But why can’t I react the way everyone else seems to? Why am I so different?

His head hurt, but not unbearably. His stomach was not particularly happy with him, but he wasn’t ready to retch his guts up. In short, he was hung over - though less than he’d expected. In an odd sort of way, he was feeling even more detached than before. Perhaps his intoxication had purged something out of him last night; some forlorn hope, some last grasping at a life no one would ever let him have.

He pulled on his riding leathers and groomed himself as impeccably as he could manage without a mirror, leaving only the tunic off, since he intended to soak his aching head in cold water before he mounted Star - in the horse trough if he had to. He walked out into the morning light pouring in through the outer room, surveying the pathetic wrecks that had been his alert and vigilant guardians only the night before with what he hoped was cool, distant impassiveness.

And he spared a half a moment to hope that the girl hadn’ttold them -

His guards were in far worse case than he was, having evidently made a spectacular night of it. Quitea night, judging by their bleary eyes, surly, yet satiated expressions, and the rumpled condition of the bedding. And Vanyel was not such an innocent as to be unable to recognize certain - aromas - when he detected them in the air before Garth opened the window. He was just as pleased to have been so drunk as to be insensible when they had been entertaining their temporary feminine acquaintances. Could be the chambermaid had found what she’d sought in the company of Garth and Erek after being rebuffed by Vanyel.

They weren’t giving him the kind of sly looks he’d have expected if the girl hadrevealed his panicked reaction.

Well - maybe she was too busy. Thank you, gods.

Hemanaged to deal with his hangover in a fairly successful fashion. Willowbark tea came for his asking, hot from the kitchen; on the way to the privy, with the faithful Garth in queasy attendance, he managed to divert long enough to soak his head under the stable pump until his temples stopped pounding. The water was very cold, and he saw Garth wincing when he first stuck his head beneath it.

That dealt with the head; the stomach was easier. He drank nothing but the tea and ate nothing but bread, very mild cheese, and fruit.

He was perfectly ready to ride out at that point. His guards were not so fortunate. Or, perhaps, so wise, since theirremedies seemed to consist of vile concoctions of raw eggs and the heavy imbibing of the ale that had causedtheir problem the night before.

As a result, their departure was delayed until mid-morning - not that this disturbed Vanyel a great deal. They’d be outside the bounds of the forest before dark; at least according to what the innkeeper told Garth. That was all Vanyelcared about.

Garth and Erek were still looking a bit greenish as they mounted their cobs. And neither seemed much inclined toward talk. That suited Vanyel quite well; it would enable him to concentrate on putting just a bit more distance between himself and the world. And it would allow him to do some undisturbed thinking.

The forest did not seem quite so unfriendly on the eastern side of the inn - perhaps because it was hunted more frequently on this side. The underbrush certainly wasn’t as thick. The boughs of the trees overhead weren’t, either, and Vanyel got a bit of nasty satisfaction at seeing Garth and Erek wincing out of the way of sunbeams that were muchmore frequent on this side of the woods.

But it was hotter than yesterday, and Vanyel finally stripped off his leather tunic and bundled it behind him.

Seeing no lurking shadows beneath the trees, he felt a bit easier about turning his attention inward to think about just what, exactly, he was heading toward.

I can guess at what Father’s told the old bat. That’s easy enough. The question is what she’s likely to do about it.

He tried to dig everything he could remember out of the dim recesses of memory - not just about his aunt in particular, but about Heralds in general.

He’II tell her I ‘m to be weapons-schooled, that’s for certain. But how- that’s up to her. And now that I think of it- damn if it wasn’t aHerald that wrote that book that got me in such trouble! I may, I justmight actually be better off in that area! Huh - now that I think about it, I can’t see any way I’d be worse off.

A bird called overhead, and Vanyel almost felt a bit hopeful. No matterwho I get schooled under, he can’tpossibly be worse than Jervis- because whoever he is, hewon’t have a grudge against me. The absolute worst I can get is a Jervis-type without a grudge. That might just be survivable, if I keep myself in the background, if I manage to convince him that I’m deadly stupid and clumsy. Stupid and clumsy arenot possible to train away, and even Jervis knew that.

Another bird answered, reminding him that there was, however, the matter of music.

He’s bound to have issued orders that I’m not to be allowed anywhere near the Bards except right under Savil ‘s eye- and if she’s like Father, she has no ear at all. Which means she’lI never go to entertainments unless she has no choice.He sighed. Oh, well, there’s worse.I won’t be any worse off than I was at home, where I saw a real, trained Bard once in my entire lifetime. At least they’ll bearound. Maybe if I can get my fingering back and play where one is likely to overhear me-

He sternly squelched that last. Best not think about it. I can’t afford hope anymore.

Star fidgeted; she wanted her usual early-morning run. He reined her in, calmed her down, and went back to his own thoughts. One thing for sure, Father is likely to have told Savil all kinds of things about how rotten I am. So she’ll be likely looking for wrong moves on my part- and I’ll bet she ‘II have her proteges and friends watching me, too. It’s going to be hell. Hell, with no sanctuary, and no Liss.

He studied Star’s ears as he thought, watching her flick them back with alert interest when she heard him sigh.

Well, everyone else is going to hate me, butyou still love me.He patted Star’s neck, and she pranced a little.

To the lowest hells with all of them. I do not need them, I don’t needanybody, not even Liss. I’ll do all right on my own.

But there was one puzzle, one he was reminded of later, when they passed one of the remote farms, and Vanyel saw the farmer out in the field, talking with someone on horseback who was likely his overlord. Huh - hethought, I can’t figure how in Havens Father expects Savil to train me in governance. . . ,

Then he felt a cold chill.

Unless he doesn’t really expect me to ever come home again. Gods- hecould try to work something out in the way of sending me off to a temple. He could do that- and it bloody wouldn’t matter if Father Leren could find him a priest he could bribe into accepting an unwilling acolyte. It would work - it wouldwork. Especially if it was a cloistered order. And with me out of the way in Savil’s hands, he has all the time he needs tofind a compliant priest. He doesn’t even have to tell Savil; just issue the order to send me back home again when it’s all arranged. Then spirit me off and announce to anyone who asks that I discovered I had a vocation. And I would spend the rest of my life in a little stone cave somewhere-

He swallowed hard, and tried to find reasons to dismiss the notion as a paranoid fantasy, but all he could discover were more reasons why it was a logical move on Lord Withen’s part.