The signal that “they” were still at her came in the form of another of the anonymous notes. It appeared among her books just before one of her music lessons, and she was hard put to make herself seemly after the spate of tears it caused.

It would have been impossible to hide the fact that she was troubled and upset from Jadus; her red-rimmed eyes gave her away immediately. He insisted, gently but firmly, that she tell him something of what was wrong.

“You know I would never say or do anything against your will, little one—” His voice was soft but held a note of command. The hesitant, wary child that had replaced the cheerful Talia that he had come to know and love was not at all to his liking, “But you aren’t happy, and if you’re not happy, than neither am I. I wish you would tell me why—and who or what is the cause. You know by now you can trust me, surely?”

She nodded slowly, hands clenched in her lap.

“Then tell me what your problem is. It may even be I can help.”

She was reluctant to confide in him, but found herself unable to resist the kindness of his eyes. “Y-y-you have to promise something, please? That you won’t tell anyone else?”

He promised that he would not, rather than lose the trust she had given to no one else. The promise was given with great reluctance. “If that is the only way you’ll tell me—yes. I promise.”

“I-it’s like this—” she began, telling him eventually only of the shovings, the destructive tricks, and not of the notes. She feared those were too wildly unlikely even for Jadus to believe.

He sensed that there was more to these pranks than she was telling him, and it worried him.

Bound by his promise, though, there was little he could do for her but offer an emotional shelter and proffer some advice. He hoped that that would be enough.

“Don’t go anywhere alone—well, you know that already. But try to stay only with people you know; Sherrill, or Skif, or Jeri. None of those three would ever hurt you. And—here’s a thought—try to always be within sight of one of your teachers. I doubt that even the cleverest would dare try anything under the eyes of a Herald. And little one—” He touched her cheek with a gentle hand, eliciting a wan smile. “—I am always here for you. No one would dare try anything against you here, and any time you want someone to cry with—well, I have a plenitude of handkerchiefs!”

That actually earned him a tiny chuckle, and Jadus felt amply rewarded as they began the lesson.

“Make friends, child,” he urged her before she left him. “The other Herald-students won’t bite you. They won’t try to hurt you, either, and the more friends you have, the better protected you’ll be. Now think—have you ever seen or heard any of them do or say anything intended to be cruel?”

“No,” she had to admit.

“I know your life wasn’t easy at the Hold; I know people often hurt you deliberately. Things are different in the Collegium. You trust me—now I tell you to trust them as well. If nothing else, once you are part of a group, you’ll be less of an available target for tricks.”

Jadus was proved right—she was a less conspicuous target. The pranks began to decrease in frequency immediately.

There was more—though he was bound by his promise to say nothing, Jadus was aided by the fact that some of the teachers and older students, Keren, Teren, and Sherrill among them, had decided that there was something odd and unpleasant afoot and had begun making a habit of keeping an ostentatious eye on her. Keren especially had long since made that decision, and when Talia had begun to show signs of unhappiness again had taken to lurking in the child’s vicinity, looking as conspicuous as possible. The perpetrators of her misery soon found it nearly impossible even to slip those mysterious notes among her things without being seen—and being seen was no part of their scheme. Before a month was out they seemed to have given up; Talia’s cheerfulness was restored, and Jadus heaved a profound mental sigh of relief.

None of them guessed that there was more afoot than petty harassment.

Collegium and Circle alike had incorrectly assumed that the suspicions surrounding the death of Talamir had frightened the anti-Herald faction off of any serious attempt to rid the Kingdom of the new Queen’s Own. The case was otherwise. The harassment had been at the instigation of the parents of some of the nobly-born “unaffiliated” students; courtiers who had everything to lose should Elspeth be salvaged and made Heir in fact as well as presumptive.

These older conspirators had long ago made their decision regarding Talia. If it did not prove possible to induce her to leave the Collegium, she was to be gotten rid of—by any means that came to hand.

Since she had now proven impossible to drive away, the next step was to turn to more permanent measures.

They were only waiting for Talia to make the mistake of being alone to put their new plan into motion—and their chance came on the coldest day of the year.

