He glared at her, and heaved the bedding into the stall. “I do not,” he said between clenched teeth, “feel like engaging in a wrestling match with the woman. Dammit, there's going to be frost on the ground in the morning. It's getting chilly at night.”

:Poor abused baby. I know somebody who 'II gladly keep you warm.:

He glared at her again, poised halfway over the railings of the box - stall, one foot on either side. “ 'Fandes, you're pushing my patience.”

:Me.:

“Oh, 'Fandes. ...” His tone cooled a little, and he swung his leg over the top rail of the stall, and hopped down beside her to hug her neck. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't take the fact that I'm ready to kill her out on you.”

She rubbed her cheek against his, her smooth coat softer than any satin, and nibbled at his hair. Her breath puffed warm against his ear, sweet, and hay-scented. Farther down in the stable, beyond the light of Vanyel's lantern, one of the horses whickered sleepily, and another stamped.

:I'm rather selfishly glad to have you with me,: she said, watching him heap up straw and spread his sleeping roll on it. :I like having you here with no danger to keep us wakeful, a quiet night, nothing to really disturb us.

Remember how you used to spend nights out in the Vale with me, watching the stars?:

“And waiting for Starwind to take a header out of his treehouse!” Vanyel laughed, with her rich chuckle bubbling in his mind. “You're right; that was a good time, even if I did spend the first few months of it in various states of hurting. Gods of Light, 'Fandes, I miss them. It's been far too long since I last saw them. Brightstar must be-what-nearly ten? I wish we had time to go back there.”

They don't shake me to my shoes the way Shavri and Randi do. Is it only because I don't see them too often, or -

Yfandes' interrupted his thought.

:'You 'd have to Gate, or else spend months on the road.: she replied sadly. :We daren't take the time, and I won't let you Gate yet, not unless it's an emergency. You’re still drained. :

Her tone cheered him a little. “Yes, little mother,” Vanyel chuckled, climbing into his crude bed, good humor fully restored. And to prove that he wasn't quite so drained as Yfandes seemed to think, he snuffed the lamp with a thought.

:Show-off,: she teased, settling down carefully next to him so that he could curl up beside her, for all the world like a strange sort of gangly foal. He wriggled himself and blankets in against her warm, silken side, and slipped one hand out to rest on her foreleg.

He yawned. With his anger gone, his energy seemed to be gone too. “ 'Night, dearheart,” he mumbled, suddenly unable to keep his eyes open.

She nuzzled his cheek. :Goodnight, beloved.:

They howled around him, trying to crawl inside his mind. Horrible, vile, they made him retch to look at them, but he couldn't look away from their distorted faces and maimed bodies. They drove fear before them and raised terror about them, making a whirlwind with himself in the center; they had knives for teeth and scythes for claws, red eyes full of madness and an insatiable hunger he could feel beating at his frail shell of protection in waves of heat. They were shadows, deadly, kitting shadows, and they couldn't get at him, but they could and would find other prey. They howled off and away on the wind, and he screamed (or tried to) and hid his head and made himself as small as he could while the killing and dying began. And he wept with terror and shrieked-

Vanyel shook off the grip of the nightmare and came up out of it with a rush, choking against the black bile of fear in his throat. He clawed his way out of his blankets, and lay panting and unthinking against Yfandes' side in the aftermath of all-consuming horror, while his heart pounded in his ears.

The night about him was quiet, peaceful, undisturbed.

On the surface. But -

Beneath the surface?

Automatically he reached out with his Othersenses, to touch the energy currents that lay beneath the material night.

No, it hadn't been a nightmare; his Othersenses showed him the new, churning eddies in the currents of power all about him. Something had happened tonight. Somewhere out there something had used Power, used it freely, and to a terrible end. His nightmare had only been the far-off echo of something much, much worse. There was evil on the Otherwinds-and the world beneath shivered to feel it.

If I'd been in my room, I'd never have felt this, he realized, coming fully awake. My room is shielded and so is Savil's. But I never shield when I'm with Yfandes. That means Savil hasn't felt this. I'm the only one who knows there's something wrong.

“ 'Fandes?” He reached out for her shoulder; the muscles were bunched with tension, and her head was up, sniffing the crisp breeze.

:Hush. Listen.:

Faint, and far off - a mind-cry for help? Or just a mind crying in despair? It wavered maddeningly in and out of his sensing-range.

:That's because he's bonded. It's a Companion, a young one. He's Chosen, and his Chosen is emperiled. I can hardly hear him.: She stretched her neck out, as if simply trying harder could make what she sensed clearer. :That's - he 's caught in his Chosen 's fear, and he's nearly hysterical. :

“Which, Companion or Chosen?” Vanyel scrambled completely out of his bedroll, and flared the lamp to life with a blink of thought. We'd better deal with this. We may be the only ones close enough to hear them.

:Both - the Companion, at least.: She lurched to her feet, her eyes black with distress. Moonlight poured in through the open upper half of the door to the paddock, silvering her. :Vanyel, please - we must go to them!:

“What's it look like I'm doing?” he demanded, throwing her blanket over her, then pulling down the saddle itself. “I'll have you saddled in half a moment. Where is this?”

:Lineas. Highjorune. :

“The Linean throne-seat.” He made a quick check of his mental maps. “That's relatively near our Border. Can we be there by dawn? “

:Before. : All her attention was back on the West.

“Good, because I have the feeling what we're about to do isn't legal, at least by Linean standards, and I'd rather not break laws while people are awake to catch me. Kellan!”

A stamp and a whicker told him that Savil's Companion had heard him.

“Get Savil awake and tell her what we know and where we're going. And why.”

Snort of agreement.

“ 'Fandes, wait a minute, I'd better change.” He began stripping his clothing off, cursing the laces that wouldn't come undone, and snapping them when he realized how much time this was taking.

She swung her head around to stare at him frantically. :We can't afford the time!:

“We can't afford not to take the time,” he said reasonably. “Think about it, love. I had damn well better be in uniform. Even the Lineans will think twice about stopping a Valdemar Herald, but a man on a white horse won't rate that second thought. I am something less than fond of being a target, even a moving one.” He rummaged in the saddlebags, coming up with a slightly crumpled set of Whites. “Thought I left those here. Thank the gods for battle-line habits.” He shrugged on the breeches and tunic and belted them tight; pulled on the boots he'd pulled off when he'd wormed into his blankets. “Good thing I've only got the one pair of boots. Damn, I wish I'd thought to leave a sword here.”

:Meke left one in the tack bin by the stud.:

“Bless you -”

He vaulted the railings to fetch it; it was not a good blade, but it was serviceable. He strapped it and his long dagger on, inserted the short ones into their pockets in his boots.

His cloak-he looked for it quickly; he'd need it out there. There it was, half tangled with the blankets. He pulled it out of the tangle, shook it out, flung it over his shoulders, fastened the throat-latch, and returned to the task of harnessing Yfandes. He swung the saddle onto her back, gave a quick pull of the cinch, got chest- and rump-bands buckled and snugged in - she was ready.