Savil sprinted back for the door - the crowd there parted to let her through - and waited, trembling with impatience, with the rest.
:Hang on, Savil,: she heard Mardic’s mind-voice, in Broadsend-mode. :He’s alive; thank the gods he didn’t know the right way to slit his wrists. Donni’s got the blood stopped, but we II need a Healer, fast. ‘Fandes warped the door pounding on it; it’s going to take a bit of work to get it open.:
A tall figure in Healer’s Greens pushed through to Savil’s side as Mardic began pounding on the door, forcing the bolt back thumb-length by thumb-length; Andrel opened his arms and wrapped Savil inside the warmth of his fur-lined cloak with him.
Finally the door creaked open; Andrel deserted her, leaving her suddenly in sole possession of the heavy cloak. She followed inside, hard on his heels.
Donni knelt in front of the bier; there was a frighteningly wide scarlet stain on the marble of the floor, and her hands looked as if she had dipped them in vermilion dye. She was holding Vanyel’s wrists; the boy was sprawled on the floor beside her at the foot of the bier, his face as transparently white as the marble under his head, and sickly unconscious. Andrel was just beginning to kneel in the pool of blood on the other side of the boy, heedless of his robes, and as Savil limped across the floor toward them, followed by the rest of the would-be rescuers, he reached out and set his hands firmly over Donni’s bloodstained ones.
His face was fixed in a mask of absolute concentration, and Savil could feel the power beginning to flow from him. But he’d been hard-pressed today, and had little time to rest. And she knew that his few reserves were not going to be enough -
She ran the last few steps and placed her hands on his shoulders as he began to falter, sending energy coursing down into his center. And in a moment, she felt herself joined by Jaysen - then Mardic - then Donni. The four of them meshed in a union that was as nearly perfect as any magic she’d ever witnessed, and sent Andrel all he needed and more, in a steady, steadfast, stream.
Finally the Healer sighed, and lifted his hands away from Donni’s; the other three disengaged with something that was a little like reluctance. It wasn’t often that even Heralds experienced the peace that came with a perfect Healing-meld; it was nearly a mystical experience, and as close to the peace of the Havens as Savil ever wanted to get until she was Called.
Donni lifted her hands away from Vanyel’s wrists, and Savil could see that the skin, veins, and tendons beneath were whole again. For a moment the wrists were marred by angry red scars, then gradually those scars faded to thin white lines.
Jaysen moved swiftly to gather the unconscious boy in his arms; blood from the boy’s sleeves stained the front of his Whites, but Jaysen didn’t seem to notice.
Vanyel’s head sagged against the Herald’s chest. Despite being moved, he showed no signs of reviving.
Savil helped Andrel to rise and go to him. The Healer reached out a hand that shook uncontrollably and checked the pulse at the hinge of Vanyel’s jaw, lifted an eyelid, then shook his head.
“Nearer than I like, and he lost too much blood, given what he’s been through,” Andrel said, grimacing. “Jays, can you and Felar get him back into his bed as of a candlemark ago?”
“No,” Savil interrupted. “No, you leave that to me and Yfandes. Jays, give him to me as soon as I get mounted.”
She pushed her way through the silent, shocked crowd and found Yfandes waiting as close to the open door as she could get. The Companion looked deeply into Savil’s eyes, her own eyes back to a quiet, depthless sapphire, then went to her knees for the Herald to mount.
Savil mounted, and Yfandes rose gracefully to her feet, not in the least unsteady on the smooth marble. Savil held out her arms, amazed by her own calm, and Jaysen lifted the limp form of Vanyel up into place before her. She cradled the boy against her shoulder, wrapping Andrel’s cloak about both of them; he was no burden at all, really - almost toolight a weight for the ease of her heart and conscience.
Oh, lad, lad-she sighed, nudging Yfandes lightly with her heels to tell her to go on. Poor little lad- we’ve made a right “mess of your life, haven’t we? And all for lack of listening to you. I don’t know who is guiltier, me or Withen.
She held him a bit tighter as Yfandes headed at a gentle walk toward the beckoning beacon of the open door of her suite. He was all the legacy Tylendel had left to her, and she pledged the silent sleeper in the Temple behind her that she would take better care of him from this moment on.
And the first task is to put you back together, my poor, bewildered, heart-broken lostling. If ever I can.
Ten
Years later - or so it seemed - Savil finally crawled into some clothing. She wanted, she needed, to collapse somewhere; wanted rest as a starving man wants bread, but dared not leave Vanyel alone. She finally dragged the chair Jaysen had been using close to the bedside and wrapped herself in the first warm thing that came to hand (which turned out to be Andrel’s fur-lined cloak), intending, despite her exhaustion, to stay awake as long as possible.
But she dozed off, some time around dawn, and woke at the sound of a strangled sob.
She fought her way out of the tangled embrace of the cloak; when she got her head free of the folds of the hood, the first things she saw were Vanyel’s silver eyes looking at her with a kind of accusative sorrow.
“Why?” he whispered mournfully. “Why did you stop me?”
Savil finally untangled the rest of her, sat up in her chair, and took a quick look around. As she’d ordered, Mardic was still standing weary guard over the door to the rest of the suite, and Donni was drowsing, slumped against the door to the garden. Vanyel was not going to give them the slip a second time, however unlikely the prospect seemed. It hadn’t seemed possible the lasttime.
She gave Mardic a jerk of her head and a Mindsent order; :Out, love, this needs privacy,: and woke Donni with a quick Mindtouch. Donni came completely awake as soon as Savil touched her, a talent the Herald-Mage envied. She pulled herself to her feet with the help of the doorframe at her back. Then both of them left for their own quarters, closing the door into the common room of the suite behind them.
Savil got up stiffly, every joint aching, and sat on the side of the bed, taking both of Vanyel’s hands in her own. They were like ice, and bloodless-looking. “I stopped you because had to,” she replied. “Because - Vanyel, self-destruction is no answer. Because we’ve already lost one we loved - and I couldn’t lose you, too, now - “
“But I deserve to die - “ His voice was weak, and broke on the last word.
And he wouldn’t look her in the eyes.
Oh, gods - what was going through that head of his? What had he convinced himself of? “For what?” she asked, her voice sounding rough-edged even to her. “Because you made some mistakes? Gods, if thatwas worthy of a death sentence, I should have been sharing that knife!”
His hands were chilling hers; she tried to warm them, chafing them as gently as she could. “Listen to me, Vanyel - this whole wretched mess was one mistake piled on top of another. Imade mistakes; I should have watched ‘Lendel more carefully, I should have insisted he talk to Lancir when his brother was killed. That’s one of Lancir’s jobs; to keep our heads clear and our minds able to think straight. Dammit, Iknew what ‘Lendel was capable of where Staven was concerned! And he would nothave been able to hide that obsession from a MindHealer! ‘Lendel made mistakes - the gods themselves know that. He should have thought before he acted; I’d been trying to get him to do that. We - the Heralds - accept mental evidence! All he had to do was ask for a hearing, and we’d have had the material we needed from his own mind to put the Leshara down. You made mistakes, yes, but you made them out of love. He needed help, asked you for it, and you tried to help him the only way anyone had ever taught you was right. And, gods, even Galamade mistakes!”