The sky was overcast; a dull, leaden gray. The snow was creaky underfoot, and the cold ate its way up from the ground to Talia’s feet even through sheepskin boots and three pairs of woolen stockings. The wind was strong and bitter, and Talia had decided to take the longer way from classroom to training salle, past the stables, where there was some relief from the wind’s bite.

As she rounded a corner with her thoughts miles away, she suddenly found herself surrounded by Blues. Their faces were far from friendly.

Before she could think to flee, they grabbed for her, trying to pinion her arms and legs.

She was befuddled for only a scant second; she fought back with all the skill she had so far managed to acquire at Alberich’s hands. He had taught her a “no holds barred” discipline; she kicked, pulled hair, and bit without compunction—and muffled cries of pain attested to the fact that she was scoring on them, even though they were fairly well protected by bulky winter garments. Oddly enough, it seemed almost as if they had no real intentions of hurting her; as if their intentions were rather to immobilize her for some unknown reason.

She took advantage of this apparent reticence on their part to bolt through a gap between two of them, leaving her cloak behind in the hands of a third.

She almost managed a clean escape—then a flying tackle from behind sent her headfirst into the stable muckpit. The contents were fresh, well-watered, and soft. She was covered from head to toe with the stinking mess, and flailed about, helpless with retching.

“Oh, poor little bumpkin—it’s made a mess,” cooed one of the girls in a sugary voice. “How awful for it!”

“Perhaps it thought it was home,” replied a boy, as Talia tried to scrape filth off her face and away from her eyes. “We’d better get it clean—it certainly doesn’t know how to clean itself.”

They pulled her out and seized her before she could flounder free, knocked her down, and stuffed a piece of rag into her mouth before she could scream for help. They took turns rubbing handfuls of muck into her face and hair, as if in retaliation for the injuries she’d managed to inflict on them, then some of them pinioned her arms and others her legs. They hauled her outside where the stuff froze stiff in the icy wind and she couldn’t get her eyes open to see. She was still trying to catch her breath after the blow that had knocked her down, and couldn’t seem to get any air into her lungs. Right now, full lungs seemed the most important thing in the world—

She was half-carried, half-dragged, acquiring numerous scrapes and bruises from the cobblestones. She couldn’t seem to think further than trying to breathe—couldn’t guess what they planned next as they dragged her along. They seemed to be hauling her halfway to the Border!

Then, as she felt the road begin to climb, a vague idea of what they planned came to her, and she began to thrash in panic.

“Into your bath, goatling!” the hateful male voice sang out.

She tried to wriggle loose and kicked as hard as she could, but it was all to no avail. They were bigger and stronger than she, and far outnumbered her. She only succeeded in causing their grip to slip a little so that the back of her head cracked against the stone paving, stunning her briefly. That gave them the relief they needed; she felt herself tossed up into the air, landing in the icy waters of the river with a shock that drove what little breath she had from her lungs.

The water closed over her head; she fought for the surface, pulling the rag out of her mouth as she did so, only to have her throat fill with water as she tried to breathe inches too soon. As she reached the air and choked and gasped in the icy wind, she heard someone call out, voice receding into the distance, “Farewell, bumpkin. Give our greetings to Talamir.”

Only last week a careless would-be daredevil had died here, trying to cross on the ice instead of the bridge. Talia began to thrash hysterically, remembering that he hadn’t lasted more than a few moments in the frigid river. What ice she could reach that didn’t break when she grabbed it was too slippery to get a grip on—there was nothing to hold to, and no way she could haul herself up on it. Her sodden clothing, especially those heavy, water-logged sheepskin boots, was pulling her down, the current was tugging her inexorably farther from shore, and she could feel her limbs growing numb and unresponsive.

She couldn’t keep her mouth above water for long; she couldn’t get enough breath to cry for help. Her mind shrieked in incoherent fear.

Then, like a gift from the gods, a trumpeting neigh split the air and something huge and heavy plunged in beside her. Strong teeth seized her collar and pulled her to within reach of a broad warm, white back that rose beside her like magic.

“Rolan!” she gasped; she tried to make her fingers work enough to grab mane or tail while he maneuvered himself to support as much of her as he could.

For a moment it almost seemed as if it would work.

Then her fingers loosed themselves and she began sliding away from him, dragged by the punishing weight of her clothing and the strong pull of the current. Her mind went numb, as cold as the water. She lost her last tentative hold on his back, and darkness closed over her mind as the water closed over her head. Her lungs filled with water again, but she was beyond caring.

Something jerked at her collar; her head broke the surface and a stubborn spark of life made her cough and gag once again in the painfully icy air.

Then she was being hauled roughly across the ice, and many hands reached to pull her up on the bank where she was pounded and pummeled until she’d coughed all the water out of her lungs. A babble of angry, frightened voices filled her ears as she was wrapped in something heavy and made to drink a fiery liquid that brought tears to her eyes and made her choke. Her vision cleared of the dancing sparks that had taken the place of the darkness when they’d started pounding on her, and she saw she was surrounded by the anxious faces of her teachers and fellow students.

Safe. She fainted.

She half-roused as someone lifted her up to a rider’s arms and they galloped to the very doors of the Collegium. The rider vaulted from the saddle still carrying her, and sprinted effortlessly with her up the stairs to the dormitory floor.

She was passed into more hands on the other side of a steamy portal, and those hands stripped her of her soaked, filthy garments quickly and efficiently. Once again she found herself up to her neck in water, but this time it was blessedly hot.

That brought her fully awake again; that, and the fact that she was being scrubbed with strong soap by three other people.

“Wha—” she coughed, her throat raw. “What happened?”

“That’s what we’d like to know,” said Jeri, soaping her hair vigorously. “Ugh—your hair is full of this muck! Rolan heard your mindcall for help; he alerted the rest of the Companions, and they roused their Heralds. Then he went after you himself. Lord of Lights! You should have seen the Collegium—it looked like a nest of angry wasps! People came boiling out of everywhere! Most of us got to the riverbank just in time to see you slip off Rolan’s back and go under. Keren was just a fraction ahead of everyone else, and she dove right off the saddle after you; Sherrill was right behind her. They managed to pull you out—when I knew you were alive, I came back here to get Housekeeper and start what we’d need to warm you up again. Once they’d gotten the water out of you, Teren brought you here. This tub’s filthy. We’re going to change. No—” she warned as Talia started to move, “don’t try to do anything—let us do the work for you. You’ve got an awful bump on your head and you might get dizzy and fall.”

They lifted her over to a second tub; she still seemed chilled to the bone.

“Are they—all right?” Talia managed to get out.

“Who? Sherrill and Keren? They’re fine. Don’t you remember? They’re from Lake Evendim. This isn’t the first ice-rescue they’ve done. And there were two more riders waiting to bring them here, too. They’re both soaking in hot tubs, the same as you.”

“They are?” Talia raised her head, as the room spun before her eyes, and tried to look around. The bathing room seemed oddly turned backward, reversed in mirror-image.

“What ha’n’d to th’ room?” Her tongue didn’t seem to quite want to behave.

“You’re on the boys’ side, silly,” Jeri giggled, “It was closer. Take a good look—you might not get a second chance.”

“Hush,” Housekeeper Gaytha scolded affectionately. “Talia, I think we’ve gotten the last of the filth off you. How are you feeling?”

“Still c-cold.” There seemed to be an icy core that the heat didn’t touch. They drained some of the water and ran in more that was fresh and hotter than before. She finally felt herself stop shivering and began to relax. Then a sudden thought made her struggle to sit up.

“Rolan!”

“He’s perfectly all right,” Jeri and Housekeeper Gaytha held her firmly in place. “It’ll take more than a cold ducking to stop him!”

“The worst was heaving him up onto the bank; he wasn’t even chilled, and he’s inordinately proud of himself,” said the third member of the group, silent until now. “I suppose he has every right to be, since your bond isn’t supposed to be strong enough at this stage for you to call one another, even in panic. You’re very lucky that wasn’t the case for the two of you.”

Her sight seemed to be blurring, but Talia finally got a good look at this third person as she moved to within Talia’s range of vision to speak to her. The woman was a square-jawed ash-blond, and she wore full Heraldic traveling leathers with the silver arrow of a special messenger on one sleeve.

“I’m sorry we weren’t properly introduced, Talia,” she smiled. “I’m Herald Ylsa. Keren may have mentioned me?”

Talia nodded, and was immediately sorry. Her head began pounding, and her vision blurred still more. “Keren—was going—t’ be waitin’ f’r you—” she said with difficulty.

