Arrow’s Flight (31 page)

There was no denying the stewed meat and broth Talia ladled out to him, however. They ate every scrap, the first fresh food they’d had in weeks, sucking the tiny bones dry, then celebrated with exuberant loving. They fell asleep with untroubled hearts for the first time in many days.

They were awakened the next morning very early; the chirras were stirring restlessly, and both Companions seemed to be listening to something.

Rolan was overwhelmingly relieved and joyful, and Talia went deeper to find out why.

“Tantris says—” Kris began.

“There’re people coming!” Talia finished excitedly. “Kris, it’s the road crew!”

“There’s a Herald with them, too. Tantris thinks they’ll reach us sometime after noon.”

“Have they reached our marker yet?”

“Yes. The Herald had his Companion broadcast a Mindcali to ours when he found it. I might even have met them yesterday, if I hadn’t gone in the wrong direction—idiot that I am!”

“How were you to know? How many are there?”

“Ten, not counting the Herald.”

“Should we go out and try to dig the path out farther to meet them?”

“No,” Kris said firmly. “The little we can do won’t make much difference, and I’m still tired. We’ll pack up, straighten things up here, and meet them where the path meets the road.”

It seemed strange to see the Station barren of their belongings, with only the empty containers that the supplies had been stored in to tell of their presence there this past month. It took longer than Talia had thought it would to repack everything; they did not leave the Station until almost noon.

When they reached the road, they could see the newcomers in the far distance. They waved and shouted, and could tell by the agitated movements of the other figures that they’d been spotted. The work crew redoubled their efforts, and before too long— though not soon enough for Talia and Kris—the paths met.

“Heralds Talia and Kris?” The white-clad figure that was first through the gap was unfamiliar to both of them, though his immaculate uniform made them uncomfortably conscious of the pitiful condition of their own.

“Yes, Herald,” Kris answered for both of them.

“Praise the Lady! When the Guard learned that you hadn’t stayed at Waymeet and hadn’t arrived at Berrybay, and that you’d left on the very eve of the storm, we all feared the worst. Had you been caught in it, I doubt you would have survived even one night. This was the worst blizzard in these parts in recorded history. Oh, I’m Tedric. How on earth did you manage?”

“We were warned by our chirras in time to make the Waystation, but I doubt that we’d be in any shape to greet you now if it hadn’t been stocked by someone other than the regular Resupply crew,” Kris replied. “Whoever it was, he seems to have had an uncannily accurate idea of how much provender we’d need, and what kinds.”

“That’s the Weatherwitch’s doing,” said one of the work crew, a stolid-looking farmer. “Kept at us this fall till we got it stocked to her liking. Even made us go back after first snow with some odd bits—honey ‘n oil, salted meat ‘n fish. We had it to spare, praise Kernos, and she’s never yet been wrong when she gets one o’ these notions, so we went along with it. Happen it was a good thing.”

“Praise Kernos, in very deed! I see you’ve got your gear. Come along with me and I’ll have you warm and dry and fed before nightfall. I’m with the Re-supply Station outside of Berrybay. I’ve got plenty of room for both of you, if you don’t mind sharing a bed.”

“Not at all,” Kris replied gravely, sensing Talia struggling with the effort of maintaining what little shielding she had against the pressure of fifteen minds. “We’ve been sleeping on straw next to the hearth for warmth. Right now a camp cot would sound like heaven, even if I had to share it with Tantris!”

“Good. Excellent!” Herald Tedric replied. “I’ll guide you both back; these good people know what they’re doing, and they certainly don’t need me in the way now that we’ve found you.”

The members of the work crew made polite noises, but they obviously agreed with him.

