That accomplished, and now every inch his usual neat self, he headed down to the oldest part of the Palace, the extensive set of rooms shared by King Randale; his lifebonded and King's Own, Shavri; and their daughter.

He had scarcely crossed the threshold of the sparsely furnished audience chamber-his unfamiliar face giving a moment's apprehension to the two Guards posted at the door-when a six-year-old, curly-headed, miniature whirlwind burst through the farther door and flung herself across the audience chamber at him, evidently blithely certain he would catch her before she fell.

Which he did, and swung her around, up and over his head while she squealed with excitement and delight. “Uncle Van!” she crowed at the top of her lungs. “UncleVanUncleVanUncleVan!”

He started to put her down, but she demanded a hug and a kiss with the same infectious charm her “father” Randale could display whenever he chose. Vanyel hoisted her into a comfortable carrying position and complied without an argument, thinking as he did so that it was a good thing that she was still so tiny.

“Now how did you know I was coming?” he asked her, as her bright brown eyes looked solemnly down into his.

“Felt you,” she said, giving him another hug. “Felt you in my head, all blue - glowy and swirly.”

He nearly dropped her in shock. That was surely the most vivid-and accurate-description of his aura he'd ever heard out of anyone but another high - ranking Herald-Mage.

“Or a Healer,” said Shavri, coming up beside him as he gaped at the child, and Jisa giggled at the face he was making. “Healers see you that way, too, Van. And no, I wasn't eavesdropping on your thoughts-they were plain enough from that poleaxed look on your face.” There was strain and fear under Shavri's light tone, as if she walked a narrow bridge above a bottomless chasm. “Besides, you aren't the only one she's 'felt in her head' during the last three months. Let's start this greeting over; hello, Van, have you a hug for me?”

“Always.” He was already bracing himself for trouble; with that look on her face there was something seriously wrong. And that meant he'd have to be the strong one.

He included Shavri in his arms, while Jisa flung her arms around both their necks and cuddled. “Jisa sweet, can I put you down long enough for presents?''

“Presents?” Jisa was no different from any other six-year-old when that word came up. She squirmed a little, and he set her down, then extracted the little Companion-figure from his pouch and handed it to her. She shrieked with delight, and ran outside to show it to the two Guards. Shavri watched her go, her gypsy-dark eyes darker with unconcealed love - and something else. Something secret and profoundly unhappy. His first reaction was to want to hold her, protect her, make that unhappiness go away.

Randi's lifebonded -

“That's quite a little impling you're raising, Shavri,” he said, instead. “Incredibly unspoiled, given that I'd lay odds she's the pet of the Circle.”

“You say that every time you see her, beast,” she replied, flashing an uncertain smile, startlingly bright in her sober, dark face.

“Well, it's true.” Vanyel Looked quickly around, ascertained that they were going to be alone for a few moments, and asked quickly, “How is he?”

The smile vanished, and the fear and unhappiness were plain for anyone who knew her to read. :Oh, gods-Van, he's sick, I can't make it go away, and I think he's dying. And I don't know why. :

:What?: He gathered his scant resources to support her-and to hide the fact that her fear was making him tremble inside.

“He's well enough,” she said lightly, but Mindspoke him with a vastly different tone. :There's something wrong; it isn't affecting him much at the moment other than steady weakness and a dizzy spell now and again – but it keeps getting worse with each spell. And - oh, Van - I'm so afraid - :

He tightened his arm around her shoulders. :Easy, flowerlet - : “Then it sounds like there's no problem with my taking this leave.” :How long has this been going on?:

Her unshed tears knotted both their throats. :Eight months. It's something I can't Heal, the gods know I've tried!:

He felt chill creep over him. :Forgive me, Shavri, but I have to ask this. Given worst case - if it is something life-threatening, and it keeps getting worse, how long do you think he has ?:

:If he keeps weakening at the same rate? Fifteen years-maybe less, certainly not more. Gods, Van, he won't even see fifty - he won't even see his grandchildren! Elspeth was seventy-six when she was Called!:

There was another thought, unspoken-but Vanyel felt it, since it touched so nearly on his own private loneliness.

I'II have to go on alone-

He held her close to his chest, with her face pressed into his shoulder as she struggled not to cry, and clamped down a tight shield to prevent any stray thought from reaching her and frightening her. Savil supported you. You support Shavri the same way, he told himself, below the threshold of her ability to Mindhear. Let her know she won't be alone. Gods, gods, they're both so young, not even twenty-five . . . and so sheltered all their lives. Oh, Shavri - your pain hurts me-

“Easy, love,” he murmured into her hair. :Does he know ?:

:No. Not yet. Healer's Collegium does; they’re working on it. We don't want him to know until it's certain. Now you know why I won't marry him. Van, I couldn't, I'm not strong enough, I can't rule! Not alone! And when he dies - and I won't have Jisa forced onto the throne too young, either.: Her mind-voice strengthened with stubbornness. :So long as we're unwedded, it can't be forced on me nor on Jisa until all the collateral lines are exhausted. I - :

He felt the surge of terror and grief, and tried to project strength to her, not allowing her to see how fragile that strength was at the moment. With grim certainty he knew that she would not be able to cope if the worst came - unless someone she trusted was there to help. And the only one she trusted to that extent - the only one Randi trusted - was him. Gods. They really think I can do anything - and I'm no more ready for this than she is.

He pushed the thought away, concentrated on trying to ease some of that fear. . - Gently, sweet. Don't borrow trouble. Don't assume anything. You may cure him yet; this may turn out to be something ridiculous - and you both may get run over by a beer-wagon tomorrow!:

That startled a weak chuckle out of her, and she blinked up at him through tears she was doing her best not to release.

:Worry about tomorrow when it comes; enjoy now. Now, what's all this with Jisa “feeling people in her head?”:

Footsteps made both of them look up. “Are you seducing my lady, Herald Vanyel?” asked Randale, King of Valdemar, holding out his arms to embrace both of them.

“I'd rather seduce you, you charmer,” Vanyel replied coyly, batting his eyelashes at the King. But there was an edge of bitterness there in his banter, and despite his best intentions it must have crept into his voice. He saw a hint of startlement, then of worry, creep into both their expressions.

Lighten up, dammit, he told himself angrily. They've got their own problems – they don't need yours.

He grinned and winked, and both of them relaxed again.

Randale laughed heartily, and hugged him hard, taking Shavri away from Vanyel as he did so. And Vanyel felt a strange twinge; another flash of uneasiness.

Gods, what's wrong with me?

He didn't stop to think about it. The hug wasn't as hard as it had been a year ago - and there was a transparency about Randale that made Vanyel's heart lurch. Randale had grown a neat brown beard - was it to hide the fact that his cheeks were a little hollower? Was that tidy-to-a-fault brown hair a little lackluster? There were shadows under his dark eyes; were they there from lack of sleep, or some more sinister reason? Within a few breaths Vanyel had noted a dozen small signs of “something wrong” - all of them little things, things that someone who saw him day - in, day-out might not have noticed. But Vanyel had been away for a year, and the things he saw shook him. Gods, gods - my King, my friend - Shavri is right. You’re ill, at the very least -