Ylsa saw the glazed look, the fixed pupils of Talia’s eyes, and said sharply, “Problems, kitten?”

“I can’t—see too well. And m’ head hurts.”

“Can you tell what’s wrong?” Gaytha asked the Herald in an undertone.

The woman frowned a little. “Well, I’m no Healer, but I know the technique. Hold still, kitten,” she addressed Talia. “This isn’t going to hurt, but it may make your head feel a little odd.” She caught Talia’s blurring gaze and looked deeply into her eyes—and Talia felt something like a light touch inside her head. It was a very odd sensation.

Ylsa placed one hand on Talia’s forehead in the lightest of feather-like touches once she’d caught Talia’s attention, beginning her probe. She continued to speak in a casual voice, knowing commonplaces would keep Talia from becoming too alarmed if she sensed anything. “I’d only just come through the gate when the alarm went up. Keren’s got the tightest bond with that stallion of hers that I’ve ever witnessed. The two of them were headed for the river before Felara had managed to do more than tell me that there was bad trouble. We took off after them, but we couldn’t even manage to keep up. Her mindlink with her brother is almost as strong, and she must have told him what was needed before we even hit the riverbank because he came pounding up with blankets and ropes right after she went in. I knew that she and Dantris were good, but I have never seen anyone move like they did—I never even knew you could slingshot into a dive from the back of a Companion in full gallop!”

While she spoke, she “read” the child as the Healers she had worked with did. Since she was not formally Healer-trained, she took longer at it—and inadvertently made more contact than she’d intended to.

Talia’s head wasn’t exactly feeling odd, but the sensation of internal touch was stronger than ever, and she was seeing the strangest things. They came in flashes, confusing and disorienting, as if she were seeing things through someone else’s eyes—and what she was seeing concerned Keren and this stranger—intimately. And it was very heavily laden with overtones of complex emotions—

She blushed an embarrassed crimson. Ylsa and Keren—long-time lovers? She didn’t even know this woman; why should her mind be producing a fantasy like that? She looked up at Ylsa in startled confusion.

Ylsa hastily broke the contact between them when she realized what the child was sensing, and stared at her with wide-eyed respect. First the mindcall to her Companion, and now this! Ylsa knew she had one of the strongest shields in the Circle, yet this untrained child had picked out something it might have taken a master to extract. Granted, Ylsa’s shields were probably lowered a trifle because of the reading she was doing, but it should have taken someone fully trained to have taken advantage of the fact. This child was certainly far more than her appearance led you to believe.

“Concussion,” she said to the others, “And if she had some kind of cold before she went in, it’s getting worse by the moment. I think we’d best get her into a warm bed and have a real Healer take her in hand.”

And I’d better have a word with Keren as soon as I can! she thought to herself. If this poor child begins a fever, there’s no telling what she’s likely to pick up. Anybody that watches her had better have excellent shields—for her sake.

The three of them helped Talia out with care, dried her off, and put her into her warmest bedgown. She wasn’t allowed to walk at all; they gave her over to Teren who carried her to her room and tucked her into her bed. It had been warmed, and she was glad of it, for once out of the steam-filled bathing room the air had been very cold and she was shivering by the time they reached her room.

She was having trouble holding to reality. It only seemed that she’d gotten the blankets tucked around her when there was a stranger standing beside her, come out of nowhere, appearing at her bedside as if he’d been conjured. It was a cherubic-faced man whose beardlessness made him seem absurdly young; he was dressed in Healer’s Green. He held one hand just fractions of an inch from her forehead and frowned in concentration.

Talia’s head was truly beginning to hurt now; it felt like someone was pressing daggers into her skull just behind her eyes. The rest of her was starting to ache, too; her chest rasped when she breathed and she wanted badly to cough, but knew it would only set off an explosion in her head if she did so.

The young Healer took his hand away and said to someone just outside the door, “Concussion for certain, though the skull doesn’t seem to be broken. And I’m sure you noticed the fever—pneumonia is a real likelihood.”

There was a murmur in answer, and the Healer leaned down so that his face was at Talia’s eye level. “You’re going to be a very sick young lady for a while, youngling,” he told her quietly. “It isn’t anything that we can’t cure with time and patience, but it isn’t going to be very pleasant. Can I count on you to cooperate?”

