The Bard stared at him, his eyes wide and frightened, his face pale as skimmed milk. “W-what did y-you do th-that for?” he whispered, looking at Vanyel as if he expected the Herald to lash out at him next.
“I sent a message,” Vanyel said quietly. “One that can't be mistaken for anything but what it is. A challenge, and a warning. Whoever did this, whoever murdered Savil, is going to pay for it with his own life. Because this wasn't a personal vendetta; this bastard is the same one that's responsible for Kilchas' death, and Lissandra's and probably made the attempt on me as well. So it's a threat to Valdemar, and as such, I am going to eliminate the source of the threat.”
The reaction-headache hit then; he brought one hand slowly to his head and swayed a little. Stef was instantly at his side, supporting him.
He recalled the hurt in Stefen's eyes when he'd cut him off earlier, and grimaced. “Stef,” he said, awkwardly, “I'm sorry. I loved Savil, she was - she was - ” He couldn't continue; tears interrupted him.
“She was the most remarkable and sweetest old bitch the gods ever created,” Stef replied angrily, with tears in his own eyes. “There's never going to be anyone to match her. Whoever did this to her - I want his hide, too. Not as much as you do, but I want it too, and I'll do anything I can to help you get it.” He held Vanyel, half supporting him, half embracing him. “It's all right, I understand.”
Vanyel shook his aching head. “I just hope you can keep understanding, Stef,” he said through the pain, “because this isn't finished yet. It isn't even close.”
Sixteen
Vanyel had convened the entire Council as soon as he was able to speak coherently. The entire Council, including Randale, which meant that they met in his bedroom with Shavri in attendance.
Four stone walls surrounded them; like the Work Room, the Royal Bedchamber was an interior room, entirely windowless. Hard on Randi, who seldom got to see the sun anymore - but mandated by security. Assassins can't climb in the window if there aren't any windows.
The room was warm, but not stifling. For the sake of appearances, Randi had been moved from his bed to a couch, one as soft and comfortable as his bed, but with a padded back so that he could sit up with full support. The rest of the Councillors brought in chairs from the outer rooms of the suite, and arranged them around the couch with no regard for rank.
Most of them took in Vanyel's pronouncement - framed as a request-with a stunned silence.
All but the King.
“Absolutely not,” Randale said, actually sitting up in alarm. His voice sounded stronger than it had in months. Shavri paled a little and clutched the side of the couch. “We can't possibly spare you.”
“You can't afford not to let me go, Randale,” Vanyel replied tightly, keeping a rein on his temper. “Whoever this is, whatever his motive, he's been targeting Heralds, and that makes him an enemy of Valdemar. And if he can pick Herald-Mages off from outside the Border, he can pick off anyone, including you, any time he chooses.”
He'd hoped that personal threat would give the King pause, but Randale didn't hesitate a second. “That's not a factor. What is a factor is that you are the last Herald-Mage. Who's going to train the youngsters with the Mage-Gift?
Who would even know what the Mage-Gift looks like? And who is going to counter attacks by mage-craft on the Border if you aren't here?”
“To answer the last question first,” Van replied, “Heralds. 'Ordinary' Heralds. They're not only capable of it, I've managed to convince them that they can, which was no mean feat.”
“He has trained several Heralds in just that already,” Joshel said reluctantly. “And we've learned from our operatives that there aren't any mages on the Karsite side any more; at least, none with any power. After declaring magic anathema, they won't have anyone to train mages either -”
“As for the youngsters-” Van continued, grimly, “In case you hadn't noticed, no one has had any trainees with Mage-Gift for the past two years. It was never that common to begin with, and it seems to be appearing entirely in potential now.”
“Only in potential?” Shavri said, looking shocked, her glance going from Vanyel to Joshel and back again. “But - why? What's happened?”
Van shrugged, and rubbed his thumb nervously along the arm of his chair. “I don't know - but consider this - so far as I can tell, this enemy has picked Herald-Mages as his targets. What if he's been making his job easier by killing the children with the Mage-Gift before they can be Chosen? It wouldn't be that hard. All you'd have to do is wait for the Gift to manifest and send something to cause an 'accident.' No one would ever guess that the deaths were connected in any way.”
“That makes it all the more imperative that you stay -” Shavri began, her face settling into a stubborn scowl.
“That makes it all the more imperative that I go,” Vanyel countered, pounding the arm of his chair with his fist. “What am I supposed to do, tap into the nodes and sit around scanning the entire countryside, waiting for some spell or creature to target an unknown child somewhere? I don't even know if that's what's happening - and if it is, how do I stop it?” His throat tightened with grief and guilt, but he forced himself to continue. “The thing that got Savil spirited itself into the Palace, in Haven, and killed an experienced Herald-Mage under our very noses! Dear gods, she called to me for help, and I'm just down the hall from her and I was still too late to save her! How in the seven hells am I supposed to catch this enemy again when I not only don't know where and when he'll strike, but who? I have to carry the fight to him; it's the only way to neutralize him. And if we don't - he has to have a larger plan, he can't be doing this for the fun of it. Do we wait for him to be ready to make his move, or do we take him before he's ready? Which is better tactics?”
“I can't argue tactics with you, Vanyel,” Shavri said resentfully, as Randale collapsed back against his cushions, “But I can't see what good it's going to do you, us, or Valdemar to go haring off into the unknown after some nebulous enemy who may just be -”
Vanyel was about to interrupt her, when Yfandes stopped him. :Hold your temper, Van,: she said firmly. :We're behind you. And we're going to take care of this.:
We? he thought in surprise. But before he could ask her what she meant, the face of every Herald in the room went blank, and Shavri stopped in midsentence.
There was a long moment of silence, broken only by the sounds of non-Heralds stirring restlessly in their seats. The candles placed in sconces all around the room flickered only when someone moved, creating a momentary current in the air. Someone coughed uncomfortably.
:'Fandes?: Vanyel Sent :What's going on?:
::You have to go, Van,: she replied firmly. :This mage is too much of a threat. We - the Companions, I mean - have been talking it over since you decided to go after him, and we think you're right. So we're backing you. And if the others won't listen to their own Companions, they'll hear from all of us.: The overtones to her mind-voice sounded both smug and a little ominous. :We'll just see how long any of them can hold out against that.: