Page 72 of Valdemar

“They explained it as, and I think they tried hard to explain it so it made sense to someone as uncultured as me, like somebody using whatever was nearby at the moment to make a door, versus a woodworker with specialized tools and experience. They might both fill a doorway, but the first one will have serious drafts,” Rothas explained. “Then he said, if they dismantle that door, it could collapse because of its strange properties of mismatched construction. I allowed as how both of us would prefer not to collapse.”

Restil rubbed his chin. “That sounds to me like what the Hawkbrothers do in the Pelagirs. Cleansing. They take in chaotic, unpredictable magic and straighten it out so it’s predictable,” he muttered. “So I guess Sai and the others have to clean up the curse before dismantling it. So it falls apart without taking anyone with it.”

“Hey, I could have done without that!” Rothas exclaimed. “This seems a lot riskier than I thought it would be!”

“Sai and Jonaton hardly ever explode anybody, you’ll be fine,” Restil teased. “But—”

Restil stopped in the middle of talking to Rothas and held up his hand to forestall any questions as Darshay informed him what had just happened across the river. His expression must have been one of complete shock, because finally Rothas poked him tentatively in the shoulder and said, “Is it bad? Is it terrible? Is a giant army of soldiers and monsters about to strike us?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Restil managed. “In fact . . . I think it’s good. It’s just . . .” He shook his head. “Never in a thousand years would I have predicted this.”

“What’s this?” Rothas demanded. “Come on, Prince, you cannot leave a Bard hanging, wondering what has happened! We’re composed of curiosity!”

“Well, it seems that one of the unpartnered Companions, named Radiant, has Chosen Starbird,” he said, the words feeling strange in his mouth.

But Rothas was puzzled. “I don’t see the problem,” he said, scratching his head. “Why can’t a Companion Choose a Hawkbrother?”

Restil ran through a dozen reasons in his head and decided on the simplest. “Because the Companions came for Valdemar, not the Vales. And because Hawkbrothers have their own concerns to deal with that don’t involve Valdemar.”

“Huh.” Rothas tore a pea-pod to shreds and put the mulch at the base of the vine. “So—how does that work out?”

“Evidently . . . she’s staying here,” Restil told him. “From what Darshay tells me, she got interrogated by several Companions, including Ardatha, and she knows what she’s getting into by staying here.”

“Well, a Vale is very nice to live in, but I like here better, and so does Lythe.” Rothas shrugged. “Even if the Palace doesn’t have the Veil, or the hot soaking pools. Or hertasi.” He made an odd little grimace. “All right, I do miss hertasi. I wish you had some.”

“You are certainly not the only one. And I miss having the Veil. But the cost of having these things is that you are expected to tame extremely dangerous magic that could probably set you on fire from the inside if you don’t do things exactly right. And, of course, you have a goddess watching over your shoulder to make sure you are keeping your part of Her bargain.” He got up and looked around for Darshay, who appeared, as usual, seemingly out of nowhere. “I should probably go look into this up close.”

“I’d go with you, but I don’t feel as if this is a story that needs my telling,” Rothas replied. “And besides, it’s time for another lesson in Barding from the Old Men. Barding? Being a Bard? I suppose it’s the same thing.”

“Bardicating? Bardonic pursuits? Bardology? You’re the one that’s supposed to be a master of words!” Restil said, laughing at him.

He grinned. “Then, Barding it is. Well, let me know what happens. I’m still curious, even if I don’t think I’ll be making a song about it.”

Rothas sauntered off in the direction of the Palace. Although he made light of the lessons, Restil knew he was taking them very seriously. Although the Old Men were not by any means masters of Mind-magic, the disciplines they had learned applied to Rothas’s Bardic powers. And what they couldn’t teach, a couple of the Mindhealers absolutely could. Outwardly, Rothas wasn’t much different than the somewhat careless young man who had arrived here. Inwardly, though, Restil was aware he had become a great deal more serious. He understood just how seductive, how insidious, and how dangerous his Bardic Gift could be, and he was determined to do good with it, rather than simply exploit it for his own gain.

Lythe had undergone a similar transformation, though hers was more subtle than his. Instead of waiting to be asked to do something, if she saw a need she could fill, she filled it—just as she had by bringing Sable and her kittens to Jon, and making sure the cat knew all the rules of living in the Palace. From merely tolerating them, Restil had grown to consider both of them his friends.

So as he watched Rothas saunter on his way, he smiled a little. That bit of a swagger didn’t fool him at all. Rothas was not nearly as devil-may-care as he looked, and having to learn how to assess and evaluate an audience had carried over into the rest of his life. He also wasn’t quite so boneheaded anymore.

:Are you coming, or not?:Darshay asked with mockimpatience. :Not that you’re needed, but I get the feeling you want to know a lot more than I can tell you about Starbird.:

He felt himself blushing a little, but suppressed it quickly. “You don’t have to come too, you know,” he said aloud. “You can just hop the fence back into the meadow and join your friends.”

:Oh, but I want to be there.:Darshay didn’t say why, but Restil knew. She wanted to see what his reaction would be to whatever Starbird told him. If she told him anything at all. Which, of course, he would also react to.

:All right, I admit it. I like her very much. I’m very happy that she will stay here. It would be . . . :He groped for words. Because you really could not lie in Mindspeech, and she would know if he wasn’t being truthful. :It would make me extremely happy if we were to get closer, and I can’t say that about any other lady I’ve met since I got old enough to be interested in ladies.:

:I’m not enough for you?:Darshay replied in mock outrage. :I am shocked! Shocked, I tell you!: Then she got serious. :Not that I’m looking into the future, because I can’t. Not that I’m trying to steer your life, because I won’t. And not that I’m privy to what Starbird might be thinking about you, because I’m not. But diplomatically speaking, an attachment to each other would solve a lot of problems that haven’t yet arisen. It creates a permanent bond with the Tayledras. You are both Heralds now, and you both are aware of the intricacies of the Herald-Companion bond, and if you are going to have any sort of successful relationship with someone, it has to be someone who completely understands that bond. And, frankly, who understands responsibility. As a bonus, this will completely cut short any Court intrigue over you, because you are the Crown Prince and your highborn—and some commons!—have been vying for you for their daughters. They’ll finally leave you alone, if you have an existing attachment.:

:That last, all by itself, would be a personal gift from the gods.:Of course he was aware of how desirable a marriage to him would be. Of course he had noticed—and politely ignored—all the overtures, subtle and blatant, that were being made to him by single women inside the Court and out of it. And of course he was acutely aware that who he married or even paid attention to had the potential to unlock all sorts of disasters.

But this was the first time an opportunity to avoid all of that had presented itself. And it certainly didn’t hurt that Starbird was the sort of person he could see spending his life with.

He set off across the garden, trying to control his blushes, and trying also to control his own somewhat tangled emotions. As cold as it might have seemed to put what might become a romance into such logical terms, Darshay was right. And marriages had been arranged on far flimsier grounds than that.

Darshay wisely kept quiet, and just let him mull that over. Which of course only led to internal questions. What if she isn’t interested in me? I mean, it seems like she is, but that could just be me misinterpreting Tayledras customs for something else.

He put all those thoughts aside as he neared the fence where his father, Silvermoon, and six or seven Companions had surrounded Starbird, her buzzard, and Radiant. From the dazed look on her face, Starbird was just emerging from that magical trance being Chosen put you into.