She made a wry face, and whispered, “You wan’ me t’ drink p-potions, right? Willowbark tea?”

The Healer chuckled, “I’m afraid that will be the least of the nasty things we’ll ask you to drink. Can you manage your first dose now?”

She nodded just the tiniest fraction; carefully, so as not to send her head pounding. The Healer busied himself at her fireplace for several long moments, and returned with something green and foul-looking.

With his aid she drank it as quickly as she could, trying not to taste it. Whatever it was, it was a great deal stronger than Keldar’s willowbark tea, for she found the pain in her head beginning to recede, and her alertness as well. With her alertness went her awareness. Before long, she was soundly asleep.

She woke to fire and candle-light. There was someone sitting in the shadows beside her bed; soft harp-notes told her who it was.

“Herald Jadus?” she whispered, her throat too raw and swollen to produce real sound.

“So formal, little friend?” he asked, laying down his harp and leaning forward to place one hand on her hot forehead. “How do you feel?”

“Tired. Cold. Head hurts. Everything hurts!”

“Hungry?”

“Thirsty,” she rasped. “Why’r’you here?”

“Thirsty can be remedied if you’re willing to take another one of Devan’s evil brews first. As to why I’m here, that’s easy enough. You need someone to help you while you’re ill, and I have plenty of time for my friend Talia.” He handed her a mug of the same green potion she’d drunk before, nodding in approval as she downed it as fast as she could, then handed her another mug of broth. “We’re taking it in turn to keep an eye on you, so don’t concern yourself over me, and don’t be surprised to see Ylsa or Keren. Ah, Devan—as you predicted, she’s awake.”

The same Healer moved into view on silent feet, smiling down at her. “You’re a tough little thing, aren’t you? Sometimes being a Border brat like we both are has its positive aspects.”

Talia blinked owlishly at him over the rim of her mug. “How long—sick?” she croaked.

“A few weeks; perhaps more. And you’ll feel worse before you feel better. Comforting, aren’t I?”

She managed a weak grin. “Truth better.”

“I thought you’d probably prefer it. You may start seeing things when you get more fevered. There will always be someone with you, so don’t worry. Beginning to feel sleepy?”

“Mm,” she assented.

“Finish that, then get more rest. I’ll leave you in Herald Jadus’ competent hands,” he departed as silently as he’d come.

“Is there anything else you’d like, youngling?” Jadus asked, relief evident in his voice.

Talia surmised vaguely that the Healer’s confidence had allayed some worry he’d had. He took the now-empty mug from Talia’s heavy fingers.

“Play for me?” she whispered.

“You have only to ask,” he replied, sounding inordinately pleased and surprised at the request. She drifted off to sleep followed by harpsong.

Ugly dreams and pain half-woke her; someone—it might have been Ylsa—calmed her panic, and coaxed her to drink more broth and medicine.

She half-woke countless more times, obediently drinking what was put to her lips, letting herself be steered to and from the bathing room and the privy. She was otherwise unaware of her surroundings. She alternately froze and burned, and lived in a dream where people from Hold and Collegium mingled and did the most absurd things.

When her dreams turned evil, they were always chased away by harpsong or comforting hands.

Finally she woke completely to see sunlight streaming in her window. Her head ached abominably; she felt at the back of it, and winced as her fingers encountered a lump.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” the rough voice from the chair beside the bed was sympathetic. Turning her head carefully, Talia saw that Keren had assumed the position she’d last seen occupied by Jadus. She was lounging carelessly in Talia’s chair with her feet up on the desk that stood beside it.

She also had her sword resting unsheathed in her lap.

“You’re all right!” Talia croaked with relief.

Keren cocked an eyebrow at her. “You forget, little centaur; I went in of my own will. My entry was a bit more controlled than yours was. You’re damned lucky to be here, you know. You slipped right under the ice when you lost your hold on Rolan’s back. I almost couldn’t reach you. One fingerlength more and we’d not have found you till Spring thaw.”

Once again, Talia seemed to be seeing things through other eyes—arid feeling things as well. She felt a dreadful fear not her own—and saw herself being pulled under the thick sheet of ice that covered most of the river. And she saw what had followed. She spoke before she thought. “You went under the ice after me—” she said in awe “—you could have died!”

