Free Finding the Way and Other Tales of Valdemar by Mercedes Lackey Page A

them die,” Hedion said softly.
    “I wish I had. I heard them die,” Gaurane corrected sharply. “Heard them hope, heard Liodain lie to the babies and say it would be all right. Heard them beg the Karsites for help. Heard them realize they were all going to die. Heard. Them. Die.”
    The fire crackled and popped. The silence was absolute.
    “The next thing I’m sure of, Rhoses was telling me Valdemar needed me.” Gaurane sighed. “What do you know about the priests of Vikandis Sunlord?”
    “Too much,” Hedion said, and Gaurane raised his cup in an ironic salute.
    “The black-robes just kill people and chant. The red-robes kill people, chant, and call demons. Lord Brondrin said we needed to find out what they were doing in their Temple. Queen Alliana agreed. They knew something big was coming up. They knew they couldn’t get a spy in and out. Rhoses went to find me—or someone like me, I don’t know—he told me I had a thing called Mind-Hearing, and it was strong, strong enough to do what Queen Alliana needed. Of course I said yes.”
    “What happened?” Hedion said quietly.
    Gaurane shrugged. “I don’t know. I was there—and then I was on Rhoses’ back and he was running like hell. I kept shouting at him, but he never answered.” He reached for the keg beside him, and Hedion heard it gurgle, half-empty, as he filled his mug again. “They said in Haven I’d “completed my mission,” and that I might get better. They said I should stay and get proper Herald training. What good is a crazy old drunk to Valdemar? I walked out. Rhoses followed me. I never got better. He won’t leave.”
    “He’s your Companion,” Hedion said. He felt helpless, unsure of what to say.
    “ Heralds have Companions,” Gaurane answered. “Me, I don’t even care who wins the war, not any more—no one man can take on the entire Karsite priesthood. You, on the other hand, care too damned much.”
    “It’s better than giving up!” Hedion said hotly. “No one else can do what I can. If I don’t care, people will die.”
    “What of it?” Gaurane said, shrugging. “Do you know how many people die each moonturn here on the Border because Karse has crossed to Valdemar or Valdemar has crossed to Karse?”
    “I don’t care,” Hedion said through gritted teeth. Abruptly he realized he’d been sitting here as if he had all the time in the world when he could be riding toward Stone Tower. He got to his feet. “Thank you for your hospitality, Herald Gaurane. But they need me at Stone Tower. Each time Valdemar crosses to Karse, it’s a chance for a Karsite demon to inflict a wound only a Mindhealer can Heal.” He turned away. His tack had to be around here somewhere—unless Gaurane had thrown it in the stream.
    “You’ll kill yourself trying, you know,” Gaurane said conversationally.
    “I don’t care,” Hedion repeated, stepping away from the campfire’s light.
    “Then if you’re going to help, help smart —or do you want to die just so you can get out of a task you know is hopeless?”
    “It isn’t hopeless,” Hedion protested. Even to his own ears the words sounded weak and unconvincing.
    Gaurane laughed; to Hedion’s surprise there was no bitterness in the sound, only joy. “Never lie to a drunk, boy. You think it is, and you’ll do anything not to see yourself fail at it—even die.”
    “I—” Hedion began, and stopped. Was Gaurane right?
    “Oh, come back and sit down, boy,” Gaurane said, gesturing expansively. “The night’s young—but it isn’t young enough for you to go haring off in it.”
    “Don’t call me ‘boy,’” Hedion said, because it was the only thing Gaurane had said that he felt he could safely protest.
    “I won’t call you ‘boy’ if you don’t call me ‘Herald,’ ” Gaurane agreed. “Now come, sit, have a drink, and let’s figure out how you can solve all the problems of the world without killing yourself.”
     
    Elade waited in concealment, every muscle