These, too, were his friends, his brothers and sisters. This was where he belonged.
—
It wasn’t possible to just slip away, not when you were the center of attention at an impromptu party, so Mags and Amily went the other direction, bidding a sort of formal goodnight to everyone still at the table.
“Tired already?” someone laughed.
“Matty, we’ve been on th’road for most of a year,” Mags said, with exaggerated patience. “We’ve been sleepin’ in Waystations or bunks in a wagon. What d’you think?”
Matty laughed, and everyone else took it in good part; the group broke up, then, and once Mags and Amily got out into the hallway, he said what was really on his mind.
“I reckon it’s about time to track down your Da.” They both knew that Herald Nikolas would not have broken into his duties for anyone but his beloved daughter; his protégé could certainly wait for a more opportune time. But now dinner was about to be served for the Court, and that was not a “duty” as such. If they didn’t make themselves available to Nikolas, he would surely come looking for them.
Amily’s lips twitched a little nervously. “You’re right. We might as well go to Herald’s Wing. Have Dallen tell Rolan where we are, I suppose.”
:Already done,: Dallen said sleepily. :Rolan says Nikolas will be there shortly.:
They left the Collegium through the doors that connected it to the Herald’s Wing, where Heralds all had at least a little room for the times when they were not actually out on circuit. Most of them were out so much that the rooms were half or a quarter of the size of Mags’ stable room and Spartan indeed, except, perhaps, for the quality of the bed. But the King’s Own lived here full time, and had a suite of rooms that included separate accommodations for his daughter, and were situated nearest to the guarded door that led to the Palace proper.
When they arrived there, they discovered that someone had ordered wine to be brought, with three cups. On a little table near one of three chairs that had been grouped together stood the pitcher, the cups beside it, and water beading up on its side. Mags raised an eyebrow at Amily when they saw that; she just shrugged. They took seats, and waited.
What could have quickly become an awkward moment never had a chance to devolve. Nikolas himself pushed open the door within moments of their sitting down. They both got to their feet immediately, but he motioned to them to sit again. Quickly pouring wine for all three, Nikolas handed them cups, then took his own and dropped into his chair.
“Politics,” he said in tones of disgust. “I’d rather be Willy the Weasel cheating my customers than sit through another interminable debate about nothing that matters.”
Mags had to chuckle. “I see nothin’s changed.”
“Oh, everything has changed,” Nikolas replied, and took a long, slow drink of his wine. “Now that people are reasonably sure that the King or the Prince are not about to be murdered in their beds by shadowy assassins with uncanny abilities, they are now free to act like the self-centered fools they are.” He grimaced. “Arguing over every last penny that comes out of their pockets in taxes, and arguing even more if it goes to something that doesn’t directly benefit them. Idiots. Fortunately the last thing the King needs me for is handling these . . . people. But I still have to listen to them.” He took another long drink of the wine. “Welcome back, Mags. I am very tired of having to be in two places at once. You could not have come back at a better time.”
“Yessir,” Mags said, diffidently. He wasn’t certain what else to say. Fortunately Nikolas took that problem right away from him.
“First of all, you needn’t stare at me as if you think I am likely to challenge you over the honor of my daughter,” the King’s Own said dryly. “Assuming that my dainty darling didn’t rip my face off for being an overbearing father, I’ve had a year to get used to the idea that she isn’t my little girl anymore, that she was never my little girl in the sense that I could control anything she set her mind to do. I just want you two to promise me two things.”
“Yessir!” Mags said immediately, before Nikolas could even make his requests. He was so relieved that Amily’s father was not taking this situation . . . poorly . . . that he would have promised just about anything.
Nikolas laughed. “Just be discreet, and I’d prefer you didn’t actually get married for at least a year.”
Since that was the very opposite of what Mags had expected the Herald would say, all that Mags could do was gape at him. It was Amily who frowned, and asked, more than a bit sharply, “Why? Or rather, why shouldn’t we?”
Nikolas sighed. “As always, my dearest, there is nothing that happens in our lives without political ramifications. The Prince and Princess have only been wed for a year. I’d like it to be two before anyone connected to the Throne has even the quietest of weddings. Then there is the personal consideration. I know you two have been through very trying and dangerous times together. I’d like to make sure your love affair can bear the boring and tedious times as well.”
Mags blinked. He hadn’t thought of that. It was a good point.
Amily looked rebellious for just a flash, but then, she shook her head. “I was going to argue, but dammit, Father, you’re right. I’ve seen couples just turn . . . sour on each other when things were quiet and boring. Oh! Why do you always have to be right?”
“I’m not always, but I’m flattered you think I am,” Nikolas said dryly. “Bear in mind that adversity can have the same effect, but that’s usually financial adversity. . . .”
He left unsaid the obvious fact that no Herald would ever have to suffer financial adversity. Not while the country was ruled the way it was.
And if things changed that drastically, well, Mags didn’t think there would be a Valdemar anymore.
