Foundation

himself in. That lock represented the first time he had ever been able to keep anyone away from him, and he could have kissed it. Its mere presence allowed him to sleep more deeply than he ever had in his life.

Dallen had been moved to the loose-box right outside his door, another measure of protection that allowed him to sleep soundly through the night without Dallen’s mental intervention.

But, oh, the amount of learning he was having to cram into his head; sometimes it seemed as if his skull was going to burst. It wasn’t that he disliked it! Oh, no. This was like meat and drink to him. Every new lesson seemed to open up a little more of his mind, and he actually felt starved for the knowledge. But there was so much of it that if he had not been so physically exhausted by the end of every day, he would have been unable to sleep with his brain a-buzz with new information, new thoughts, and new ideas.

After the first two days, they had taken the measure of his learning—or perhaps the depth of his ignorance —and had canceled some of the classes he had been supposed to take in favor of extra sessions of tutoring. Somewhat to his surprise he was not the only one getting the extra attention; the hapless Beren and Lyr were also the recipients of special attention, as well as a fourth, a Bardic-trainee named Callin, who had the voice of an angel and could play virtually anything by ear on his harp, who made up melodies as easily as breathing, and who was utterly and completely illiterate, without even the basic reading lessons Mags had gotten at the mine. They were taught, not by a Herald, but by a woman named Lilli, who wore the Palace livery of dark blue and silver. Whatever her function was in the King’s service, she was a good teacher, patient with their fumbling and ready with an explanation.

By his fourth day, all morning was spent in classes, half of the afternoon in riding and weaponry training, and the rest of the afternoon and early evening after supper with the tutor. By the end of the week, it felt like routine, although a routine that, in its way, was just as tiring as the work in the mine.

He spent every waking moment when he was not at work in some way watching all the people around him and waiting to see if there were any indications that all was not as it appeared. Between that and classes and tutoring, he had so many things buzzing around inside his mind when he went to bed that he was sure he would never sleep—but he was so tired from all the thinking and the work under the eyes of the Riding Master and Weaponsmaster that he did, as soon as his own eyes closed.

Nor was he allowed full respite from the work even when he slept. Dallen had a thing or two to impart to him in dreams, and that was exactly what his Companion did. Since he was not getting lessons yet in this business of hearing the thoughts of other people, Dallen had taken it upon himself to provide the instruction. Mags might have thought himself rather overworked and ill-used—since not even Master Cole had invaded his dreams of a night—except that the way he kept overhearing what people were thinking was beginning to become uncomfortable. It was one thing to get vague hints of general intentions; that was useful and didn’t leave Mags open to knowing things he would rather not. It was quite another to be keeping his eye on someone, only to hear, as clearly as if the fellow had shouted it, just how much the man wanted get the approval of a certain favored tavern wench, and exactly what he wanted to do if he got it. And if anyone was worried about something, really worried that is, Mags got an earful of it even if he wasn’t concentrating on that person.

Thanks to Dallen’s timely lessons, that wasn’t going to happen again. Dallen had taught him how to do something the Companion called “shielding,” and Mags was never going to eavesdrop on anyone’s private thoughts unless he wanted to and he was very, very sure that it would take a lot more motive than curiosity for him to want to. It had made him feel rather happy, though, when Dallen praised him for how quickly he had mastered the mental discipline it took to keep those unwanted thoughts out. It turned out to be not that difficult for someone who was used to concentration—and it certainly took concentration to be able to chip a tiny sparkly from its bed of rock without destroying it. Dallen promised that eventually, this would all become second nature to him, so much so that he would never think about it anymore.

By the time two weeks had passed, he settled into a routine that suited him. Knowing that he was behind, but also knowing that he was doing his best to catch up, the teachers left him to himself to do so, although they expected him to pay close attention to their lectures in the classroom and what the tutor said as he and the others met in that empty classroom.

And so, on yet another icy morning, he found himself tucked unobtrusively at the back of the History classroom doing his best to understand what was being discussed—treaties, agreements, alliances. Without the background, he was pretty well lost, and he left the class feeling as if everyone there had been speaking another language entirely.

He slipped into the next classroom behind some of the others—as usual, a mix of Trainees from Heraldic, Bardic and Healers’—and took his usual seat, still feeling vaguely unsettled. But no sooner had the last of the students dropped into his place, when someone in Healer Greens popped his head through the door. This was unusual enough behavior to stop the buzz of idle conversation cold.

“Your instructor has had the poor taste to contract a rather nasty case of stomach disorder,” the Healer said, with a wry smile. “I’ll thank the rest of you not to do the same. You will be seeing him in another few days; come back here as usual tomorrow and we’ll have found a substitute. Meanwhile, consider yourselves dismissed.”

The Healer vanished again, leaving the students a bit dumbfounded. Finally, someone at the front—Mags didn’t see who—gathered up his books and bolted for the door. It didn’t take long for the rest to follow him.

Mags was the last to leave, and stood in the hallway for a long time, trying to make up his mind what to do next. Dallen was no help; the Companion was otherwise occupied; Mags got the impression that he and a knot of his equine friends were enjoying a good gossip. Finally, for lack of a better goal, he went out the door nearest “old” Healers’ Collegium and some of the herb gardens.

The new Heraldic Trainees were a lively sociable bunch, and that left Mags right out. He could scarcely bring himself to talk to any of them, because most of the time he didn’t know what to say. He had nothing in common with them; no parents, no siblings. Nothing he left behind with regrets—he certainly had no fond memories of the mine! When they weren’t talking about each other or the Heralds who were their teachers, most of them traded reminiscences of home, so what would he have told them? Chances were they wouldn’t believe him about his life anyway, and if they did, well, the idea of being pitied felt uncomfortable.

In their leisure, they often got together with other Trainees for impromptu singing and dancing. Many of them seemed to be musicians, and he wondered where they found the time to practice! He never learned to play anything, of course, never earned to dance, never heard any music but the drunken brawling of the Pieters family on the rare occasions when they celebrated anything. The Trainees were not the only ones who gathered for impromptu fun; the Heralds often came down to Companions’ Stable to do the same, according to the stablehands. They hadn’t yet, but Mags had passed by the Trainees’ rooms or even a classroom before he went to bed, on his way back from the library, and heard the other Trainees laughing and talking and singing together. He didn’t precisely feel left out—it was more that he felt as if he simply didn’t understand them.

The Guards had done much the same thing, actually, when the day was done. He didn’t understand them either. He had felt awkward, as if he should want to join them, should want to do what