Arrow’s Flight by Mercedes Lackey Page A

you want to ride your Companion around the Great Hall, you could even do that—provided you’re willing to face the Seneschal’s wrath when he sees the hoofmarks on his precious wood floor.”
    Without waiting for further permission, Kris swept the girl into the dance.
    Dirk lifted an inquisitive eyebrow at Talia.
    “Oh, no,” Talia laughed, “You don’t know what you’re asking. I dance like a plowboy, I have no sense of rhythm, and I ruin my partner’s feet.”
    “Nonsense,” Dirk replied, shaking unruly blond hair out of his eyes. “You just never had the right partner.”
    “Which is you? And I thought Kris was vain!”
    “My dear Talia,” he countered, swinging her onto the floor, “Truth can hardly be considered in the same light as vanity. I have it on the best authority that my dancing more than compensates for my looks.”
    Shortly, Talia was forced to admit that he was absolutely correct. For the first time in her experience, she began to enjoy a dance—it was almost magical, the way they seemed to move together. Dirk didn’t seem displeased by her performance either, as he yielded her to other partners with extreme reluctance.
    Kris, on the other hand, despite yearning glances from nearly every young woman present, danced only with women far older than himself, or with Elspeth or Talia.
    “I hope you don’t mind being used like this,” he said contritely, after the sixth or seventh dance.
    “Used?” she replied, puzzled.
    “As a shield. I’m dancing with you to keep from being devoured by them,” he nodded toward a group of Court beauties languishing in his direction. “I can’t dance just with beldames, Elspeth has to take other partners, and the only Heralds I can trust not to try to carry me off are Keren, Sheri, and you. And those other two don’t dance.”
    “It’s nice to know I’m wanted,” she laughed up at him,
    “Did I just put my foot in it again?”
    “No, not really. And I don’t mind being ‘used.’ After all, by now they all know we’re assigned together, so they’ll assume we’re getting acquainted. You can avoid people without anyone’s feelings being hurt.”
    “You do understand,” he said, relieved. “I hate to hurt anyone’s feelings, but they all seem to think if they just throw themselves at me hard enough, I’ll have to take one of them—short-term, long-term, it doesn’t seem to matter. Nobody ever seems to wonder what I want.”
    “Well, what do you want?” Talia asked.
    “The Collegium,” he replied to Talia’s amazement, “That’s where most of my time and energy go—and where I want them to go. I do a lot of studying on my own: history, administration, law. I’d like to be Elcarth’s replacement as Dean and Historian when he retires, and that takes a lot of preparation. I don’t have much free time—certainly none to spend on games of courtly love. Or shepherd-in-the-hay.”
    Talia looked at him with new respect. “That’s mar-velous; Elcarth’s job is the hardest and most thankless I can think of. In some ways, it’s even worse than mine. You might just be the one to handle it. I don’t think you can serve the Collegium and still give another person a—a—”
    “The amount of attention a decent pairing needs,” he finished for her, “Thank you—do you know, you’re the first person besides Dirk who didn’t think I was out of my mind?”
    “But what would you do if you did find someone you wanted?”
    “I don’t know—except that it isn’t likely to happen. Face it, Talia, Heralds seldom form permanent attachments to anyone or anything. We’re friends, always, and sometimes things get more intense than that, but it doesn’t last for long. Maybe it’s because our hearts are given first to our Companions, then to our duty—and I guess there aren’t too many of us with hearts big enough for a third love. Non-Heralds don’t seem to be able to grasp that. Not too many Heralds do, for that matter. But look