Changing the World: All-New Tales of Valdemar

Jors settled another log on the fire and leaned back against Gervais’ shoulder to watch Torbin sleep. :Why are we doing this again?: he sighed.

:You gave your word to his father.:

:I know but... : He dug another bit of mashed egg out of his ear. :This isn’t exactly what Heralds do, is it?:

:Yes.:

:Yes?: Jors repeated, wondering if he’d heard correctly. Given the egg, he might not have.

:Yes, it is exactly what Heralds do.:

:How do you figure?: he asked, stroking one hand along the Companion’s silky side.

:The Heralds not only protect Valdemar as it is but, by their actions, Valdemar as it will be. This child is the future of Valdemar. It doesn’t matter if he is Chosen or he becomes a charcoal burner like his father; here and now, he is not only himself, he is the potential for everything he could be. Without him there will be no future in Valdemar, so yes, you are doing exactly what it is Heralds do. There is nothing more important you could be doing.:

:That helps.:

:I thought it might.:

:You have to admit ,though, he certainly puts something like a diplomatic mission to Karse into perspective.:

:It is unlikely that you and I would be sent to Karse.:

:Not diplomatic enough?:

:Not even close. Still, a mission to Karse would likely involve less vomiting.:

:There is that.:

Rabbit Hole was not exactly a bustling metropolis, and the second person Jors asked was able to direct him to Mirril. The charcoal burner’s younger sister had married the son of a wheelwright, and they lived in the family complex surrounding the work yard. She had her brother’s bright blue eyes.

Torbin tried to stick a finger into one of them, but he didn’t shriek when she cuddled him, her tears falling to gleam against his curls, so maybe, Jors thought, maybe he knew this was home.

“At least Dylan didn’t die alone, there’s that. He had a Herald with him.” Mirril blinked away tears and managed a watery smile. “He used to tell me stories about Heralds when we were growing up.” She frowned suddenly at the long white hairs Torbin was clutching in one hand. “Oh, no . . .”

:Tell her he may keep them, Chosen.:

When Jors passed on Gervais’ remark, she blushed and tucked the hair into her apron pocket. “I could braid them into a bracelet for him. He wouldn’t eat them then.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Jors told her. “He likes to eat. He likes travel biscuits and egg and goat’s milk. Oh, and Helena at the settlement said that the next time they bring a load of lumber out, she’ll pay you for Torbin’s goat. She followed us to the settlement.” Torbin reached out a hand, and Jors pretended to grab it and eat the fingers, making him shriek with laughter. “He likes to run, and he seems to have no idea of self preservation, but he’s a tough little guy and a big believer in picking himself up and getting on with things when he falls. He doesn’t talk a lot. I don’t know if that’s usual for his age, but he says no and ride horsey.” And Papa, but Jors didn’t add that out loud. “He’s pretty good at making his wants known.”

“Ossy!”

She was smiling now and shaking her head.

“We need to get back on the trail so . . . uh . . .” It was harder to say goodbye than he’d expected. He planted a kiss on the dimpled knuckles and released Torbin’s hand. “Be a good boy for your auntie.”

“Ossy!”

“Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

Jors thought of Torbin’s father. “I wish I could have done more.” He turned, then turned again. “Do you think, I mean, would you mind if I stopped by to visit him if I’m in the area? I wouldn’t be checking up or anything; I just . . .”

. . . had stains all over his uniform, and the smell might never leave his saddle bags, and it was entirely possible he still had egg in his ear.

“Would I mind if a Herald came by to visit my brother’s son? Why would I ever mind that? Why would anyone. But why would you?” Mirril’s cheeks were flushed, and she ducked her head in embarrassment. “I mean, you have so much more important things to do.”

“Ossy!”