“. . . need a name for those clubs before we use them.”
“. . . neck brace, I think, but it ought to be flexible. Maybe a padded leather collar?”
“. . . think we ought to all get together at lunch, every lunch, from now on, because we are going to need all the time we can get for planning.”
“. . . for goal tending . . .”
“. . . someone with Fetching Gift could take the flag . . .”
“. . . someone with Fetching Gift could lob the balls in and we’d never know it!”
Lena loaded a plate and passed it to him; he got so wrapped up in the Kirball discussion he only noticed when it was under his nose.
For once, even though he was still getting hostile thoughts from some of the others in the room, his stomach wasn’t in a knot. He was in the middle of friends. No one was going to bother him or harass him, at least not right at this moment. The presence of the others pretty much guaranteed that.
Wonderful smells came up from the plate; hotcakes and bacon, hot porridge. His stomach growled and he dug in. The food went down easily and quickly and he was hungry for the first time since all this began.
Pip and Halleck got into a passionate discussion about the finer points of intercepting a ball—something that they hadn’t even begun to work out in practice. Bear waded in manfully, pointing out that a ball going as fast as this one might when hit with a stick would likely break bones if it struck you. That triggered a discussion of more padding. Under cover of this, Gennie leaned over and caught Mags’ eyes.
Her mind-voice rang out clearly in his head. :If we’d known you were getting harassed, we’d have done this before,: she said firmly. :I’m sorry, Mags, as your Captain and as a Trainee senior to you, I should have been looking out for you. From now on, we get meals as a team. All twelve of us, plus your friends Lena and Bear if they can, at lunch at least. Those of us that live up here at breakfast and supper. You’ll never come into the dining hall with less than six people around you. Nobody will want to lock horns with a group this big, we’re Kirball players, which is starting to count for something, and seeing us four sticking by you just quelled any doubts the other Grays had.:
He was so astonished that he could only blink at her. He could scarcely believe she was going to all this trouble.
She snorted quietly at the expression on his face. :What? We’re a team. And I’m almost as strong a Mindspeaker as you, with a lot more practice and training. You might be able to hold things back from me, but I would know you were, even if I didn’t know what they were. You’re good, Mags, but I have to tell you, you can’t keep me out if I want in. And all these stories coming out of the Foreseers makes it ethical for me to rummage around in your head, because of the danger to the King, if I were so inclined.:
:So did ye?: he asked solemnly.
She shook her head. :No, because I trust and I know you. I’d ask first, if not you, then the Dean, and I wouldn’t do it in secret. But others know that I am strong and trained, and they know I’ve had plenty of opportunity, and if they choose to assume I have had a walk around in your thoughts? Well that’s good all the way around. Because they see me here and now and that is just one more shot in the heart of these stupid suspicions.:
:Well... : he hesitated, because he really didn’t want anyone in his head but Dallen... but if that was what it was going to take... :You kin rummage aroun’ in there all ye like.:
She shook her head. :Thanks, but no thanks. You’ve got nightmares in there I’d rather not see. Joy says Dallen told her so. But the mere fact that you offered either means you are the sneakiest and most underhanded and clever person in the Kingdom, or perfectly honest, and since you’re Chosen, you can’t be sneaky and underhanded, so you must be perfectly honest.:
Her perfect trust in the Companions and their Choices shone through her thoughts, warming parts of him that had gone cold with rejection.
:I bin sneaky an’ underhanded wi’ Jeffers—: he said weakly.
:Oh, Jeffers. That doesn’t count,: she said dismissively. :In some parts of Valdemar, he’d be married and with his own family by now. He’s capable of deciding for himself what he wants to do, it’s honorable and honest, and all you are doing is helping him get it.:
:All right then... I gotta thenkee... :
A flash of irritation. :It’s what we all should have been doing. But if the others won’t man up and do it, your teammates will. So there.:
He found himself smiling wanly, and went back to the conversation, which had moved on to finding ways of disrupting Gifts during the game.
While he talked, he let his Gift drift over all the projected thoughts out there. It was soon clear that Gennie’s ploy had worked; no more hostile thoughts from anyone wearing Grays or Whites in this room—though he was getting plenty of curiosity and puzzlement.
Well, they cain’t be any more puzzled nor me.
There were still hostile surface thoughts; the most worrying were the ones from the Guards, who, after all, were supposed to protect the King. He had to wonder if they would decide that it was easier to prevent him from being involved in this future calamity by, well, force if necessary. He didn’t think they’d harm him but—they could find a nice dark prison cell to throw him in. Or they could drag him off and dump him on the other side of the Border.
It was the same problem, over and over. How was he to prove that he was not the one that was the cause of a future crime?
I s’pose I could ask fer Guard t’ be there ev’time I meet w’ th’ King... or Nikolas or summun else that’s good as a guard . . .
Yes, but look at how he had just run into the King by chance at the stables! How could he ever stop that sort of thing from happening? Well the Companions could coordinate, he supposed, but there was no accounting for accidents. Or a situation where they had to be in the same place at the same time.
It was just so frustrating . . .
And frightening, really, because even though he knew, he knew he would sooner die than harm so much as a hair of the King’s head, what if it was the result of an accident, something terrible that just happened when he was in the vicinity? What if the King was attacked while Mags was there and he wasn’t going to act quickly enough to save him? What if, what if—
There were just too many uncertainties, and in a way, he even felt some sympathy for those poor Foreseers, who were only seeing a corner of whatever it was that was going to happen. It must have been driving them mad.
I wisht I knew what in hellfire it was they saw, ’xactly. Might be able t’ pick summat out. But right now, it was a lot more likely that Karsites would welcome Heralds and Companions with fruit baskets and flower wreaths than it was that any Foreseers would be willing to talk to him.
Ask your friends. Lydia, Amily, Marc and all. They’ll know what’s been Seen, ask them. Well, that was certainly an idea. He had been acting as their spy, why shouldn’t they return the favor?
Well, he didn’t exactly have the time to go down to Soren’s house at the moment... but Marc was up here, at the Royal Kennels. And it wouldn’t take too long to nip down there. He even had time before his first class.
They all finished their breakfasts, wrapped up the conversation, waited for Mags to finish his, and left as a group.
“Are you going to be all right until luncheon?” Gennie asked, as the others headed in several directions for classes.