Page 45 of Valdemar

“As long as there’s breakfast as well as a meeting,” he amended.

• • •

Kordas listened with no small amount of awe as Beltran—Beltran!—gave a recitation of what had just happened in the Grove with the grace, poise, and articulation of a Bard. He held them all spellbound, including Kordas, Restil, and Isla, who had actually been there.

As for the not-small cluster of religious leaders, who had all turned up at this meeting as if they had all been alerted already, they were all nodding along with him, looking serious and portentous. So were all of the Old Men, who had somehow squeezed their skinny behinds into the Chamber. It was very crowded in here, and the Councilors mostly looked as if they were torn between feeling outnumbered and feeling thunderstruck at having an actual deific intervention happen in their own backyard. And, further, Beltran had implied that it could have been from any, or many, Powers and gods—no doubt to keep partisan conflicts from brewing early and ensure the clerics’ best behavior.

Hmm. Ardatha said that the Powers and gods have treaties, and negotiate amongst Themselves. So, this may well be the work of many. I’ll run with that as a baseline.

:I approve of that,: Ardatha responded in his thoughts.

Beltran finally concluded, and sat down, looking both uncharacteristically determined and a little astonished at his own temerity.

If this is what being Chosen did to him . . . I’m impressed.

:Now,:Ardatha prompted. :Call for Restil to speak as soon as the Lord Martial says you need some sort of organization.:

The Lord Martial cleared his throat in the silence. “Well,” he said. “The gods have made their interest abundantly clear . . . but gods are notorious for being careless of details, or expecting petitioners to figure things out for themselves. Surely, we need some sort of organization—”

Kordas in turn cleared his own throat, interrupting him. “I believe the Crown Prince was about to address that,” he said.

Restil stood up. He looked amazing—in fact, he looked as good as Beltran did, and as good as Kordas felt. Kordas had been . . . well, near desperation and exhausted right up until the point when Ardatha appeared. Now he felt better than he had since he’d left the Duchy for the Capital.

“The organization will be fairly simple for now; there are only eighteen of us at the moment, and that’s manageable without a real hierarchy, just an agreed leader,” Restil said smoothly. “Obviously the King is the ultimate authority. Beltran will be his second-in-command. Your King has developed an identity and structure, in concert with the Companions. Beltran’s example of service and excellence is why we are going to call ourselves ‘Heralds.’ He’s the only Royal Herald in the Kingdom, so now we will all be Royal Heralds, and he’ll be the head of the Heraldic Circle. When there are more of us, we’ll refine things, but this will do for now.” He cleared his throat slightly.

“I mean no disrespect when I ask the heir this, but what will these Heralds do?” asked a Council regular.

We spoke about this earlier, but this is our chance to hear how Restil presents it. He’s earned this.

Restil spoke to the entire Council Chamber as if he were at the head of a master’s classroom—as the teacher, not a nervous student. “A Herald will be of positive moral and ethical character, of any origin or faith, and they will be educated in disciplines from riding and self-defense to the interpretation of law. Weaponry, protection, customs, and law will be of especial importance to a Herald, who will be an evaluator of situations and resolver of conflicts. Herald-and-Companion pairs will travel swiftly to all stations, farms, and communities in their rounds.” That caused some approving rumbles from representatives of underserved and distant subjects. “This will improve the granularity of our contact with our people, and with the Crown’s approval, Heralds shall share their most recent knowledge with those people’s representatives in Council. The Companions shall carry Heralds faster than race horses, without tiring. Obliged by their bond with their Chosen, the Heralds’ oaths bind the Companions to the interests of Valdemar as well. Heralds will deliver new laws to the peoples’ local leaders, act as intermediary judges, and correct injustices that threaten Valdemar. They will speak with authority for the Crown, as needed, subject to later revision, of course. Heralds may accept gifts, but are immune to bribery, by their oath and by their lack of need, and shall be supported by the Crown in all needs.”

Some more rumbles were heard, as it dawned on Council members and clergy alike that knowledge would travel far faster than before, both outward and back, without embellishment. Kordas liked that part, because it would mean more precision in resource allocation, and in getting aid in a hurry to where it might be needed.

Restil opened his arms, getting the Chamber’s attention anew.

“However! We, Valdemar’s Heralds and Companions together, would like our esteemed guests to verify to their satisfaction that there are no dark deceptions going on here—”

Restil didn’t even get a chance to finish his sentence. As one—and with indignation!—the religious leaders all proclaimed that dark forces were not in play here. He just sat down and let the whole scene play out, because he could not have coached them into a response better suited to convince even the most skeptical of the Council.

There you go, my boy! You read the moment!

The representatives interjected, commented, earnestly harangued, interrupted each other, and all with an intensity that surprised even him. It didn’t hurt one bit that they all essentially agreed with each other, and all cited various signs and portents that had awakened every one of them around midnight, and left them sending messages to each other until they all concluded they needed to turn up at the Palace as soon as they’d be let in. In fact, this was the largest demonstration of amity and unity he had ever seen out of them.

When the last of them sat down, Wis, Koto, Ceri, and Sai—without prompting—stood up in turn and did essentially the same thing. The only difference between what they did and what the priests, preachers, pastors, and prelates had done was that they didn’t speak over each other, and they kept their speeches a great deal shorter.

• • •

All the time he “worked the room,” as his father called it, Restil was acutely aware of Darshay’s presence, how she was hearing and seeing what he heard and saw. And far from being intrusive, it was unspeakably comforting. I can’t imagine even spouses and mates being this close, was his sudden, intrusive thought—and with that, his first twinge of concern.

:Yes,:agreed Darshay. :Unavoidable. The Herald-Companion bond is . . . something very primal, and short of one of you doing something unspeakable, it will not be broken. And this means that to some extent, even a mate you love and cherish is going to be left on the outside of that. Nothing is perfect, and that is the greatest flaw in what we have done. In principle, I find it . . . presumptuous is the kindest word. It feels too much to me as if we force a lifebond upon our Chosen. Even if all intentions involved are benevolent, it still feels intrusive to initiate something so life changing. I beg your forgiveness.:

:Nothing is perfect,:Restil agreed. :This . . . is more than worth it.:

:I hope that holds true for every Herald,:Darshay replied soberly. Then her Mindvoice brightened. :But look at your Councilors! They have conceded on all points!:

It was true. Rather than the looks of concern and skepticism that had met Kordas’s first announcement, now there were nods and expressions of intense concentration as they worked through the ramifications of it all.

“A uniform—and not the usual heraldic tabard,” said the Seneschal, unexpectedly speaking his immediate thoughts aloud. “We need a uniform, as quickly as possible. That way people will not see a person on a white horse that just happens to look like the ones at the coronation illuminations, a person who may or may not speak with authority. And they won’t see someone they used to know up on that white horse and start to ask questions about why he fancies himself so important. They’ll see a single unit, something they recognize—it’s a uniform with matching Companion—and something they don’t—what the uniform conveys. That this isn’t just some hodge-podge of random people who don’t know what they’re doing, elevated by who-knows-what whim of the King. No disrespect intended. This will be known as a very skilled and specialized group that has a job, knows how to do it, and will be guaranteed to be impartial doing it. Companions will be linked to Heralds visually that way—the uniform must be white! But I don’t know about these things—uniforms—sewing—” Now he looked helplessly up and down the table. “Isn’t white terribly difficult to keep white?”