The Dragon Herald

The Dragon Herald

Chapter 1 - The Consequences of Ideas

Toward no crime have men shown themselves so cold-bloodedly cruel as in punishing differences of belief.

- James R. Lowell

Draco was starting to think that this whole Death Eater business was a bad idea.

No, actually, that was wrong - he knew it was a bad idea. That was why he'd made up his mind that no matter what his father threatened him with, there was no way he was swearing his life and loyalty to a psychotic snake-man who had a reputation for killing his followers for fun. Agreeing with Voldemort's cause was one thing. Draco was not too keen on Muggles and Muggleborn wizards, but he felt that destroying all nonmagic folk might be a bit extreme. And knowing what he did of the Dark Lord's opinion of dissent in the ranks, Draco had figured it would be better for all concerned if he just sat this fight out as a neutral party.

So that part he'd been all right with. The bad idea had been the part where he'd explained his reasoning to his father. As it had turned out, Lucius Malfoy had been counting on his son's initiation into the Death Eaters to boost his own status. He had not been pleased with Draco's attempts at logic, and as it turned out, had gone ahead and arranged for Draco's induction to the Death Eater fold despite his son's wishes.

Draco, of course, had not been informed of these plans until he touched the Portkey that teleported him to the ceremony. And that was where he was when he realized exactly how bad of an idea his thoughts on Death Eaters could be.

"So the youngest Malfoy comes to join me at last." Voldemort looked down at Draco with a cold smile, red eyes unblinking in his snake-like face.

"Um... yes." Draco glanced uncomfortably around at the surrounding Death Eaters, identical in their long hooded robes. He wondered which one was his father - and then he wondered if it would matter. "About that. I wasn't really expecting to be brought here just now to join up. I don't suppose there's any way I could have some time to get prepared? A few days or so?"

"No preparation is necessary on your part," Voldemort told him, those unsettling red eyes raking across Draco's face. "All has been arranged. You need only swear yourself to me. Unless, of course," he added dangerously, "you do not wish to do so. Are you looking for a way out, boy? Because that can be arranged much more easily than an initiation."

"No, sir," Draco said quickly. He knew exactly what happened to those who turned down a place in the Dark Lord's ranks. It wasn't pretty. "I'm just - just a bit nervous. This is an important occasion, you know."

"Yes," Voldemort said softly. "I do know, indeed." His eyes gripped Draco's in their glare, searing into his brain to peer at his soul. Draco fought the urge to squirm under that gaze, wishing with all his might that he were somewhere else - anywhere, as long as it wasn't there. He should have visited his cousins in France this summer, like his mother had wanted him to. Then he wouldn't be here, being forced into an initiation he didn't want.

"Ahh," Voldemort breathed. Draco froze. What was that? Why was the Dark Lord staring at him that way? Draco was getting the feeling that there had been a test somewhere in the past couple minutes, and that he'd failed it very badly.

Voldemort rose from his throne, towering over Draco and the Death Eaters. "It appears that young Mr. Malfoy does not wish to join our ranks, after all," he said, smiling grimly. "A pity, Lucius - you assured me your son had great potential. I'm afraid you won't get to see it fulfilled."
Draco saw it coming, saw the Dark Lord raise his wand to utter a curse. He scrambled to pull his own wand from his pocket, but he knew he'd never make it in time. He wondered briefly if it would simply be the Killing Curse, which was at least a clean death, supposedly painless, or if the Dark Lord would choose something to make more of an impression on other potential Death Eaters. He was afraid it would be the latter.

And then - to the left - through a doorway, a huge, closed doorway - a flash of light drew everyone's attention, everyone's eyes long enough for Draco to turn and bolt in the other direction, for the doors on the other end of the room. He heard crashes behind him, and shouts, as he ducked through the mass of Death Eaters, but he knew better than to try to turn around while escaping. He reached the door and snatched desperately at the handle. It was locked.

