - "
He bowed to her in the finest courtly manner. She snorted. "Get on with it, lad, if you're in such a hurry to stuff your face."
She Watched him carefully as he took down the barrier - properly - did so with quite a meticulous attention to little details, like releasing the barrier-energy back into the same flow he'd taken it from. She nodded approvingly when he stepped across the place where the border had been and presented himself to have the shields she'd put on him taken off.
"You're getting better, Tylendel," she said, touching the middle of his forehead with her index finger, and absorbing the shield back into herself. Her skin tingled for a moment as she neutralized the overflow. "You're coming along much faster than I guessed you would. Another year - no, less, I think - and you'll be ready to try your hand at a Border stint with me. And not much longer than that, and I'll shove you into Whites."
"It's my teacher," he replied impishly, seizing her hand and kissing it, his long hair falling over her wrist and tickling it. "How can I help but succeed in such attractive surroundings?''
She snatched her hand back, and cuffed his ear lightly. "Get on with you! Even if I wasn’t old enough to be your grandmother, we both know I'm the wrong sex for you to find me attractive!"
He ducked the blow, grinning, and pulled the door open for her. "Oh, Savil, don't you know that the real truth is that I'd lost my heart to my teacher, knew I had no hope, and couldn't accept a lesser woman than - "
"Out!" she sputtered, laughing so hard she nearly choked. "Liar! Before I do you damage!"
He ran off down the wood-paneled hallway, his own laughter echoing behind him.
She closed the Work Room door behind her and leaned against the wall, still laughing, holding her aching side. The imp. More charm than any five younglings, and all the mischief of a young cat! I haven't laughed like this in years - not the way I have since I acquired Tylendel as a protege. That boy is such a treasure - if I can just wean him out of that stupid feud his family is involved in, he'll make a fine Herald-Mage. If I don't kill him first!
She gulped down several long breaths of air, and composed herself. I'm going to have to deal with that spoiled brat of a nephew in a few minutes, she told herself sternly, using the thought to sober herself. And I haven't the foggiest notion of what to do with him. Other than have him strangled - no, that's not such a good notion, it would please Withen too much. Great good gods, the man has turned into such a pompous ass in the last few years! I hardly recognized him. That ridiculous letter a week ago could have come from our father.
She smoothed her hair with her hands (checking to see that the knot of it at the base of her neck had not come undone), tugged on the hem of her tunic, and made sure that the door of the Work Room was closed and mage-locked before heading up the hall toward her personal quarters. The heels of her boots clicked briskly against the stone of the hallway, and she nodded at courtiers and other Heralds as they passed her.
If only Treesa hadn't spoiled the lad so outrageously, there might be something there worth salvaging. Now, I don't know. I certainly don't have the time to find out for myself. Huh. I wonder - if I put the buy into lessons with the other Herald-trainees, then leave him to his own devices the rest of the time, that just might tell me something. If he doesn't turn to gambling and hunting and wild parties - (I he becomes bored with the flitter-heads in the Court -
She pushed open one half of the double doors to the new Heralds' quarters, and strode through. Her own suite was just at the far end and on the left side of the hall.
Changes, changes. Five years ago we were crammed in four to a room, and not enough space to throw a tantrum in. Now we rattle around in this shiny-new barracks like a handful of peas in a bucket. And me with a suite and not getting forlorn looks from Jays or Tantras because one of the rooms is vacant. I can't see how we'll ever get enough bodies to fill this place . . .
The door stood slightly ajar; she shoved it out of the way, and paused a few steps into her outer room, crossing her arms and surveying the trio on the couch beneath her collection of Hawkbrother featherwork masks at the end of the room.
Only one of them was actually on the couch; Vanyel. Beside him, only too obviously playing his jailers, stood a pair of Withen's armsmen. On Vanyel's right, a short, stocky man - axeman, if Savil was any judge. On his left, one about a head taller and very swarthy; a common swordsman. And Vanyel, sitting very stiffly on the edge of the couch.
Savil heaved a strictly internal sigh. Lad, a year obviously hadn't improved you except in looks - and that's no advantage. You're too damned handsome, and you know it.
Since she'd last seen him, Vanyel's face and body had refined. It was a face that could (and probably did) break hearts - broad brow, high cheekbones, pointed chin, sensuous lips - fine-arched black brows, and incredible silver eyes; all of it crowned with thick, straight, blue-black hair most women would kill to possess. The body of an acrobat; nicely muscled, if not over-tall.
And the posture was arrogant, the mouth set in sullen silence; the eyes sulky, and at the same time, challenging her.
Lord and Lady. Do I believe my fool brother, or do I take the chance that a good portion of what's wrong with the boy is due to Withen trying to mold him into his own image?
While she tried to make up her mind, she nodded at the two armsmen. "Thank you, good sirs," she said, crisply. "You have performed your duty admirably. You may go."
The taller one coughed uneasily, and gave her an uncomfortable look.
"Well?" she asked, sensing something coming-something she wasn't going to like. Something petty and small-minded -
"The boy's horse - "
"Stays, of course," she interrupted, seeing the flash of hurt in Vanyel's eyes before he masked it, and reacting to it without needing to think about which way she was going to jump.
"But, Herald, it's a valuable animal!" the armsman protested, his mouth thinning unhappily. "Lord Withen - my lord - surely you've beasts enough here - "