The Life of a Herald (closed for Hookerboots)

As Owyn headed out, Alaine nodded at Candra. "I need to speak with that bard, Soren." She frowned faintly. "I need to find out what he's playing at, and there's only one way to start."

Candra nodded. "Good choice. I'll leave you to it, then. I'll be at the waystation when you're done."

"What?" Alaine blinked, startled and a little unnerved. "You . . . you won't be going with me?"

"Did you miss what I said? This is your task, Alaine." Candra gave her an encouraging smile. "I have faith that you can do it, and my being there may well be more of a problem than a help."

Swallowing hard, Alaine nodded. "Right. All right. But . . . if I can't, you'll help, right?"

Candra resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Teenagers. "Yes, if you cannot, I will assist you. But you will be able to do this. Remember that you can use the truth spell if needed, and that," the older woman gave her a firm look, "you are a young, attractive woman. You have skills besides the magic that may help you."

There was a moment of silence, then Alaine blinked. "Oh! Yes, right. I'll remember both of those things." She was blushing lightly, but headed out the door, the papers tucked under one arm.


She'd learned from the Council members that at this time of day, Soren would likely be in the tavern, and so she headed that way. The Lion and Crow was the second largest building in town, and not smaller by much, so it was easy enough to find. And once she was inside, finding her erstwhile bard was easy as well - the scarlet they wore made him stand out like a cardinal among sparrows.

When she moved to sit at his table - he was between songs at the moment - his face was welcoming but guarded. "Herald. It's unusual to see one of your fellows in the town tavern. To what do I owe this pleasure?" He was a firmly muscled young man, still in his early twenties, with dark auburn hair and keen features, though his nose had been broken and badly set in the past.

"Bard Soren, I presume." Alaine gave him a dazzling smile. "I actually came to speak with you, if you've time."

He inclined his head. "I think they can spare me for a bit. I would never pass a chance to chat with so lovely a lady. You are Herald Alaine, are you not?" Her obvious surprise made him smile. "I know you by reputation - very few are Chosen from the families of those already Heralds. One of my classmates was working on a song about you."

"I'm sure they'll abandon it in time - I'm quite dull, really."

He strummed his harp idly. "That remains to be seen. You were looking for me, you said. What might I help you with?"

She set the papers on the table and looked at him squarely, her eyes bright. "I'm here to speak with you about Ketil Calend, and your affair."

He didn't flush, or even look embarrassed. "Yes, what about it?"

"Why?"

"Why not? She's an attractive woman - not as pretty as present company - and stuck in a situation she didn't ask for." His words were frank and open, and if she didn't smell a rat, she wouldn't have suspected a thing.

Instead of telling him she knew better, she simpered. "You think I'm prettier than she is?"

His smile was warm, and she leaned a bit forward, one hand to her chest as he answered. "Of course. You're the flower of the Collegium, my dear girl." She almost gagged - he wasn't that much older than she was.

"It just seems," she shrugged and looked down, "that a handsome fellow like you could have, well, a partner in any town. Why stay here so long?"

"Well, a man finds a . . . cordial setting, he likes to stay a bit longer than he might." There was something there, she just needed a bit more to jostle it loose. "I should have moved on ages ago, I suppose."

One of Alaine's fingers traced along a seam in the wood of the table. "I'd not have thought a lady with a husband would be . . . such a cordial setting." She flickered her eyes up at him, then back down, trying to make it seem like she was trying to hide some sort of passion.

Soren cleared his throat. "Yes, well. I suppose . . . I liked the thrill, the danger of it." He fiddled with the pegs of the harp, tightening and loosening strings that were already in tune. "The chance of being caught, and what might happen if we were . . . ."

Alaine rested one hand on the papers. "What's happening is they're planning to divorce," she said sadly. "It's a shame, really. May restart the feuding between their families."

Her eyes met his as she said that, and she was appalled by the glimmer of light she saw there. "It's tragic," he said, though that sadness never touched his eyes. "But they were never meant to work, I suppose." He pretended to brighten, his voice sounding more upbeat now, something she knew was faked. "It will make a grand, tragic song, though. Perhaps the Goddess smiled on me, keeping me here so long."

"That must be the case," she said sympathetically. The rogue! That was the game? All this, for a song? "I wonder," Alaine said as though she'd just thought of it, "would you be willing to be present at the final disposition tomorrow?" She blushed and looked shy. "I'm rendering the verdict, you see, and it would be nice to know there would be a friendly face there."

Soren smiled at her, and put one hand on top of hers on the papers; she resisted the urge to flinch away. "I'd be honored."

A bright, grateful smile lit her face. "Oh, thank you. I do appreciate it. Now," she said, taking her hand - and the papers under it - back, "I should leave you to your music. I've got reading to do tonight, after all."

While The Lion and Crow was the largest tavern in town, there were others. Mistress Leonmar owned and ran one that was both an inn and a tavern, serving the locals but also the merchants and caravaners who came to Westhome. Her establishment, The Blessings of the Goddess, wasn't the largest or most opulent of the inns in town. Nor did it boast the best beer or finest cook. It did promise friendly staff and service and presented them in such a way as to be remembered.

Owyn was sure he would remember, considering that he was having a hard time finding a safe place for his eyes. The Blessings of the Goddess' staff were all women who wore a particular set of clothes that they said Mistress Leonmar's people wore and that she'd brought with her; a skirt that went to just above the knees, which was normal enough. But then there was the top; a low cut shirt supported by an over garment that lifted and pressed to maximize a woman's...endowment. Even a small chested girl had delightful and sinful cleavage exposed and expanded upon by them, and Mistress Leonmar did not have any such girls in her employ.

"It's awful, Herald Owyn, sir!" Safyn was a woman in her mid twenties with dark blond hair, a sweet face, and in her work uniform, delicious and generous breasts that seemed to be ready to spring free of their cloth confinement. "It's been hurting business too, as you might expect. If something doesn't happen, Mistress Leonmar'll be out of house and home before she's found innocent!"

Owyn licked his lips and fought to keep his gaze on her wheat colored eyes. "I think she likely is innocent, Mistress Safyn, but I must know all that happened that night as best you can remember it." They were in the common room of the inn and it was empty save for two other staff who were cleaning and preparing for any customers who would come in with the evening. They stood at the long bar while another young woman was behind it cleaning mugs and setting things out for the night's service. "This may sound strange but I don't need to know about Mistress Leonmar but Master Abel."

"Shawm?" The girl behind the bar, closer to his own age he guessed, paused in her cleaning. "What about him?"

Owyn glanced over at her, his eyes dipping low before he dragged them back up, "Anything you can think of. Any friends or enemies he had in town, any altercations he may have had, but mostly exactly what he did that night before he, ah, retired with Mistress Leonmar."

Safyn thought a few moments, running a hand through her hair, "Shawm got along well, or passing well with everyone, really. He was a caravaner and so he made a point to be good to the locals, you know? He had a bit of a dust up with one of Merchant Ind's men the day before he-" She paused and shivered, shaking her head, "Anyway, he had that dust up but that caravan left the same day."

The girl behind the bar made a soft hum and pursed her lips, which Owyn also tried to ignore. "When he was in town, he really didn't go anywhere 'cept stay here. Ate and drank his fill, flirted with and tipped all us girls though he only tumbled with Leonmar. He'd go to the general store a bit and to the depot to load and unload the wagons, of course, but that's about it."

"I see. That night then. I know his caravan was leaving the next day. Did he do or say anything unusual? Any odd encounters or interactions?" Both women shook their heads. Damn. Owyn had a feeling there was more to this. The man didn't have any enemies, didn't interact with that many people, so it had to be here that it happened. But nothing was out of the ordinary? "In that case, it was a normal night before departing for him. What did that mean? What did he do?"

The two women looked at one another and Safyn then shrugged, "Well, he ate a big meal. Last good one he'd have before he came, he said. And he did a lot of drinking. He did the challenge a few times."

Owyn tilted his head a bit, "The challenge?"

"Yes," the blond grinned a little. "It's one of our inns customs, see?" She gestured to a sign over the bar that read; "The Rock Beer Challenge - drink it all to win, cough it up and cough up your coin!"

The young man nodded, "All right. A drinking game. What's Rock Beer?"

The bartender smiled and put a pint mug on the table, "S'just a regular beer, really, until you add the Sweet Rock." She reached under the bar and then pulled out a glass preserve jar that was full of irregular chunks of a clearish rock, of varying sizes. She opened it and offered it to him to inspect, "They come from a ridge west of here; they just...grow up out of the ground. Big crystals, as tall as a man, some of 'em, they say. They look like rock and they're a bit hard but they're sweet like sugar and dissolve too, in time."

Owyn's eyes had narrowed, "Remarkable." He picked a chuck out and held it up, "So in this challenge, these are put in the beer?"