Draco pulled out his wand and whispered, "Alohomora," hoping he wouldn't draw anyone's attention. Fortunately, he didn't. Unfortunately, that was because the spell had no effect.

Giving the door handle one last tug, on the off chance it might come loose with physical force, Draco stepped back to try blasting the door open - and stepped right into another Death Eater.

"I don't think so, Draco." Draco recognized his father's voice, he even recognized the way Lucius gripped him by both arms. "I don't know what you did back there to upset the Master, but you're going to go back and prove to him you're a worthy candidate. I've worked too long to get back in his good graces to have you ruin everything for me now."

Draco knew it was futile to twist in this grip, but he tried anyway. He knew that this was one test where there were no second chances. If he got near Voldemort again, he would be dead. And, quite understandably, he did not want to die.

Apparently, someone - something? - else had similar feelings on the matter.

A powerful force knocked Draco aside, breaking Lucius's hold on his son. :Get up, quickly!: a voice ordered. Draco scrambled to his feet, looking around for the speaker. Instead, a shining white horse presented itself. :Up! Up now, you twit, before they hit us!:

Draco still couldn't see the woman who was shouting at him, but it was fairly clear what she wanted him to do. And since she seemed to be on his side, at least for now, Draco decided that going along with her plan had to be better than waiting here to get killed. He struggled onto the horse's back, wishing his father hadn't deemed horseback riding too Muggle a skill for his family.

:About time,: the unseen woman snapped. :Now hang on while I get us out of here.:

Giving Draco just enough time to get his arms securely around his mount's neck, the horse sprang away with incredible speed, towards the door where all the commotion had started. Or at least, the speed seemed incredible to Draco, but for all he knew this was how fast all horses moved. He hoped he wasn't going to be expected to help fend off attacks, because it was all he could do to hang on to his ride.

Still, the horse didn't seem to need his help, barreling through the Death Eaters like they were so many paper dolls. She didn't have any qualms about removing wizards from her way with a neatly placed kick or bite, either. Those wizards with the sense to hang back and send curses at Draco from afar found that the horse was moving too rapidly, that she was never in the place that they aimed, and several Death Eaters were suffering from friendly fire by the time the horse brought Draco to the closed doors through which she'd entered.

:Don't let go,: the woman ordered, just before the horse plunged forward. There was a sickening jolt, and Draco's stomach seemed to have forgotten to come when they moved, and then - they were elsewhere.

Draco twisted around on the horse's back, expecting to see the Death Eaters chasing after him, but the only thing behind him was the entrance to a small church. Draco blinked. Had he touched a Portkey somehow, without noticing?

Realizing the horse had slowed to a stop, Draco looked at the area in front of him. It was a rather pretty field, full of other horses as white as the one he rode. But they weren't behaving the way normal horses would. Granted, Draco didn't know much about what horses usually did, but he was fairly certain that standing in a large circle staring at him with extremely intelligent eyes was not typical behavior. It was starting to make him nervous. He wished his mysterious rescuer would show herself.

A worrying thought occurred to Draco. Suppose the woman hadn't made it out of the audience chamber with the Death Eaters? The curses had been flying pretty fast there. He was amazed he and the horse had made it out. Much to Draco's astonishment, he felt rather panicky at the idea of his rescuer being left at the hands of the Death Eaters. He didn't usually feel that level of anxiety for anyone but his parents.

:Stop that. I'm fine.: Draco breathed a sigh of relief, hearing the woman's voice again. He twisted around, trying to figure out where she was. Could she be invisible?

:Of course I'm not invisible. Don't be stupid. Now come down and let me get a good look at you.:

Draco bristled a bit at being called stupid, but his curiosity about his rescuer was greater than his annoyance. The horse knelt down, allowing him to step off. "Okay, then," he said, once he was on firm ground. "Here I am. Where are you?"

:Turn around.:

Draco frowned. He'd thought there was nothing behind him but the horse. Still, figuring that since the woman had rescued him, he might as well humor her, he turned.

