Finding the Way and Other Tales of Valdemar (17 page)

:And don’t you say that I’ll be fine,:
she grumbled in Mindspeech.

:I wouldn’t!:
the Companion—
her
Companion—responded in the over-bright voice that made it clear he had been about to do exactly that.
:Although I think you’re worrying too much—people are still people, in Haven and in Breyburn. Rain, on the other hand, is very different.:

Shia almost laughed aloud at the rueful tone of his Mindvoice. Eodan had not cared for the rainy season in Breyburn, for after he had braved the violent storms to reach the village and Choose her, he had been forced to wait the last two months of the season before the roads became passable enough for him to bring her back to Haven. To the Collegium. To—Shia cut off that thought, refusing to probe again the hollowness that threatened to swell up within her at the thought of the last person from Breyburn to have made this ride on a glistening white back. Instead she looked up from her fixed view of Eodan’s neck, and at once regretted it. While she had been lost in her thoughts, Eodan had brought her to the very heart of Haven—the spires of the palace he had shown her in mind-pictures now rose before her in enormous reality.

:The King’s Own’s Companion knows that we are near, and he will make sure a Herald or a Trainee comes to greet us and help you get settled in.:
There was a subtle note of hope and excitement in his Mindvoice, and she knew that he was looking forward to their arrival.

:What will you do?:
she asked.
:While I am studying? Where will you be?:
A sudden shiver of nervousness gripped her—she, who had been so alone for those years after her mother’s death, and yet never felt the pain of loneliness.

Eodan tossed his head, making his harness-bells jingle loud enough to draw the attention of those around them.
:I’ll be part of your training, of course. And when I’m not, I’ll be in Companions’ Field, ready to meet you. After having made you wait so long for me, Chosen, I’m not going to abandon you!:

As they neared the Collegium’s gates, Shia saw a Companion waiting, a figure in Whites standing beside, and with a sharp pang lancing through her, she knew.

“Teo,” she whispered, and with the name, the hollow pain flooded in to overwhelm her other thoughts and worries.

Eodan was silent as she stiffened in the saddle, and she felt a wave of comfort and reassurance from him. He slowed his pace, but as they approached near enough that she could almost make out Teo’s features, sudden panic gripped her.

:I—I need a moment . . . :
Even her Mindvoice seemed faint. Eodan stopped, and the other Companion shifted sideways, drawing Teo’s attention away from the newest Chosen. Shia took the brief opportunity to slide gratefully from Eodan’s back. Her knees wobbled, but somehow it was better to have Eodan’s warm bulk beside her to lean against. Reaching up to knot her fingers in his silky mane, she walked forward.

:Shield, Chosen,:
Eodan reminded her, and she went through the exercise he had taught her in those rainy months in Breyburn, wrapping the calm stillness of her herb room around her as they neared the gate.

“Eodan! You’re back at last—you’ve been gone for months! How far did you have to go to find your Chosen?” Teo twisted his head to look around the Companion’s body, his eyes meeting hers at last.

“Breyburn, during the rains,” Shia said with a slight smile. “We had to wait them out.” She took in a slow breath, glad her voice had not quivered.

Teo stared, stunned, as the silence between them stretched. “Shia?” he managed in a strangled voice, and his Companion nudged against him and snorted.

“Trin tells me I’m being rude,” he said, his words slow, as though finding and forming them was an effort. “Shia, this is Trinelan—but everyone calls her Trin.”

Teo’s Companion stepped daintily forward, lowering her head so that Shia could brush her soft nose.
:Welcome to Haven,:
she Mindspoke, to Shia’s astonishment, then shook her head at Eodan.
:We don’t often Mindspeak anyone other than our own Chosen, but if you ever need to talk sense, I will be happy to oblige. This one is not known for sense.:

“I will bring you up to the Dean of the Collegium.” Teo’s voice was still a little dry, but otherwise he seemed restored to his usual sunny self. “Herald Kindo and I leave for my internship on Circuit tomorrow, so Dean Merchan will find a Trainee to show you everything you need to know.”

