Storm Warning - Mercedes Lackey [114]
Karal sighed, and fidgeted with his Vkandis-medal. “I could wish that was less accurate, sir.”
“At least your Valdemaran has improved significantly,” Rubrik observed as they reached the barn and crossed the threshold into the cool and shadowed interior.
Karal managed a smile. “If it had not, your own Herald Alberich would be having some irritated words with me. As I’m sure you are aware, his irritation is not an easy thing to bear!” He helped Rubrik from the saddle, then assisted with removing the tack and handing Rubrik grooming brushes while they talked.
Rubrik succeeded in drawing him out, as he had so many times in the past. It wasn’t hard; Karal desperately wanted someone to talk to, and he realized before too long how much he had missed the older man’s insights and quiet observations.
“I suppose I’m lonely,” he said finally, with a sigh, as he leaned against the wall of a stall and watched Rubrik comb out his Companion’s mane. “I was so much of a loner at home that I wasn’t expecting to be lonely here, but it’s harder than I thought, being so much a foreigner here. It’s partly because in Karse, one of the Kin would feel at home in any holy place, and they were everywhere. But here, there is only one strange place after another.”
“I think I might have a solution for you, rather than a handful of platitudes, for a change,” Rubrik replied; a completely unexpected response. Karal stared at him as he patted his Companion and sent him on his way out the door, then turned back to him with a smile that hinted of plans behind Rubrik’s eyes. “What if I found you someone about your own age to talk to? The Court is far from being all there is to this place, and even Herald’s Collegium is not the center of the universe—though we’d like to think it is!”
Karal wasn’t sure how to respond, so he just smiled weakly at this sally. Rubrik didn’t take any offense at this lack of enthusiasm.
“There are quite a few young people your age here—far more than either the Heraldic students or those conceited young nobles,” he continued. “Would you care to meet people who are more concerned about your skills than your birth?”
“It sounds good, but I don’t know, sir,” Karal said carefully. “As you pointed out, I am a foreigner here and associated with the diplomatic mission. They might not care for me.”
But Rubrik was not to be dissuaded, and put forth a number of convincing arguments. It sounded too good to be true, actually, and entirely too idealistic, but finally Karal allowed himself to be swayed by Rubrik’s enthusiasm and agreed, keeping his reservations to himself.
Rubrik still had tack to clean, and was quite prepared to talk more, but time got away from them. As the warning bell rang to signal that dinner was imminent, he walked back to the Palace alone, wondering who this mysterious group of people was. He certainly hadn’t seen any sign of them in all the time he’d been here. And why would they be any different from—say—the Heraldic trainees?
Oh, well, he decided, as he entered the Palace itself with a nod to the guards at the door, and sought the Great Hall, joining the thin but steady stream of courtiers heading that way from the gardens. It is certainly worth a try. I have more time on my hands now than I expected to, and much less to fill it.
Dinner was the usual controlled chaos of conversation and Karal was at his usual place at Ulrich’s right hand; and as usual, Karal understood less than half of what was said around him. On the other hand, he didn’t expect to need to understand what was said; he was watching what was done. The subtle languages of movement, expression, and eyes told him more than speech did, anyway. He paid very careful attention to Ulrich’s dinner