“Fact is, Herald,” the red-faced farmer whispered to Kris, “Old Tedric’s a good enough sort, but he don’t belong out here. He’s too old, and his heart’s more’n a mite touchy. Waystation Supply post was supposed to be a pensioning-out position, if you catch my meaning. He ain’t the kind to sit idle, even though he hasn’t the health to ride circuit no more. We’re supposed to be keepin’ an eye on him, make sure he don’t overdo - job’s set up so’s he could feel useful, but wouldn’t have to do anything straining. Guard’s supposed to do all his fetching and carrying for him. But what with this storm and all, Guard’s busy clearing the roads, seein’ to the emergencies— when he found out you two was missin’, nothing would do but that he go out with us. Gave us a real fright a time or two, gettin’ short of breath and blue-like when we thought we might’ve found bodies. Good thing you turned up all right, or I reckon we’d have had a third body on our hands.”

This put things in an altogether different light. Kris felt a sudden increase in respect for the talkative and seemingly feckless Herald. On closer examination he saw that Tedric was a great deal older than he had first appeared, partially because he was bald as an egg, and partially because he had the kind of baby-soft face that tends not to wrinkle with age. His Companion cosseted him tenderly, flatly refusing to race headlong down the road so that he could prepare the Station for his guests.

Talia and Kris took turns telling him what had transpired from the time they discovered the plague in Waymeet.

“So you’re the Queen’s Own, the one with the Gift for emotions and mindHealing?” he asked Talia, peering at her short-sightedly. She could sense his faint unease around her, even through the shields Rolan was holding, and mentally shrank into herself. “I wonder if you could do something for the Weather-witch?”

“Considering that we obviously owe her our lives, I’ll certainly be glad to try,” Talia replied, trying not to show her own unease and her real dismay at being asked to use her wayward Gift. “Just who is she, and why do you call her the Weatherwitch?”

“Ah, it’s a sad story, that,” he sighed. “A few years ago, it would be, when I’d only just been assigned this post, there was a young woman named Maeven in Berrybay who’d gone and had herself a Festival child—that’s a babe that no one will claim, and whose mother hasn’t the faintest notion who the father might be. People being what they are, there was a certain amount of tsk-ing, and finger-pointing, until the poor girl heartily wished the babe had never been conceived, much less born. That’s what made what happened to her all the worse, you see. You know, ‘be careful what you ask for, you might get it’? I’m sure she often wished the child gone, and when the accident happened, she blamed herself. She was taking her turn working at the mill, and she left the little one alone for longer than she should have. Poor mite was just beginning to crawl about, and it managed to wriggle free of the basket she’d left it in. It crawled straight to the millrace, fell in, and drowned. She was the one to find the body, and she went quite mad.”

“But why ‘Weatherwitch’?” Kris asked.

“She must have had a Gift, and her going off her head freed it altogether, because she started being able to predict the weather. She’d be acting just as usual, dandling that rag-doll she got in place of her babe—then out of nowhere she’d look straight through you, and tell you that you’d better see that the beans got taken in because it was going to hail that night. Then, sure enough, it would. People in Berrybay and for a bit around took to coming to her any time the weather looked uncertain. She began to be able to See the weather that was coming days, then weeks, then months in advance. That’s why the villagers heeded her when she told them to stock the Station. I wish they’d told me, I’d have laid in a good deal more on my own.”

“You stocked it very well, and we’ve nothing to find fault with,” Kris replied reassuringly. “I’m afraid, though, that you’ll find we’ve used up just about everything that was there.”

“That will be no problem,” Tedric said cheerfully. “I’ll be glad to have a little task to turn my hand to. Most of my work’s done in the summer, and winter’s a bit of a slow time for me. But it looks to me as if you could use a full resupply yourselves.”

“I’m afraid so,” Talia said as Tedric shook his head over the state of their uniforms. “I don’t think the fabric is going to be good for much except rags.”

“I’ve got plenty of stock back at the Station, and I’m no bad hand with a needle,” Tedric replied. “I think I can refit you well enough so that you won’t be looking like crow-scares. I’ve got all the necessaries for bleaching and refinishing your leathers, so we won’t have to replace those, and your cloaks still look in fairly good shape, or will be after we clean them. If you don’t mind staying a bit, I can turn you out looking almost like the day you left to take this sector.”

“That sounds fantastic!” Kris said with obvious thankfulness.

“I can help with the altering, sir,” Talia added.

