Page 55 of Valdemar

“I kind of have to be,” Jonaton said, looking up with a watery grimace. “You know.”

Kordas did, indeed, know. All too well. The burden of being the most powerful mage in Valdemar was just as great as that of being the King, without the benefits of rulership.

He stood up, and Jonaton accepted his assistance in rising. Together they went back to the Council Chamber, Jonaton guided by Kordas’ reassuring hand on his shoulder, and by the time they got there, he was under control again, with nothing but his red eyes to show his distress.

But that was enough for the Council to notice, and look at both of them quizzically.

Damn it. I’m King. I can have a harmless indulgence.“Some of you know all about the black cat, Sydney-You-Asshole,” he said. Those who did, nodded. Ponu and Dole both looked alarmed, as if they intuited what Kordas was about to say. “He was actually the first creature to prove that Jonaton’s Gates to this new world worked. As fiercely loyal as a cat could be, and never shy to add his opinion or open a door himself. He was present at—” and Kordas had to pause before summing up, “—a staggering number of the events that got us here. His antics gave a great many of us needful laughter during dark days. And by the tyranny of age . . . it appears he has left on that journey we all must take, into the country from which no one returns.”

Jonaton’s lower lip quivered, and his eyes brightened, but he managed to hold himself together. Sounds of sadness and mild cursing came from around the chamber.

Kordas drew upon the composure and dignity that making speeches gave him. “We care deeply for the creatures that depend upon us, expecting nothing, really, and getting so very much from them. Loving them takes courage, because love requires daring. Daring to risk the pain of loss—and accepting that they will only ever be temporary in our lives. Mourning them when they are gone speaks of our bond with them, and our willingness to give loss its due—by feeling it fully, then recovering wisely. Our animals make us better people. We do not abuse our strength, and we do not deny our empathy. That is essential to our character as Valdemarans, and that is why, I think, the Companions came to us in the first place.”

:Yes. Yes, it is,: Ardatha confirmed in his mind, which provided Kordas a needed bump of fortitude.

“Now . . . I seldom indulge myself,” Kordas continued. “But Sydney needs to be remembered, and not just through his numerous descendants. I want this. This will harm no one, and I hope you will humor me. So. Let it be, from this day forward, that the seal of Haven will include a small black cat in Sydney’s honor, to pay respect to the—best asshole we were lucky enough to know.”

The room fell silent, except for Jonaton and Ponu’s choked sobs, and a couple of chuckles. But Kordas saw a lot of the Councilors looking at each other, and although he could not read their thoughts, he had a good idea what they were thinking. Are we being pranked? And Is this a joke? And If it’s not a joke, how long do we stay silent? And I don’t know this tactic. Maybe he’s testing our compassion.

“Agreed!” Dole spoke up. That was impetus enough. One by one, the rest of the Councilors chimed in with support, even if it was puzzled or faintly annoyed support.

I haven’t once asked them for anything for myself, until now. I guess they all figure that if this is as self-indulgent as I’m going to get, they can live with that.

“I’ll see to it immediately, Sire,” said the Seneschal.

And with that, Kordas smiled a little. “Humor is healing, and indispensable for enduring dark times. Perhaps it would be a fine thing for Rothas to also write some about the confoundingly charming cat who left such an imprint on our hearts.”

:Beltran is talking to Rothas now. I’ll let Kyrith know that you want this, and Beltran has plenty of stories,:said Ardatha, gently. :You know, we saw him too, when we entered your world. We recognized him at once as an audacious spirit. He will be missed.:

“And may the stories and songs of Sydney-You-Asshole make us laugh as long as we are a nation. He saw to it that we remained humble,” he concluded. He waited a few beats into the silence. “Now . . . let us turn our attention to the concerns of the Kingdom’s safety that must be addressed, and matters of preparedness,” Kordas said firmly.

And maybe this will pull Jonaton back from the pit. It’s too easy to dwell upon a loss, and prolong grieving by feeling like one hasn’t felt bad enough, long enough. Better to engage in accomplishing ventures in their spirit, rather than stagnating in misery. Sydney was a scrapper, so. Nothing focuses Jonaton quite like the promise of justifiable mayhem upon an enemy.

“We’ll begin with a map overview and a catch-up briefing on our most recent knowledge. I judge us to be at an informing-in-generalities stage, so this isn’t a full secure session. We’ll discuss simple and effective defensive operations after that, then ways we can modify our known magic into—discouragement of aggression,” Kordas said in his comfortable command voice. He gave Jonaton a respectful nod as their eyes met. They both assumed that would mean explosions.

To his credit, Jonaton wiped his eyes on his sleeve again, and went to work with the rest.

• • •

Restil and the rest of the Heralds had been invited to join the Court for meals, and did so unless something took them away at the appointed time—and so far the only time that had happened had been when a couple of the non-riders were so sore after practice that they just wanted to lie in their beds covered in liniment. Considering the things that the Palace cooks had learned to make with what was available here, eating with the Court was far and away preferable to soft-boiling an egg and dipping toast in it in your room.

And besides that, plenty of the new Heralds were unaccustomed to the kind of foodstuffs professional cooks could make out of almost nothing. The quality of that food was enough to make even those covered in liniment drag themselves to the table.

Ever since they had arrived here in Valdemar, the habits of the Court had changed in regard to mealtimes. Breakfast and dinner—what the farmers called luncheon—were the most substantial meals of the day; this echoed farm mealtimes. Supper was bread, soup, fruit, and cheese—something light, that wouldn’t interfere with sleeping. And unlike Court meals back in the Empire, supper was eaten early in the evening, before the sun went down.

That meant that mouths and hands were not occupied for long, and it was possible for Rothas to supply some early entertainment before he went to spend their shared twilight hour with Lythe.

Kordas was pleased that he had turned up tonight. Jonaton still looked utterly devastated by Sydney’s loss, only picking at his food, and Rothas’s Gift would be sure to take him out of his grief, if only for a little while.

Kordas knew that Rothas had been working on a song about the appearance of the Companions and the Choosing of those first three Heralds for some time. So when Rothas sounded a chord on his lute, the King settled back, anticipating both pleasure and a certain amount of embarrassment.

But he did not expect what came next.

It was a comic song about Sydney. Specifically a lot of short vignettes in rhyme about the kind of chaos the cat had left in his wake back in the Duchy, all told from the cat’s point of view. Which meant, of course, that Sydney felt perfectly justified in doing whatever he did, and it was hilarious.

“Those books I knocked down on the floor—I think I’ll just knock down some more. Oh, you will thank me in the end—you need some exercise, my friend!”

Before two verses were sung even Jonaton was laughing. And by the time Rothas sang the last verse, about Syd leaping across that first Gate Jonaton had built and coming back at high speed—