Except for Dallen . . .
Stop whingin’ ’bout what ye cain’t change, he scolded himself. Jest think; yer folks coulda been like Bear’s. Or they coulda hated Heralds.
Oh, his head knew that. But his gut, now . . . his gut knew what it wanted. Like salt-hunger, meat-hunger, this was family-hunger. In his rare moments of quiet thought, it always came back to him. What had his parents been like? Would they be proud of him now, or horrified by him? Had they been running from something? What? What kind of blood ran in his veins? What would he have been like if he’d had a real family, a mother and a father? Surely he had actual blood relations somewhere . . . if only he could figure out where they were . . .
Shet it, he told his gut sternly. Mind whut they say. “Be careful what ye ast fer, yer like t’get it, an’ in the wust possible way..”
There was no point in looking for trouble. Trouble was all too inclined to come looking for him.
::Wake up, layabout!::
Mags came awake all at once, the legacy of the years when you woke just before the kick came, so you could roll out of the way and pop up on your feet. ::Wha—hey?:: he replied, sitting straight up in bed and swinging his legs over to the floor before he was able to form a coherent thought. ::Whut’s th’ ’mergency?::
::No emergency. Rolan just told me what you and Nikolas will be doing. He and Nikolas want you to be thinking about what you believe you’ll need, based on when you were playing the blind beggar down in Haven. He’s already got an identity as a fellow who deals openly in second-hand goods, who is secretly something they call a “fence.” That’s someone who takes in stolen goods and gets rid of them where no one knows they’re stolen, or sells them in turn to someone who’ll take them so far away the theft won’t be known. You’ll be his son.::
::Tell ’im I reckin I should be deef,:: he answered promptly. ::I be good at holdin’ m’tongue, an’ I kin make whatever signs an’ Mindspeak whut I’m s’posed t’hev said straight to ’im. An people’ll talk free ’round me, thinkin’ I cain’t hear ’em.::
::I’ll tell them. If you can think of anything else, tell me. Nikolas wants to start tonight. These fence people usually don’t work until after the sun goes down.::
Huh. Takin’ in stolen stuff. Guess thet’ll be whut brings Guards an’ Constables, an’ I reckon we’ll be passin’ ’em whut we learn. Mebbe they’ll be passin’ whut they do. It sounded as if he was going to be doing without sleep for a while. Well, worse things had happened than a little lost sleep.
He washed up and pulled on his uniform. Nikolas hadn’t said anything about skipping classes. ::Heyla, Dallen. ’Mind Nikolas thet I knows sparklies. Thet’d be th’ reason for why ’e keeps me ‘’bout.::
::Oh! Good idea.::
He began mentally calculating what it was going to take to pull this off. Fortunately that exhibition game of Kirball was the last the teams would play this season. It was just too hot to play in that open field in all the armor and padding. Practice and games would resume in the fall, when it was cooler.
::And Herald Caelen wants to see you about your class schedule.::
::Now?:: he asked in surprise.
::After breakfast.::
Well, that was interesting. Perhaps he had better postpone making plans until after he heard what Caelen had in store for him.
Back at the mines, he’d loved and hated summer in equal measure. Hated it, because the longer days meant longer work. Loved it, because at least he wasn’t freezing all the time, when he could snatch a free moment there were things you could eat to be grubbed up out of the woods, fields, and stream, and because even he, miserable creature that he had been, was able to see the breathtaking beauty in a summer morning.
Now he was well fed, healthy, and—yes—happy. And a walk up from Companion’s Stable to the dining hall on a perfect summer morning was enough to make him want to sing. Not that he would. He would never shatter the quiet, full of birdsong and the scent of fresh grass and the flowers up in the gardens, with something that sounded like a mule in pain. There were many things that Mags knew he did well. Singing was definitely not one of them.
The Waking Bell rang as he reached the dining hall, but breakfast began there before the bell sounded. Plenty of people other than the Trainees ate here, and many of them started their day at dawn. He was, as usual, one of the first in the hall; he sat down at an empty table and ate neatly and quickly. Whatever it was that Caelen wanted to tell him, it had to be important, or he would never have had Dallen relay the order to him at a moment when most of the Trainees weren’t even up yet.
