“If you need me, I will be at my desk in the rear.” With that, he turned smartly about and walked back to the back of the room, heels clicking on the stone floor with military precision.
Mags and Lena looked at each other. Mags shrugged, and reached up, pulling down the first box. “Well,” he said. “Let’s get to it.”
The box was not as heavy as he feared; he hauled it over to the table, and they unloaded the papers inside. It was all organized with fanatic precision. Each report was folded inside a stiffer, thicker piece of paper, and a moon’s worth was tied up with a ribbon or string. There were twelve bundles in each box: a full year’s worth. A year began and ended at Midwinter Night, precisely.
They looked at the bundles, and then at each other. Mags shrugged, and gestured at the box. Lena took out the first moon—Midwinter Moon—and Mags got the second—Ice Moon. They sat down with their bundles and began to skim through them.
The reports were clear and concise, and written in a very legible hand. They also concerned every bit of minutiae on the life of the Guards and the Guard Post.
Mags went through his quickly, neatened all the reports so that all the edges were square, tied up the stack again, and went back for Thawing Moon. Lena was still deep in hers. Mags wondered what she was finding that was so fascinating.
She finished hers about the same time as he finished Thawing Moon. She got Budding Moon and he got Flowering Moon. And so it went right through the year to Dying Moon, which was the moon that ended on Midwinter Eve.
“Nothing?” he asked, as they put the stacks back in order again.
She shook her head. “And it’s time for class.” He nodded, and hoisted the box up. “I’ll see you at lunch.”
He held onto the ribbon, just in case, and put the box back on its shelf. He looked the area up and down, noted the number that had white ribbons tied to them, and repressed his dismay.
There were a lot of boxes ....
Ah, well. No one told him that this was going
If he didn’t run now, he would be late for class. He would worry about all of this later.
_______________________
All three of them met up for lunch, and Bear listened while he and Lena compared notes with every sign of open envy. “Damn these classes,” he growled finally. “It’s not fair.”
“It’s not exactly fun, Bear,” Lena pointed out, as gently as she could. “These are just military reports, and not even from moons when much happens. It’s all about the running of the Guard Post, and it’s not very interesting. How much of what was eaten, lost to vermin, and ordered and delivered. What training was going on. How many leagues of roads cleared of snow in the winter, the condition of the roads in the summer. Whatever troubles the nearby people had that the Guard had to get involved with. Disciplinary actions, who was promoted, who was demoted, who retired, who the replacements were. Evaluation reports on each of the men. There were only two reports from the Herald on circuit there the entire year; that was the only times he called there. At least in the year we looked at, absolutely nothing of any importance happened. Much more of this, and I am going to be caught falling asleep over these things.”
Bear did not look convinced.
“I’m makin’ notes of medicines,” Mags offered, handing over a scant paragraph, which was all he’d gotten out of that entire year, written closely on a salvaged piece of paper. Not from the box—oh, no! He was terrified to discover what the penalty would be for such a sacrilege. The Archivist would probably demand fingers. “I don’ know enough to know what’s stuff you already know ’bout and what ain’t, so I just take notes on it all.”
As Bear took the scrap of notes from Mags, he looked a little less sullen. “So you were thinking about me anyway—thanks!” He looked them over. “Nothing I can use, but you’re a good note taker, Mags, and I appreciate it.”
Mags waved it away. “Wouldn’t do less for ye, Bear.”
Chapter 19
But they never got the chance to talk any further about doing Bear’s research. The elements had other things in mind.
Just as they were finishing their luncheon, there was something of a stir outside; through the windows of the dining hall they could see sudden activity in the form of workmen abandoning their tasks and being mustered in groups, with a Guardsman addressing each group.
“Huh. I wonder what that’s about,” Bear said, looking puzzled.
Lena shook her head. “Nothing I know of, unless the weather is going to be bad, and they want the workmen to make sure things aren’t going to get ruined by it.” They all stood up together, and were putting the plates in the tubs to be collected, when a most unusual person entered the dining hall from the door right at Mags’ elbow. Now, this would not have been any special occurrence, except that the man was dressed in priestly fashion—and priests seldom came here. Why should they? Not that they would have been unwelcome, but when a priest was invited to the Collegia for any reason, it was generally as an honored guest, and they were treated to something rather better than dining hall food.
Mags nudged Bear with his elbow, and just as Bear turned to see what Mags wanted, the priest did something no one had ever done in all the time Mags had been there. He went up to the big brass bell that was hung on the wall at the head of the room, and gave it three sharp pulls so that it rang out above the murmuring of voices.
