Changing the World: All-New Tales of Valdemar

She sagged against him, letting some of her anxiety drain out. “Stay safe,” she muttered. “Remember that if you die on the job, I will eulogize you in a five-part cycle with at least two flute solos.”

He chuckled. “By the way, I told Mama and Papa you’d come with me next year for Midwinter.”

She drew back, horrified. “You didn’t.”

He grinned.

“Lyle—Midwinter is about earning money for a Bard—”

His face grew stern. “When was the last time you visited, Lelia?”

She sputtered, unable to say anything but, “I can’t afford it!”

“We’ll figure something out.” Lyle winked, then gestured to Vehs, who had presented a stirrup. “Up you get!”

She ignored his offer of help, despite Vehs’s mountainlike build. She didn’t so much mount as scale him. He whickered and turned. At the last possible moment, Lelia twisted round and said to Lyle, “I’m staying in your room. Hope you don’t mind.”

His face fell. “What?”

She squeezed Vehs gently. He took her lead and leaped forward, moving off into the crowds. The last she heard from Lyle was: “Lelia! If you burn down the Herald’s wing—”

Vehs chuckled in his Chosen’s head.

Wil leaned against a post in the Companions’ stable and thought back, :What?:

:I have been part of something sneaky. Mine is an evil chuckle.: He demonstrated it again.

:Oh.: Wil rubbed his brow. :For the record—:

:Yes, yes. It’s a terrible idea. Understood, Chosen.:

Vehs chuckled again.

Wil paced. He was not alone in the stable—another Herald, the official who would be signing off on this “mission,” stood nearby with hands clasped behind his back. Always still. Always composed.

Not Wil. He kicked up hay- and grain-dust as he paced between the deepening shadows of late afternoon. He wanted another solution, but no ideas were forthcoming.

He took a step, gray winter sunlight sliding over him, and the next put him in shadow. Another step, and—

His gut wrenched as his Gift triggered.

—body on the floor and a woman in jewelry standing over it, two knives at her waist, one in her hand, the tip bloody as she smiled and raised it—

He came back to himself on his knees, clutching his head. Over on the other side of the stable, the other Herald asked, “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Wil said, climbing to his feet and brushing off his knees. “Sir, I don’t know if this—”

“Wait for her to get here,” the Herald said. “Then we’ll decide if it’s a bad idea.”

I could swear he’s been talking to Vehs, Wil thought sourly.

As if cued, Vehs said, :We’re coming through the Herald’s Gate.:

Wil walked over to stand beside the senior Herald. He folded his arms across his chest, and watched as the red-clad rider drew closer.

Vehs stopped a few feet away from the big open building of Companions’ stables.

Oh, Lelia thought when she saw who stood next to Wil. She dropped to her feet and executed a deep curtsy, sweeping off her cap. “M’lord Herald,” she said.

Queen’s Own Talamir inclined his head slightly.

“Herald Wil,” she said to the other, dropping another curtsy, albeit more shallow. A fierce joy welled, unbidden, inside her. She did her best to squash it.

I am a Master Bard! I am a Master Bard! she reminded her galloping heart.

Wil grunted a hello.

“How much did Lyle tell you?” Talamir asked her. His voice had a faint quaver, but his gaze was direct and difficult to meet. Even if he hadn’t been spooky as a haunted castle, being under the eye of a Herald this high gave Lelia the quakes.

“Nothing,” she said honestly. “Just that the Heraldic Circle’s interested in enlisting a Bard for something delicate.” Her voice dropped in volume as she finished the sentence, glancing about nervously. She had to presume that the Heralds had chosen the stables for a reason, but it still felt awfully open.

“It’s safe,” Wil said blandly, addressing her concern. “The Companions are keeping an eye out.”

Lelia nodded.

“Lyle vouched for you as trustworthy,” Talamir commented.

Lyle, you mooncalf, Lelia thought furiously.

“He—” Talamir indicated Wil with a nod “—has reason to get inside the mansion of a lord in Haven without anyone knowing a Herald is there. And I have it on good authority that the lord’s wife is seeking a musician for her Midwinter parties.”

Lelia pursed her lips. Suddenly, this didn’t sound so bad.

“Discretion would be required,” Talamir said. “Who placed you there would have to remain confidential. This is a potentially volatile situation.”

She nodded. “Discretion. Understood.”