Arrows of the Queen (36 page)

She began to doze a little, her head nodding, when the Death Bell suddenly ceased its tolling. She woke at the sudden silence; then other bells began ringing—the bells that only rang to announce vital decisions made by the Council. They were tolling a death-knell.

Mero nodded, as if to himself. “The Council has decided, the Queen has confirmed it. They have chosen the death-sentence.” he said. “They will probably grant the condemned ones the right to die by their own hands, but if they have not the courage, the executioner will have them in the morning. I wish—” his face registered both grief and fury. “It is not the way of the One, may He forgive me—but I could wish they had a dozen lives each, that they might truly pay for what they did! And I wish that it could be I who metes out that vengeance to them—”

Talia briefly closed her eyes on his raw grief, then took up the task of easing it.

 

The petals falling from the apple trees were of a match for Rolan's coat—and the pristine state of Skif's traveling leathers.

“Do I look that different?” he asked Talia anxiously. “I mean, I don't
feel
any different.”

“I'm afraid you do look different,” she told him with a perfectly straight face. “Like someone else altogether.”

“How?”

“Well, to tell you the absolute truth,” she muted her voice as if she were giving him the worst of bad news, “you look—”

“What? What?”

“Responsible. Serious.
Adult.”

‟Talia!”

“No, really, you don't look any different,” she giggled. ‟All it looks like is that you fell into a vat of bleach and your Grays got accidentally upgraded.”

“Oh, Talia,” he joined her laughter for a while, then grew serious. “I'll miss you.”

“I'll miss you, too.”

They walked together in silence through the falling blossoms. It was Skif who finally broke the silence between them.

“At least I won't be as worried about you now—not like I'd have been if I'd gone last fall.”

“Worried? About me? Why? What is there to be worried about
here
?”

“For one thing, you're safer now; there isn't anybody left to be out after your blood. For another, well, I don't know why, but before, you never seemed to belong here. Now you do.”

“Now I feel like I've earned my place here, that's all.”

“You never needed to earn it.”

“I thought I did.” They drew within sight of the tack shed, where Skif's Companion Cymry waited, and with her, his internship instructor, Dirk. “Promise me something?”

“What?”

“You won't forget how to laugh.”

He grinned. “If you'll promise me that you'll learn.”

“Clown.”

“Pedant.”

“Scoundrel.”

“Shrew.” Then, unexpectedly, “You're the best friend I'll ever have.”

Her throat suddenly closed with tears. Unable to speak, she buried her face in his shoulder, holding him as tightly as she could. A few moments later, she noticed he was doing the same.

“Just look at us,” she managed to get out. “A pair of great blubbering babies!”

“All in a good cause,” he wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “Talia, I really do have something I'd like to ask you before I leave. Something I'd like you to do.”

“Anything,” she managed to grin, “So long as it's not going to get me in too much trouble!”

“Well—I never had any family—at least not that I know of. Would—you be my family? My sister? Since it doesn't seem like we were meant to be anything else?

“Oh, Skif! I—” she swallowed. “Nothing would make me happier, not even getting my Whites. I don't have any family anymore either, but you're worth twelve Holds all by yourself.”

“Then, just like we used to on the street—” He solemnly nicked his wrist and handed her his knife; she followed suit, and they held their wrists together . . .

“Blood to blood, till death binding,” he whispered.

“And after,” she replied.

“And after.”

He tore his handkerchief in half, and bound up both their wrists. “It's time, I guess. If I dally around much more, Dirk's going to be annoyed. Well—take care.”

“Be very careful out there, promise? If you manage to get yourself hurt—I'll—I'll turn Alberich loose on you!”

“Lord of Lights, you
are
vicious, aren't you!” He turned toward her, and caught her in a fierce hug that nearly squeezed all the breath from her lungs, then planted a hard, quick kiss on her lips, and ran off toward his waiting mentor. As he ran, he looked back over this shoulder, waving farewell.

She waved after him until he was completely out of sight.

She was unaware that she was being watched.

 

“And off goes her last friend,” Selenay sighed, guilt in her eyes.

“I think not,” Kyril replied from just behind her.