And he fell down - down - into a pair of eyes as deep a blue as the early autumn sky. You, Draco realized dizzily as he finally recognized the owner of the mysterious voice. It's you!

:Yes, quite,: she replied - not verbally, as Draco had been assuming, but inside his head. :I am Orelia. You are Draco. I Choose you.:

And with those words, feelings overwhelmed Draco - feelings of warmth and love, acceptance and friendship, and most of all, a promise that she would never, never leave him or betray him. And for the first time in his life, Draco realized that it was a promise he was prepared to believe enough to return it.

***

Chapter 2 - Making the World a Better Place

Exile, for no other motive than ease, would be the last defeat, with no seed of future victory in it. - Lois McMaster Bujold

Draco Malfoy was missing, presumed dead.

When this news reached the Burrow, Ron and Ginny looked delighted enough to throw a party, and even Mrs. Weasley said that such things were only to be expected from a family like the Malfoys.

Harry, who was visiting for the final two weeks of summer, was surprised to find himself less than overjoyed. In fact, when he overheard Mr. Weasley expressing his opinion that Draco had been killed in a ceremony involving Voldemort, Harry actually felt a pang of sympathy for his long-time rival.

"Don't you think you should tone down the celebration?" Harry finally snapped at Ron, when he suggested sending a congratulatory bouquet to the Malfoys for the funeral. "I mean, none of us liked him, but he's still dead!"

"What do you want me to do, pretend that I'll miss the evil ferret?" Ron protested. "Admit it, the world's a better place with one less Malfoy in it."

"It wouldn't hurt you to show a little more respect," Harry said. "It could have been one of us that Voldemort killed instead."

That sobered Ron a bit, but not enough for Harry to dare voicing some of the other thoughts he'd been having. If Voldemort had killed Draco - the son of one of his strongest supporters - he had to have had a reason. The Dark Lord did not go around killing his followers for kicks. Muggles or wizards who opposed him, yes, but not his own Death Eaters.

So maybe Draco hadn't been as much of a Death Eater as they'd all assumed. Just because Draco was nasty and parroted his father's prejudices, it didn't necessarily follow that he was a murderer.

It wasn't much of a thought, not when held against six years of malicious behavior, but it was enough to make Harry wonder if he'd misjudged the other boy. He supposed that now, he'd never find out.

***

The breathless moment in which Draco and Orelia gazed at one another was broken when one of the other horses stepped forward, drawing Draco's eyes away from his horse.

:Just a note, sweetie,: Orelia said as Draco turned to face this new, much larger stallion. :We aren't horses, and we don't much like being confused with them. We're Companions. It's a very different thing. Trust me.:

"Okay," Draco said, nodding slowly, staring up at the new horse - no, not a horse. "Companions. Right."

:So this is the Chosen we spent so much power to fetch, Orelia?: The voice Draco heard this time was deeper, a powerful masculine voice that was used to commanding. :I hope you Chose well. You were not long gone.:

:I was gone as long as I needed to be, Rolan,: Orelia said. :And I'd have been gone even less time, if I could have managed. A hundred grown men, ganging up on a teenage boy! Can you believe it?:

:All too easily,: Rolan replied grimly. :A terrible situation, and one you were right to remedy. But you were sent on Search for a mage with the abilities to work magic despite the effects of the mage storms. With an unidentified bloodpath mage taking control of areas along our Rethwellan border, we do not have time for hasty Choices.:

Draco was having a hard time following this conversation, since he'd never heard of half of what the Companions were talking about, but one thing was coming through loud and clear. This Rolan didn't think Orelia ought to have - what was the word he'd used? - Chosen Draco. Draco supposed it figured. His father had never thought Draco was good enough for much, so why shouldn't the male authority figure here think the same thing? That wasn't what was upsetting him.

