"I - don't think They care about that." 

"Well, no, of course not, why would They? But - I bet Leareth's god could use more."

"Is - that actually what Leareth's going for? I - I don't know, it just feels like a very Cheliax sort of framing on it. And, I mean, Leareth isn't Good but - I don't feel like that's his thing." 

"- I think probably he'd use different words for it. But - in practice, nothing keeps you alive if you're not useful to it. The best possible god is one that everyone's useful to, and not just for their ability to die violently."

"I guess? I - as a Herald I've tried to save a lot of people from danger even though they weren't useful to me at all, it - it'd be sad if a god were worse than that." 

"I guess I don't really think you'd -

- I think if you didn't serve a god who demanded that of you and shredded your soul and stuff then, uh, the way you lead your life wouldn't sound appealing, and it's not very surprising that someone with more power wouldn't lead it."

"I don't think helping people just because I can is - really related to the, um, the other thing. But I guess maybe if I had - more to lose, I'd be more reluctant about it." 

"I just - don't see why you'd help people just because you can if your god wasn't insisting on it. Is it - fun? You seem miserable!"

"...He wasn't miserable about it." 

Vnayel's face clenches. He turns away toward the wall. "His - name was Tylendel - he was a Herald-trainee... He was so happy about it, he was - proud, that he would be able to help people - he thought it was an honour. And - it's not fair, that - that he's dead, that he - never had a chance to do that. But - I owe it to him. To do my best. To do it for him instead." 

And then Vanyel bursts into tears. 

Probably his god has done a number on him and there's no point pointing out that it's not really honoring a dead person to get in the way of making the god who'll give them an afterlife in favor of making yourself miserable doing something that the dead guy liked to do for fun. 

Vanyel manages to collect himself within about thirty seconds. "Sorry. I, er, I - should probably go. Sorry." 

"Sure. Uh, nice talking with you."

"Sorry," Vanyel says again, and flees. 

....she probably screwed up something, there, but she's really really not sure what.

She sits down and fidgets for a while.

Eventually a servant arrives with a meal for her, accompanied by one of the other Heralds. :Carissa?: the man says. :I'm sorry, I don't think we were introduced. Herald-Mage Kilchas: 

Small unthreatening Carissa, just to be safe. :Hello.:

:Er, we've just been talking about planning the next few days and what we should talk about with you. You got everything you need here?:

:I do! Thank you.:

:I'm glad. So, anyway, I think the Senior Circle is planning to meet with you again in the morning, if that works for you?: 

:That works fine for me. Thank you.:

:Perfect!: Kilchas gives her a time for when someone will come collect her, makes a few more sentences worth of inconsequential small talk, and then heads out. 

Well, supposedly these people are all terrible liars and none of them have said they want to kill her. 

She eats. She paces.

She decides after a few minutes that pacing is stupid, and instead works on her magic notes, though she's inattentive enough she doesn't get much done. She vaguely imagines Leareth being here. She'd feel safer, somehow, even though he's presumably not impressed with inattention. He could explain Vanyel. And he wouldn't be startled that she doesn't think torturing people is a big deal. 

...she digs a splinter into her finger to test her opinion that pain is not really a big deal. It indeed seems not a big deal. But maybe she's missing something.

Eventually she sleeps.

In the morning a woman she doesn't recognize comes to collect her. "I'm Herald Keiran. Lord Marshal's Herald to Queen Elspeth. I hope you slept all right?" 

- she casts Tongues. "I did. Thank you."