Sunset arrived, turning the river beyond the windows briefly to a sword of flame; the light faded, the room darkened, and still he refused to move. Savil came in long enough to light the candles and whisper something - that he was doing the right thing, he thought, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t care; his whole world had narrowed to the white face resting on the pillow, and the slowly warming hand in his.
His eyes grew heavy, and his whole body ached, and his voice had thinned down to a whisper not even he could make out. He finally put his head down on his arms, intending to just rest for a moment -
And woke, feeling a hand tentatively caressing his hair. He started, jerking his head up off the coverlet, making his face pulse with pain.
Tyiendel regarded him out of blue-ringed, weary eyes; eyes so full of anguish and loss that Vanyel nearly started weeping. “I heard you,” he whispered. “I heard you, I just didn’t have the strength to answer. Van - Staven - “
His face crumpled, and Vanyel slid oif the chair and onto the side of the bed, talking him into his arms and holding him as tightly as he could; supporting him against his shoulder, giving him what little comfort his presence would give. Tylendel’s body shook with sobs and he clung to Vanyel as to the only source of consolation left to him in the entire world, and Vanyel wept with him.
They finally fell asleep like that; true sleep, not the state of shock Tyiendel had been in - Vanyel still fully clothed and sprawled between his chair and the side of
the bed; Tylendel clinging to him like a heartbroken child.
“Eat,” Vanyel ordered, setting the tray down in Ty-lendel’s blanket-covered lap.
Tylendel looked nauseated and shook his head. “Can’t,” he whispered hoarsely.
“You mean ‘won’t,’ “ Vanyel retorted almost as hoarsely, trying to ignore the fact that talking made the whole of his face ache. “You’ve gone all day without food. Savil says if you don’t get something down, you’ll go into backlash shock again. I didn’t spend all that time talking you out to have you drop back in again. Now eat,dammit!” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at Tylendel. The trainee eased a little higher up on the pillows supporting him in a sitting position and tried to shove the tray away. Unfortunately he was so weak he couldn’t even lift it; he just moved it a palm-length away. Vanyel put it back precisely where he had placed it the first time.
Tylendel gave the perfectly good soup on the tray a look that would have been better bestowed on a bowl of pig swill, but picked up the spoon anyway. He swallowed the first spoonful with the air of someone who expects what he’s just eaten to make a precipitate reappearance, but when nothing happened, gingerly ventured a second mouthful, and a third.
Vanyel sat warily on the edge of the bed, careful not to overset the tray between them. There was something very different about Tylendel since he’d reawakened - something secretive, but at the same time, impassioned. He could sense it in every word they’d exchanged. He thought he knew what it was, but he wanted to be sure.
“They’re afraid I’m going to go mad, you know,” Tylendel whispered in a matter-of-fact tone when he was about halfway through the bowl.
“I know,” Vanyel replied, just as matter-of-factly, sensing that the secret was about to be revealed. “That’s why they have me here. Are you?”
Tylendel looked up from his meal, and there was that strange, burning somethingVanyel had felt searing sullenly at the back of his eyes. “They might think so. Van, you’ve got to help me.”
“You didn’t have to ask,” Vanyel replied soberly. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll get it for you.’
“Vengeance.” The thing at the back of his eyes flared for a moment, before subsiding into half-hidden, secretive smoldering again.
Vanyel nodded. This was rather what he had expected. If Tylendel wanted revenge - “Tell me. If I can do it, I will.”
Tylendel slumped back on the pillows piled behind him, his head tilted back a little, his eyes closed, his features gone slack with relief. “Oh, gods - Van - I thought - “
“Eat,” Vanyel growled. “I’ve told you before this that Iunderstand, even if Savil doesn’t. The only question I’vegot is how you think two half-grown, half-trained younglings are going to get revenge on people who live a good fortnight away by fast horse. I assume you’ve got an answer for that problem.”
Tylendel opened his eyes and nodded soberly, but the spoon was still lying in the bowl of soup where he’d left it - and Vanyel was concentrating on the more immediate goal of getting him back on his feet. He’d worry about this plan when Tylendel was in shape to execute it, and not before.
“Dammit, ‘Lendel, if you don’teat, I won’thelp you!”
Tylendel started guiltily, and leaned forward again to finish his meal.
Vanyel stole his mug long enough to get a sip of wine. His face hurt as badly as it looked, and when he’d taken one glance in the mirror, he’d had to look away again. His circle of admirers would have little to sigh over at the moment. He looked like he was wearing a black-and-blue domino mask and a putty nose. And he hurt. Gods, he hurt. The only reason he’d slept at all, once he’d comforted Tylendel last night, was because he’d been utterly, utterly exhausted.
“Did I do that?” Tylendel asked softly, finally lookingat his face, as he scraped the last spoonful of soup from the bottom of the bowl.
Vanyel nodded, seeing no reason to deny it. “You weren’t exactly yourself,” he said, taking the tray away and stretching across Tylendel to put it on the table beside the bed.
“Oh, gods - Van, I’m sorry - “ The smothered fury faded from Tylendel’s eyes for a moment, and was replaced by concern as he reached in the direction of Van-yel’s nose. The concern was replaced by hurt as Vanyel winced away.
“Touch me anywhere but there;it hurts bloody awful and it wasn’t your fault, all right?” To counteract that flash of hurt in Tylendel’s eyes, he moved closer, close enough to give ‘Lendel a quick hug before taking his hand in both his own. “Now - you want to talk? I think maybe it’s my turn to listen.”
The deeply-buried fire returned, warring with anguish in his expression. “That link between Staven and me - it was different from what they think. Most of the time distance matters in a link like that, distance makes it weaker. It never did, for us. But Savil thought it did, and I let her go on thinking that. She would have been on me to break it, otherwise.” He tensed, and closed his eyes; Vanyel held his hand a little more tightly. “All I ever had to do was think about him for him to be withme; it was the same for him. They - the Leshara - they ambushed him; killed his escort. Killed him. And it wasn’t just an assassination, Van. They used magic. “
Vanyel felt his mouth drop open. “They what? How? How could a Herald - “
“It wasn’t a Herald. They’ve hired a mage from outKingdom. They turned some - things- loose on the Holding. Magic monsters, maybe from the Pelagirs. Staven went after them with an escort; but when he got there, they were gone. He must have spent all day trying to track them down, and just exhausting himself, the fighters, and their horses. That’s when the mage brought them back and ambushed Staven with them.” Tylendel’s eyes were horrible, like he was looking into hell. “These tilings, they hurthim before they killed him; hurt him awfully. On purpose; on their master’s orders. I think on Leshara’s orders. I can’t tell you - “
He gripped Vanyel’s hand so tightly that boththeir hands went white, and his voice quavered.
“He knew I was there with him; he knew it the moment I linked. Thank the gods - he knew he wasn’t alone. But the last thing, the very last thing he did was to beg me, plead with me, to pay them back. “His eyes opened, and they no longer smoldered; they flamed with fury and pain. “I promised him, Van. I promisedhim. Those bastards killed Staven - but they won’tget away with it.”
Vanyel met that fury, and bowed before it. “I told you, ‘Lendel,” he replied quietly. “Just ask.”