"Aye, a full cup of 'em." She shook the container, "See, they take time to dissolve and the challenge is to chug your beer and swallow all the stones too; if you leave any behind, or spit it up 'cause o' the rocks, you lose and you have to pay for the drink, win and it's free. If you go head to head with someone, the loser pays for both. If both of you manage it, the one as finishes first wins."

This was...this was it. Owyn was sure of it. He felt a rush of excitement and a strange tingle of anticipation. "Shawm did the challenge?"

Safyn took up the question, "Aye, he did. Not every night but always beofre setting out; a few times, usually." She shook his head, "Never seen him lose myself. He guzzled it right down each time. Complained sometimes, he did, that the stones scratched up his throat, but that's part of the challenge." She gestured at the inn, "All of us girls do it too, part of the attraction, you know? To see girls who swallow it all."

The innuendo slid right over him. Owyn pulled a packet of folded paper out of his pocket, "So, you've both done the challenge?" They nodded, "What does it feel like?"

The bartender shrugged, "It takes some getting used to. I know the trick to it now, but the first few times, I did spit when a few larger rocks hit the back of my throat. Even now it can still feel like they cut you up a bit, but it's just sensitivity. Healer Dannid checked it out to make sure it was safe years ago when Mistress Leonmar started doing in."

"So he wouldn't even notice," Owyn mused. "And he'd be drunk and getting drunker; easy enough to overlook feeling weaker, a strange taste in your mouth, even a little pain would be covered by intoxication." The two women looked at each other in puzzlement. The young Herald unfolded the paper and tipped the glass fragments onto the bar top next to the sweet rock he'd taken out of the jar. "Close enough in appearance. And he couldn't see them in a mug of beer anyway."

"Uh, Herald?"

Owyn gathered the glass bits and the sweet rock back up and into the makeshift paper envelope, "I need to know the names of every person Shawm drank a challenge with that night, please."


There was a rap at the door and Healer Dannid raised his head from his desk and the log he'd been writing. He blinked in surprise, "Owyn. Didn't expect to see you back again today. Something further I can do for you?"

The young man nodded, "Yes. I was wondering if you couldn't give me some background on a few people in town." He came into the office, shutting the door behind him.

"Background, you say?" His eyes were keen as he eyed the much younger man. "Huh. That I can. Who did you want to know about?"

Owyn moved to once again lean against the wall, "Rikard Cooper."

Dannid shook his head, "A young fool. He likes to play big man but he's never left town in his life. Cocky but good natured under it all. He blusters but he's backed down out of any fight he's ever gotten into."

"Hn. Possible." Owyn's fingers drummed on the hilt of his saber once more. "Gilwyn."

"The Guardsman? Sharp eyed and clever enough." Dannid sighed, "Clumsier than a one legged goat though. I've had to patch him up more times than I can count; he's all thumbs."

"Unlikely then," Owyn mused. "Probably couldn't have slipped them in."

"You think something got put in Shawm's drink or meat then? That tore him up inside?" The Healer's eyes were keen.

"I'm sure of it." Owyn pulled the little envelope he'd made out and handed it to Dannid. The man opened it and made a small noise. "I found those glass fragments where the ashes had been poured out. They were blacked with soot from the cremation."

"Got dropped in to the drink for the challenge they do at Leonmar's, that's your thought?" Dannid frowned at the Herald's head nod. "Damned ugly and nasty thing to do. Clever too." He looked at Owyn, "You got more names? I can't imagine either of the men you've mentioned could do such a thing."

"The truth doesn't care if we can imagine it or not," Owyn said.

"True enough."

"Engin."

Dannid grimaced, "Unpleasant son of a bitch, the apothecary. Has access to glass too and likes to try and show up men who might be physically stronger than him. I don't know that he'd risk his business or his life on a murder like this though...Shawm was all but a stranger to him. But he also might think he's smart enough to get away with it."

"Noted." Owyn looked over at the broad shouldered man, "The last one you actually brought up earlier."

"Tarn?" Dannid raised his eyebrows, "Really? I didn't think he did the challenge at all. Or even go to the Blessings. I doubt his wife likes that; although she may be more understanding, given...well. So he's been there a lot, has he?"

Owyn shrugged, "The girls said he's a semi-regular for the last year or so. He apparently does the challenge occasionally against one of the caravaners about to head out, always loses though."

"I'm not surprised. He's a gossip, as I said, and has a mean side but that's just in talk. In person he's pretty mild. Bright enough but never really took to any trade; s'how he ended up as the junkman and tinker." Dannid paused for a moment. "...The girls at the Blessings said he's been going there about a year?" Owyn nodded and the big man sighed. He leaned back in his chair and then shook his head again, "I shouldn't tell you this. Folks who see a Healer expect a level of confidence. But Tarn's living on borrowed time. He's got a disease growing in him; a cancer. Nothing can be done to cure it. Hurts like hell expect for the medicine I give him. He came to me about a year back complaining of pain and when I used my Gift, I found it. Since then it's spread, pain's gotten worse, he's impotent now...it's a bad end, it is. I'm surprised he's made it this long."

Owyn felt a sort of mental click in his mind. "And he's the tinker?"

"Aye, fixes odd things, sharpens knives and the like." Dannid nodded, "He's the junkman also, takes the trash from the businesses around and gets rid of it."

"The trash from the businesses," Owyn repeated. "Like the apothecary."

"Aye, he...aye."

Owyn nodded, "I see. Thank you again."

He stood and made to leave, Dannid half-rising as he did, "Owyn, Herald, do you think...?"

"Yes. And I know how to find out for sure." Owyn inclined his head to the Healer and headed out. He did feel certain. But it wasn't a sure thing. There was only one way to know.

Should he go back to the Waystation and speak to Candra? He grimaced, remembering when he'd failed earlier. No. This was his investigation. He would do it alone.

Alaine was whistling when she got back to the Waystation, something jaunty that she could remember the melody of but not the name. She saw the fire going, with a pot of something delicious-smelling bubbling over it, and smiled as she went into the small cabin.

Candra wasn't there, but a quick check in with Rhonwyn told her the older woman was around the back of the little house, taking a quick scrub down from the pump there. So Alaine grabbed a tie for her hair, one of the bottled drinks they'd bought at one of the shops in town, and her papers and went to sit outside by the fire.

She was several pages in by the time Candra came around the building, a towel over her shoulder and her hair still beaded with moisture. "Ah, Alaine. Tamlin told me you were back. What did you find out?" The senior Herald sat down by the fire as well, using the towel to dry her hair a bit more.

Sighing, Alaine set the pages down. "He's doing this so that he can," her face twisted in disgust, "write the epic song of the feud, a tragic tale of two families at war." She made a rude sound. "He's a self-serving peacock, and I wish I was a guard so I could bring him up on charges myself."

Leaning back a bit, Candra shook her head. "I was half-afraid it would be something like that. Well, we will have to make sure our puffed-up popinjay gets what he wants. He'll be famous, all right, once the Bardic college gets done with him." She gestured at the papers. "And what about that?"

"I hope that I won't have to use it," the raven-haired girl sighed. "But if I do, the contracts are pretty clear." She looked at the page she'd just set down and sighed. "Except in this case. There are provisions for what happens if she was unfaithful, or if he was, but not if both were. Without us being here, this would be a war, no question."

"And?"

Alaine shrugged, a little uncomfortable. Where was Owyn? He should be here to share in the grilling she was receiving. "Unless something spectacular is hidden in this mess, my ruling will be that the disputed area be split in two, half to each family. They both cheated, they both lose something."

Candra kept a straight face. "No consideration for the fact that she was a pawn? That Soren most likely used his Bardic gift on her to make her believe what he was saying?"

"No." Alaine's voice was flat. "She knew she was doing wrong, Bardic gift or no." She snorted. "She knew what the score was, that she shouldn't, but she let him pay court for whatever reason. And took it too far, and that's why we're at this point." Alaine took a swallow of her drink. "Both she and Bron are at fault, because they both knew the consequences and acted anyway. Neither of them gets a better deal, because they both knew what would happen."

"Good." Candra nodded. "That's the decision I would have made. Good job, Alaine."

Blushing a little at the praise, the girl looked back to the documents. "I also asked Soren to join us at the hearing tomorrow as well, under the guise of having him as moral support for me." Her lips twisted into a wry smile. "I plan on using the Truth Spell on him and have him confess his real purposes. Maybe, if they haven't made the right decision by then, it will be enough to get someone to apologize."

Candra leaned forward, stirring the stew. "We can hope. That was a good thought as well." She glanced at the girl. "When do you think Owyn will be back? Should we wait for him?"

Alaine looked at the stew, then at the sky. She sighed. "I want to say no, but he'll be hungry after the day - I know I am. I say we wait another fingermark and if he's not back by then, we can save him some."