Keren nearly choked. “Nets of the Lady, Ylsa was right! I’d best watch what I think around you, youngling. We might share more than either of us want to! To change the subject—yes, since you know already, it was a damned close thing. Good thing for both of us that it was Sherrill that was behind me. Once I’d hooked you, she was able to pull both of us out from under, the more ’specially as I’d had the wit to grab one of Ylsa’s spare lead-ropes from her saddle and clip it to my belt on the way to the river. When Sherrill saw that trailing out behind me, she grabbed it. Good thing she’s been on ice-rescues herself.”

“She’s all right, too?”

“Oh, she’s not as tough an old snake as I am; she caught a cold. Don’t feel sorry for her—since we’d put you out of reach, the rest of the trainees made a great fuss over her. She’s their heroine; they packed her into bed and waited on her hand and foot till she hadn’t so much as a sniffle.”

“What do you mean, put me out of reach? Why? And why have you got your sword out? What aren’t you telling me?”

Keren shook her head ruefully. “You look so naive—innocent, helpless—but even half-dead with concussion and pneumonia you don’t miss much, do you? Ah, little one, there’s no use trying to keep it from you. We’re guarding you. The ones that threw you in the river were caught; you’ve got friends in Servant’s Hall who spotted them coming in mucky. They swore it was just a ‘joke’—some joke!—and all the Queen could legally do was banish them from Court and Collegium. On the surface of it, since there weren’t any witnesses to contradict them, she had no choice. Well, I would have had their heads—” Talia could feel the anger that Keren’s bland expression concealed “—or rather, their hides; but I’m not the Queen, and there’s only so much she could do by the law. Since you managed to survive their little ‘joke’ she couldn’t even call Truth Spell on them.”

“One of them told me to give their greetings to Talamir—that was before Rolan came,” Talia said quietly.

Keren whistled, and Talia could feel her anger mount. “Damn! I wish we’d been able to tell the Council that when that lot came up on charges! Well, nobody really believed them, so Ylsa, Jadus, and I have been taking it in turn to guard you; Mero’s been making all your meals himself and Teren brings ’em straight from his hands.”

“Jadus?” Talia looked at Keren’s sword doubtfully.

“Don’t make the mistake of thinking he’s helpless because he’s short a leg, lovey. There’s been a loaded crossbow within reach the whole time he’s been up here, and that cane of his has a swordblade in it. Anybody trying to take him would have had one hell of a surprise.”

“Is all this really necessary?” Talia asked, beginning to feel more than a bit frightened.

“The danger’s real enough to warrant a few simple precautions. We lose enough of the Circle as it is—we’re not about to lose you through carelessness,” Keren paused, and then added, (half in anger, half in hurt), “—and next time, youngling, tell somebody when there’s something wrong! We could have avoided all this—maybe caught whoever was chewing your tail! Heralds always stick together, dammit! Did you think we wouldn’t believe you?”

“I—yes—” Talia said, and was horrified that her mouth had once again betrayed her. To her further horror, slow tears began to fall, and she was helpless to stop them.

Keren was out of her chair and at her side in a moment, holding her against a firm shoulder, anger turned immediately to concern and a touch of guilt. “Lovey, lovey, I didn’t mean to upset you. We want you, we need you—it’d half kill us to lose you. You’ve got to learn to trust us. We’re your family. No, we’re more than that. And we’ll never, ever desert you. No matter what happens.”

“I’m—sorry—” Talia sobbed, trying to bring herself back under control and pulling away from Keren.

“No, you don’t. It’s time you let some of that out,” Keren ordered. “Cry all you want. If my twin’s right—and he usually is—you’ve got a lot of crying to catch up on.”

Her care—her sincerity was too much to stand against. Talia yielded with speechless gratitude, as the barriers within her that had been weakened by her friendship with Jadus came crumbling down. Keren held her as if she were her own child, letting her sob herself into dry-eyed exhaustion.

“Feel better?” Keren asked, when the last of the tears were gone.

Talia smiled weakly. “Sort of.”