"Don't talk to Orelia that way!" Draco snapped, moving protectively between the two Companions. His tone was the same one he used to defend his mother, sharp and dangerous. No one insulted Narcissa Malfoy in front of her son, and no one was going to insult Orelia in front of her Chosen.

Rolan looked down at Draco in surprise, as if seeing the boy for the first time. :Can you hear me?:

"Of course I can hear you," Draco said acidly. "You're talking in my head, it'd be a bit hard for me to miss it."

:Well, the boy has Mindspeech, if nothing else,: Rolan granted. :And fairly strong, at that, if he was picking up our speech. But really, Orelia, have you looked at him? He hasn't a scrap of the Mage-gift, and that what you went out to find.:

"If you mean magic, I have so got it," Draco said indignantly. "I'll have you know I come from a very long line of Pureblood witches and wizards that hasn't produced a Squib in generations!"

Rolan stared at Draco, puzzled. :What is that child talking about?:

"I'm not a child!" Draco said angrily. "Stop talking about me like I'm not here!"

Rolan took another step towards Draco, suspicious. :Can you still hear me? Your own shields ought to block out a Companion's speech.:

"Yes, I can hear you!" Draco snapped. "Every single thing you've said about me, I've heard! If you didn't want me to hear it, maybe you should've waited to talk about me till I wasn't standing right in front of you!"

Orelia nudged her nose against Draco's shoulder affectionately. :Good for you, Chosen,: she cheered. :Stand up for yourself.:

:Stop encouraging him,: Rolan ordered. He whuffed out a breath in a horsey sigh. :We're going to need help with this one.:

***

Talia, the Queen's Own Herald, was in the middle of a discussion with Queen Selenay and Myrim, who spoke for the Healers' Circle, when Rolan's summons came. She frowned. Rolan only called her while she was working with the Queen if it was too urgent to wait. She sent back a querying thought, and received a barrage of images - a Gate built by the Companions, a newly-Chosen boy from an unknown place, an argument in the Companions' Field. And with it all came a sense of importance, that she was needed there right now.

Talia stood up. "I'm sorry, Selenay, Myrim, but Rolan needs me in the Companions' Field. From what I can tell, it's rather important."

Selenay nodded, having spoken with her Companion even as Rolan sent his thoughts to Talia. "Yes, Caryo says the same thing. I can't make head or tail of what's going on down there, but I agree with them - you're needed. I think Myrim and I can finish up here without you."

Myrim nodded. "Certainly. Go, by all means."

"Thank you," Talia said, smiling. "I'll be back as soon as I can." With that, she left, heading out for the Companion's Field.

When she got there, it wasn't hard for Talia to spot her destination. Every Companion in the Field was gathered in a circle, with Rolan and one other in the center. Talia thought she recognized the other Companion as Orelia, a young mare who hadn't yet Chosen.

Or she hadn't Chosen till now, anyway. When Talia made her way through the crowd of Companions to the center of the circle, she realized there was a boy standing there, beside Orelia. He turned to stare at her in a mixture of shock and dread.

"Hello," Talia said, keeping her voice soft and gentle. The boy looked like he'd been pushed to the point where he'd attack anyone who so much as looked at him the wrong way. "My name is Talia. Rolan tells me you've been Chosen."

The boy's eyes darted from Talia to Rolan. "What else did he say?" he asked suspiciously.

"Just that he thought I could help you out here," Talia said. Mentioning Rolan seemed to have been a mistake. Somehow, the boy had already developed an intense dislike for the Monarch's Own Companion. "Why don't you tell me your name, and we can go back to the Collegium?"

The boy took a step back, closer to Orelia. "I'm not going anywhere until someone tells me how I got here," he said stubbornly. "And I'm not leaving Orelia here to be shouted at."
"Shouted at?" Talia asked, puzzled. Then she made the connection. She sent another questioning thought to Rolan, wishing she could speak mind to mind with him as other Heralds could with their Companions. Rolan sent back the mental equivalent of a shrug. Talia sighed. She supposed this was one of those things the Companions were determined to keep from their Heralds.

Sensing her frustration with him, Rolan sent Talia reassurance that he wouldn't speak to Orelia again until her Chosen had calmed down. It seemed Rolan thought this boy was on the verge of attacking, as well.

"Well, Rolan says he won't say another word to Orelia until we've got you settled," Talia told the boy. "And I'm not sure how you got here, but - "

Talia was interrupted by the approach of several other people. Or, to be exact, several other mages, especially since some of them weren't people at all, in the strictest sense of the word. Elspeth and Darkwind came on foot at a steady trot, while two gryphons, Treyvan and Hydona, flew in from above. The crowd of Companions quickly backed away, not wanting to be in the way while the gryphons landed.

"What's going on here?" Elspeth demanded as soon as she was within earshot. "There was a burst of magic, but there isn't enough magic left after those mage storms for anything like that powerful!" She caught sight of the boy. "And who's he?"

The boy wasn't paying any attention to Elspeth, focusing instead on the much larger and more frightening gryphons. He'd pulled a stick from one of his pockets, and from the way he was pointing it at Hydona Talia was afraid it might be some sort of weapon.

"Why don't you put that down?" Talia suggested, moving slowly towards the boy. "This is Hydona, and that's her mate, Treyvan. They're gryphons."

The boy gave her a withering glare. "I can see that," he snapped.

"All right, then," Talia said soothingly. "Good. Then you know they won't want to hurt you." Talia looked at the others. "He's just been Chosen, but he's a little shocked," she explained. "I think the Companions brought him here through a Gate."

"A Gate?" Darkwind's eyebrows shot up. "I would have sworn that there wouldn't be enough power in these worlds to set up Gates for many years yet."

"What's a Gate?" the boy wanted to know, lowering his stick so it was no longer aimed at Hydona. Talia breathed a small sigh of relief.

"A Gate is a magical portal. Before the mage storms destroyed the flow of magic, we could use Gates to travel between two separate places," Elspeth told him. "And we weren't aware the Companions still had the power to create one." She leveled a glare at Gwena, her own Companion.

"So that's how I got here?" The boy looked from person to person, warily seeking confirmation.

"Sso it would sseem," Hydona said. The boy jumped when the gryphon spoke, apparently having dismissed the gryphons as nothing more than scary-looking animals. "A sstarrtling exsperriencse, even when one knowss what to exspect. I am ssorrry to have added to yourr sshock, youngling."

"Draco," the boy said at last, studying the gryphon intently. "My name's Draco Malfoy."

Hydona inclined her head regally. "It iss a pleassurre to meet you, Drraco Malfoy."

"So..." Draco looked around the Field. "Where exactly am I?"

"The Companions' Field," Talia said. "That's at the Palace, in Haven." Draco looked blank. "In Valdemar," Talia added, a little worried. "Bordering Rethwellan, Karse, Hardorn, and Iftel."

"I've never heard of any of those places," Draco said. "Are you making them up?"

"No, of course not," Talia said, concerned. "Those are the major countries of our land. Where are you from, that you've never heard of them?"

"I'm from Britain," Draco said. "I go to school at Hogwarts, but my parents live in England."

"Where is England?" Darkwind asked.

"In Europe, of course," Draco said, as if it should be obvious.

Talia, Darkwind, and Elspeth exchanged anxious looks. They'd never heard of Draco's home, and it was clear he'd never heard of theirs.

"Gwena!" Elspeth's eyes were narrowed as she turned to glare at her Companion. "What is going on here? Just where did you lot snatch Draco from?" There was a pause while Gwena and Elspeth conferred.