Tarn the Tinker was lean, almost gaunt, though he had the look of a man who had once been heavy. Even if he hadn't known the man's diagnosis, Owyn would have suspected he was ill. Had the others in town noticed? Possibly not. He was a trained observer, for one. For another, they saw him every day so it would be a gradual change to them. And given his professions, he was likely overlooked by most of the people here. That could rankle a man. Particularly one who was facing his end, no doubt questioning his legacy.

He was also keen eyed enough to spot Owyn coming. Though he was wearing his Whites and astride Fahn's gleaming bulk. The young man inclined his head as he approached and drew Fahn to a halt. "Good day. You are Goodman Tarn, correct?"

The skinny tinker's body was tense and one of his hands was on his belt, toying with the worn leather near the hanging haft if a hammer. "I am, Herald. Can I be of service? Do you need something mended?" His dark eyes were sharp, "Or are you here on other business? I heard you were tasked to exonerate or condemn old Leonmar."

Owyn swung down from the saddle, noting the man's posture, the nervous hand, the way he'd asked about mending with a flat, dull tone that indicated he knew Owyn was there for nothing of the sort. "You're too sharp to think I'm here for a broken kettle or a dull knife, Goodman, if what I've heard is true." The tinker's face was cautiously pleased. Fahn snorted and took a few steps away from the two men, shaking his mane. That was odd. Owyn hoped his surprise didn't show on his carefully maintained placid face. "You're known to have a keen wit and to see and hear most of what happens in this town. I was hoping to get your help."

"My help?" His shoulders were straighter and he was standing a bit more at ease. "What help could I be to you, Herald?"

Owyn spread his hands, "I'm a stranger here and just on my internship. A clever local like you would provide invaluable insight. To be frank," he lied, "I'm out of my reckoning and need you to find the right course."

"Well." Tarn licked his lips. "Well," he said again, "I'd be honored to lend my counsel to you, young Herald." He gestured to the modest house behind him, "Please come in, my wife will be delighted at so honored a guest."

She was at that; a plain but not unappealing woman just a little on the plump side. She seemed awed that Owyn had come to speak to her husband and hovered near the two men as they talked. Her attitude clearly pleased Tarn and he began to act almost as if he were holding court. He spoke long in response to Owyn's questions and provided a great deal of gossip and his own judgments. The Herald learned far more than the tinker could have known, not only through observation but using a Gift. The ethics of Mindspeech were clear in many cases, including this one. He could have probed into the gaunt man's mind but even though it was undisciplined, Tarn was bright and was strong willed. He might be aware of intrusion. So Owyn merely skimmed the surface of his thoughts as they spoke. It was a profoundly unpleasant experience; under his more normal mask, the man's thoughts were dark and violent. He seemed to think nothing positive of anyone other than their use to him and if he had any control over them.

He was sure now. No more just sure of suspicion but now he knew this was his man. "Very well," Owyn said. "Goodman Tarn, you have made things much clearer for me. Goodwife Filna, your hospitality has been impeccable. I thank you both." He rose and bowed to the simpering, blushing woman. "I have taken up enough of your time."

Tarn saw him out. The tinker looked up at the taller, younger man, "You look like a man who's found his answer, Herald." His eyes and tone were questioning.

"I may well have." He inclined his head, "I will deliver my verdict tomorrow. I know that our man will be there."

Tarn's eyes were bright. "I will be as well. I cannot wait for you to sentence that bastard Elgin."

Owyn made his eyes widen, "That's...well, again you impress me, Goodman Tarn." The Herald bowed to him, "I'm glad we are of a mind. Good evening."

He felt queasy as he went back outside. Fahn was waiting just on the other side of the property line. Owyn mounted and sighed, leaning forward as his Companion headed back through town, "That's answered, then."

"I suppose you had to be sure, but still. I don't like him. He's sick, and I don't mean his body; his spirit is rotten. That was dangerous, little brother."

Owyn smiled just a bit. "Danger is my job. But I'm glad you agree. I noticed how you shied from him."

"Ugh. My skin crawled being just that near. I felt like I just had to stomp his head in if he got too close." The white equine shook his head, "Let's go back, we could both use a bath after that."

"Not yet." Owyn sat up straight in the saddle. "I need to talk to a few more people now. There were names that came up in his thoughts. I need to know about them. Take me to The Lion and Crow."

Fahn shook his head and sighed but adjusted his course accordingly, "You keep going to taverns to "investigate" and you're going to get a reputation."

Owyn grimaced, "It's only for official business, you lout."

"Yeah? How official was it when you couldn't get your eyes off those girls' tits earlier?" The young man didn't answer, his cheeks heating. Fahn whickered a laugh and then snorted, "Candra's going to be mad you didn't come back or report in sooner, you know."

"Then she shouldn't have given me the task," Owyn replied. "But she did, so I will see it done properly."

"She'll love that argument."


It was dark by the time he returned to the Waystation. The sun was fully gone from the sky perhaps a mark or more ago. As he drew near the turn off to their temporary base of operations, elegant and dainty Rhonwen stepped out to meet them; her white shape seeming to almost materialize out of nowhere. Her blue eyes were chiding and she tossed her head in a greeting that was equal parts welcome, irritation, relief, and worry.

How could they do that? Pack so much meaning into their motions. "Good evening, Rhonwen. Thank you for meeting us, your loveliness is a welcome sight at the end of the day."

The mare seemed a bit mollified and fell in beside them as then turned up the sheltered, hidden lane. There were no white clad figures outside that he could see. Which was good. Probably. He dismounted and felt a shiver up his back for some reason. "Let's get you fed, Fahn." And brushed down and bedded down, the other Companions and the churras too. Then he'd go inside.

"Trying to put it off? Not that I blame you."

"No! ...shut up."

When Owyn walked into the Waystation, Alaine was sitting on her bedroll - in front of the hearth, he noticed - leafing through the contracts in front of her, while Candra was working on mending some of her Whites. They looked up as he entered, and Candra set her mending down. Alaine looked back at the contracts, a small smile on her lips.

"You're back late," Candra said mildly.

"Yes, I was working on the investigation. I think I found the real killer." He started taking off his boots and went to the bowl resting on the hearth for him. "It was the tinker, his mind's . . ." he shuddered, "it's a cess pit."

She was silent for a moment. "I see. I'm glad you were able to find out who did it. Did it not occur to you that it might be dangerous?" Her voice was level, but it was possible to detect a note of worry. "That he might sense why you were there and take action?"

He sat down on his bunk and stirred the stew. "It did occur to me, but . . . I don't know how to say this. The way the murder was done, it wasn't brave. He wouldn't want a direct conflict like that." He shrugged. "Besides, I had Fahn. He could have gotten word to the other Companions."

"And there's no way of telling how long it would take us to get to you!" Her voice had risen a bit, and she walked toward him. "It was reckless! We were worried that something had happened!"

Alaine flipped a piece of paper over. "If you hadn't shown up in another candlemark, we'd have gone looking."

He looked over at her, then back at Candra. "Look, you gave me a task. I wasn't going to half-ass it!" She folded her arms over her chest, looking at him seriously. "I really didn't feel like he was that much of a threat. He's a sick, dying, mean old man. His wife was there."

Again without looking up, Alaine said, "He's got a point."

Candra sighed and shook her head. "Perhaps it wasn't as reckless as I thought. But in the future, if you do something like this again, try and send word." She ran a hand through her hair. "You could have sent word somehow, a runner from the village or something. But it is all right. We all have a big day tomorrow."

Owyn looked over at Alaine where she was sat on her bedroll. Whose side was she on in this? She'd said that they'd go looking but then defended his point. Had she been worried at all?

And why did the idea that she might not have been make his heart ache?

"I'll send someone or use MindSpeech." Hell, he could have done that. Damn. Why hadn't he thought of it? "...you're right. I didn't think it through. I'm sorry."

Candra nodded, "Good. Eat and clean up, then bed."

Owyn grimaced. He needed to get in at least some of his exercises. "I still have to-"

"Eat. Clean up. Bed." The amazonian Herald gave him a steady glare; her arms crossed under her breasts. Her tone warned him not to argue. "There's no time. We will be presenting our verdicts tomorrow and we must be presentable. I will not have you looking tired or slack. The image of the Heralds is as important as what we do. Given that you will be declaring guilt on a murder, you more than any of us must look the part."

The young man turned his bowl in his hands. If he didn't practice and work out, he'd get sloppy, lost his tone, lose his edge. Then when something happened, he wouldn't be good enough. "And if I regret it later?"

"What?"

"What if I'm not good enough later? I have to stay sharp!" Owyn glared right back at her, "If I get sleep now but die later, what does it matter?"

Candra shook her head, "I'm not going to dignify that with a response. You need to have more faith in your training." She laid back on her bunk with a sigh, "Eat and go to bed; I don't want to hear another word from you tonight. That is an order, intern."

