Read Magic's Price for Free Online Page B

aware how much he overawed most of the people he came into contact with—that gardener this morning was the exception. Most folk reacted the way that young Bardic apprentice had on the way over here—the kind of mix of fear and worship that made her try to bow to him despite having both arms full, and despite custom that decreed otherwise. Heralds were not supposed to be “special.” Rank was not supposed to matter except inside Circle and Council.
    Rules, apparently, did not apply to Herald-Mage Vanyel Ashkevron.
    Well, that’s neither here nor there, he thought, watching the young Journeyman-Bard carefully. :‘Fandes, what do you think of this youngster?:
    He felt her looking out of his eyes, and felt her approval before she voiced it. :I like him, Van. He’ll give you everything he has, without holding back. He has a very powerful Bardic Gift, and he does indeed have a secondary Gift as well that is nearly as powerful. It’s something like MindHealing, but very specific. I can’t tell you any more than that until I See it in action.:
    For the first time that day, Vanyel allowed his hope to rise a little. :Then you think this might work?:
    :I don’t know any more than you do,: she replied, :But the boy has something unusual, and I think you’d be a fool not to give him all he needs to wield it.:
    Van blinked. :Huh. Well, right now, the only other thing I can give him is to stay out of the way. I don’t want to frighten him into freezing by having The Great Herald-Mage Vanyel Demonsbane descend on him.:
    :The Great Herald-Mage indeed,: she snorted. :Sounds like someone I know may not fit his hats before too long.:
    Medren opened the door to their room and waved Stefen inside. He looked back over his shoulder at Van, who just nodded at him. The boy was doing just fine; so long as Stefen got to the Throne Room in time for the audiences, Vanyel didn’t see any reason to interfere in the way things were going. He turned and headed back down the hallway to the stairs.
    :I won’t fit my hats, hmm?: he replied as he descended the stairs. :Isn’t that interesting. I was just thinking that it’s been too long since the last time you and I went over the advanced endurance course together. Who was it I overheard boasting about the times she used to make over the course?:
    If she’d been human, she’d have spluttered. :Van! That was a long time ago! The trainees are going to be out on the course at this time of the day—I’m going to look like an out-of shape old bag of bones in front of them!:
    Vanyel chuckled, and pushed open the door to the outside with one hand. :And who was it who told me she could run those trainees into the ground?:
    He hadn’t known Yfandes knew that particular curse. He wondered if she’d learned it from Breda.
    Â 
    Stefen sagged bonelessly into the room’s single comfortable chair, and stared at a discolored spot on the plastered wall.
    This was what I wanted, right? That’s why I let Medren talk me into trying that trick on Breda. I used to “cure” old Berte’s hangovers by singing them away—I was sure I could do the same for what ailed Medren and Breda. And that would get me what I needed, since I knew damn well he has connections up into the Court. I knew he’d get me in to see if I could help the King. This is the only way I could think of to get Court favor, and get it honestly. Now, I know I can help King Randale. What I can do is better for him than his taking a lot of drugs. It’ll be a fair exchange. So why am I so nervous about this?
    He couldn’t stand sitting there idle; he reached automatically for the gittern he kept, strung and tuned, beside the chair. It was one of his first student instruments—worn and shabby, a comforting old friend. He ran his fingers over the strings, in the finger exercises every Bard practiced every day of his life, rain or shine, well or