Foundation

Caelen brought over a roll of bedding, which even if it was not his, looked enough like it not to matter. He unrolled it and pointed at it. “You. Here. Sleep.”

Even if they hadn’t been the three most senior Heralds in the Circle, Mags would not have had the strength to argue with them. He was just so tired—

And yet he knew that there was no way he would be able to sleep. Not with that—thing—out there. He’d never be able to close his eyes, knowing it was there somewhere. And he still didn’t believe it was after the foreigners, whatever it was.

Someone had to stay alert, and that someone might just as well be him.

He rolled over and faced the fire so that the three Heralds, still discussing what they were sure was a revenant, would not be able to see that his eyes were still open. He would just rest here for a little while. Just rest.

Just—

—sleep.

Chapter 20

The storm had blown itself out, after three days, although only the first day and a half featured the terrible winds that shook the buildings. Mags had slept through most of that, despite being sure he would do nothing of the sort.

Now there was a different problem entirely. The temperature had dropped, making the upper floor of Heralds’ Collegium too cold to sleep in, forcing those who had been up there down to further crowd the rooms below. The same was true at Bardic, only more so, since the ancient building was nothing like as weather tight as the newer structures of Healers’ and Heralds’. That caused a migration through the narrow slots between the buildings, cut through snow that was waist-high at the least, and further crowding conditions at the other two Collegia.

This was all incidental to the crisis down in Haven. The cold had caused the snow to harden, making it even more difficult to shovel, and once you did shovel out a path, where did you put the snow you had removed? In some places the snow had drifted so deep that you couldn’t cut a path, you had to make a tunnel, but that, of course, meant there was always the risk of cave-in and injury. The problems of getting food and help to people, of keeping people warm, that the Palace complex was experiencing were only magnified down in Haven. And then there were the cold-and-snow-related injuries—slips, falls and broken bones, frostbite or even entire frozen limbs, other illnesses made worse by the conditions—Healers were being called for at all hours of the night or day. It took them candlemarks to get down to their patients and back again. The Guard was doing its best to get the snow cleared so life in Haven could get back to normal, Heralds were acting as rescuers and couriers, Bards were doing whatever they were asked to do—and most of the time, no one knew where anyone else was, unless they were Heralds.

So perhaps it was not so surprising that until Mags asked, no one realized that Bear had been missing since the snow stopped falling.

__________________

“Ah, Trainee, we seem to be thrown together by circumstance. Would you pass the salt, please?”

Mags looked up to see that he had squeezed in next to the Guard Archivist. Mutely he passed the saltcellar.

“I must compliment you on your research ability,” the old man continued, salting his pea soup. “Your friend the Healer thanked me, and so did his superior later. You seem to have uncovered some intriguing information on herbal remedies that neither of them recognized. And that was incidental to your intended search. Very well done.”

Mags frowned, then quickly put on a more pleasant expression. “Well, I’d do about anything for Bear,” he said.

“So I see.” The Archivist ate complacently. “I should like to reward that diligence if I may. Perhaps if you can give me an idea of what you are looking for in those records, I can do some delving for you when my other duties are complete.”

Mags was not as surprised as he might have been, because he was rather occupied with the question of why Bear had lied when he’d handed over the notes he had taken. “Sir, that’d be ... real good of ye,” he said, hoping he sounded grateful and sincere. “Ain’t no secret.” He described how he had been found, the raid of the Guard on the bandit stronghold, and what little he could remember.

The old man nodded. “So, nothing more than due diligence to find this. I will assist you as I can.” He finished his soup and Mags got up to let him get out. “Of course, that will have to wait for some time, until things return to normal. We’ve left the Archive building snowed in; there seemed no good reason to heat it in this emergency, and it didn’t seem likely that anyone would want to get in there.” He chuckled then, just before moving away. “Well, perhaps your eager Healer friend. He was terribly anxious to discover whether your research privileges would expire when you found what you were looking for, and whether his were independent of yours. I was able to reassure him on that score.”

With that, the old man worked his way into the press of people trying to get fed, and was gone, leaving Mags feeling distinctly uneasy.

Bear had been acting oddly since coming back from Midwinter holidays. He had tried to act normally, but sometimes he had been sullen, almost angry, and now that Mags came to think about it, when the idea of checking the Guard reports had come up, though Bear had been relatively quiet about it, there had been an oddly keen quality in his interest. And when Mags had gotten them all permission, there had been a light in Bear’s eyes that was all out of proportion to the somewhat dull prospect of reading old reports.

And now this.

Why would Bear lie?

He bent his mind toward the stables, where Dallen, like the other Companions who were not immediately needed, was drowsing in a kind of semihibernation. Even the Heralds working down in Haven were mostly not bringing their Companions. There was just no room for them in the narrow snow passages, and there was not that much for the Companions to do except pass an occasional message.

:Dallen?: