He didn’t actually remember saying goodnight, though he was sure he had; she kissed him, and the next thing he knew, he was halfway to the stables.
:Well you’re certainly not shaych,: Dallen said, amused.
:Uh, what?:
:Never mind. Come do your studying and go to bed before you float away.:
“. . . and that’s how you make an ankle-wrap that actually works,” Bear said, finishing off the wrapping with a flourish.
Mags shook his head—and so did Lena. “I couldn’t make head or tail of the diagram in the book,” said Lena. “And yet it all seems so obvious when you do it.”
Bear laughed, and shoved his lenses further up on his nose. “That’s because the diagram is wrong,” he said, and pointed to one picture in the middle. “See? That one there. Dunno what the engraver was thinking, but that’s not part of the sequence.”
“I knew’d we was right t’ come talk t’ ye,” Mags said gratefully. “Uh . . .” he hesitated, then went on. “They still scratchin’ at ye t’ come home an’ get shackled?”
Bear lost his good humor, and his lips thinned. “Aye. But I figured out how to stall them some more.”
“How?” Lena demanded eagerly.
“So, they haven’t got near enough Healers, right? Not anywhere?”
They both nodded.
Bear raised his head in triumph. “So where there are no Healers, if I’ve put together a standard medical pack that will treat just about anything, something every Herald can take on circuit—they can still get good treatment until help comes. It might not be as good as a good Healer, but it’ll be as good as a weak one, and a damn sight better than nothing at all! I can put together a really big kit for—oh, say Temples and things, and all the instructions you’d need.”
“Oh Bear, that’s brilliant!” Lena enthused, looking happier. “How are you finding all the medicines you need?”
“That’s where I become indispensible,” Bear said smugly. “Maybe there’s herb-Healers that know more than me out there somewhere, but they don’t have my resources and most importantly, they aren’t here. I know all the ways to treat things without a Gift, and I can write them down properly, not all wrong, like in that textbook you two brought me. I can make simpler, clearer diagrams. There are artists here that can draw them properly for me. The project has already been approved, and I’m formulating the medicines and figuring out how to pack them to give them the longest life.” He hesitated, then added, a little awkwardly, “The Head of Healers says that when the standard pack is finished and it’s been tested, if everyone is happy with it, they’ll give me my Greens. They say this will be the equivalent of riding Circuit for me. Then my family can go—find someone else to marry that girl. I’ll be a full Healer and I will be the one who says where I go and what I do. I figure I can stay here and teach people like me, find more medicines. Personally, I think we ought to be training more Healers that don’t have Healing Gift. There are a lot out there, midwives and that sort of thing, but they don’t think to come here for training. Or else, they can’t manage to get the means to get here.”
Then he drooped again. “I got to get it done, though. Could take a year, maybe more. That’s the thing. I got to show plenty of progress, and some of this stuff is—hard. Coming up with medicines I know are going to be consistent, all the time. Writing out the directions. All that, and keep at my classes and—”
“And keep at my classes an’ do whatever I’m sent off t’ do by Nikolas, an’ Kirball practice—” Mags interrupted.
“And try and figure out what will make Father proud, and memorize my ballad cycle and get ready for the solo and ensemble trials—” put in Lena with a sigh.
They looked at each other.
“Ain’t we pitiful,” said Mags. He shook his head. “Complainin’ like that. Whine, whine, whine, like we was spoilt or somethin’.”
“Well,” Lena said, finally. “It just doesn’t seem fair that we work so hard, and then we don’t get rewarded for it.”
“If’n I had all the sparklies I pulled outa that mine in m’life, I’d prolly have m’own weight in sparklies,” Mags said sourly. “An’ thet goes fer the other kiddies, too. Life ain’t fair, an’ that’s that.”
Bear’s mind was heavily guarded, but Lena’s surface thoughts were so strong he couldn’t help but know what she was thinking. Her father now knew she was here, and he hadn’t done anything at all about it. Not an apology, not a visit, not even a brief note. She could probably draw attention to herself by doing stupid things, showing off or challenging other students to music contests, but all that would do would be to disrupt other peoples’ lives and concentration, and if her father actually took notice of it, she was pretty certain the reaction would be negative.
And that was not what she wanted.
She just wanted him to look at her once, and say, “Well done, Lena.”
She’d never tell Mags that, though, and not just because she was shy, but because Mags would never have his father look at him and tell him he had done well.
Mags started to reach out to pat her hand—then he realized that Bear was awkwardly doing the same thing. He quickly pulled his own hand back, and let Bear complete the motion. “We’ll make it through,” Bear said, and rested his hand on hers.
“Aye, ’cause we gotta,” Mags said, and stood up. “An thenkee, Bear, but I got to get.”
They nodded. He let himself out, and looked back through the glass. They were still where he had left them, with Bear’s hand still on Lena’s.
Chapter 8
THE Heraldic Archives proved to be the best place for Mags to go to get away from suspicious glances, for more reasons than one. As he had already known, almost no one came up there. The Archive room was above the Heralds’ Wing, and no matter what their feelings were, Heralds had very disciplined minds and tended to not leak any surface thoughts. That made any place around the Heralds’ Wing a very peaceful venue for someone like him. Proximity was everything when it came to what he picked up; the closer someone was, physically, the easier it was for him to “hear” them.
And third? Well, third was Amily.
It seemed that Amily did not spend her time up in the Archives merely to get some privacy. Amily was helping to put the Archives in order.
When Mags left Bear and Lena, he decided that he’d take advantage of Amily’s little warm corner and get some more studying done. But when he opened the door on the Archives, instead of finding them deserted, he found all the lamps lit, and a very young fellow in Royal livery shelving several volumes under Amily’s direction. “Over there,” she was saying, as he carried what looked just like one of the boxes that the Guard reports were kept in. “Third shelf from the rear, south side, you’ll see the one right before it up on the shelf where you put it two days ago.” She made a little note.
“Hullo!” he called, startling both of them. Amily’s eyes lit up.
“Mags!” she said, and waved him over. “Mags, this is under-Archivist Jonson; he’s on loan to me from the Royal Library.”
The young man was very young on closer inspection. He couldn’t have been much older than fourteen; he was, however, extraordinarily tall. “More like a jumped-up page,” the lad said. “I’m good for reaching the top shelves. But I want to be an Archivist, and I’ll shelve stuff forever if that is what it takes.”
Amily smiled. “Very good at it you are, Jonson.” She spread her hands. “And this is what I do. Everyone needs a job, after all, and since I’m a Herald’s daughter, I’m probably the best one to know how to organize things here.”