He looked down at the stew and felt no appetite whatever. But he would not be childish enough not to eat because he was in bad temper. It would serve no point. And she was right about tomorrow. "Yes, Herald Candra," he answered.


Owyn had been silent the rest of the night and the morning as well. He responded with a nod or a single word but no more. He was the Ghost once more; retreating back inward.

In part, it was due to temple but it was more because of the task that awaited. He had to speak in front of the town. As much of the townsfolk, merchants, and caravanserai who could be present would be. This was one of the big events of the season and the two serious issues he and Alaine were addressing made it even bigger than it would be ordinarily.

Their uniforms glowed; each had selected their best one and cleaned it again that morning. The Companions seemed to shine also as they rode through the mid-morning sun to town. The square had been prepared with the brief stage used for such occasions re-assembled and the space cleared; seating placed around the outside for the elderly or young. The hearings and rulings officially started at noon, so it was still some time yet, but people were already gathering on the periphery and claiming good spots to spectate from.

Candra spoke with Gheyna and Jehren as they arrived and then called the other two over to review the agenda. Candra looked at the interns and then the councilors. "Alaine and Owyn have the most important cases to settle. As much as I would like them to go first and get it over with, I think we should end with them." The olive skinned woman turned to the two junior Heralds, "Which of you would prefer to go first?"

Owyn glanced over at Alaine, "...It doesn't matter for my case. If it would put more pressure on the given parties in hers, I can go first."

Alaine shook her head. "No, I'd rather go before you, please." She twined her fingers together. "When you give your verdict, it'll cause quite a sensation, and I think it'll be easier to let everyone go after that, instead of trying to get them to calm down."

Nodding, Owyn looked out at the crowd. "That makes sense, actually."

Alaine looked at the crowd gathering as well. She sighed. "Well. It's not noon yet, so we still have to wait." She clasped her hands behind her back and glanced at him. "If I can guess who the killer is, will you tell me if I'm right?"

"What?"

She grinned at him. "Seriously, if I can guess who, will you tell me if I'm right? Before the big reveal, you know?" Owyn gave her a look, and she stifled the giggle that came bubbling up. "Never mind, it's silly."

Candra walked up to them while he was still looking at her in a mix of incredulity and amusement. "Well, we are almost ready. Are you both confident with what you will be doing today?"

Alaine sighed. "As ready as I'll ever be, I think. Is it always so nerve-wracking?"

A small smile played over Candra's lips. "It gets less so as you do it more. And after you've made more of the decisions, the tough ones, the only thing that is worrisome is getting up in front of a group of people and talking."

Gheyna waved to Candra, and the senior Herald nodded. "All right, time to take our places. You'll both be fine."


They provided easy solutions for several of the smaller matters: ownership of two sets of calves, a handfasting, and three charges of minor theft. Then came the two big ones, and Alaine set her pile of papers on the meeting table that had been moved outside for this purpose.

The Calend's moved forward, and she was pleased to see that they were walking close together, if not touching. "Good morrow, Master and Mistress Calend. I hope the day finds you both well."

They both murmured an affirmative, and she raised an eyebrow but didn't comment on it. "So. I had asked you both to take time last evening to consider if the dissolution of your marriage was what you wanted. Did you do so?"

"We did," Bron said, his eyes downcast. "We talked a fair piece."

She nodded. "Good. And? Do you wish me to render my verdict, or have you chosen another path?"

"We . . ." Ketil cleared her throat. "We figured it would be best to try and work things out between us." Alaine felt a warm surge in her chest. Thank the Lady! "It's as you said, Herald Alaine. It ain't worth our families, his, mine, or," she looked shyly at her husband, "ours for what it was."

Bron nodded. "Aye. If the feuding started, lots of our kin could get hurt or killed. Their lives, their happiness, heck, is worth more than us havin' a few awkward weeks while we try and make up."

"Excellent," she said crisply. "I'm very glad to hear it, I believe you both have made the correct choice." She was trying so hard to keep from looking as jubilant as she felt. They smiled at her, then at each other, and started to turn to go. "Wait, please. This matter is not fully resolved."

They stopped, looking at her quizzically, and she could hear the sussuration of the crowd. "Herald?" Ketil said, tilting her head.

"Bard Soren, come forward," Alaine said in a clear, loud voice. She could see him, well, his robe, trying to move towards the edge of the crowd, and he froze at her voice. The people around him parted, leaving him one way to go, and that was toward the stage. He smiled winningly and made his way up, standing a goodly way from the couple.

He bowed low and floridly. "Heralds. How may I be of service?"

Alaine leaned over and whispered to Owyn, "Second level Truth Spell, please?" She turned back to Soren, a small smile on her face - she wondered if he could tell how sharp it was from where he was standing. "Bard Soren, I have some questions about your role in this matter."

"Of course, Herald." He winked at her. "My pleasure."

The blue glow enveloped him, and she settled back in her chair. "Thank you. Now. You do not deny that you seduced Mistress Ketil, correct?"

"I do not."

"And that you encouraged her to deny her husband access to . . . certain things?"

"That's correct." His smile was smaller now, and she could tell he knew something was up. "I did, because . . . I didn't want her to give him that attention."

"Why not?"

His mouth opened, then closed. When it opened again, he looked horrified at the words that came out. "Well, if their families started feuding again, the battle would make an amazing masterwork. An arranged marriage, torn asunder by love, rough battle, and a broken heart by an untrue lover? I'd be Master so quickly it would make your head spin!"

The crowd gasped, several people from both sides of the conflict in question muttering and looking at him with dangerous expressions. Ketil looked pale and sick, while Bron looked like he was about two seconds from punching the other man in the jaw.

Alaine shook her head. "Bard Soren, while you have not committed any crime in a legal sense, you have acted in a way that besmirches the name of all bards." She stood up, motioning for the guards that were nearby. "I've already sent a messenger to the Collegium to get word to your Master. He will no doubt be here to collect you quickly." The guards came closer to him. "I suggest that you, ah, let the town provide you with secure lodgings until that time. I don't know that the people here will be kindly disposed towards you."

He stared at her for a moment as the guards took his arms. "I . . . suppose you're correct on that as well. Clever girl," he added softly.

She shook her head. "I also suggest you rethink your ethics. There are a number of ways to make a name for yourself. This is one of the worst."

The town watched as he was lead away, and the Calends looked at her, eyes wide. "Herald," Ketil started, eyes wet, "I had . . . I would never have . . . ."

Alaine smiled at her. "I know. You didn't think it was anything other than it seemed. And why would you?" She picked up her papers and set them on her lap. "Your lands and your marriage were saved by your own choice, so there's no harm done. Just remember this the next time some swain or shepherdess," she gave Bron a glance, "makes calves' eyes at either of you." She clasped her hands on top of the papers. "I believe we're done here. Thank you both."

Owyn felt his stomach tense as Alaine rose from the table to begin her judgment on the marriage and land dispute case. He envied her; though he himself had heard her express her nerves but she seemed utterly in control of herself and the situation. His fellow intern was a remarkable girl, woman rather, and right now she was every inch a Herald. Her teasing earlier...it had reminded him of Telana. And that caused his imagination to make other comparisons that were tantalizing but neither useful nor how he should think of her.

Particularly when he had his own case to resolve. In front of...everyone in town. Or near town. Hundreds had crowded the square and the streets entering it, trying to get as good a view and listen as possible. It made his guts tighten just thinking about getting up in front of all of them.

Alaine, again, was making it look easy. He refocused on her as she was congratulating the Calends on making a wise decision. She had played it perfectly. Then he, along with much of the crowd, blinked and stirred when she called the bard forward. At her request, he inclined his head, reciting the chant and focusing to snap the spell in place. This would force the truth from him, not just tell if he lied.

And what a truth it was! Owyn managed to keep his mouth shut so no sound of astonishment escaped him but the noise from the crowd was immense. That a bard would do such a thing! It was astounding, almost an alien concept. It was wicked, selfish to the point of evil. How had she discovered...he would ask later. This meant it was his turn.

Owyn leaned back in the chair he'd been sitting in before rising slowly to his feet. His fingers trembled just slightly. His stomach clenched and twisted in his gut. Alaine swept past him and he caught a whiff of lavender from her that made his knees feel weak. Lord and Lady. Could he really do this? His heart was thumping hard in his chest and he had an acid taste in the back of his mouth.

"Keep it together, soul brother. You know the facts, you know how to present it, and you know what's at stake." Fahn's head could be seen rising above the crowd on the far side of the square. The Companion stallion had slipped away at some point.

Owyn took a few deep breaths and schooled his face into his usual cold, neutral expression. The tumult from the crowd stilled as he came around the front of the table and into the open space before it. Everyone knew what was next; it was for this that many of them had come out. His deep eyes surveyed the crowd, quickly picking out Safyn and the rest of Leonmar's staff in the front of the assembled masses to the east, the green clad bulk of Healer Dannid, and there was thin Tarn and his wife Filna. He drew in another breath, "The final matter before us-"

"Louder. We can't hear you in the back." The young Herald suddenly understood why his Companion had taken up that position and felt a rush of gratitude.