 

“Kernos and the Bright Havens know we need Healers more than ever! And what happens? This mere colt, not even five years old, goes haring off and brings back a girl with a strong Healing Gift and more herbcraft than most second-year students! To be a
Herald!
” The head of the Healers’ Collegium paced the floor, her gestures sharp and angry. “I’d like to give him a piece of my mind. And as for the Healer at Torhold, well, I’ve already sent a letter demanding an explanation. How he missed testing this girl for the Gift after she became the herbalist for the entire town of Breyburn is beyond me!”

“Sereth, please,” Herald Merchan, Dean of the Collegium, was finally able to get a quiet word in edgewise. “Her Healing Gift and Empathy are not her only Gifts—her Mindspeech with her Companion is quite strong, as well. And that is not so common as some would believe.” He held up a hand to forestall another outburst. “The King’s Own also told me his Companion believes she has a touch of Foresight, linked with her Healing Gift.”

“All the more need for her to be in Healers’! Someone who knows what injuries will happen beforehand would be a godsend!”

“I rather suspect her Gift isn’t quite like that, although I can’t say how it is. All we can do is trust her Companion. Companions do not Choose wrongly, Sereth, even if they
are
shockingly young. We may not understand their choice until later, but they are never wrong.” Merchan watched the older woman finish her energetic round of his office. It didn’t take her long, as most of the room was buried under piles of books and scrolls.

Healer Sereth rounded the corner by the door one more time and brought herself up short. “I know.” She sighed. “But for a Healer to have been Chosen—it frightens me to think what that might mean for the Karsite border. Companions always Choose someone with the right combination of Gifts at the moment they are needed.”

“A Herald who can Heal—yes, it does exercise the imagination. But we know that a Healer can’t keep up with a Herald.”

Sereth’s shoulders slumped. “I didn’t want to give the approval, you know I didn’t. But . . . ”

“But Healer Kevrel was so desperate to be involved, to do
something
after the abduction of his family, and the unmatched Companion was so willing to help after the raid . . . ”

A long silence stretched between them, each mourning the loss of one of their own—four years had not made it any easier to think of.

 

Life in the Collegium soon settled into something of a routine for Shia, although because of her older age and active Gifts, she split her time between the usual classes of a first-year Trainee (history and basic schooling, riding, and combat training) and lessons in Mindspeech (which she wasn’t very strong with, other than with Eodan and a few Heralds). And, of course, every day she spent a long period of time in the Healers’ Collegium, learning to use her Healing Gift and expanding her herb craft. This was where she shone, for her knowledge of the mountain herbs was more extensive than any of her teachers expected, and her experiments in Breyburn with growing herbs indoors over the winter season impressed Revyn, the Herbalist-Healer. She spent many extra hours in the Collegium sunhouses, tending the vast array of plants. Any time left over was spent down in Companions’ Field with Eodan.

In fact, the first part of Shia’s training passed in a busy daze, until the day she felt a strange hollow feeling in the bottom of her stomach. In Breyburn, before Eodan had come through the massive winter rains to Choose her, she had several times felt that same sinking sensation—and in each instance there was a simultaneous attack by the mercenary bandit that had plagued the village that year.

This feeling had started one morning just as winter began to ease its grip on Haven. It developed as a slight twinge, unlike the sharp throbbing she had felt before. Eodan felt the same unease, but none of the other Companions, not even Domar, the King’s Own’s Companion, shared it.

Shia leaned her head against Eodan’s flank. Her afternoon classes were over, and she had seized the few minutes before she started her kitchen duties to run to Companions’ Field.
:But it’s stronger each day. And it seems, I don’t know, somehow to the east.:
Eodan nodded in agreement.

:Maybe Domar is wrong. Maybe . . . :
Shia’s body trembled and she grabbed Eodan’s mane for support as the feeling of wrongness sharpened and blossomed into something hard and certain.

“Teo,” she whispered. “Something’s wrong with Teo. I have to find out . . . ” She was gone before she even finished the sentence, racing from Companions’ Field to the Collegium, while Eodan galloped toward the stables.

