Mercedes Lackey - Magic's Promise

:Your reputation, beloved. A living legend came down off his pedestal and looked to him for company.: Yfandes sent him an image of a marble saint - statue hopping out of its niche and wriggling its eyebrows in a come - hither look. There was enough of a tired giggle in her mind-voice to get an equally tired chuckle out of him. But he sobered again almost immediately. :And that lasted how long? Two months? Three? Certainly not more.:

:You were busy - you had duties-both of you. It was your duties that parted you.:

:I was,: he replied bitterly, :a fool. More than duties would have parted us in time. I know exactly what I'm trying to do-when I admit it to myself. I'm trying to replace 'Lendel. I can't; I can't ever, so why do I even bother to try? A love like that happens once in a lifetime, and I'm not doing myself or my would - be partners any favor by trying to recreate it. I know it, and once the first glow wears off, they know it. And it isn't fair to them.:

Silence from Yfandes. There really wasn't much she could say. He was left to contemplate the inside of his own thoughts, as faint sounds of distant people and a bit of birdsong drifted in his window.

Damn it, I'm feeling sorry for myself again. Heralds are all lonely; it isn't just me. We’re different; made different by our Gifts, made even more so by the Companions, then driven even farther away from ordinary people by this fanatic devotion to duty of ours. Herald-Mages are one step lonelier than that. He couldn't help himself; the next thought came automatically, despite his resolution not to fall into a morass of self - pity. Then there's me. Between the level of my Gift and my sexual preferences--

He buried his face in his free hand. Gods. I am a fool. I have 'Fandes. She loves me in a way no one else ever will or ever did, except 'Lendel. That ought to be enough. It really ought-if I wasn't so damned selfish.

She interrupted his thoughts. :Van, you almost need a friend more than a lover. A different kind of friend than me; one that can touch you. You need to be touched, you humans -: Her mind-voice trailed off, grew dim, in the way that meant she was losing her battle to fatigue and had fallen asleep again.

"You humans." That phrase said it all. That was the telling difference, he realized suddenly. The telling lack.

Yfandes was not human-and she never felt exactly the way a human would. There was always the touch of the | "other" about her, and the strange feeling he got, some - times, that she was hiding something, some secret that she could only share with another Companion. It was not a comfortable feeling. He was just as glad she wasn't awake to pick it up from him.

He dragged himself up out of the depths of his chair to rummage paper and a pen and inkpot out of his desk. He slouched back down into the cushions and chewed thoughtfully on the end of the pen, trying to compose something that wouldn't set Withen off.

To Lord Withen Ashkevron of Forst Reach from Herald-Mage Vanyel Ashkevron.

So far, so good.

Dear Father: I'm sorry I've had to put off spending any length of time at home - but duty must always come before anything else, and my duty as a Herald is to the orders of my King.

He licked his lips, wondering if that was a bit excessively priggish. Probably not. And I don't think I'll say anything about how visits of less than a day keep Mother from having vapors at me. He reached for the goblet again, and another swallow of wine, before continuing.

As for Meke, I'll do my best with him, Father. You must remember though, that although I am a Herald I am also his brother - he may be no more inclined to listen to me than he does to you. With regard to your news about Baires and Lineas - may the gods help us - I have seen far too much of conflict of late. I was praying for some peace, and now you tell me we may have a Situation on our very doorstep. Unless Randale asks me to intervene, there isn't much I can do. Let us hope it doesn't come to that. I promise I will try to put some sense into Meke's head about that as well; perhaps when he has heard some of what I have seen, a war will no longer seem quite so attractive. Perhaps when he sees some of what war has done to me -| no, Father, I was not badly hurt, but I picked up an injury or two that left scars. It may be that will impress him.

He closed his eyes and carefully picked out the least loaded words he could think of for the next sentence. When he thought he had it, he concentrated on setting it carefully down on the paper so that there could be no mistake.

With regard to my - friends; I promised you ten years ago that I would never indulge in anything that you did not approve of or that made you uncomfortable under your roof. Do you still find it so difficult to believe that I would keep my word?

He nobly refrained from adding "Odd, no one else seems to have that problem." That would not serve any purpose, and would only make his father guilty, and then angry.

I do have a request to make of you, and a reminder of a promise you made to me at the same time. You pledged to keep Mother from flinging young women at me - under other conditions I would not feel that I needed to remind you of this promise, but I truly cannot handle that particular situation this time, Father. I'm exhausted; you can't know how exhausted. All I really want is some peace, some quiet time to rest and catch up with the family matters. Please do me this one small favor; I don't think it's too much to ask. Yours, Vanyel.

He folded the letter and sealed it quickly, before he had a chance to add a postscript to that temptingly empty space at the bottom. All I want from you and Mother is to be left alone. I need that rest. Before I fall on my face.

He picked up the second letter, and heaved a sigh of relief. Liss. Oh, bless you, big sister. My antidote to Father.

To Herald-Mage Vanyel Ashkevron from Guard - Captain Lissa Ashkevron: Dearest Van - if half of what I've been hearing about you is true, I'm tempted to abandon my command and kidnap you and hide you someplace until you've had some rest! Thank the gods somebody saw enough reason to give you a leave! And before you bleat to me about “duty,” just you remember that if you kill yourself with overwork you won't be around to do that duty!

Vanyel smiled, biting his lip to keep from chuckling. Good old Liss!

I should tell you what's going on out here, since you may be riding right into another hotbed of trouble. Deveran of Lineas has disinherited his eldest. The boy supposedly has mage-power, which, since his mother does not, is being read that he is probably a bastard. The Uneans in any case are not likely to allow anyone with Mage-Gifts to rule over them-but this Tashir is altogether too like his Uncle Vedricfor comfort. And Vedric is protesting the tacit slur on his “good name” - not that he has one - and is being backed by the entire Mavelan Clan. I suppose it is a bit much to imply that your brother-in-law was fornicating with his own sister before your marriage to her. Havens bless - talk about soiled goods!

At any rate, I suspect there's far more to it than that; what, I don't know, but the Mavelans seldom unite for anything and they're uniting on this one. I much doubt it's over concern for Vedric's reputation or tender feelings for Tashir. My guess is there's another attempt at acquiring Lineas in the offing - but since they're both clients-by-alliance to Valdemar, the Mavelans can't just begin flinging mage-fire over there. Randale would definitely take exception to that.