Nikolas leaned back, his arms draped along the back and sides of the chair. “I know you two were concerned about, well, a father’s inevitable reaction to the two of you pairing up, and you were correct to be concerned. It’s a rather atavistic tendency of fathers to be overprotective of their daughters. But I had most of a year to cram my instincts down into a box and sit on them, and most of a year to remind myself daily that my daughter was intelligent, shrewd, and that I certainly did not own her.”
Mags chuckled weakly. So far, he had barely wet his mouth with the wine, and only because his mouth was so dry with nervousness.
“I really don’t have anyone to ‘blame’ but myself, seeing as I shoved you two together so much you would either have conceived a terrible hatred for each other, or the inevitable opposite.” Nikolas smiled crookedly. “I got used to the fact that my poor crippled little girl was neither crippled nor little anymore, and she certainly didn’t need anyone’s pity. And I had a year to look over the young bucks at court and decide that I would probably attempt to kill half of them if they even looked at her, and she’d kill the other half before I got a chance to.”
Amily was startled into a giggle.
“Then I reminded myself that although I had no objection and every trust in a young Herald, a young Herald—all except you, Mags—was going to be out in the Field most of his life, and that was no life for Amily. And so, gradually, I managed to reconcile myself to this, then even come to appreciate it. And here we are, painlessly sitting down together, and this time it is me telling you I’d like you to delay, just to be sure . . . but only delay the wedding.” He sighed. “I remember being your age. Let’s just leave it at that. Be discreet.”
Amily made a mocking face at her father. “Honestly, Father, I think we have some self-control!”
“All right then, lecture over. Now, assignments. You are both old enough to take on fully adult responsibilities. Amily, you are officially attached to the Royal Chronicler. You made great progress in the Heraldic Archives, which fortunately has not been completely undone in your absence. Put it back in order, then do whatever
the Royal Chronicler wants you to do.” He smiled a little. “Now that the weather is turning, that won’t be a hardship; you’ll find yourself very glad to be snug in the Archives while poor Mags trudges about the city in all weathers. Mags, I want you to start establishing several personas. Things you can drop into at a moment’s notice, without attracting attention. I don’t have anything in particular that I want you to investigate at the moment, though that is likely to change at a moment’s notice, so it is best to get things in place now. Just establish things you can slip into and out of and keep your ear to the ground.”
Mags nodded. He already had some ideas there. It would be easy enough to impersonate a beggar again, for instance, and people looked right past beggars most of the time. “Is the pawn shop still in business?” he asked.
“Yes, and that will be one of your personas; I’ve been Willy the Weasel for as long as I have been doing what I do, and you’ve already got the Weasel’s nephew well established. Use your own discretion about what else you establish, and let me know what you’ve done. If you need money for anything, come to me and I’ll arrange it.”
Mags straightened a little, and nodded. So, this was quite, quite serious now. Nikolas hadn’t stipulated any budget; that meant that he was free to spend as much as he needed to. “Anything else I should be doing?” he asked.
“Well, obviously you have to have an official position as well as the clandestine one, so you’ll be assigned as a Herald down in the City, attached to the Guard. They know that your investigations will take you off on cases that are not theirs, and they will expect you to have to excuse yourself most of the time. I worked with this exact Guardpost back before I became King’s Own, and one of my best agents is one of their number. In fact, you know them, you’ve brought them pawned articles in the past.”
Mags brightened a little at that; he did know them, and, more to the point, they knew him.
“I’ll start right away, sir,” he said immediately.
Nikolas nodded. “Good.” He handed Mags a peculiar copper coin; it wasn’t Valdemaran, but Mags wasn’t familiar enough with coinage to know where it was from. “You’ll get your assignment paperwork tomorrow; when you get it, ride down there, and give them this along with the mandate. They’ll know what it means.”
Mags stowed the coin in his belt-pouch, and finally took a real swallow of his wine. Straight back to work, he thought, with resignation. Oh well. Nikolas works his own self like a mine-slavey, reckon he figures everybody else ought to, too.
He wondered if Amily was feeling the same touch of resignation, or even resentment. If she was, she didn’t show it, but as he had learned out there on the circuit, she was adept at disguising her feelings when she felt it was necessary.
—
Amily was ruefully amused. Rueful, because, of course, it was inevitable that her father would put them straight to work—after they had been working for the entire year. Amused, for the same reason.
“Well, time to temper the bitter with the sweet,” her father said, after emptying his wine cup. Then he stood up. “Come along you two,” he said. “I’ve something to show you.”
She exchanged a puzzled look with Mags, but both of them got up, and followed Nikolas. First, out of the Heralds’ Wing and into the gardens, then across the gardens to Healer’s Collegium. It was well after dark by this time, but the weather was still pleasant in the early evening, so the gardens were still kept completely illuminated for the benefit of those who wished to stroll in them. Amily wondered what on earth her father was taking them to Healer’s Collegium for, especially at this late hour. He puzzled her even more by leading them in through the entrance to the part of the building that served as the winter conservatory for herbs and the quarters for whoever was in charge of tending those herbs. Until last year, that had been Bear. Is he going to introduce us to Bear’s successor? she wondered.