"The final matter before us is the murder of Shawm Abel," he said, projecting as best he could. The crowd murmured at the word "murder," no doubt some had hoped that the death would have been found to be accidental. He gestured to Healer Dannid who stepped forward. "Master Abel died due to blood loss; not from injury to the outside of his body but the inside." There was a muted rumble of astonishment from the crowd. "The killer used The Rock Beer challenge at The Lady's Blessings to trick the victim into swallowing glass shards that cut him up from within. His intoxication prevented him from noticing anything was wrong until it was too late." The bar's staff looked stricken and the crowd buzzed with conversation. His stomach was still churning. He knew he had just cast further suspicion on Leonmar. Best to address it then.

"Would Mistress Leonmar come forward?" From the town hall behind them the plump business woman was brought out by one of the Guard. She had clearly been allowed to bathe and gotten the fresh change of clothes he'd requested. She was not, thankfully, wearing the scandalous outfit that was the signature of her establishment but a simple blue linen dress. Her hair was clean and combed and her face pale but composed. Her eyes were less red than when he'd seen her yesterday but there were also the marks of fresh tears on her cheeks. Her gaze met his; hard, challenging, but also desperate. His gut clenched again but he kept his expression flat. "Mistress Leonmar stands accused of this murder. But we will all hear the truth of her involvement."

He invoked the truth spell himself, only the first level, and questioned her. He used the same questions as Candra had, neatly eliminating any responsibility for what had happened. Her voice quavered but did not break and the aura of the spell did not waver. He dismissed it with a gesture, "Mistress Leonmar, thank you for your testimony and your courage during this ordeal. I also extend my personal apology for putting you through this spectacle today."

She inclined her head, "We might talk about that," she said in a low voice, "boy." It was clear she didn't appreciate being put on display as a murder suspect in front of everyone she knew,even if it was to clear her. "By your leave, then, Heralds, councilors," she said in a clear, carrying voice. She turned and almost ran to her staff, the other women embracing her. There was another hubbub from the crowd that was half relief and half worry. If Leonmar was innocent, then...

Owyn raised his hands and his stomach felt like was twisting in knots as all eyes again fell on him. He forced back a heave of his guts. "Mistress Leonmar is cleared of all suspicion. This means there is still a killer among us. Someone who frequented The Lady's Blessings, had access to the glass, and a reason for murder. Elgin." A tall, somewhat portly man with a neat beard and dressed in nicer clothes started. "Tarn," the tinker smirked, "please come forward."

Elgin was pale and there was a cold sweat on his brow, "I-I've had no part of this, I swear it! I don't want, don't need to-"

"Guilty conscience, Elgin?" A sneer was on his face but the tinker was pale as well. The display with Leonmar seemed to have shaken him, to have reminded him of the truth spell and that inexperienced or not, Owyn had a way to expose his lies. "Afraid of the truth spell? If you are, then you must have done it!" The crowd rumbled and Owyn's eyes narrowed. The gaunt man went on, "That's the only reason! You did it! Murderer and in our town! I, we, won't stand for it!"

"Clever," Owyn murmured. Then he snapped, "Enough!" The word came not just from his lips but also from his mind, his Mindspeech slapping into the brain of every person in the crowd. He felt a throb behind his eyes. Touching that many minds at once, with that intensity, he was going to hurt soon. Best to solve this now. "This is Valdemar and our justice is by the law, not the mob!" He pointed to Tarn, "Hold that man!" The blue clad guards jumped at the order, seizing the tinker.

Owyn called out the incantation for the truth spell, not even bothering with the first level but going right to the second. The blue white glow surrounded the tinker. He had wanted to do this with finesse but Tarn trying to rile the crowd into a mob had forced his hand. The townsfolk were still in the stunned silence from his mental slap. "Tarn of Westhome, did you knowingly introduce broken glass into Shawm Abel's beer the night of his death?"

He squirmed in the grasp of the Guards, his face twisting as he tried to resist the compulsion. Sweat was on his forehead, "Y-yes! Yes, I put the pieces in!"

Owyn ignored the collective gasp, "And you did so intending to kill him?"

"Yes," he answered, his voice an angry hiss. The crowd gasped and gabbled in shock.

Owyn nodded and then pressed on, "Was this the first time you did this?"

"Damn you, boy! No!" The crowd fell silent.

"How many times?"

Tarn no longer even tried to struggle. "11."

If anything the quiet seemed to have deepened, though there was a visible ripple in the crowd. "How many have you killed?"

He was smiling now, an expression of pride on his face, "7 that I know of, counting Shawm. You'll need to get word from trader Godswi when she returns after winter to see if her idiot son died or not!"

There was a cry from the crowd and movement as Filna fainted, Healer Dannid springing to catch her and lay her down, barking at those around him to give him room. Owyn stiffened, "Your wife! You didn't -"

"Never!" The tinker was visibly insulted. "I love her, I'd never harm her. How dare you suggest that?"

"Given what has been revealed, I thought no depravity below you." The young Herald was aware that Candra was getting to her feet behind him, motioning for Alaine to do likewise. A good idea in case the crowd needed further restraining. His head was starting to pound and his stomach continued its' acrobatics in his stomach. "Why? Why do this and why these people?"

Tarn laughed weakly, "I'm dying, Herald. The Healers can't do anything. I'm dying and I hurt. All my life I've lived here, seen the traders come and go, so full of life and seeing so much when I've seen so little. It's not fair. I'm better than them! Smarter, stronger before I got sick, but they get treated better than me! And them whores at Leonmar's love 'em, don't they? But me...I can't even get it up now. It's not fair! So if I have to go out, I'd trick everyone, show this whole town, whole kingdom just how smart I am! Damn you for stopping me. I wanted to kill 12 at least before I went."

Owyn stared at him for a few moments. Then he shook himself, "Tarn of Westhome, you are guilty of the murder of Shawm Abel and six others by your own account under truth spell in front of these witnesses. The sentence," he paused, was it too much? It shouldn't be. But it still felt like a weight on his shoulders or like an ink dripping onto his spirit. "The sentence is death. The council will decide the time. Should no one be willing, I volunteer myself to carry the sentence out, if the council wishes it." His head felt his brain was trying to push out through his forehead. His stomach was tensing. He turned to his senior, "Herald Candra?"

"Thank you, Herald Owyn." The Amazonian official stepped past him, speaking to the assembly, "Now, people of Westhome..."

Owyn didn't hear her. He walked back past the table and into town hall. His steps became rushed as he felt his guts heave and couldn't hold it back further. He pushed through a door, throwing it closed behind him and managed to make it to the waste basket before falling to his knees beside it and vomiting. He retched five times before his stomach was empty. He coughed a few times and then spat, trying to get the taste out of his mouth.

He sagged beside it, leaning against the wall and breathing heavy. "Some Herald," he grumbled. "At least it wasn't in front of everyone."

Alaine watched Owyn make his way towards the town hall. She slipped away from the stage, since all eyes were on Candra and Gheyna, and paused only to get a cup of water from the well near the door. She didn't think she was reading things incorrectly, and he would want this.

She couldn't really imagine it, how it would feel to do what he'd just done. Sentence someone to death. She'd probably be sick to her stomach too. But once she'd gotten inside, she didn't know where he'd gone until she heard him mutter something. Alaine poked her head around the door and saw him there, leaning heavily against a wall. "At least it wasn't in front of everyone."

"True," she said, shutting the door behind her. She held the cup out to him. "I'm sorry you had to do that. It must have been . . . so difficult." Alaine squatted down facing him. "Drink it. It'll get the taste out of your mouth."

He took the cup, and she sighed. "You did an excellent job, for what it's worth. It was hard to do, but you . . . I mean, my thing was such a small thing, in comparison. You did an amazing job."

He really wished Alaine hadn't followed him. He didn't want her to see him like this. This...pathetic. But then, he shouldn't be afraid of that. She was a Herald too. They were supposed to be honest with one another. But still he felt...lessened in her sight. How could he not be?

He took the cup with a murmured thanks and took a drink, sloshing the water around in his mouth and then turning to spit into the waste basket again. That did help. He actually drank the next mouthful.

Owyn shook his head, "You prevented a feud that could have killed dozens, that's no small thing. And finding someone with the Bardic Voice who would do such a thing...that's no small thing either. He would have hurt more people if left to his own devices."

Then he sighed and closed his eyes, "I only did what needed to be done given the circumstances. The investigation was simple enough; other people gave me the information needed. As for out there...my performance was flawed. Not loud enough to start. I should have shown Leonmar's innocence first, then gone into the method. And Tarn speaking out like that, trying to get the crowd, I should have anticipated it. I don't think he thought I knew even then but he knew that if he got the spell on him...his reaction was obvious. I should have known."

