Tylendel stroked his hair, his hand as light as a breath of wind. “You’ll manage, ashke.You’re stronger than you think. I sometimes think you’re stronger than I am. I doubt I could be dealing successfully with the plate you’ve been handed. And whether or not you believe this, I think I depend as much on you as you do on me. Gala says so.”
“She does?” Vanyel’s voice rose with his surprise. “Really?”
“Frequently.” He sighed, and Vanyel wondered why. There were times when it seemed that there were some serious points of disagreement between Gala and her Chosen, usually involving Tylendel’s tacit and unshakable support of his twin. Vanyel personally couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. Even if ‘Lendel hadn’thad the close bond he did with Staven, even if Wester Leshara hadn’tconnived the painful suicide of ‘Lenders mother, it would still have been his duty to support Staven. Even though Vanyel himself had a rather bitter and uncomfortable relationship with his own brother, Mekeal, if it came to an interHouse confrontation there was no doubt in his mind where hewould stand, and he knew Mekeal was likely to feel the same. And given how much Tylendel owed to his brother for supporting himin the face of all opposition - well, Vanyel couldn’t see what else he coulddo, in all decency and honor.
But then, there was a great deal about all this “Herald” business he didn’t understand. For instance -
“ ‘Lendel, if we make it that far - all the way to when you get your Whites - “
“ ‘If?’ Don’t think in terms of ‘if,’ love,” Tylendel chided, softly. “It may not be easy, but we’ll make it. Havens, I should talk about not being easy, when it’s you that is having to take the worse share on your shoulders. But I’ll help you, I’ll help you all I can, and we willsee this through to the other side.”
“Well, what’s going to happen with us? When you get your Whites and I’m of age - what then?”
There was a long pause, and Tylendel’s hand stopped moving, resting on the back of his neck. “That’s the easy part, really. First thing, you make up your mind about exactly what you want to do about Lord Withen. I mean, you could flat tell him about us, or you could just - let him find out. Whichever way you want. At that point the worst he could do is disown you, and you knoweverything I have is yours for the asking. The Circle won’t stint me; I’ll have more than enough to support two.”
“He probably will disown me,” Vanyel said bitterly. “Which will mean I’ll haveto ask, ‘Lendel.”
“So? We’re partners, aren’t we? It won’t be charity, ashke;it’ll be sharing.”
Vanyel squelched the automatic retort that it would still feellike charity. “All right, assume I’ve told my father and I’m free to do what I want. Then what?”
“After that, Savil will turn the lovebirds over to another Herald and take me - us - out on a Field assignment. Us, because obviously I won’t go without you; Savil knows that, so it’s a given. That’s a year, or thereabouts. But then - I don’t know. I’m a Herald-Mage trainee; they usually give us permanent positions rather than having us ride circuit like the straight Heralds do. They’ll probably put me either here at Haven, or out along the Border at the places where magic is needed.
Down by White Foal Pass, around the edge of the Pelagirs - “
- “Why? That’s something that has me baffled. Why?” Vanyel asked. “I mean, why are you going to do what somebody else wants? Why do you have to go where theysay? Who are‘they,’ anyway?”
“ ‘They’ - that’s the Heraldic Circle. Queen’s Own, Seneschal’s Herald, Lord-Marshal’s Herald, the speaker for the Heralds with trainees - that’s Savil - the speaker for the Herald-Mages and the speaker for the Heralds on circuit. And the Queen, of course, and the Heir. They’re the ones who decide where Heralds and Herald-Mages will serve and what they’ll do. That’s - that’s just the way it is. Van, I don’t understand younow.” There was hurt in Tylendel’s voice. “Don’t you wantto go with me?”
“Oh, gods - “ Vanyel groped for Tylendel’s free hand, and held it tightly. “ ‘Lendel, I didn’t mean that. I’d rather lose my arms and legs than lose you. I’ll go wherever you go, and glad to. I’m just trying to get all this to make sense. Whyare you doing this, going where they tell you, doing what they tell you to do? Why is this - Herald stuff - so important to you?”
Vanyel could almost feel Tylendel fumbling after the right words. “It^s, I don’t know, it’s a kind of hunger. I can’t help it. I’ve got these abilities, these Gifts, and I can’t notuse them. I couldn’t sit here, knowing that there were people out there who need exactlythe kind of help I can give them and not make the effort to find them and take care of them. It’s like backing Staven - it’s just something I could not even see myself notdoing. I can’t explain it, Van, I can’t. I have to, or - or I’m not me anymore.”
Vanyel just shook his head a little. “All right, I’ll accept that. But I still can’t really grasp it,” he confessed.
“Giving up everything to play nursemaid to a pack of people you don’t even know. Won’t you have any life of your own? Who are these hypothetical people that need you, that you’re sacrificing your whole life for them?”
“Huh,” Tylendel said, “You sound just like Stav - “
Suddenly he went rigid; “Staven?” he whispered. “Stav-”
Then his entire body convulsed as he screamed Staven’s name. And the night erupted into chaos around them.
The scream went on and on, filling the entire universe with pain and loss. An unbearable pressure rose around them, and shattered, all in the moment, the eternity of that scream. The still air churned, and began pummeling them with fists of heat and turbulence.
Gala scrambled to her feet; Vanyel caught and held his lover, trying to support him as he thrashed in uncontrolled spasms. Tylendel’s forehead cracked against the bridge of his nose; he saw stars and tasted blood, but gritted his teeth against the pain and held on.
A gale-force wind sprang up out of the confusion and chaos. It went howling about them, moving outward in a spiral, nearly tearing the clothes from Vanyel’s body as it passed. Tylendel was - glowing; angry red light pulsed around him. In it, Vanyel could see his face set in a mask of madness. His teeth were clenched in a grimace of pain, and there was no sense in his eyes, no sign of intelligence.
The trees closest to them literally exploded in a shower of splinters; those farther away spasmed in convulsions much like Tylendel’s before they began tearing them selves apart.
The wind picked up in strength; trees farther away began thrashing and the wind spiraled outward a little farther than it had a moment before. The light surrounding Tylendel - and now Vanyel - throbbed, ebbing and strengthening with each paroxysm of his body. And something frighteningly like lightning was crackling off the edges of that glow, striking at random all about them. Where it hit, the effect was exactly like natural lightning; trees split, and the ground was scorched and pitted.
The wind was scouring the earth bare, making projectiles of dead needles and bits of wood. Even the ground was shuddering, heaving like a horse trying to throw a rider.
Vanyel held Tylendel as tightly as he could, looking wildly about for Gala. Finally he saw her, off on the edge of the circle of chaos. She, too, was glowing, bluely; the edge of her glow seemed to be deflecting the debris and the lightning, but it looked as if she was unable to doanything. Not that she wasn’t trying - she stretched her neck out toward her Chosen, her eyes bright and terrible with distress - but all she seemed able to do was shield herself. She couldn’t even get nearthem.
“Gala!” Vanyel shouted, over the screaming of the wind, restraining Tylendel as his lover spasmed in another convulsion. “Get help! Get Savil!” He couldn’t think. If Gala were helpless to do anything, Savil was the only possible source of aid.