Crossroads and Other Tales of Valdemar

“Each night, I sat with Dawn after I came back in, wet from walking home from the Mayor’s house in the storms. We kept a fire going, talking a little and singing a little and staying quiet a lot.” Jocelyn started to reach for the wine again, but changed her mind and picked up the bread. She chewed slowly, watching the little fire. “So it took four days for the town to start packing. It began with three women who had little kids, and their husbands, and then a grandfather and then a young couple that had just gotten married. By the sixth day I was there, everyone finally decided they didn’t want to be the last one in Johnson’s Ford, and they all started making plans to leave. Some had family in other towns, but most were just going to walk away from the border, walk farther into Valdemar and hope.

“Except Dawn.

“Dawn came up to me, her eyes big and dark and suddenly full of fire instead of sadness. She said, ‘I don’t want to go with them. I want to help you keep other people safe. I want to go with you.’

“She took me aback, completely. She looked so brave, and so damned lonely. I reminded her I was traveling toward danger, and wouldn’t be going back to Haven until winter. I thought maybe that was it, maybe she wanted to get to Haven and saw me as the easiest way to get near Lisle. But she stood in front of me, looking like she’d looked when she stared into Tamay’s eyes, rooted, curious, and full of dread.

“She said, ‘I want to do something that matters. All my life I’ve just lived, and loved the people I loved, and I’ve been lucky. I had the best husband and the best little girl in the world. They’re all gone now. Even Lisle, even if I get to live near her, well, she’ll have her own life. Tamay told me all about the Collegium and about how Lisle would have important jobs for Valdemar, how she was special. Tamay convinced me my little baby was special for more than me, that it was time for her to grow up. Now it’s time for me to do something that matters, and the only thing I can think of is to go help you.’ She took my hand, the first time she voluntarily touched me. ‘You can use someone familiar with living near the woods and hills of the border, I know you could. I can’t just run away with everyone else, and I can’t start over, not yet, not until the war is over. Lisle’s gone off to help in her way, and I want to help in mine. I need to.’

Jocelyn shifted uncomfortably, and stirred the fire. Dawn’s eyes had drilled into her so hard, needed her to say yes so badly. “I didn’t have an argument for her; I understood her. We were allowed to accept local help. I could probably even bring her back to Haven and find her work somewhere, maybe even at the Collegium. But first there was a war on. I wish I’d told her no, every day I wish I’d told her no.”

“I took her.

“The next town was about the same size as Johnson’s Ford, and we stayed outside of it in my tent, stormdrenched and shivering, for the first night. The second night, an older couple made room for us in their barn. That town took five days to convince to leave. Then we went to Killdeer, which was big enough for an inn. A Herald came through there the day after we got there, reinforcing my message, so we were off again.” Jocelyn paused, reaching for water.

Silver shivered. “I was only thirteen that year and mostly I heard about everything—I wasn’t involved, except I did get to see the gryphons come into Haven. I remember that. So you must have only been twenty.”

Jocelyn closed her eyes. “I felt older.”

“And Dawn, how old was Dawn?”

“I don’t know. I suppose she was in her late twenties. Lisle couldn’t have been more than ten when she was Chosen, and women marry young out in the hill country like that. I bet she wasn’t ten years older than I was.”

Silver took a bite of cheese and reached for the wine. The last light had faded; Silver’s white face and light hair looked almost ghostly in the firelight. “But she listened to you, followed you, right?” She sipped the wine. “Because you were a full Bard?”

Jocelyn shook her head. “Not everyone follows you because you’re a Bard. Not in Haven, and not out here. You’ll learn that eventually.” She steepled her hands under her chin, musing on Silver’s question. “I think she needed someone, and maybe it mattered that I was a Bard, but maybe it mattered more that I had seen Dawn’s loss, and been there for her. I was young, and any other year, I probably wouldn’t have been a full Bard yet. I think a few of us were tested into full Scarlets because Valdemar needed us. That was a scary year with new-found Mages and Ancar’s army and the storms. Very little was done the way you’d do it in peacetime.” Jocelyn took her own sip of wine. Silver was right—she really had been young. Younger even than Silver, if just by a year or two.

Silver said, “You’ve traveled alone ever since. Didn’t you like having someone to travel with?”