Foundation

should be doing that he had no time for fear.

Finally, as the bell that summoned them all to the noon meal sounded, Dallen slowed down to a walk again, and turned around to head back to the stables. Mags heaved a sigh of relief, even as he winced from the pain in his legs. When they arrived, the same Guard was waiting for them.

He helped Mags down out of the saddle and caught him as he almost fell with an involuntary groan of pain. “Ah, lad, ye’d better be getting’ yer horse-legs an’ get tough,” the Guard called after him, as he limped off toward the building gain, thinking of nothing more than yet another hot bath and maybe, only then, some food. “Heralds spend their whole lives a-horse.”

:And if someone had told me that ...: He didn’t finish that somewhat sour thought. Dallen’s sympathetic chuckle managed to soothe his injured spirit, if not his legs.

Chapter 6

That night, Mags was sore, despite a good hot soak. The next morning he woke in considerable pain. He wasn’t about to complain, however; he had actually expected the pain. Every time he’d been set to a new task by the Pieterses, he’d hurt, from simple soreness to being in agony. That was just the way it was; you did something new, you used muscles you hadn’t before, and you hurt. And he knew what to do about it, too. He crawled out of bed, with his legs screaming at him, and slowly began to stretch. When his legs were only whimpering, he went to breakfast, then went back to the barracks room and stretched some more. Dallen noted this with quiet approval, and sent him in search of the Healer, who gave him a bitter tasting tea to drink and a bottle of something that smelled rather like pine sap to rub on. And both helped. By afternoon, most of the worst of the pain was gone, which was when Dallen summoned him to riding practice again.

On the one hand, he wanted to rebel. On the other ... well, there was no doubt at all in his mind that this was not something he could refuse to do. He knew from all of his reading and all of the things he had picked up, listening to gossip around the Guard Post, that Heralds rode, and spent most of their time in the saddle. It wasn’t just the long ride to Haven, whatever that was—if he was going to stay with Dallen, he would have to learn to be a Herald. If he was going to be a Herald, he would have to learn how to ride, and ride well.

For something had changed inside him, when Dallen had shown him that intricate web of lives all linked together, lives that now included his. He had made a commitment without even having to think about it. It had begun when he had accepted Dallen, all unthinking, understanding only dimly that he would never be alone again. Now he had extended that acceptance to other Heralds and Companions, and to all that it meant, all he would have to do to become a Herald. Again, it was unthinking, because it was right. Not that this was something he was somehow “meant” to do, but because it was the right and proper thing to do.

So complaining, and rebellion, were irrelevant.

Out he went, in his oversized coat. This time, under Dallen’s direction, he got one of the Guardsmen to help him put all of Dallen’s stuff on him, and tell him the names of the things as he put them on. Then it was off into the snow again, for a repetition of yesterday’s lesson.

This time he was so tired that after a hot soak and more of that pine-scented liquid outside of him and the bitter tea inside of him, he went to lie down. He didn’t exactly sleep, but he wasn’t entirely awake either, when one of the men came to tell him that Jakyr was looking for him. Hastily, he sat up and tried to get his fuzzy head working, then limped to the library.

Jakyr was standing at the window, looking out. “I thought you would like to know what is going to happen to Cole Pieters and his mine, Mags,” Jakyr said, without turning around. “The evidence was presented and relayed to Haven, but the local Court has already decided that there is more than enough there to warrant removing him and his family from the property. Administration will be taken over by Lord Astley, who was genuinely horrified to discover the extent of his abuse. The children are to be taken away at once, and given into the custody of a Temple on Lord Astley’s property. From there, good homes will be found for them, which is what should have been done in the first place. The adults will be given a choice of continuing to work at fair wages or going elsewhere.”

Mags frowned and tried to put all the pieces of that together. It just wouldn’t come clear in his mind, as if it wasn’t real. Still ... “They won’ leave,” Mags felt impelled to tell him. “They don’ know nothing else. Some of ’em are crazy.”

“I have no doubt of that.” Now Jakyr turned to face Mags, and his face wore a look of grim triumph. “The mine will probably be shut temporarily, and only reopened when it has been determined what can be done with the adult miners, and what should be done with Cole Pieters and his family. Pieters does own the mine; that is clear enough. We can’t dispossess him and his family of it without a legal cause. Even if we punish him, the law in this land is such that we have to determine just how much guilt is on the heads of the rest of the family. If there are guiltless minor children, it is entirely possible that the profits will be kept for them in trust while those who are guilty get turned out to find a more honest way of making a living. It is going to get very complicated, and I wanted you to know that. This could stretch on for a year or more ... but ...”

Mags tilted his head to one side, waiting. All this felt as if he was reading about it.

“... if we find bodies where you say we will, it is very likely that Pieters and at least one of the sons will be charged with murder.”

Mags considered that. His brow creased, and he felt that cold jolt of fear again, until Dallen comforted him. “It’s only my word ’gainst theirs,” he said finally, willing his hands to stop shaking. “Ain’t no one else gonna say nothin’, ye knows that.”

Jakyr lost the look of triumph, and he nodded. “That is not all, because he will have time to get rid of the bodies, and thus, the evidence. That surely occurred to him when I took you out of there. He knows what Heralds are, even if none of you children did. He might well guess that I would have these things out of you, one way or another. That is why right now I am speaking with the Justiciars about whether we should pursue the murder charges. I fear that unless he was very careless and remains so, he will get away with murder, literally.”

Mags just shrugged. It was very hard to muster up any sort of emotion about all this except the dread of what might happen if Cole Pieters found all this out. Mostly, he just felt odd. He supposed he should be angry that Master Cole would probably get away with the worst of what he had done, or feel elation that he had helped find the man out, but he just couldn’t. Besides feeling odd, he was still deeply uneasy, as if there was someone standing behind him, ready to strike him down when he least expected it. It was hard to believe that Pieters would be unable to exact some sort of revenge.

Jakyr looked at him curiously. “Is something the matter? I thought you would be pleased about the other youngsters, or angry with Cole.”

Mags struggled to understand his own feelings, or lack of them, and put it all into words. “I guess ... I dunno.