They had just turned their own Companions loose and had been walking together slowly back to the Palace; the gentle warmth and the perfumed rain of blossoms had made both of them reluctant to return to duty. Kyril had spotted Talia first; they'd turned aside into a copse to avoid disturbing what was obviously meant to be a private farewell.

“Why?” Selenay asked. “Lady knows she's little enough time for making friends.”

“She doesn't have to
make
them; they make themselves her friends. As little as I see the trainees, I've noticed
that
. And it isn't just the younglings—there's Keren, Sherrill—even Alberich.”

“Enough to hold her here without regret? We've stolen her childhood, Kyril—we've made her a woman in a child's body, and forced responsibilities on her an adult would blanch at.”

“We steal
all
their childhoods, Lady; it comes with being Chosen,” he sighed. “There isn't a one of us who's had the opportunity to truly be a child. Responsibility comes on us all early. As to Talia—she never really had a childhood to steal; her own people saw to that.”

“It isn't fair—”

“Life isn't fair. Even so, given the chance to choose, she'd take being Chosen over any other fate. I know I would. Don't you think she's happier with us than she would be anywhere else?”

“If I could only be sure of that.”

“Then watch her—you'll see.”

Talia stared as long as anything of Skif and his mentor could be seen, then turned back toward the Collegium. As she turned, Selenay could clearly see her face; with no one watching her, she had erected no barriers. As she turned away, her pensive expression lightened until, as she faced the Collegium most of the sorrow of parting had left her eyes. And Selenay's heart lifted again, as she read all Kyril had promised she would find in those eyes.

 

Talia sighed, turning back toward the Collegium. As she did so, she felt Rolan reaching tentatively for her. For one long moment after Skif had vanished off on his own, she had felt bereft and terribly lonely. But now—

How could she
ever
be lonely when there was Rolan?

And Skif wasn't the only friend she had; Jeri was off somewhere, but Sherrill was still here—and Keren, Devan, little Elspeth, Selenay—even dear, overly-gallant Griffon.

They were all of them, more than friends; they were kin—the important kind, soul-kindred. Her family. Her
real
family.
This
was where she'd belonged all along; as she'd told Skif, it had just taken her this long to see it.

And with a lighter heart, she turned back down the path that led to the Collegium.

The Collegium—and home.

NOVELS BY MERCEDES LACKEY
available from DAW Books:

 

THE HERALDS OF VALDEMAR
ARROWS OF THE QUEEN
ARROW'S FLIGHT
ARROW'S FALL

 

THE LAST HERALD-MAGE
MAGIC'S PAWN
MAGIC'S PROMISE
MAGIC'S PRICE

 

THE MAGE WINDS
WINDS OF FATE
WINDS OF CHANGE
WINDS OF FURY

 

THE MAGE STORMS
STORM WARNING
STORM RISING
STORM BREAKING

 

VOWS AND HONOR
THE OATHBOUND
OATHBREAKERS
OATHBLOOD

 

THE COLLEGIUM CHRONICLES
FOUNDATION
INTRIGUES*

 

VALDEMAR ANTHOLOGIES:
SWORD OF ICE
SUN IN GLORY
CROSSROADS
MOVING TARGETS
CHANGING THE WORLD

 

BY THE SWORD
BRIGHTLY BURNING
TAKE A THIEF
EXILE'S HONOR
EXILE'S VALOR

 

Written with LARRY DIXON:

 

THE MAGE WARS
THE BLACK GRYPHON
THE WHITE GRYPHON
THE SILVER GRYPHON

 

DARIAN'S TALE
OWLFLIGHT
OWLSIGHT
OWLKNIGHT

 

 

GWENHWYFAR

 

THE BLACK SWAN

 

THE DRAGON JOUSTERS
JOUST
ALTA
SANCTUARY
AERIE

 

THE ELEMENTAL MASTERS
THE SERPENT'S SHADOW
THE GATES OF SLEEP
PHOENIX AND ASHES
THE WIZARD OF LONDON
RESERVED FOR THE CAT

 

*Coming soon from DAW Books

 

And don't miss:
THE VALDEMAR COMPANION
Edited by John Helfers and Denise Little