Eventually, Elspeth sighed in a way that told Talia the other woman hadn't been able to pry nearly as much information from her Companion as she would have liked. "All right," Elspeth said. "I think I have the gist of it. The Companions decided to fetch themselves a potential Herald who can do magic without tapping into the leylines. Orelia there is the Companion who got sent to wherever it is Draco comes from - can you believe they don't even know? - and she got him out of a very sticky situation. But," Elspeth gave Draco an apologetic smile, "some of the other Companions, Rolan and Gwena included, seem to think that Orelia should have spent longer looking for a mage."

"I am a mage," Draco said, annoyed. "Or a wizard, anyway. No one's used the word 'mage' since the sixteenth century."

"Are you really?" Talia asked, choosing to ignore the second part of Draco's comment. "Well, then it sounds like the Companions got exactly what they wanted. I don't see any reason for them to be upset with Orelia." She nudged Rolan with her thoughts. He sent reluctant agreement, but added the impression that he was still reserving judgment on Draco's qualifications to be a Herald.

"Hey!" Draco glared at Rolan, outraged. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Talia looked at Draco, frowning. "What are you talking about?"

"Didn't you hear what he said about me?" Draco demanded. "He thinks I'm not good enough for - for - whatever it is you people do. He keeps doing that - just talking about me like I can't even hear him!"

"You shouldn't be able to hear him," Elspeth said, startled by this revelation. "The rest of us can only hear our own Companions."

Draco's eyes darted from Elspeth to Talia. Finally, he turned to Orelia. "Is that true?" he asked her. He seemed to receive confirmation. He frowned. "Well, I heard him," he said defiantly.

"No one's questioning that," Talia said quickly. "We're just surprised, that's all."

"May I offer a suggestion, Draco?" Darkwind said. "I wouldn't worry too much about what Rolan says about you. Orelia Chose you, and from what I know of this country's customs, only you and Orelia have any say in what happens to that bond." He bowed slightly to Rolan, then to Talia. "My apologies if I have been tactless," he added, "but I thought that the views of one who was once equally an outsider in Valdemar might be beneficial."

"That is a good point," Talia said. "No matter what the other Companions were trying to do, Draco has been Chosen." She smiled brightly at the boy. "Why don't you come into the Collegium with us? We can get you settled, and explain more about what's going on."

Draco looked back at Orelia, clearly not wanting to leave her, but his Companion nudged him forward. "Okay," he said unenthusiastically. "As long as I can come see Orelia again later."

"Of course you can," Talia assured him. "We wouldn't dream of forcibly separating a Chosen from his Companion."

"Now that the myssterriouss rreleasse of powerr hass been located," Treyvan said, "I think it would be besst if Hydona and I rreturrned to our pupilss. No doubt the young magess fearr that the Palacse iss about to collapsse arround theirr earrss."

"Do you two need to go with them?" Talia asked Elspeth and Darkwind as the gryphons took flight.

"Perhaps we should," Darkwind said. "We have tasks of our own to complete."

"Yes, having to run out here so quickly was very disruptive," Elspeth said, with a sour look at Gwena. "Next time you decide to use huge amounts of magic to fetch a Chosen, some warning would be nice." She looked at Draco. "It was nice to meet you, Draco, and I'll look forward to hearing about your way of casting spells." With that, Elspeth and Darkwind headed in the same direction Treyvan and Hydona had gone.

"Now, then, Draco, let's see about getting you settled," Talia said, leading him towards the Heralds' Collegium. "How much has Orelia told you about the Heralds?"

"Nothing," Draco said, scowling. "No one's told me anything."

"That's normal," Talia told him cheerfully. "I was just as badly off as you are when Rolan brought me here. I thought I was meant to return him to the Collegium."

"Were you?" Draco asked.

"No, of course not," Talia said. "When Companions go out on Search, they're looking for potential Heralds. When they Choose someone, they bring those people back here, to the Heralds' Collegium, where we're all trained."

"Trained as what?" Draco asked. "Heralds? You mean announcers, that sort of thing? Because there's no way I'm doing that."

