Crossroads and Other Tales of Valdemar

He stared at her as if he did not know what to make of her. A long white head came between them, followed by a massive white body.

Companions were not nearly as ethereal in person as they were in legend. They were broad-boned, heavy-set creatures with substantial heads . . . and silver hooves and clear blue eyes and manes and tails like white silk. Merris looked up at that deceptively horselike face and sighed.

“Selena says,” said the Herald, “that no, our life is not for you—but what you have ahead of you is just as remarkable.”

“I know that,” Merris said—a little sadly, because even in Forgotten Keep, a girl could dream of being Chosen. She reached up. The Companion lowered a soft nose into her palm and blew warm breath on it.

“She also says,” the Herald said, “that you don’t have much time. Whatever you do, don’t wear the pendant.”

Merris felt her eyes go round. There were all too many questions she could ask, but most of them were too foolish to bother with. She said, “Tell her I dropped it down the garderobe.”

“Things of that nature have a way of not staying dropped.”

Merris wondered if that was the Herald speaking, or the Companion speaking through him. Not that it mattered particularly. “What are you really here for?” she asked.

She peered around the Companion’s head. The Herald lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Isak took sick on the road. Your Keep was the closest place that was likely to have a Healer.”

He was telling the truth, as far as it went. Merris could tell. Still, she said, “I don’t believe in accidents.”

“Neither do I,” the Herald said. “Is it true what they say? You’re heir to Darkwall?”

She nodded.

He frowned. “You’re nothing like what I would expect.”

“What, pretentious? Full of myself? Too far above it all to sit in a stable aisle, cleaning bridles?”

He laughed, then flushed. “Well, that. And . . . well. Darkwall.”

“What do you mean by that?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it.”

“No,” said Merris. “Tell me what you mean.”

His head shook again. The Companion pawed, then butted him, knocking him off his stool. He lay in the aisle and glared. “I can’t say that!”

The Companion shook its—her—mane and snorted wetly, not quite into his face.

He shoved her head aside and scrambled to his feet, still glaring. “Selena says,” he said, biting off the words, “that I should say, ‘You don’t look like something that would rule Darkwall. You’re too, well, clean.’ ”

“And that means?”

“I’m not even sure what it means,” he said angrily, but his anger did not seem to be directed at Merris. “It’s rumors, that’s all. Stories and a few poorly rhymed ballads. Darkwall isn’t just called that because it’s built on a black cliff. It has a bad reputation.”

“Why?” Merris demanded. “What do you know?”

“If the heir to Darkwall doesn’t know it,” he said, “maybe there’s nothing to know.”

She wanted to pick him up and shake him, but he was standing up and she was sitting on the floor, and he was a fair bit bigger than she was. She let her glare do it for her. “Suppose there’s something I haven’t been told, and a reason why. Tell me.”

“I told you, it’s just rumors. That the Lady is a socreress. That she keeps herself young with the blood of children, and rules a domain of magical creatures as well as humans.”

“I’ve heard those rumors,” Merris said. “I’ve also met the Lady. She’s not particularly young, and she’s been aging as she should.”

“Do you like her?”

That was a most peculiar question. It was also peculiarly perceptive. Merris answered it honestly. “No. No, I don’t. I don’t like any of the tutors she’s sent either. They’re all so cold. All duty, no humanity.”

“That’s not like you at all,” he said. Then he flushed again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—well, I did. But I shouldn’t have. I have serious deficiencies in tact and diplomacy.”

He sounded as if he was quoting someone—probably one of his teachers. Merris reflected that unlike her tutors, he was very likable indeed. She was thinking she could trust him.

Thoughts she had not been daring to think, and realizations she had not wanted to come to, were coming together in Merris’ head. She pulled herself up, staggering on knees that were suddenly weak.

The Companion’s shoulder was there, offering support. Over the broad back and arched neck, she met the Herald’s eyes.

“I’m nothing like the place I’m supposed to take charge of,” she said. “So tell me, why did she choose me? Why not someone who fits her better?”

Coryn shook his head. He did not know. Or—did not want to?

The Companion’s neck bent around. The blue eye was very keen. It saw everything she wanted it to see, and everything else, too.

“There are no accidents,” Merris said. “Please tell me you didn’t half-kill a Herald just to provide an excuse.”

The white head shook from side to side. Some things, the Companion seemed to be saying, were beyond even her powers—even if she had wanted any such thing.

“I have to go,” Merris said. She was running away, of course, but it was all too much. She needed to be alone.