Valdemar Anthology - [Tales of Valdemar 02] - Sun in Glory and Other Tales of Valdemar by Mercedes Lackey Read Free Book Online Page B

met,” the woman said, nudging her Companion forward at a slow walk. Kayla heard the whisper that started at one end of the small group and traveled to the other. She almost smiled.
    Almost.
    Mitchell and Evan began to shove each other out of the way in an attempt to be at the front of the group. Kayla set Tess down and separated them, grabbing an elbow in either hand. She didn’t need to speak; her expression said everything.
    Bells caught light and made of sound a musical cacophony, which was not in fact dissimilar to the sound it evoked from the children, whose quarrels fell away in the wake of shared wonder.
    Well, almost all of the quarrels at any rate; there was still some scuffling for position, with its attendant shoving and hissed accusation. Given everything, this was almost angelic behavior; it wouldn’t be good enough for the old aunts, but it was good enough for Kayla. Two years ago, she would have asked for more—and gotten it, too—but two years ago, behavior had seemed so much more important than it was now.
    These children were the children of winter, and the winter was harsh; she knew that if half of them lived to be eight, the village would count itself lucky; if half of those lived to be fifteen, it would count itself more than that.
    The Herald, an older woman with broad hips and an easy smile, watched the children from the safe distance of her Companion’s back; her Companion, on the other hand, had no difficulty wandering among the many outstretched—and upstretched—hands. The second Companion seemed to have a more obvious sense of personal dignity—or at least a healthy caution when it came to children; it was hard to say which. Her rider was a handful of years older than Kayla, if at all, but his face was smooth and unblemished by either time or war, and he seemed both grave and dignified in a way that reminded her of her dead. Riverend was a harsh, Northern town; the dead were many.
    â€œYoungling,” the older Herald barked, her voice loud but not unfriendly.
    Mitchell leaped up about six feet, straining to look much older than his handful of years. “Yes, ma’am!”
    The young man who rode at her side laughed. “Ma’am, is it?” His glance belied the gravity of his expression; Kayla liked the sound of his voice.
    â€œObviously I don’t look as young as I’d like to think I do. Ah well, time is cruel.” Her smile showed no disappointment at that cruelty as she looked down at Mitchell. “You know the people of the village by name?”
    He nodded.
    â€œGood. I’m wondering where Kayla Grayson lives.”
    Mitchell lifted a hand and pointed toward the large hold.
    â€œWill she be down at the mines, or up at the hold?”
    He frowned. “Neither.”
    Kayla said nothing.
    But she felt it: a change in the older woman’s mood and intent; there were currents in it now that were deeper than they should have been. She snuck a glance at the man, and listened carefully. There, too, she felt a determination that was out of place. It put her on her guard.
    â€œWhy are you looking for Kayla?” she asked.
    â€œWe’ve heard a bit about her, and we—well, I at least—thought it would be nice to meet her on our way through Riverend. We don’t often get much call to travel this way.”
    â€œWhat have you heard?”
    â€œWell, for one, that she’s Magda Merton’s daughter, the last of four, and the one most like her mother.”
    Kayla hesitated a moment, and hid that hesitation in the action of lifting a child to the wide, wide nostrils of a very patient Companion. She had the grace to wince and pull back when the child’s first act was to attempt to shove his whole hand up the left one.
    â€œThat’s true,” she said at last. “At least, that she’s the last of her daughters. You’ll have to judge for yourself how much alike they actually are.”