He never ate so quickly that he wolfed down his food without tasting it, however. He had gone for so long eating what most of the folk in this building would consider not even fit for pigs that he never missed an opportunity to actually savor what he ate. And give a little silent thanks that he was getting it in the first place.
Just as the first of the Trainees began to trickle in, looking a bit rumpled and still sleepy, he was finished. He took his dishes to the hatch and ran down the hall and up the stairs to Caelan’s office. The door was already standing open, and the Dean was putting away a stack of books. Like Mags, the Dean of Heraldic Collegium began his day early.
“I sometimes wonder if people who lie abed late have any idea what they are missing,” Herald Caelen said conversationally, with a nod to the open window behind his desk. The office was in much better shape than it had been when Mags had first met the Dean. There were only half as many books and papers as had been crammed in here back then, and most of them were properly stowed in cubbys and on the bookshelves that lined the walls.
“Dunno, sir,” Mags responded, and closed the door behind him. “Reckon they’d jest say ’tis same as sunset. On’y i’ th’ East.”
“So they might. Well, sit down, this shouldn’t take long. Nikolas has told me all about his plan and asked me to do what I could to make things easier on you. So I have. I have good news and bad news.” Caelen waited while Mags took a seat, then seated himself. “The bad news is that I simply cannot wave my hand and make the classes you really need to take go away. It’s possible it might take you more years before you are reckoned to be ready for Whites than the rest of your yearmates.”
Mags’ heart sank.
“The good news is—it might not. It’s going to depend on how well you can keep up and what things the Circle ultimately decides that you need not take in order to qualify. And I can do things for the short term at least. Nikolas is fairly certain this little adventure is not going to be needed come the fall, and traditionally in summer we give students a lighter load anyway. So, this is what I’ve done. I’ve postponed some of your classes and moved the rest into a single block of time. So my question is, would you rather sleep from noon until sunset, then join Nikolas in the city, then return here at dawn and take classes in the morning? Or would you rather sleep from early dawn until noon, take your classes, then join Nikolas?”
Oh, now that was a good question. If he had only himself to consider, he would take his lessons in the morning and sleep until nightfall. But he didn’t have just himself to consider. He had friends. And if he did that, he would never see them.
It struck him, then, leaving him a little stunned for a moment. I . . . hev friends. Real friends. People I wanter see an’ talk to an’ be with . . . “Afternoon, please ye, sir,” he replied, and laughed. “Reckon I kin get easier used ter eatin’ nuncheon fer breakfast than breakfast fer supper.”
“That’s probably a wise choice,” Caelen replied, making notes. “If nothing happens all night and you end up drowsing, you’ll have a morning to catch up with the others in your lessons. And if you end up working all night, you will be very tired when you get back here. So tiresome of thieves and criminals not to keep regular hours!”
Mags managed a little laugh.
“All right, nothing for you today, you’ll start the new schedule tomorrow. I’m glad Nikolas waited until the start of the qua
rter before embarking on this; it’s much easier than trying to rejuggle everything after you’d already started.”
That last was muttered as Herald Caelen began leafing through papers and making out schedules—not just Mags’, but several others from the look of things. Since they’d all gotten their schedules before the week-long Event, these must be for newly Chosen Trainees who had just arrived, or were about to. Four of them, if Mags was counting right.
Good thing new Collegium’s done.
He knew the Dean well enough by now to merely murmur “Thankee, Herald Caelen,” and take himself out. And once out in the hall, he realized that he had something he almost never had; a whole morning to himself. Only a morning, because he knew very well that his new schedule would be presented to him by nuncheon, if not before. If the Dean said he was going to start afternoon classes, the Dean would have him starting afternoon classes this afternoon.
Well, there was one thing looming that he probably ought to check on.
Bear. Bear’s brother was not going to stand for being put off much longer.