She was right about the sentence. It wasn't an easy thing to do. But he...didn't want to talk about that. He was already being too sensitive, too weak. "The sentence...well. I've killed a man already." Did she know about that? The word had gotten around the Collegium from what he knew. It was one of the reasons he felt people left him alone. "I'll kill more for the kingdom, if I survive for a while. What's one more?"

He rose to his feet, finishing the water. His face was again cool and composed, his eyes keen and glassy; the expression of The Ghost, nothing in it alive. "Thank you for the water, it did help. And your kind words." His head still pounded; this reaction headache would likely last for hours. That meant he'd have to practice his MindSpeech more...but that was a hard thing to do. He couldn't just go around popping into people's heads for no cause. But he would have to figure out. This wasn't good enough. "I hope I can do as well as you next time."

She straightened up with him. "We should go back out. But when we get back to the waystation, I'll make some of that herbal tea for you. I'm sure you've got a headache." That expression on his face bothered her. She'd only known him a short while, the time of their trip here, but from what she'd seen of him over that time, he wasn't cold like that.

It took a minute for it to click. That was the expression that got him his nickname, the reason people called him the Ghost. Because he was hiding his real emotions, they assumed he didn't have them. She tilted her head. "I had heard about what happened, I asked about it when they told me who I'd be interning with." Alaine gave him a small shrug. "I figured you would tell me more about it when you were ready to talk about it."

She was getting the sense now that he wouldn't talk about it unless pressed to, and that he probably needed to talk about it. She made a mental note to ask Rhonwen about it later. "In any case, Owyn, I think we both did excellently today. Let's go see if our mentor agrees."


Their time in the town was cut a bit short that day - the two of them had given the town a bit to deal with, two people in custody, one of them only as long as it took to get the gallows built. But it didn't stop several housewives from offering them food for the evening, and older members of the Calend family trying to press food and drink on them.

They were able to politely refuse - Heralds didn't take gifts from the people in their circuit, or stay at the inns, to keep neutral in everything. They bought provisions from the general store, and went back to the waystation for the evening. There was little conversation on the way from town, since Owyn was staring at Fahn's mane, and Alaine was having a mental conversation with Rhonwen.

When they arrived, Candra started the fire outside for them to cook over, while Alaine and Owyn went to take care of the animals and fetch water, respectively. They didn't really talk until dinner was started over the fire, and all of them were done with their chores. Owyn, naturally, started to do his exercises, until Candra said firmly, "Not now. We should talk about the day while it is still fresh in our minds."

He looked rebellious, but came to sit down around the fire anyway.

Candra looked over both of them seriously, then smiled. "You both did excellently today. Very well considered, very well presented, and properly handled." She nodded. "I was impressed, as were the Council members and the townspeople. By both of you."

Alaine blinked. "Really? I would have thought . . . I mean, I gave them a prisoner to feed and house, I wouldn't have thought . . . ."

The older woman shook her head. "They were delighted you found out what was going on. If he hadn't been stopped, after we left things might have gone back to the way they had been, and the fighting would have started anyway. And your putting him in confinement keeps him safe from the ire of the families involved at the same time. It was a good decision."

She turned her attention to Owyn. "You had a tougher situation, and I think you handled it exceptionally well. You demonstrated the accused's innocence in such a way that no one would be able to doubt, and you stopped the real murderer from turning the blame onto yet another innocent party." Her face was serious. "You did so well. I am very proud of you."

A wry smile played over her lips. "Not that I have done much in the way of teaching either of you at this time. But I trusted you both to make the right choices, and you did."

The ride back was quiet, which suited him. Owyn preferred to be alone with his thoughts. It was particularly important when analyzing his performance and his shortcomings. He got the sense that Fahn was in conversation with Rhonwen and that suited him as well. He didn't want to deal with the Companion trying to cheer or reassure him about his performance.

Owyn glanced over at Alaine more than once during the trip. Her support and interest in him was puzzling. She was sympathetic and complementary but was so reasonable that he couldn't dismiss what she said. Which meant that his performance may have been acceptable after all. But it didn't feel that way. And then she'd surprised him by expecting that he'd talk about that incident. He hadn't talked to anyone about it other than the Healers and Herald Teren. But she just assumed he would. Why? Did she want him to open up to her? And if so, again, why?

He'd found no answer by the time they got back and began the evening chores. The only sure thought was that he found that he liked the thought that Alaine wanted to know him more. And he didn't know how to feel about feeling that way. The tasks of the Waystation were good for putting it out of his mind and he was looking forward to his exercises to help clear his head. Candra pulled them into conference before he could get started. He wanted to protest but knew it was pointless. She also was right that it should be discussed before time muddled the memory.

At the end of her points, his expression was both astonished and then sheepish, "But...I did things in the wrong order. And I didn't anticipate Tarn attempting to turn the crowd."

"Perhaps not. But you reacted immediately and ended that threat decisively. Preparation and timing can be taught and come with time and practice. Staying in control and thinking on your feet is much harder to learn but you already demonstrate it. That is all to the good." Candra gave a little smile and a laugh, "It is all right to accept that you did well, Owyn."

He flushed and just nodded. He really didn't know what to say to that.

The warrior woman nodded then, apparently considering the discussion closed satisfactorily. "I will be taking charge for the next several places we travel to. I wanted to see what you were made of and you both did well. It will be harder from here. The smaller the community, the more difficult it can be to operate. You will see and learn." She stood, "Now, let's eat. Tomorrow we finish things in Westhome in the morning and head onward before Highsun."

Owyn nodded, "All right. I'll keep it light tonight then." He rose and then left the Waystation.

Candra sighed, "I'd hoped he'd have given up on that by now," she said offhandedly. It wasn't really meant for Alaine but she didn't mind bringing it up with her either. The girl was her charge but she'd also known her for more than a decade. She felt and wanted them to be friends. "Alaine, what are you planning for the rest of the evening?" She paused then, "You also seem to have something on your mind."

Alaine nodded. "I did. But I think I'm going to join Owyn in his workout." She stood up, dusting off the bottom of her pants. "I haven't done much training so far this trip, and it may help work out the lingering stress of the day."

Candra sighed inwardly. Another one. "That's not a terrible idea, I suppose," she said mildly as Alaine started to limber up. The sun wasn't setting for a bit more time, so she stood up and headed inside the waystation and coming back with a writing kit. She got herself set up to work on a report that she would send out at their next stop while her two charges did a physical workout.

Alaine kept one eye on Owyn as they both did the light calisthenics that would keep them limber for more aggressive exercise. They weren't competing, not really, but they also weren't not competing, either. She made sure that she didn't do fewer of any exercise than he did, and she could tell that it had been too long since she'd done a proper work out as some of her muscles protested after a few repetitions. But she needed to know - and show him - that they were equal in that way.

Why was that so important to her? Why did it matter? They were both Heralds, and they had both likely trained in very different types of fighting. It would likely not be comparable, and he already knew she could watch his back in a fight. Why did she feel the need to prove it?

I could hazard a guess, Rhonwen said, wry humor in her mental voice.

Thanks to muscle memory, Alaine's arms kept working even though her mind stuttered to a stop at the implications the Companion has filled her mind-speech with. She transitioned into another set of moves, finished it, and stopped, her breathing a little hard. "Well. That was a nice, easy work out. I'm going to take a bath and get set for bed, I think."

Owyn's dark, thoughtful eyes watched her as she finished her mirror workout. She was breathing a bit heavily and there may have been a hint of sweat on her brow and the nape of her neck. She hadn't joined him in his workouts previously; why now? Had the day's events merely been sufficient to need something physical to work off that energy or anxiety?

He also got the sense that she was deliberately pacing him. Was it simply because it was an effective workout? Was she trying to prove something to him? To herself? Why?

He nodded in response to her statement of her plans. He had to admit she had handled it quite well, especially since she hadn't been doing any regular work before then. She also...looked quite nice breathing a little hard. Owyn flushed then and nodded again, "Good idea. I'll wash my head before turning in myself."

"Oh, oh! Ask if she wants company while bathing, little brother! It's the perfect opportunity! Just think of it..."

"When you're done, I mean." Owyn's blush deepened as his mind did burst with images and imaginings of a most unseemly sort. "Uh, sorry, Fahn just said something inappropriate." He looked back to where Candra was finishing her report and watching the two younger Heralds. "...If you would like, you can join me when I do my routines."

"Missed on that one. But I guess for you, that's not bad," Fahn commented with a mental sigh.


