Мерседес Лэки - Passages

As the girl bent low, Hannra said to Marjom, :Maybe you should greet me that way.:

:Unlikely, old friend,: Marjom retorted. :You’d get a fat head.:

Hannra stopped, lifting her head so her Herald could dismount. Marjom clutched a hank of Hannra’s mane for balance as she slid off her saddle. The ground slapped her feet as she took her full weight onto them. Damned old bones.

Herald Graylan slid easily off Yinna, but he looked over at Marjom with concern, making the older Herald grimace. She must have let out some audible note of pain. Well, damn Graylan, too. Someday he’d understand the difference between young bones and old ones.

Lisette almost danced toward the stables as the Companions walked amiably behind her.

Marjom used a wide smile to put a good face on her bad feet but lost it again as she started toward the inn door. Graylan came up beside her and offered his hand, but she shooed him away. “I’m fine.” By the time they got through the door, she could walk more or less normally. The first few steps after riding all day hurt, but she’d only fallen from the pain once, and that had been after an ice storm three weeks ago. She was fine. Just fine.

She straightened her uniform, the movement wrenching her sore arm. The bloodstains from this morning’s fight with three teenaged bandits had faded to dull red-brown, and light brown dust from the cold wind that had harried them through the afternoon coated the fabric. Graylan might look worse. The same fight with the teens had resulted in a rip in his pants. As if to underscore how ragged they looked, an older couple stood up to give them a table near the fire. She glanced down to verify they were leaving empty bowls before sliding into the offered seat with thanks.

A familiar serving girl filled glasses with both winter red wine and water. Before she could take the first sip of wine, the innkeeper, Hans, brought them bowls of vegetable stew, orange with fat winter carrots and too much pepper. She managed one bite before the door flew open to admit Herald Kenso. He was round for a Herald, with an easy gait and broad smile. She raised her glass, happy to see him. His Whites were still quite white and didn’t show any sign of scuffs, mending, or even laundering.

She scooted over as he neared their table. “Well met,” she said as he sat down. “What brings you out here to the very edge of Valdemar?”

“It’s time I took my turn watching Hardorn.”

“We can use the help.” Marjom shook her head, mentally abbreviating the day’s events. “We had to sort two refugee trains today. A big one with three families—twenty-two people!—was clean. They’re farmers Valdemar will have a use for. There was one of Ancar’s plants in a group of four deserting soldiers, though. Problem was, he had made himself well-liked. It took all afternoon to prove him a danger.”

Kenso took the water glass that had appeared in front of him and drank it down in one long pull. “How’d you prove it?”

She sighed. “We knew he was bad. You develop an instinct after decades out here. But we had to dig up facts to convince his three new best friends.”

Graylan leaned forward. “We interviewed each of them separately and picked apart their stories. Luckily, that also exonerated the other three, who plan to fight for us. Every sword helps.”

Kenso had already finished half his wine. “You’ll have to teach me the best tricks.” He turned to Marjom. The look on his face made her stiffen. A brief flash of . . . sympathy? “You’ve been called to Haven. They’re expecting you in a week.”

She almost dropped her water. Haven? “I’m needed here! We don’t have nearly enough Heralds to manage the Border and do any kind of normal Circuit. We could use twenty more, and two fistfuls of Healers!”

Kenso’s hand stopped with his flask halfway to his mouth. He had gone quiet, maybe talking to his Companion, or perhaps trying to remember the exact words he was supposed to say. He was a kind, affable Herald, with good instincts and a heart that was twice as big as his rounded belly. He hadn’t been Chosen based on his memory or lightning-quick wit. She had ridden a full Circuit with him once, and they’d had to return to towns twice to find things he’d left behind and once to finish a conversation he’d left hanging.

Now he closed his mouth and shook his head. “It’s orders. You have to go.”

Her heart sank. She asked Hannra. :Do you know what they want?:

:I’m sure it’s something good, Chosen,: Hannra replied. :They must need you. And maybe we can rest a bit.:

:There’s no time for resting!:

:Isn’t there?:

Marjom frowned . :What’s changed? Last week you suggested I start planning for the summer, even though it’s barely spring. You mentioned we needed to get some lighter Whites. Besides, you dislike Haven as much as I do!:

Whenever they’d been called back for any reason, both she and Hannra looked forward to getting back here, where smallholders struggled against nature and looked out for each other against common enemies like wild animals, raiders from Hardorn, and the weather. Simple enemies. Better that than the politics of Haven any day.

:It will be fine. I’m sure of it.: Hannra was holding something back. Which meant Marjom wasn’t going to like it.

She dipped back into her stew, trying to look calm, and then asked Kenso, “Is everything in Haven all right?”

“Yes. As far as all right goes when you’re expecting a Border war any day. You’ll find it a little chaotic. But they were clear that I was to send you back. Five days!”

He’d already told her that . She glanced at Graylan, and it was easy to see she’d have no help there. He’d been fine to ride Circuit with, but she’d often felt he’d prefer someone he could talk to more easily. Someone younger .

If she started out at first light, she could get back in four days. She didn’t want to leave, and if she had to leave, there were better places to go than Haven. But Heralds served Valdemar, not themselves. Still, the stew had turned to sand in her mouth. She choked it down with the bad wine, then pushed herself up, her feet throbbing again. “I’ll go pack.” She glanced at Graylan. “Is there anything you want me to leave you?”

Kenso spoke. “You’re to travel light. So just leave anything I’ll need.”

She took a deep breath to force calm. “Anything else you forgot to tell me?”

His eyes widened, and again she felt sure he was hiding something. Not that she could do anything about it. She could Mindspeak with Hannra, but not with other Heralds. So she nodded stiffly at him, also bobbing her head toward Graylan. “Very well, gentlemen. I’m tired.” She turned toward the stairs to hide the unexpected tear streaking down her cheek. No matter how badly she wanted to run up the stairs and shut the door behind her, age forced a sedate pace. She kept her head up and tried like hell to keep her shoulders back, too.

There was no reason for her to be upset. Except the memory of that sympathetic look on Kenso’s face burned like a slap.

Haven practically glittered as Marjom and Hannra neared it. Houses and shops spilled outward from tall walls. Travelers jostled her as a steady stream of people headed into the city. The golden light of a late spring afternoon filtered through the bright yellow-green of new leaves and the pinks of early tree-blossoms.

Each day, the journey had been slightly easier, the roads wider and safer, and the houses and fields they passed in better condition. Well, Haven was richer than the Border and could afford to put on a nice show and fill its gardens with bulbs. But it still bothered her. Queen Selenay poured resources into the Border’s defense, but nothing Valdemar had been able to do made the Border feel so safe as this.