Tears burned his eyes. "But -"
“Stop that. I knew you'd take it that way, that's why I asked - Her - Lady Death - to let me see you. It's not your fault. Now listen to me, neither of us have much more time."
"The Web - you're the Northern Guardian -"
"Exactly. You'll have to take my place. More than that, remember what you were thinking earlier? About making all the Heralds the power source? Do that, Van. Figure out how." Jaysen squeezed his hand urgently. "It's important. Figure out how to change the Web-spell so that it doesn't need Guardians anymore, just the Heralds themselves. You're the only one of us that can do that. I'm charging you with that, Van."
He nodded, and met Jaysen's eyes evenly. "I promise."
"I -" Jaysen's eyes softened for a moment. "There's something else. She told me I could tell you. Maybe it'll help. She said you won't be alone."
He released Vanyel's hand, and stepped backward, already beginning to fade.
"She promised, Van. And I promise."
Then he was falling, falling -
For a confused moment after he opened his eyes, he thought that the slumped form in Whites in the chair beside his bed was the Messenger -
But his hiss of pain as he tried to move woke the other, and he saw that it was a mortal and a friend, after all.
"Tran?" he whispered. "Tantras? What are you -"
Tantras' face was lined with exhaustion, and his eyes were red with weeping.
"Van, I have to tell you -"
"We lost Jays," he whispered, remembering, feeling the emptiness.
Oh, gods - He was not aware that he was weeping until a sob shook him and made him gasp with pain.
Tantras just handed him a square of linen, and, moving to sit gingerly on the side of the bed, held him until exhaustion left him no more tears to weep.
"We thought you ought to hear it from a friend," Tantras told him, helping him to lie back. "I should have known you already knew."
"How?" Vanyel whispered. "He didn't tell me how."
"He couldn't keep the Swarm off - so he and his Companion - you know better than me how that works."
"Final strike," Vanyel answered numbly. "Take your last target with you. Oh, gods - if I'd just been there."
"What good would you have done?" Tantras chided. "No one can be two places at once, Van. Not even you. Lady Bright, we came within a hair of losing you, and that's something I'd rather not think about. Lissa's Healer still doesn't know how he pulled it off. He swears he had divine help at the last moment."
Vanyel just stared at him, rinding it hard to imagine a world without Jaysen in it.
A gentle tap broke the silence between them, and a maid hurried in, face blank -
Hiding fear.
"Milord Herald-Mage?" she faltered, holding a pitcher.
Not “Vanyel, “or even “milord Van, “ he thought, with a catch in his throat. Now I terrify even the ones who grew up with me around. I'm a stranger even to my own.
"Yes, Sondri?" he said, as gently as he could.
"I brought ye summat t' drink."
"Thank you."
She left the pitcher and glass beside the bed, and hurried out.
Fear. Vanyel felt another wrench inside. And there was only one way to deal with the pain of it.
Tantras had enough Empathy to feel something of his withdrawal. "Van - " He touched Vanyel's shoulder. "Van, what are you doing?"
Van looked at him bleakly. "You saw her," he whispered. "It's just like you told me. I frighten people. And now even more than before. I wiped out the entire Mavelan family, or at least all of the ones in the meld. I had divine aid in being Healed, or at least that's what they're telling each other out there. I frightened them before, now I terrify them. It hurts, Tran. It hurts to feel that fear.''
"So you're withdrawing behind walls again." Tantras shook his head. "Van, that's not the answer."
"What is?"
Tantras only shook his head dumbly.
"At least my walls give me a little peace. And I won't wall my friends out, I promise." He tried to smile, at least a little.
"But you won't look for new friends either. Or love. Van, you're making a serious mistake."
"It's mine to make."
"I can't stay," Tantras said, after a long silence. "I have to courier messages back. I only waited to tell you."
Vanyel nodded, grief too profound to be purged with one spate of weeping rising to block his words. "Duty; we all have it. That's what kept me, Tran, that, and finally figuring out what I'm doing here. And that's what Jays died for - duty, and protecting the ones we all love." He stared at a spot on the opposite wall while his eyes burned and blurred. "Thanks for waiting to tell me."
Tantras eased off the bed, and squeezed his hand. "Rest. When there's more to tell, we'll get the word to you."
"Thank you," he murmured, closing his eyes. He heard soft footsteps crossing the floor; heard the door open and close. Then knew nothing more for a very long time.
The Healer had done his best, but the wound Father Leren's knife had left was only half healed, and still very sore. Vanyel had just discovered that getting from his bed to the chair beside his table was a sweating and pain-filled ordeal. The Healer had sternly warned him about the consequences of tearing open half-healed tissues, and Vanyel was inclined to take him very seriously, given the way he was hurting. He didn't want to make a bigger mess of his midsection than it already was. As it was, he'd have an L-shaped scar for the rest of his life. Gut wounds were definitely not on his list of favored ways to earn a little rest.
Getting dressed had been an ordeal, too, but the Healer had said he could have visitors, and he wasn't going to see them bundled in bed like an invalid.
He eased himself down into the chair with a hiss as someone knocked on the door to his room. "Come," he called, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
It was not anyone he had expected. It was Melenna.
A much subdued, sobered Melenna.
"I came to see if you were really all right," she said, shyly, “and to ask Herald Vanyel for a favor, and some advice."
Herald Vanyel. Not Van. And the fear is in her, too.
"Please, Melenna, sit down. I can't imagine why you'd want my advice, but -"
She remained standing. "Vanyel," she said softly. "You - and me. There's no hope, is there?"
He looked up, and the honest longing in her eyes made his heart go out to her, the anger and frustration of the past few weeks evaporating. The gods knew, he knew exactly how it felt to long for something you'd never have - or never have again. "I'm sorry, Melenna, but I won't lie to you. It was hopeless from the start. A woman can never be anything more than my friend. I do value you as a friend, and the mother of my very young friend Medren, but I can't offer you any more than that."