In her own tavern, Leonmar was not a somewhat pretty and plump woman but something resembling a shapely bear. Her eyes were fierce as she looked up at Owyn and her arms were crossed under stupendous cleavage created by the uniform of the Blessings of the Goddess. The young Herald had felt it appropriate to stop by and pay his respects as well as explain his use of her to the stout woman. "Herald," she said in a slightly clipped voice, "come to apologize?"

He didn't answer immediately, largely because he was forcing himself to keep his eyes on her face and not on...other things. He was also aware of Candra and Alaine coming in behind him. After a few moments, he shook his head, "No, Mistress Leonmar, to explain. I apologized yesterday, publicly, if you recall."

She arched an eyebrow, "You did. But keeping me in the dungeon? Hauling me out before the crowd? That was-"

"Necessary," he interrupted. She bristled but let him continue. "I needed the real murderer to think you were still a suspect to keep from covering up his trail more or even fleeing. I did what I could to make it as comfortable a night as possible. For that...I will apologize further. But it was needed. And putting you in front of the crowd was needed as well. You know this. You had to be cleared of all suspicion in front of all of your peers and neighbors to clear you fully of any lingering risk. You needed to be shown to be innocent and as much a victim as Master Abel. To prevent as much damage to your business and reputation as possible and allow for word of your innocence to spread rapidly."

"Hhn." Leonmar looked up at him a bit more. "I can't say as I still don't feel angry about it but I understand your reasoning." She shook her head, "I'll sort it out myself in time." She turned and walked to the bar, "...Thank you, Heralds. I owe you my life and likely my business as well. And I'm aware of it, please don't think I'm ungrateful."

"Then perhaps you should that gratitude more," Candra said. "If you had spoken to me as you did to Owyn at the hearing, I would have dressed you down for it in front of the town." The olive complected Herald was clearly displeased at the disrespect for the younger man's position.

Owyn cleared his throat, "What will you do now, Mistress Leonmar?"

She gave Candra a challenging look but didn't press it. "We'll be open as always. Business is down but not as much as I might have thought." Leonmar pointed up above the bar where the sign for the challenge was conspicuously absent, "We'll not do the challenge anymore; even if anyone would, I...it just wouldn't seem right."

"I can only imagine." Perhaps he should say he understood, but he didn't. That would be dishonest.

"I've also offered Filna a position as cook," Leonmar said. She grimaced, "In her own way, she's a victim too. She's not given me her decision but I hope she takes it; she'll need an income once Tarn swings and it'll let me feel as though...I've done some good out of this."

Taking control of the situation, even retroactively. Owyn nodded; she would be fine. "That's good of you. I hope she does as well; it would be good for both of you." He glanced back at Candra and then inclined his head to the tavern owner, "Then I will take my leave, Mistress Leonmar."

She nodded in return, "Fare well, Heralds. Thank you. When you come back...I'd ask you to visit me again. I'd not have you think of the Blessings and just an ungrateful wench come to your mind."

"Should matters permit," he answered. He likely wouldn't unless he had to. It wasn't necessary; this matter was settled. And he certainly didn't want to present any shadow of favor.


It was just before Highsun that the trio of Heralds, their Companions, and their pack beasts rode out of the west gate of the town. Candra was in the lead, "We will ride hard to reach the next Waystation before dark. Be alert now; we are past the last bastion of civilization. We are in the Pelagris now and we must be wary for all manner of danger."

The road ahead of them was long and shrouded in trees, and Alaine could hear the whirr and buzz of insects in the dappled light. "It doesn't look too d-" she stopped herself. "Wait. I'm not going to say that. Never mind."

Candra smiled wryly, nudging Tamlin forward. "That's a good impulse. Let's get going." As they moved their Companions to follow her, she called over her shoulder. "Keep an eye out for the larger bugs, some of them are venomous."

Alaine and Owyn exchanged a look and moved a bit closer to her. The trees gave way after about an hour to a sun-baked stretch of road that kicked up puffs of dust with every step the horses took. It was hot, but humid, and the sky above them was bright, clear blue. They ate lunch on the road, chatting a little while they moved.

It was two hours before sundown and they were resting their Companions and the chirras near one of the small ponds that had started appearing along the road when they saw it. At a nearby pond - nearby in that it was close enough that they could see clearly every inch of it - a unicorn.

Alaine was the first to spot it, looking up at Rhonwen's mental tap, and she gasped quietly. The others looked up, and Candra smiled. "Ah," she murmured. "It's been a long time since I've seen a unicorn."

Its hide gleamed a light gold so luminous that it would be easy to believe it gave off the light itself. The horn that spiraled from its head was a opalescent silver, shimmering in the sun like a precious gem. The mane and tail shone bright white like a Companion's coat, shot through with gleams of liquid silver. His hooves gleamed silver as well, shifting as it drank from the pond slowly.

"That's . . . amazing," Alaine said wonderingly. "I've never seen . . . just in books, and it's not the same, you know?"

The unicorn was a startling sight for Owyn. He had known they existed, from an academic standpoint, but to see one in the flesh was wondrous and troubling. Even more than the supposedly venomous insects earlier it made clear that this was a strange and magical land inhabited by unnatural creatures. "It doesn't seem scared of us," he noted.

"It knows we aren't a danger," Candra answered. She was watching the creature with appreciation but also wariness. "They're very perceptive of...hostile intent, from what Tamlin has told me. They can be dangerous to people as they are not afraid and will respond to thoughts of violence or capturing them as if the effort were actually made. But they will not attack Heralds if their Companions are near."

"Is that so?" He looked over at where Fahn had walked up to the pond to drink himself. "Is it some kind of magic horse code of honor?" His Companion raised his head to give his Chosen a dismissive look, snorting and shaking his mane before going back to drink. Owyn grimaced. "It's a fair question!"

Candra laughed and stood, "No, they just recognize Companions as powerful and worthy of respect. Not all creatures or people out here do." They watched as the unicorn finished drinking and then turned back to the forest, walking away with little noise. "Well, that was a pleasant stop. Come on, we've rested long enough."


There were other, more subtle, reminders of the nature of the land they were entering as they rode. The trees and plants about were the normal types for the region but some were very different than the fauna in similar regions. There was a kind of tree Candra named as a chimeleaf whose leaves rung like chimed when they were struck together. She pointed out another bush whose leaves were shiny with a sticky substance that was toxic; insects would land on the leaves and be poisoned, falling down where feelers from the bush would pull them in to be consumed. They were harmless to humans in general but the larger bushes could be a danger to children. Occasionally there would be an odd sight like a tree with leaves that were a violent shade of turquoise.

The sun was at the horizon when they reached the next Waystation. It was slightly different than the others they had been to in that it had lamps hanging outside, a small circular pond ringed with stones perhaps thirty feet from the stable, and all of it had the look of grounds that were cared for and maintained on a daily basis. At the edges of the cleared area around the Waystation flowers had been planted. Owyn's eyes narrowed and he pulled his bow from his saddle, bending and stringing it. "Has someone moved in?" That was illegal; they could be used as shelters by anyone in need but only temporarily.

"After a fashion." Candra swung down from her Companion, "Put your bow away. Caution is good but the weapon isn't needed here." She looked around, "The flowers are new. I look forward to this place each time but it's always best at the end of a circuit." Owyn glanced at Alaine, his fellow intern shrugging. Candra cleared her throat and spoke in her public speaking voice, "I am Herald Candra, with Heralds Alaine and Owyn; we represent Queen Selenay of Valdemar who rules thus land and owns this Waystation and the grounds."

After a few moments, the door to the Waystation opened and swung inward silently. "Thank you," Candra said loudly and then looked back at her trainees, "All right, we can go in now. Other than tending to the beasts, no chores tonight. No cooking or cleaning. We don't want to insult the brownies."

Owyn's face was deeply suspicious, "Brownies? Like the folktales?"

"Yes. They moved in 12 years ago. They tend the place and have made the...improvements. The pond is shallow and the water clean, spring fed I think, for both drawing water and bathing. They will light the lamps and the fire. When we wish to eat, we will set out the food and leave; they will cook for us and clean up after. We'll thank them, of course, and set aside some of the meal for them as well as some brandy."

"This is...just strange," Owyn said. It all sounded just bizarre.

"Yes, but that is how it is." The warrior woman was leading Tamlin to the stable. "Let's get started before it gets darker. I'm looking forward to the brownies' cooking and a bath in the moonlight."

There was a charming homey sense to the inside of the Waystation, and Alaine smiled and hummed to herself as she brushed Rhonwen. This place was nice, and there was a calm here.

You're just used to servants, her Companion said teasingly. Pampered noble lady, right?

Alaine snorted. "You're clearly comfortable, since you're being so sassy, hooves." She finished grooming the Companion and stowed the tools. "I think I'm going to work out before I take a bath tonight."

You just want to show off. The horse snorted. Go ahead, then, show off for the boy, I'll harass Fahn. It'll be hilarious. Rhonwen made a sound suspiciously like a chortle and trotted out of the stables.

