Free Under the Vale and Other Tales of Valdemar by Mercedes Lackey

Valdemar.”
    “I’m glad,” Selenay replied, confidence flowing through her.
    Daren put on his helmet, looking satisfied. “Your Majesty.” He swept a graceful courtly bow as he backed away.
    Selenay stepped forward, suddenly reluctant to part. She extended her hand.
    Daren took it gently in his and lightly touched his lips to it. Then he left, with a flourish of his cloak.
    Selenay stood for a moment. :He is not his brother.:
    :He is not.: Caryo agreed. :And I am here, always.:
    :Always,: Selenay said, as the tightness in her shoulders eased even more.
    Noises from without, and the flap was raised. “The Lord Marshal is here to confer with you.”
    Selenay rubbed her face, hopefully erasing her tears. “Let him enter,” she commanded.
    “A battle won, majesty.” The Lord Marshal strode in with his staff.
    “But there are consequences yet to be dealt with,” Selenay stepped to the map table. “Let’s see to it, shall we?” She bent her head to the reports he laid out for her, with a new energy. No, she smiled to herself. More like a new anticipation.
    And a new determination to protect Valdemar and those she . . . loved.

A Healer’s Work

    Daniel Shull

    The greenhouse was worse than he’d expected. The tools had gotten damp from the constant storms, and plants were either dying or running riot. Whoever had last been inside appeared to have trimmed just enough materials for their use and then run off. Several of the windows had been left open, and drains had not been cleared, resulting in a sludge that clung to everything. The mess wasn’t insurmountable, just extensive; only there shouldn’t have been a mess to begin with.
    Healer Serril looked around the dilapidated greenhouse with more than a bit of irritation, tempered only by his fondness for the Trainee standing a few feet away from him. Jayin waved a slightly rusted trowel in the direction of the Healers’ Collegium, fury radiating from her normally placid brown eyes.
    “Idiots! Ham-fisted children! Delinquents! Fumble-fingered—” Serril interrupted her before someone came to investigate the furious ranting.
    “Jayin.” Her name, backed by all of his authority, was enough to stop the Trainee midrant. She grimaced but bowed in apology to her mentor, eyes to the ground in a show of contrition. The apology was certainly genuine; everything else was for show, Serril knew from long experience. He also knew that the Healers who’d require her contrition would be the ones most likely to accept a display and not probe deeper. Brone immediately came to mind.
    She had good reason for her irritation, to be sure. Ever since Elspeth had returned, the Collegia and Court had been all atwitter for their suddenly strange Herald-Mage and her even stranger allies. The two Hawkbrothers alone would be enough to turn anyone’s head; add the creatures called gryphons and their younglings, and it was no wonder that most of Haven occupied themselves with little else. Gossip left the court, galloped around the city and returned with three heads, seven legs, and no sense whatsoever. The Hawkbrothers were descended from the gryphons, or vice versa. Elspeth was nothing more than a chew toy for the ravening monsters that were set to take over Valdemar. Vanyel himself had been resurrected and somehow brought to the Court. And those were the tamer stories. It was enough to make a cat sneeze.
    And the normally sensible Healers had mostly fallen prey to this absurdity. Essential duties had been let slide. Reports from the countryside were stacking up because the secretary was too busy loitering in the diplomatic wing, hoping for a glimpse of their exotic guests. Despite his incessant lurking, nobody quite had the heart to shoo the man away when this was probably the most excitement he’d ever had. The library was in disarray because nobody was thinking about putting books away. The greenhouse had suffered because not one Healer–until now–had come in to maintain it for