But then, when they got into the living-quarters, she saw that all the lamps had been lit . . . and there, in the center of the main room, were her bags.
It took her a moment to grasp what this meant, but when she did, she felt her eyes widen. She turned to her father, still partly in shock, to see him grinning at her. And Mags was looking just as surprised as she was.
“You’re an adult now, with an adult’s responsibilities,” Nikolas said, with a sort of rueful pleasure. “It’s time you had quarters of your own. No one in Healer’s knows how to tend the herbs as well as you do, since you helped Bear so much. So until they get someone up here who does, these rooms are yours.”
She looked around at the sitting room, so familiar, and yet, without Bear and Lena’s things here, unfamiliar. She thought of how she had, more than once, coveted this place, both for the privacy and for the proximity to growing things in the midst of winter.
“But when they find someone—?” she asked.
“By then we’ll have figured out if you should get rooms with the Court officials, with the highborn, with Princess Lydia’s ladies, or if you’ll be married,” he replied. “I’m inclined to think it will be the last, since herb-Healers seem disinclined to come to the Collegium, but you never know. The Princess put in a claim on you, so you might well end up lodged with her ladies, since the Princess outranks the Chronicler.”
On the whole, Amily much preferred this arrangement. With its separate entrance to the outdoors, made so that someone going to and from the outdoor herb gardens would not track muck into the clean environs of the Collegium itself, she’d be able to come and go as she liked without anyone the wiser. That wouldn’t be as easy, quartered with the ladies of the Princess’ Court. She hoped that any herb-Healer teachers would stay away from Healer’s until she didn’t need these rooms anymore. It was more than worth the little work of tending and watering some plants for the unparalleled privacy.
“I had all your things moved here a couple of moons ago, but other than the obvious, I left it all for you to arrange to your liking,” Nikolas continued. “So, I will leave you to it.” Then that rueful smile was back. “You’ve both turned into adults on me,” he said. “And every cautionary bit of advice I might have given you is either something Jak and Lita already told you, or something you’ve learned on your own. I’ll just say this. You’ll always be a hundred times stronger together than you are separately.”
And with that, he left, and the two of them were alone. Alone in a place that was hers, with no one to snoop, however inadvertently, and no one to have to answer to. Mags suddenly grinned at her. “How ’bout we set things to rights here, then decide what to do?”
That seemed like a perfect idea to her.
—
“Scared?” he asked, as they walked back to his room at the stable—because as nice as the new rooms were, she wanted the complete privacy that the stable provided, at least for a while.
“Yes. No. Both.” She sighed. “It’s not as if I haven’t done this work before but this time—”
He nodded. “Aye, I get it. This time, it’s different. Before, if ye didn’t feel good that day, or ye just wanted t’do something else, well, it was all volunteer, and no one was lookin’ over yer shoulder. Now . . . now it’s a job.”
“Yes! Exactly.” She made a face. “I used to wonder how the ladies of the Court could bear not having anything useful to do, but all of a sudden, I have this very stupid envy of them.”
“Ain’t stupid, but look at it this way. We’re doin’ stuff we like t’do. Ain’t too many people get that.” He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed it back. He’s right. “But that don’t mean we can’t wish we was idle rich and highborn, sometimes!”
She had to laugh. He’s right about that, too!
“Even Father’s had days when he just wanted to run off and fish,” she confessed.
“The only reason I don’t get as many of them days, is because the best part of my life started when I come h
ere,” he reminded her.
By this point they had reached the stables and gone inside. Even as a tiny child, she had loved the Companions’ Stable; it was everything that was wonderful and comforting about any stable, but without any of the drawbacks associated with having horses in one. The only time anyone needed to muck out a Companion’s stall was if they’d all been shut into the building by dreadful weather. Right now the only scents in the air were the pleasant ones of clean beast, straw, and hay. There were dim lanterns at each end of the stable, and the Companions themselves dozed in the soft, filtered light.
Despite the fact that she knew very well they were surrounded by curious, sometimes mischievous minds, it still felt as if she had far more privacy from prying than she would have back at Healer’s Collegium.
And that is probably a ridiculous illusion, she thought, laughing at herself a little. But I’ll cherish it while I can.
—
In the morning, as they both got dressed, Mags wondered if he should be the one to point out that the bathing rooms were up at the Collegia, not down here . . . when Amily finished pulling on her boots and said, “Bother. The bathing rooms are going to be a long trudge when it gets any colder.”
“Sometimes I wonder if you got some sort of Mindspeech Gift you haven’t figured out you got,” he replied.
She started a little, and turned to look at him, brown eyes wide. “Why do you say that?”
“’Cause, missy, seems like you read m’mind all the time.” He leaned over, planted a kiss on her nose, and stood up, stamping his own boots into place. “So, I crave anything for breakfast but porridge.” Porridge had been a staple on the road, both what they cooked in the Waystations overnight, and what inns served. He always reminded himself, whenever it was burned, or full of lumps, or congealed and cold, that back in the mines he would have cheerfully licked the bowl clean . . . but he was mightily tired of the stuff.
Closer to Home: Book One of Herald Spy Page 4