::Erm . . . :: Dallen said. ::If you were to stick your head outside, you would hear the rumbles of that very thing.::
That didn’t sound good. He hurried to the stairs and clattered down them, a lot more noisily than he usually did. He had yet to figure out how to be fast and quiet. ::What’s goin’ on?::
::What you’d expect. Bear’s brother and his father are ranting at him at the tops of their lungs. He’s not alone with them. There is a great deal of . . . erm . . . presumed status flaunting going on.::
Oh, Mags could very well imagine how that was—wait, what?
::Status flaunting?::
::Bear has the four most senior Healers at Healer’s Collegium and their Dean backing him.:: Dallen was extremely amused. ::Against that, the head of a House of Healing, no matter how old and well-established that House is, just doesn’t measure up.::
::Huh.:: Mags had been under the impression that Bear’s father and brother outranked his teachers . . .
::Certainly his father and brother are under that impression themselves.:: Dallen paused. ::Oh my. They are going to bring out the Very Large Hammer now.::
::Very Large Hammer? Ye ain’t makin’ sense, Dallen.:: He shoved open the door to the outside and paused for a moment, casting a glance at the outwardly serene façade of Healer’s Collegium.
::Well, you might say that back when you and Bear had that little misunderstanding, I took one of the things he had said to heart. The part about us not getting him support against the arguments of his family from some of the more important people here.::
There was a long pause. Mags didn’t move. ::And?:: he said finally.
::And I had a few words about him with Rolan.:: Another pause.
::And?::
::And Rolan spoke to Nikolas.:: The third pause was too much.
::If ye don’ come t’ the point, I’m’a gonna come straight t’ the stable and shave yer mane an’ tail bald.:: He put a good deal of force behind his Mindspeech.
::I was getting to it!:: Dallen replied, sounding aggrieved.
::Ye’d make a ’portant message inter a joke. Ye’d draw out anythin’ with suspense so thet the telling uv it lasted all night. An’ hev! Th’ point!::
::The Healers will be presenting Bear’s father and brother with the King’s Edict that Bear is a vital resource and that he will remain at the Collegium to attain his Greens, then to train the unGifted Healers for the foreseeable future. In fact, they will be handing the Edict over about . . . now.::
The explosion of anger was so powerful it jolted against Mag’s shields. A moment later, two Green-clad figures stormed out of the Collegium, heading for the stable. Another powerful surge of mingled anger and impatience made Mags pick up his feet and sprint for the stables. But before he was halfway there, two sturdy cobs with those same Green-clad figures on their backs galloped out of the stableyard and down the road, heading for one of the gates to the outside world.
Mags slowed a little, but not too much. He wanted to make sure no one had actually done anything . . . egregious.
He only dropped to a walk when he reached the stableyard; the yard actually served three stables, with one open side. The Companions’ Stable was to the left, with all of Companions’ Field behind it. In the middle was the stable for draft and hauling animals. Riding beasts were served in the stable to the right. The yard was hard-packed dirt, but as clean as if a fanatic housewife kept it swept, and smelled of nothing worse than fresh straw and hay. The Stablemaster for the entire Palace was standing there at the riding stable door, shaking his head and patting one of his hostlers on the shoulder.
“Is ev’one all right?” Mags asked, and flushed. “I’m mortal sorry—them Healers, they was here t’get Trainee Bear, which he don’ wanta go, an’ Collegium ain’t gonna let him go. So they kinda got—”
“Put in their place?” the Stablemaster said, with a lift of his eyebrow. He and Mags were very well acquainted at this point, since Mags was living in the Companions’ Stable and had been since his arrival here. “My thanks, Mags; we were warned they were likely to be temperamental when they left. They were certainly temperamental when they arrived. But thank you for making sure they hadn’t caused anyone inadvertent harm with their—”
He groped for words. “Temper tantrum,” supplied the hostler, pressing the heels of his hands into his temples. “Blessed Cernos, my head is splitting. If they’d been my littles, they’d’a both gotten such a hiding they’d’a been eatin’ dinner standin’ up for a week. Grown men an’ Healers, actin’ like that!”
The Stablemaster patted him on the shoulder again. “You go up to the Collegium and get your head seen to. They’ll be able to put you right.”