The girl sighed and pulled her hair back into a tight bun. She stripped off her overshirt, leaving her in her pants, boots, and a brilliantly white thin-strapped top. As she headed out of the stables, she folded the shirt and tucked it away in the saddlebags by the door.

Candra was sitting by the pond, reading a book in the dimming light. "Are you going to . . . oh." She looked up and sighed. "More exercises, I suppose."

Nodding, Alaine started to stretch. "I want to make sure I keep fit, you know? And riding always puts such a stiffness in my legs. I want to keep them loose."

Candra snorted softly, if if were possible to do such a thing, "You don't really think I'll believe that? I hope you don't. You had no interest in any such thing before you noticed him doing it every night." She shook his head, "I see you did get a few things from your father; that competitive streak will get you into trouble, you know."

Before the two women's conversation could go further, Owyn emerged from the Waystation. "What will get you into trouble?"

The olive skinned woman regarded him a moment, "Taking things out here lightly," she lied.

Owyn wondered why she'd say that. Had they been frivolous? He hadn't thought so. "If that's the case then why do you, um," he trailed off a bit as he caught sight of Alaine. Her undershirt looked very different than his and it showed...well, more of her smooth skin than he expected. Her ample and excellent figure was well displayed and the thin straps left her shoulders bare, exposing her neck, her collarbones, just the very edge of the swells of her breasts. Gods, she...he could tell she really filled out her Whites but like this...

The scarred Herald exchanged a look with Alaine that was rather wry and then then composed herself to look back at Owyn and cleared her throat, "Why do I what, Owyn?"

"What?" The dark eyed young man blinked and jerked his gaze away from his dark haired peer. "Ah, I forgot what I was saying. I'm sorry." Not very Herald-like. But then what he was going to say hadn't been either. "Anyway, I set everything up inside. Are you sure...?"

"Yes," the older woman said in a tone that was patient but not by much. "The brownies will do the cooking and the cleaning. As I understand it, they see it as part of their 'rent' for living in the Waystation. The same with keeping it clean."

It felt strange to Owyn. He didn't like it and he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because he came from a family of crafters...work just shouldn't get done on its' own. "And what about the pool and the lamps?"

"I think they get bored," she answered with a shrug. "And I think they feel it's adding value to the place."

"Hm." He looked around with a grimace. This was so...unexpected. What else might these things do if they did all this? He also didn't much like the idea of being watched. "I don't...well, it's not my call." He dared to look at Alaine again, determined to keep from being dazed again. "Ah, Alaine, why are you, ah..."

"She stripped down for action," Candra commented. Owyn blinked and flushed but she ignored it, opening her book back up. "Your antics have gotten to her now; she's going to do a work out like yours, and she'll push herself to be sure she does a bit more than you at every exercise. So you'll both be too tired and sore when it's important."

The young man's eyes narrowed, "What do you mean?"

"I mean this is not the time for training." She didn't look at him, didn't even look up from her book. "Now is the time when we use what we have learned or die trying. And that we work every day. You have to marshal your strength because there is no warm bath, food from the kitchens, or nearby Healers to save you if you push too hard. You must have the energy when you need it. And if you are still training and pushing your limits, then you will be just that little bit tired each day. And that may be all it takes." Owyn didn't answer. "Don't let me stop you. You won't learn until it happens to you; the burned hand teaches best."

He wanted to tell her she didn't know what she was talking about. But she did. Still...his mother's leg. The dead man on the stones as his sister screamed. Owyn turned away from the two women, "I'm sure dinner will be ready soon." He walked off to the other side of the Waystation. Perhaps Candra wouldn't mind if she didn't see him doing it. But he couldn't stop. He wasn't ready yet. So he'd train. On his own. As he always had and as he should. It was best when he was alone.

Alaine's expression was thoughtful as Owyn went around the back side of the Waystation. "Maybe you're right," she said, "and this is a safe place. But that's no reason to let ourselves get stiff after a day riding in the sun." She started off after him. "I'll keep him from overdoing." She turned as she walked backwards. "I may have a competitive streak, but he's bullheaded like I've never seen."

Candra sighed. "I suppose that's true." She looked back at her book. "No more than fifteen minutes, and nothing too rough."

The dark-haired girl nodded as she moved around the corner. He was already working through a form, and she joined him in the motion. "We won't push too hard tonight, okay? Candra's being very determined about this."

She glanced at him. "So, light stretches, and we'll stop in twenty minutes." Alaine shifted her stance into something that would be suitable for ensuring she wouldn't pull anything too hard, or lead to any of the passes that would be more strenuous.

Owyn's frustration mostly stayed out of his face; there was a flicker in his eyes and little else. He and Alaine flowed together through the motions of the form for a few moments and he could only admire her grace and the paradoxically trim lushness of her body. After she adjusted her stance, he sighed, "Candra's proved herself; she's made it out here before. It's all fine and good for her to take it a little bit easy and you got top marks in everything, but I-"

He cut himself off. "Never mind." The blond youth looked over at her and then nodded, "All right. For today; light stretches." He felt a little aggravated at himself that he agreed. Whether it was to prevent more tension with Candra or because Alaine was the message bearer in that thin...very thin and very strappy undershirt he wasn't sure. Neither necessarily sat well with him.

He fell back into silence then and stayed quiet as the two of them worked their bodies out to ensure nothing was stiff or would become so after the day's ride. It was hard not to watch her; his fellow Herald had fine more, in a few ways, and he had found his attention wandering to her if he wasn't focusing on the exercise.

Was Fahn right? Is this just what happened when you were backed up for as long as he was? Or was Alaine just that attractive? Maybe both?

Whatever the case, he felt a nagging urge to say something as they limbered up and stretched together. "It hasn't been what I expected," he said, out of the blue. He blinked, surprised himself that he had spoken. "Uh, the internship, I mean."

"It hasn't, no," she said, a little pleased he'd initiated conversation. That was unusual, from what she knew of him. "Both more and less difficult, really." She bent over, touching her palms to the ground once, twice, a third time, before turning to look at him with a small smile. "I feel like Candra expects a lot of us - you especially, after that whole investigation." One arm over her head, stretch to the opposite side, then switch. "That was really something."

He flushed and looked down at the ground while he moved. "It wasn't really all that special. I'm sure you would have done it as quickly, if not more so."

Alaine bent herself backwards, hands braced on her lower back. "I doubt that." She did a series of twists and bends that showed off her figure in a way that was mostly secondary to her purpose with them. "You have a really keen mind, I'm not that great at solving puzzles fast." A series of lunges came next, and she beamed up at him. "And whether you thought of it, or not, the fact that there were two of us means that both problems were solved much more quickly than they would have been."

He nodded, matching her moves. "I guess you're right. That last is certainly true, if nothing else." He thought he'd caught her looking him over, but . . . that couldn't be right. Could it? "I expected it to be more physically taxing as well, I think."

"We're very well-trained," she said glibly, stretching her arms out to either side in the middle of a lunge and twisting at the waist so she was facing him. "And . . . well, Candra's right too. It only gets harder from here, I suppose. Or at least that's what . . . a Herald I knew before I came to the Collegium told me." She didn't want him to know who her mother was - he already knew she was noble, that was bad enough. But everyone looked at her differently when they found out her mother was a Herald as well. So few of them married, and so few had children that became Heralds that it was . . . a unique thing.

And her mother was also notable for being . . . a little wild, even for a Herald. Best not to mention it unless needed.

It was good that the exercises were mostly muscle memory at this point. Alaine made salient points worth considering and the stretches she was using also showed off her salient features which drew his eye and mind as well. He felt a slight guilt for taking advantage of it to admire her body and her beauty. The things he would love to do with her...

...were completely inappropriate to think about. It was disrespectful and, as she had no interest in him, creepy as well. He shouldn't undress her with his eyes or fantasize about his hands on those big, perky-

Damn it! This was why he needed to keep training! But at the same time, it was odd. He wasn't a fifteen year old swept up by his body's lusts again. Why did thoughts of Alaine keep coming to him like that? He was attracted to Candra and had an imagining it two about her but those were consciously conjured thoughts in his bedroll at night. His purple eyed fellow intern kept intruding on his thoughts day or night.

He thought of consulting Fahn but rejected that idea. He'd just tease him about being 'backed up' or of turning into a rake. Candra was out of the question. Owyn would just have to try and re-master his mind. Or masturbate more. Maybe both?

"I understand that it will be harder," he said slowly a few seconds after she finished speaking. "That I why I have to keep improving. Otherwise, the chance that I won't be up to the task increases. If I'm not sufficiently ready, a situation could end worse than it had to. Like-"

He caught himself. Other than the teachers who had asked and the time he'd sat with one of the Mind Healers, he hadn't spoken of that incident to anyone. Why had he been about to? Owyn shook his head, "A little training can make the difference between life and death."