Foundation

Mags blinked, but accepted the assurance at face value. After all, it wasn’t as if Dallen hadn’t managed seemingly impossible things before. Sometimes he wondered if the Companion was ever surprised by anything.

So he forgot about it until after Weapons class. When he returned to the stable, Dallen called to him, with mind and with a stamp of his forehoof. :Mags, if you are not busy, I need you to come here a moment, would you?:

Obediently, he went straight to Dallen’s stall. The Companion nudged him affectionately with his nose, as he reached out to scratch Dallen’s soft ears. :Come in here, please. I need you to comb out my mane and tail, and be very careful. Gather up as many of the hairs as come out as you can, don’t stretch or damage them, keep them straight. I’m going to concentrate very hard on shedding some.:

Baffled by the odd request, Mags did as he was told. Surprisingly enough, when he was done, he had a skein of silvery hairs the size of a thick rope.

:Now take that into your room, and we’ll get to work.:

Even more puzzled by now, Mags retreated to the warmth of his room. Dallen instructed him to sit down at his desk, and light the lamp he normally used for studying by. The loose bundle of hair rested beside his right hand; the hairs seemed to shimmer in the light.

:Now ... I would like you to relax. And let me have your hands. Just—don’t think about anything, just concentrate on watching. All right? This is a bit like when I was keeping you calm, except that it is all physical.:

Now completely puzzled, all that Mags could do was to sit there and try not to think at all. And when his hands started to move all by themselves, he fought down a brief moment of panic, then suppressed the urge to make them stop, and just ... watched.

Watched as those hands selected a neat little bunch of Dallen’s hairs, watched as they moved deftly and surely, swiftly turning those hairs into a braid, then turning the braid into a bracelet.

Only then did he realize what it was that Dallen was doing. Dallen had the skill to do this, but not the hands—obviously a Companion couldn’t finger-weave like this with hooves. He had the hands, but not the skill, although he was deft enough in weaving grasses. This was another skill entirely, and Dallen was a master of it. He watched in fascination as the intricate braid formed under his fingers.

When the bracelet was done, the hands set it aside, then started another braid. This one was much longer. One end terminated in a loop, the other in a fancy knot that was just big enough it couldn’t slip through the loop. :There are a lot of things Bear can use this for, but I think he will decide it should be a bookstrap. He was looking for one the other day,: Dallen explained, as Mags’ hands got to work on something new, this time a round braid, rather than a flat one, which also terminated in a knot and a loop. Then Mags’ hands made a second. :For Jakyr. Jesses for a hawk. He’s a falconer; he keeps a peregrine here in the Royal Mews. These are good jesses,—if the bird should escape, he can pick them free of the bracelets and not get tangled in a tree.:

Mags blinked at the images he got from Dallen. Falconers carried birds of prey out into the woods and fields, set them free, and flushed game for them to take down. It was so strange to him that he could hardly encompass it. He had seen hawks in the sky, of course, but cooped up in the mine all day, he had never known what they did or ate, and never knew you could train them to hunt for you. It looked altogether exciting.

“I’d like t’ learn how t’ do that for myself,” he said aloud, as Dallen released control of his hands, and he flexed them.

:I will be happy to teach you.: Dallen’s mental voice was both satisfied and relieved .. But in the meanwhile you should go and get some fancy paper and perhaps some ribbon. Go and talk to the Guard Quartermaster, I am sure he can tell you where to find such things, assuming he has not got some himself.:

In fact, the man did have such things, being accustomed to supplying them for his own troops. Such small items as Mags had made could easily be folded into bits of scrap paper left over from the wrapping of larger gifts, and the Quartermaster had no objection to simply giving the scraps away.

By the time the usual study hour came around, Mags had two little packets, neatly tied with bits of blue ribbon. He tucked them into his pocket, picked up his books, and when he arrived, simply presented the gifts to Lena and Bear, ducking his head to hide the sudden blush.

“From me an’ Dallen,” he said as Lena took hers with thanks and Bear beamed at him. “Jest little things. We made ’em. Hope ye don’t mind.”

“Oh, Mags!” Lena exclaimed with delight. “This isn’t a little thing! Do you know how many people would pay anything just to have a Companion-hair bracelet?”

Before Mags could say that no, he had no idea, Bear had already unwrapped his gift, thriftily setting aside the paper and ribbon. “Mags!” he exclaimed with glee. “This is just the thing for a bookstrap! No more dropping books all over for me! How did you know I was looking for one?” He examined the beautifully braided strap carefully. “You did this yourself? You dog, when did you find time?”

Mags decided not to tell him it had only taken the afternoon.

:I think our little presents are a success,: Dallen observed with pleasure.

“You tell Dallen I think he’s a star for letting you steal his hair,” Bear continued, running the strap through his fingers with an expression of bliss. “My brothers are gonna hate me. None of them have a Companion-hair bookstrap!”

Now the gifts were nice, and Mags was very proud of the weaving, but he couldn’t think why they were both making such a fuss over the presents.

:It is because we rarely allow our hair to be given to anyone but our Chosen,: Dallen explained to him as they all settled down to study. :To have such a thing says that you are the great friend of both a Herald and his Companion.:

They settled down to their studying, and at the end, when Lena and Mags were packing up their books, Bear asked, “When are you leaving, Lena?”

“Right after my last examination, which is in the morning two days from now,” she said. “What about you?”