"No, we have messengers to do that," Talia said. "Heralds are the guardians of peace in Valdemar - we protect the helpless, administer justice, and aid the Queen in whatever way is needed." Talia stopped, realizing Draco had stopped walking a couple paces back. "Is something wrong?"

Draco was staring at her like she'd grown another head. "White hats?" he choked out in horror. "I've been Chosen to join a group of bloody white hats?"

Talia frowned. "I don't understand. What do you mean, 'white hats?' Our uniforms are white - "

"Not that," Draco cut her off. "Do-gooders. Knights in shining armor. Self-sacrificing, noble, pain-in-the-arse Gryffindors! That's what you lot are!"

Talia still didn't recognize some of the phrases Draco used, but she understood his meaning. "Well, yes, you could describe us that way," she said. "Those are the qualities a Companion looks for in a potential Herald - compassion, a willingness to sacrifice for others, a sense of duty, a love for one's people."

"And you ended up with me?" Draco asked incredulously. "Are you insane? I'm not any of those things! Send one of your Companions out after Harry freaking Potter or one of his friends, because this sounds like his battle cry."

"I'm sure Orelia knew what she was doing when she Chose you," Talia said, trying to keep her doubts from creeping into her words. Draco certainly wasn't acting like most of the newly-Chosen, but that could be nothing more than differences between his world and hers. "Not all our Heralds start out serving the good of the people. My friend Skif was a thief before he was Chosen, and he turned out to be a wonderful Herald."

"Who says I want to be a Herald?" Draco said. "I never did. If I were noble and righteous and suicidal I'd have been a Gryffindor. I've spent my whole life trying not to be that sort of person, and now you tell me that's what I've gotten roped into?"

Talia frowned at that. Something about his words didn't feel right to her. She dismissed it to the back of her mind, something to mull over when she had a bit more time. "Well, if you truly don't want to be a Herald, I'm not sure what we can do. I've never heard of a Trainee refusing to be trained, but there may be some precedent a long time ago. If you're truly not suited to being a Herald, Orelia could repudiate you, but there must be a better way to deal with this."

"What do you mean, repudiate me?" Draco asked suspiciously.

"Break the bond between Companion and Chosen," Talia explained. "Heralds are Chosen by the Companions. If a Companion thinks that his or her Chosen is no longer capable of being a Herald, he or she can deny the bonding. It's very rare, and very... unpleasant." Talia didn't mention that she'd never heard of a case where both the Companion and the Herald had survived the experience.

"I don't want Orelia hurt," Draco said flatly.

"We'll do our best to make sure that she isn't," Talia said. "And we'll do the same for you, Draco, even if you aren't cut out to be a Herald."

The flash of skepticism in Draco's eyes told Talia more about him than their entire conversation thus far. This young man had been betrayed in the past, so often that he'd come to expect it. She added that to her list of things to think about later.

"But for now," she continued, "you seem to be stuck here. Until you make a decision one way or the other, or at least until the Companions are ready to tell us more about how you got here and where you're from, would you have any objections to joining the other Herald Trainees?"

"Joining them in what?" Draco wanted to know.

"Classes, weapons training, that sort of thing," Talia said. "Spending more time with the Trainees might help you decide if being a Herald is right for you. After all, we don't want any Heralds who are only half-devoted to our cause."

"That might not be too awful," Draco said, considering it. "Better than sitting around all day with nothing to do."

"Exactly," Talia said cheerfully. "Tell you what - I don't really have time to take you all over the Collegium, so I'm going to turn you over to my son, Jemmie. He's about your age, I'm sure you'll get along fine." She noticed Draco was staring at her again. "Yes?"

"You have a son my age?" Draco shook his head in disbelief. "No way."

Talia laughed. "That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me all week," she said. "I'm unfortunately rather older than I look." She thought for a moment. "Let's see - Jemmie should be in weapons training now. I'll take you there, and you can get a feel for what weapons training is like." She grinned. "Hopefully it won't scare you off completely."