 

“If something were wrong, Herald Trainee, we would know already. Herald Kindo is a powerful Farspeaker—that’s why he and Herald Teo were assigned to that part of the Iftel Circuit.” Dean Merchan frowned down at her.

“But what if he were sick himself, in fever-dreams?” At this point, Shia didn’t care if her persistence annoyed him—she had to make him understand.

The Dean’s door was flung open, and Healer Sereth burst into the room. “I was
trying
to cross over to Bardic to test this boy they think has Songhealing, and a Companion positively
herded
me over to Herald’s. Yours, I assume?” Sereth glowered at Shia. “What is the meaning of this?”

Merchan opened his mouth to answer, but stopped before he could form a word. His face took on the listening expression that came over most Heralds when their Companions Mindspoke to them.

“I’m sorry,” Shia said, “but I have to go. You have to let me go—something’s wrong in the east.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Sereth glanced over at Merchan, but he was still listening to his Companion, his eyes widening.

“Teo—Herald Teo—something’s gone wrong and he needs me.”

“How do you know
that
?” Sereth demanded, but Shia couldn’t find words to describe the bone-deep certainty within her.

The Dean cleared his throat. “I don’t know how, Healer Sereth, but something does seem to be wrong on the Iftel border. The King’s Own’s Companion just received a call for help from the intern’s Companion. There is a plague or contagion of some sort in Norflank, and they’ve quarantined themselves. The senior Herald is very ill, the town’s Healer has succumbed, and Iftel’s borders are closed, even to those who might otherwise pass through them.” The Dean scrutinized Shia. “Perhaps this is that strange Foresight of hers.”

In an instant, Sereth’s mood changed from infuriated to determined, like a general planning for combat. “A plague, a contagion? Did the Companion tell what form it took?” She didn’t even wait for the Dean to respond before she began pacing the room. “Local Healer gone, no knowing where the nearest Healer is or how Gifted. There are other border towns, but usually only one strong Healer works with several. Bright Lady, why do these things always happen on the borders, where it will be weeks before we can get enough Healers out there? Even if we send a few riding ahead, we’ll need to pack carts, we need the abbreviated copies of the tomes of Healing, all the medicinal stores we can spare . . . ”

“I have to go,” Shia repeated. “I need to go now.”

“No!” The Dean and the head of the Healers’ Collegium spoke in resounding unison.

“You’re barely a Herald Trainee, much less a Herald. You cannot just up and leave and . . . ” Merchan was drowned out by Sereth.

“You’ve just started Healer’s training. What makes you think you could succeed where a full Healer failed?”

“This.” Shia reached into her belt-pouch and held up a spray of leaves that she didn’t remember plucking when she was in the house that morning. “I’m not saying that I could succeed, but with this, I may slow it down. It might be enough to give Norflank more time. To give
you
more time.”

Sereth reached out and brushed her fingers over the leaves. “What is that? It looks like mountain pirimora, but the color is wrong.”

“Healer-Herbalist Revyn has encouraged me to experiment with mixing plants. This is a cross of mountain pirimora and the desert anejja that we traded for with the Shin’a’in. Both are good at stalling infections, and I hope this will be stronger than either. My first plants have just reached maturity.”

“Then we send a full Healer with it.”

“But a Healer can’t travel as fast as a Companion,” Shia argued. She was unprepared for the stunned expressions the two turned on her before looking at each other.

“Kevrel,” Sereth murmured, in almost the same breath that Merchan whispered, “Dameo.”

“But this isn’t the same at all! This isn’t a dangerous rescue, and Healer Kevrel was not bonded with the Companion who volunteered to carry him.”

“How do you know about it? Few outside the Palace and the Collegium knew about that ill-fated attempt,” Merchan asked.

“Eodan told me. I think he meant it as a lesson—although I’m still not sure whether it was a lesson in doing something bold or not doing so.” Shia’s lips curved in a wry smile. “Either way, this is a very different situation—and I believe I’m the best one for it.”

The Dean and Sereth studied her for a long, reflective moment.

“I think she might be right,” Merchan said, tapping a finger on his chin. “She is, after all, several years older than the usual first-year.”