The old Herald twinkled at her. “But who tailors the tailor, then? And surely you wouldn’t deny an old man the pleasure of helping fit a pretty young lady, would you?”

Talia blushed, and to cover it, settled My Lady wrapped in her biankets in a new position on her lap. Without the harpcase to protect her, Talia elected to carry her personally.

“What’s this?” Tedric asked and brightened to learn it was a harp.

“Which of you is the musician?” he asked eagerly.

“We both are, sir,” Kris replied.

“But he really plays a great deal better than I do,” Talia added. “And Herald Tedric, we’d truly appreciate it if you could find someone to make a new traveling case for her while we’re here. We had to destroy the old one to make snow shovels.”

“The cabinetmaker would be proud to oblige you,” Tedric said with certainty. “In fact, he may even have something already made that will fit. Midwinter Fair is at the Sector capital in a few weeks, and he’s been readying a few instrument cases to take there, as well as his little carved boxes and similar trumperies. He’s known for his work on small pieces as well as furniture, you see. I’ll make a note to start stocking shovels in our Stations from now on. Not every Herald has harpcases to sacrifice.”

They passed the village of Berrybay just before sunset, Talia finding herself grateful for the shielding Rolan was supplying her, and reached the Re-supply Station with the coming of the dark. The place was much larger than Talia had expected.

“Bright Havens!” she exclaimed. “You could house half the Collegium here!”

“Oh, most of it isn’t living quarters—it’s mostly haybarn, warehouse, and granary. I do have three extra rooms in case some need should bring a number of Heralds this far north, but only one of those rooms has a bed; any more than two would have to make up beds on the floor. But let’s take first things first. I expect you’d both appreciate a hot bath. It will pleasure both of you to know I have a real bathing-room, just like the ones at the Palace and Collegium. While you’re getting washed, I’ll find some clean clothing for you to wear until we get your new outfits altered and your leathers cleaned. As soon as you’re feeling ready, there’ll be supper. How does that strike you?”

“It sounds wonderful—especially the part about the hot bath!” Talia replied fervently, as they dismounted in the station’s stable.

“Then take yourselves right in that door over there—I’ll tend to your beasts and friends. Go up the staircase, then take a sharp right. The copper’s all fired up. I’ve been doing it every day on the chance that we’d find you. The room you’ll be using is sharp left.”

They each took a small pack and Talia took her harp, and entered the door he’d indicated. Tedric hadn’t exaggerated, though it only held a single tub, the bathing-room was identical in every other way to the ones at the Palace.

“Which of us goes first?” Talia asked, thinking longingly of clean hair and a good long soak.

“You. You look ready to die,” Kris replied.

“I’m feeling the strain a bit,” she admitted.

“Then get your bath. I can wait.”

When tight muscles were finally relaxed, and the grime that had accumulated despite her best efforts ruthlessly scrubbed away, she wrapped herself in towels and sought their room. She found that Tedric had preceded them there; on the bed were laid out fabric breeches and shirts of something approximating their sizes.

The approximation was far from exact. It was obvious that if these articles were representative of the kinds of clothing held in storage, there was a great deal of work that was going to have to be done.

She stretched out on the bed for just a moment .. . only to fall completely asleep.

Kris had taken himself downstairs again to talk in private with Tedric. He hadn’t missed the older man’s initial unease around Talia—nor the fact that he had already know that Talia was Queen’s Own and what her Gift was. The identity of an internee was not supposed to be generally known, and the Gift of the Queen’s Own wasn’t generally even a matter of public knowledge among the Heralds themselves.

He decided that he was a bit too tired for diplomacy, and bluntly asked the older man where he’d gotten his information about Talia.

“Why .. . rumors, mostly,” Tedric supplied in astonishment, “Although I didn’t credit the half of them. I can’t imagine a Herald misusing a Gift, and I can’t believe the Collegium would allow anyone out who was poorly trained. And I’ve said so. But I must tell you, there are a lot of eyes and thoughts up here—and, I regret to say, some of them hoping to catch a Herald in failure.”