The streets had been designed in a spiral; no one could move straight to the Palace grounds—as in most older cities that had been built with an eye to defense. Kris led them on a course that wound ever inward. The din died away behind them as they left the streets of shops behind and entered the inner, residential core. The modest houses of the merchant class gradually gave way to the more impressive buildings owned by the wealthy or noble, each set apart from the street by a private wall enclosing the manse and a bit of garden. Eventually they made their way to the inner beige-brick wall surrounding the Palace and the three Collegia-Bardic, Healer’s and Herald’s. The silver-and-blue-clad Palace Guard stationed at the gate halted them for a moment, while she checked them off against a list of those expected to be arriving. Careful records were kept on when a Herald should come in from the field—in the case of those arriving from distant Sectors, this calculation was accurate within a stretch of two or three days; in the case of those arriving from nearby Sectors, expected arrival time was accurate to within hours. This list was posted with the Gate Guard—so when a Herald was overdue, someone knew it, and something could be done to find out why, quickly.

“Herald Dirk in yet?” Kris asked the swarthy Guards-woman casually when she’d finished.

“Just arrived two days ago, Herald,” she replied, consulting the roster. “Guard then notes he asked about you two.”

‟Thank you, Guard. Pleasant watch to you.” Kris grinned, urging Tantris through the gate she held open, with Rolan following closely behind.

Kris continued to watch Talia carefully, feeling a surge of gratified pride as he noted her behavior. The past few months had been living hell for her. Control of her Gift had been based entirely on instinct, rather than on proper training—and no one had ever realized this. The rumors that she had used it to manipulate—worse, that she had done so unconsciously—had pushed her off-balance. His own doubts about the truth of those rumors had been easy for her to pick up. And for someone whose Gift was based on emotions, and who was frequently prey to self-doubt, the effect was bound to be catastrophic.

It was at least that. She’d lost all control over her Gift—which unfortunately remained at full strength. She’d lost the ability to shield, and projected wildly. She’d very nearly killed them both on more than one occasion.

We were just lucky that during the worst of it, we were snowed in at that Waystation. It was just the two of us, and we were isolated long enough for her to get back in charge of herself.