Foundation

fall in behind them and watch.

That was just what he did, making himself look as unobtrusive as possible, lurking about the herb garden and waiting for them to come out of their usual door at the Palace at their accustomed time. He sauntered along the path right behind them, close enough to take note of everything they did, and far enough he thought they wouldn’t notice he was there, or if they did, they would just shrug because this was his usual time at the salle, too. And that was when he realized that there was something spooking them. But whatever it was, it wasn’t human. They didn’t even seem to notice him—or if they did notice him, they considered him not worth bothering about, and surely they couldn’t tell which Trainee he was at this distance. But something had them looking over their shoulders with every twig that cracked in the cold, every wren that darted out of a bush. What was wrong with them?

He took a chance, speeded up a little, and walked right past them. Nikolas’ lessons had taught him how to look sharply at people without seeming to look at them at all. If they had been friends of his, he would have been alarmed at their condition.

Their eyes were dark-circled and their expressions harried. Their eyeballs were bloodshot. They looked as if they had not slept well last night or the night before.

They relaxed and acted normally when they finally reached the salle, although their reflexes were a bit off. But if they hadn’t slept, that was probably why. As he worked out with another Trainee, he kept a watch on them out of the corner of his eye. They didn’t challenge anyone today; in fact, they declined partners offered to them, and sparred only among themselves. They tired quickly, they managed to disarm each other without trying very hard. And in the end, they left before he did, not after, looking as if the short session had completely exhausted them. He decided this was enough out of the ordinary that he ought to go tell one of Lydia’s group. And, fortunately, he had a contact right here in the Palace.

So instead of going and having a leisurely luncheon, he grabbed enough sausage rolls for two and a pair of apples and headed for the Royal Kennels.

He had never been there before, so he was at a bit of a loss for where to look first when he got there. The outbuilding was easy enough to find, and he knew that it held dogs, but other than that ... well if it was anything like the stable, if he couldn’t find Marc right away, probably someone would be able to tell him where the apprentice was.

The sounds of dogs barking would have led him there once he rounded the corner of the Palace and entered the grounds where the stable for the regular horses, the kennels, and the mews were located. Even if he had not known where it was, he could have followed his ears. The structure was very like a stable, but one with fenced runs for the dogs to use, as well as quite a few animals roaming free. Much to his relief, he saw Marc right away, feeding a pen of small, brown-and-white, short-haired, floppy-eared dogs with long, furiously wagging tails.

“Marc! Brung ye some nuncheon!” he called out, holding out the napkin that contained the sausage rolls.

“Bless you, Mags, I’m behind on the work and fair perishing.” Marc wiped his hands on a towel at his waist and accepted the napkin gladly. “Two of our men are out, as you might expect from trying to drink a barrel of beer dry, and I’m having to do the work of three.”

Mags shook his head sorrowfully, which gave him a chance to look around to see if there was anyone near that could overhear them. In an undertone, while Marc wolfed down the sausages—proving that his hunger was no ruse—Mags told him what he had heard and seen.

“Huh. Now that is a peculiar tale. Well, the Healer could be right. Seeing things is one of the signs of someone that’s a habitual drunk, and from what I’ve heard, these fellows have been setting records in the taverns since the holiday began.” He grinned. “Seems they can’t get drink strong enough at the Palace. For some reason, no one will serve it to them, or even admit that it exists in the cellars.”

Mags nodded, but something still didn’t seem right to him. “But wouldn’t they be seein’ creepy-crawlies all the time if it had to do with drink?” he objected. “They stopped actin’ peculiar when they got t’ the salle.”

“Hmm. You have a point.” Marc finished the last of the rolls and wiped his hands. “I’ll pass it on to the others. You see what else you can learn. I’m thinking we might want to put off our plan for a bit.”

“Won’ be much,” Mags warned. “Mostly rumor, I guess. Not like I c’n get inter the Palace.”

“Rumors often have a bit of truth at the core.” Marc’s head came up at the sound of a bell from the Collegium. “And that would be your reminder to get back to classes, I expect.”

“No classes yet. But aye, should be getting back, I got things as I need t’ tend m’self.”

He hurried back up the path to the Collegium, intent on his own thoughts, and trying to decide what, if anything, he should be doing about listening in at Bardic Collegium. At the moment, he had no real excuse to linger there and eavesdrop on the teachers and resident Bards. The best he could do was to position himself during meals where he could overhear as much as possible through the hum of conversation. He was already on his way to Healers’ with an eye to asking about things to prevent the miserable sneezing and coughing that some of the early arrivals had brought back with them. Not that he thought he was likely to get sick—but it gave him a good excuse to eavesdrop as Herald Nikolas wanted.

And that was when he ran right into Bear, or nearly. Bear was ploughing along the path with his head down, paying no attention to where he was going, and since Mags was doing the same, they bumped shoulders and started, becoming aware of what they were doing only at that moment.

Mags recognized Bear first. He stared at his friend as if at a ghost for a moment. Then he grinned, and grabbed both of Bear’s shoulders. “Bear! Yer back!”

Bear grinned, but it looked strained. Mags let go of his shoulders, his glee changing to concern. “Ye look worrit,” he stated flatly. “An’ it ain’t like ye t’ go bumblin’ along, payin’ no heed to anythin’ but yer feet. Summat wrong?”

Bear shrugged. His normally cheerful face took on a masklike blankness. “Nothing really. My holiday wasn’t much of one. But then, neither was Lena’s.”

“She’s back, too?” Mags asked, suddenly feeling very uncertain. This wasn’t like Bear at all. Bear never temporized. There was no doubt in Mags’ mind that Bear was hiding something, probably the cause of his unhappiness.

Bear nodded. “We came back together; we got in last night, but you weren’t about anywhere obvious, and you weren’t in your room, and we didn’t know where to find you.” Bear shrugged. “And anyway, we had unpacking