The stars weren't any brighter for having just found some of his answers, but they seemed that way. Poor Tashir - he doesn't have anyone. I had a true love. Not too many people can say that.

He contemplated that for a moment. I've been thinking awfully hard about how I lost him. Maybe it would be better to remember how I had him. Once again he set himself to build the illusion that had shattered with Tashir's gasp; just as carefully, just as lovingly. But this time remembering the good times.

Once again Tylendel stood before him, frozen in a moment of gentle joy. He remembered that moment well.

You gave me a gift I never expected to have; you gave me my music back, beloved. You told me that it was more important to you to hear music played for itself than to hear it enhanced by the strongest of Bardic Gifts. He found himself smiling, a smile with tears on the edge of it, but smiling. Then I sang you a love song. The first one I ever sang for you. It was the first time I'd ever sung one with my heart in it.

Tylendel had given himself up completely to the music he'd woven for him. It had been a moment completely free of any shadows because 'Lendel had chased the only one that haunted him.

Beloved, you knew how much I needed that back, and you gave it to me with open hands.

Memory could be sweet - even if it held an edge of sorrow.

I won't ever forget you, ashke, but I can choose how I remember you. And I promise I'll try to remember with love, not tears.

He allowed the image to fade.

So it's time I started doing something about people who need me, hmm? Just like you told me. And the most urgent of those is Tashir.

He yawned suddenly, then laughed a little at himself. And I'm not going to do anyone any good falling asleep on my feet. So best I seek my virtuously empty bed. Morning is going to come far too soon.

He looked once more into the sky - or beyond it. Even he wasn't certain which.

Good night, ashke. Wherever you are. Wind to thy wings –

Twelve

News, sped by Herald-, Mind- and Mage-Gifts, and Herald-guided messenger birds, moved quickly in Valdemar when the King and Circle chose. But when they didn't -

They had not chosen to speed either edicts or news in the matter of Tashir and the mysterious slaughter of the Linean Royal Family. That news moved with the same plodding slowness as it did outKingdom. And that gave Vanyel and the youngster a respite.

But it was a short respite only; Vanyel had known that from the beginning. Vanyel wasn't much surprised when a messenger arrived the day after Sovvan from Captain Lissa. He had a fair notion of just what the sealed message-tubes the courier carried contained.

And he wasn't at all surprised to be summoned to Lord Withen's study when the messenger had departed.

The door stood open; Vanyel tapped on the frame, then entered when his father looked up. Withen wore a troubled expression, the look of a man who is uneasy about things over which he had little or no control. He motioned to Vanyel to take a chair, but Van only shook his head, preferring to stand. If Withen meant to take him to task, let him do so with Vanyel in some kind of “formal” stance.

“This -” Withen settled back into his own chair and lifted a corner of one of the papers lying on his desk. “I had the messenger read it for me; I wasn't sure I wanted Radevel to know what was going on until I talked to you. It's a politely worded ’request' from Lissa for permission to move her company of the Guard to the Ashkevron personal estates. And an explanation of why she's been ordered to move.”

Vanyel nodded. Given what he had seen on his way home - the way the Linean side of the Border had been fortified in just under a fortnight - he had realized it would be only a matter of time before Liss got orders to move from the Border-section facing Baires to that facing Lineas. And the Ashkevron family land sat squarely on the only road suitable for troop movements.

Withen coughed uncomfortably. “Van, son - the boy you brought here - he's that Tashir, isn't he? Tashir Remoerdis. The Linean.”

“He is,” Vanyel replied levelly. “And the fact that he was Chosen after the Remoerdis Family died is reason enough to presume him innocent.” He straightened a little. “Father, you know I wouldn't have brought anyone dangerous here, but he needed a sanctuary, and this was the only place I could think of where no one would look for him.”

Withen interrupted him with a wave of his hand. “That's not what I'm worried about. That boy wouldn't hurt a fly, I'd swear to it myself. It's - what do I do if Liss or somebody else comes looking for you?”

“You could give us up,” Vanyel sighed, his muscles going to knots. “In fact, you should.”

“Like hell I will!” Withen rumbled. “You brought him here for sanctuary, and by the gods, he's going to get it!”

Vanyel relaxed and grinned; the expression startled his father. “Father mine,” he said warmly, “you have just eased my last worry. I was not going to foist this walking diplomatic incident on you unwilling, but if you have no qualms about continuing to shelter him -”

Withen snorted. “I'll pick up blade and defend him m'self, if I have to.”

“I hope you won't have to; I hope I'll be able to find out who really did this, and clear Tashir entirely. If you don't mind, I'll take that chair you offered.'' Withen nodded, and Vanyel lowered himself into its support gratefully. “Randale's playing a very tricky game here; Liss' troop is mostly made up of men from Forst Reach and the holdings in fealty to us. He knows damned well that no matter what the 'official' word is, they'll protect me, with silence, if nothing else, unless you - or Liss - indicate differently. Randale trusts my judgment, and he's giving me time to get this sorted out.”

Withen nodded, one eyebrow raised in tribute to Randale's cleverness.

“Don't worry, Father, I'll have word and time to get us out of Forst Reach and into hiding in the forest long before anyone dangerous could actually arrive here.''

“That was all I was worried about, except -” Withen tugged his short beard unhappily, “- is there a chance the Lineans would make a Border-war out of this?”

Vanyel weighed all the factors in his mind, including Vedric's apparent unwillingness to force the issue. He ruminated a long time, for the most part ignoring his father's increasingly gloomy countenance, before he was able to make a tentative conclusion. He stood then, hoping he looked more confident than he felt. “I don't think so, but I pledge you, Father,” he said steadily, holding Withen's eyes with his own, “before it comes to that, I'll turn both of us over to them myself.”

And I hope to Havens I never have to make good on that pledge.

The reaction to the news contained in the missive was mixed. On the whole, Vanyel's younger brothers seemed to welcome the prospect of “a little excitement” with cheerful bloodthirstiness. Mekeal alone of all of them seemed of two minds about the whole thing, first joining in the boasting and enthusiastic weaponry practices, then taking to pacing about the keep muttering about “line-of-sight” and “defensibility” with a worried frown creasing his forehead.

Withen made it very plain when the youngster's identity became generally known that he shared Jervis' conviction of Tashir's innocence, and Tashir reacted to his show of faith with disbelief at first. But when Withen himself assured him of his sanctuary, Tashir reacted with a pitiful gratitude that would have softened harder hearts than Withen's.

It was because of this that Withen actually got embroiled in a shouting match with Father Leren over Tashir and the question of his disposition, guilt, or innocence; the first time Withen had ever disagreed with the cleric to Vanyel's knowledge.

Tashir's Companion had finally come in to take up nervous residence with Yfandes. This was something of a relief to Vanyel, since Ghost had been frightening the whey out of most of the workers on the holding; they'd see only a flash of something white, usually by night, and then it would be gone, and the rumors of a “demon-horse” were spreading. Vanyel was trying to coax both the young man and the Companion into a calmer state of mind in which deeper bonding and Mindspeech between the two would be possible, but neither of them were at all willing to be calmed. Ghost, in fact, showed a marked tendency to panic if even the lower half of the outer door to Yfandes' stall was closed while he was in it. Vanyel was about ready to give it up as a hopeless task when Jervis came looking for him, a startling grin transforming his craggy face into a mask of unholy glee.