“Except that now your head aches and your eyes are sore. Next time, don’t let things build up for so long. That’s one of the things friends are for—to help you with troubles. Now—about that ‘new’ thought-sensing ability of yours—”

“It’s real? Then I am feeling what you’re feeling? And you and Ylsa—” she broke off in confusion. “But where did I get it from? I couldn’t do that before!”

“You’re still picking up from me? Oh hell!” Keren frowned a little in concentration, and abruptly Talia was no longer awash with confusing emotions. “That better? Good. Oh, this thought-sensing is real, all right, and disconcertingly accurate. Only the Circle knows about Ylsa and me; we couldn’t have kept it from them with all the Gifted about, even if we’d wanted to. We’re lifebonded; I don’t suppose you’ve heard of that, have you?”

“Like Vanyel and Stefen? Or Sunsinger and Shadowdancer?” Keren’s amazed glance flicked over Talia like a spray of cold water, but given Talia’s penchant for tales it wasn’t overly surprising that she had heard of lifebonding. Rare among Heralds, rarer still in the general population, a lifebond was a very special tie, going far beyond the physical.

“Not so dramatic, but yes, like Vanyel and Stefen. Well, I’d guess that either the blow to your head woke your Gift early, or overwhelming fear did. It happens sometimes. Now if you weren’t Queen’s Own, we wouldn’t even think about training you to use it for another few years, but you’re by definition a special case. Do you want it trained?”

“Please—not another set of lessons—” Talia said pathetically.

Keren chuckled. “All right then, lovey, we’ll leave things as they are. Maybe when your head heals, it’ll go away; I’ve seen that happen before. But if it starts to get bothersome, you tell one of us, all right?” She paused, and eyed Talia speculatively. “It doesn’t disturb you—about Ylsa and me?”

“No,” Talia replied, a trifle surprised. “Should it? I mean—there’s lots of—um—”she blushed again “—‘special friends’ on the Holdings.”

“Are there?” Keren raised an eyebrow. “I never figured on that, old rocks that they are. Makes sense, I guess—all those Underwives, and damn few of ’em wed for affection,” she relaxed visibly. “I won’t deny that I’m glad to hear that from you. You’ve got an old head in a lot of ways, lovey; I’m beginning to think of you as much as my friend as my student, and I’d hate to see anything get in the way of that friendship.”

“Me? Your friend?” Talia was visibly startled.

“Surprised? Jadus thinks of you as a friend, too, and he hasn’t opened up to anyone in years. There’s something about you that I can’t pinpoint—you’re so much older than your years, sometimes. Maybe it comes of being Queen’s Own. Lady knows I’m not old enough to have known Talamir as a lad. You seem like someone I’ve known and trusted for years. Like a little sister. As close, maybe, as my twin—which is damned odd, considering that I’ve got a niece and nephew nearly your age. I’m not the only one to feel that way. There’s Jadus, like I said—and Sherrill, and Skif, and probably more.”

Talia digested this with wonder.

Keren shook her head, “Enough of this—how’s the skull feel?”

“Awful.”

She stood up and examined the lump with gentle, skillful fingers.

“Lovey, luck was all on your side in this. An inch or two lower, or on the temple instead, and you’d have been unconscious or paralyzed when you hit the water. You’d have gone under without a ripple, and we’d never have known what happened to you. Think you can stomach more of that vile green brew? It’ll take the ache out, anyway.”

Talia nodded slowly, and Keren brought her a mug of the concoction, then returned to her former perch on the chair; feet propped up and sword on her lap.

“How much of my classes have I missed?”

“Not a thing that can’t be made up quickly,’specially since you’re excused from chores and Alberich’s tender mercies till you’re well again. If your eyes play tricks on you, we’ll read to you, and everybody in the Collegium wants to loan you their notes. Fair enough?”

Talia was about to answer when a deep, somber-toned bell—one she’d never heard before—began tolling somewhere nearby.

Keren stiffened as her head snapped up on the first peal, “Damn,” she said softly, but with venom, “Oh, damn.”

“What’s the matter?” Talia did not like the tense bitterness on Keren’s face. “What’s happened?”

“That’s the Death Bell.” Keren stared sightlessly out the window, tears trickling unheeded down her cheeks. “It rings when a Herald dies. It means that the bastards got another one of us. And one of the best. Ah, gods, why did it have to be poor Beltren?”