“Aye, I will. By real Healers, not poncy little brats,” the man grumbled, and began to make his way, a little unsteadily, toward the Collegium.
Mags was torn between trying to offer up some sort of apology (since they surely wouldn’t) and running after the man to make sure he got where he was going safely. He decided in favor of the latter.
Good thing, too, the man was losing his balance a little just as he caught up with him. Mags caught his elbow to steady him.
“You be a good lad, Trainee,” the man said, thickly, through clenched teeth. “I got a very little touch of a Gift. Enough to make me good with beasts, not enough to be of any special use. So they tell me, anyway. So—”
“Oh, aye,” Mags replied, as he kept the hostler steady. “Aye, I kin see what happ’d then. ’Tis like getting’ sunstruck, aye?”
“Exactly like. Or the time a beam fell on me and knocked me senseless.” Now Mags was very glad that he had come with the man.
“I got ye, don’ worry,” Mags assured him. He half held the hostler up the rest of the way and maneuvered him in through the door. When he saw a Healer he knew making his way toward them, he hailed the man with a feeling of intense relief. The hostler would be in good hands now.
“Healer Juran!” he called. “This lad was down at stable when—”
“When two of my fellows who should have gotten a lot more spankings and a lot less being told how important they were when they were small came storming down there and blasted anyone with a touch of Gift and an unshielded mind with a display of their pique,” the perpetually weary-looking Healer said tartly. “Yes, we all felt it, and I was heading out to see if anyone had been hurt by their carelessness. Come along, my good man.” He took the man’s arm, and Mags let go. “We’ll get your splitting skull set to rights. And you—” he added over his shoulder, “You might want to go see your friend, young Bear. Standing up to a parent is a rather difficult thing to do at his tender age. Even when they are in the wrong.”
Mags nodded, and he half closed his eyes, waiting for the sense of “Bear” to tell him where his friend was. It didn’t take long, since Bear was very distressed. That sort of thing tended to make it easy for Mags to find him.
> There were two other people with him, both full Healers in their most formal Greens, but by the time Mags found the room he was in—an empty classroom from the look of it—they were on the way out.
“Ah, good,” said the first, spotting Mags just outside the doorway. “Your friend Mags is here, Bear. Skip your classes today—or the morning ones, at least. This situation was very stressful for all of us, but it was a lot worse for you.” He eased by Mags and walked briskly in the direction of the Infirmary.
“Take him out for a long walk,” muttered the other to Mags as he passed.
Bear continued to sit where he already was, in one of the classroom chairs, looking drained. Mags decided the Healer was right. He walked straight up to his friend, grabbed his elbow, and tugged.
“C’m on,” he said gruffly. “Outside, where th’ air don’t stink uv bad temper an’ errer-gence.”
“That’s arrogance,” Bear corrected, automatically, then smiled just a little. “Little did I know that Father planted a spy among the Healers here who has been reporting every time I breathed in a way that Father wouldn’t like. Which explains . . . a lot. That was . . .” He shook his head. “That was like being beaten with words. If they’d wanted to punish me, they couldn’t have gone about it more thoroughly. You know, I’d rather be tied to that chair with a madman about to kill me than go through that again.”
Mags snorted. “Oh, I reckon they wanted t’punish yer. An’ more’n ever now. Yer right, they be wrong, an’ they got told so, an’ I reckon folk like yer pa and brother don’t get told they’s wrong real often.”
“Never, as far as I know,” Bear said wryly.
“Then they ain’t gonna fergive them’s told ’em real soon,” Mags told him bluntly. “Well, reckon now thet th’ King’s put ’is oar in, ye won’t hev’ta see ’em if’n ye don’ wanta. Le’s git a walk afore it gits stinkin’ hot. Got stuff t’tell.”
He hoped that telling Bear what he was going to be up to would take Bear’s mind off his own problems, and it seemed that he was right. As they walked slowly down the road away from the Collegia, Bear listened attentively, nodding from time to time, but didn’t interrupt until Mags was finished. It was still pleasant: sultry rather than “stinking hot,” birds and insects making a cheerful racket, and the occasional breath of flower scent from the Palace gardens.
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