Foundation

he was certain those had been replaced and taken apart before he and Bear were brought here. In fact, it seemed that only a few innocuous things had been left behind by the first group of searchers.

“Do you ever wonder if those men were even from the country they claimed to be from?” Bear asked.

“I s’pose they could be.” He shook his head. “Not sure it matters.”

“And why did they wait a whole day after that madman killed himself to leave?” Bear continued. Clearly, he had forgotten that he had asked that question already, not once but several times. It was the effect of the medicine, Mags had been assured—just as he had been told that he was here with Bear as much to keep an eye on his friend and provide him with company as to recuperate himself. He didn’t mind. In fact, he was rather pleased that they trusted him so much.

“I reckon—I reckon they had somethin’ they needed t’ get or someone they needed t’ talk to.” Truth was, he didn’t know, and really couldn’t hazard a guess, but Bear seemed to find the answer satisfactory.

“And how could they get out and not be seen?” Bear continued—as he always did.

“Oh, they went over th’ wall. Guards found the place even afore anyone knowed it was them that went.” That had been all over the Palace and from there to the Collegia in very short order.

“They must have been better in snow than they made out.” Bear sighed. “I wish I had paid more attention when I was treating them.”

“I wisht I had paid more attention to ’em in general.” Every tiny bit Mags had observed had been gone over by so many people that they all blurred together in his memory. “Mebbe somethin’ would have tol’ us how t’ catch ’em.”

But according to rumor and the very, very little that the King’s Own would tell him, the foreigners had managed to very quickly muddle their trail in a manner that astounded even the best of the trackers. And now? Well, they’d had more than enough opportunities to arrange for escape routes, for people to conceal them, for ways to disguise themselves. The snow would probably hinder them, but not as much as it would hinder pursuit. There were people in the city who would not scruple to help them for enough money. There were probably even people in those huge manors near the Palace who would do the same.

Mags poked at an odd book written in their tongue and illustrated with incredibly beautiful colored drawings of plants. It seemed strange that so violent a set of men could create such art—and poetry, for that was what was in the book. Love poems. It made no sense.

Nor did what the killer had screamed when he first saw Mags. “Not YOU?” Mags couldn’t shake the impression that the man had recognized him. And that was just as disturbing as everything else.

And they still didn’t know why it had been Bear that had been used as bait in that trap. Had it just been opportunity? Had they really wanted him for his Healing skills? Had it been something else entirely?

“I shouldn’t have gone to the Archives alone,” Bear sighed “I should have told you. But ... I didn’t want you to know I was looking for—” He flushed. “I thought I remembered some pretty nasty rumors about that girl’s family. I thought if I could confirm them with Guard reports, my parents would give over the idea of marrying us.” His face turned a deeper red. “That’s a pretty underhanded way of trying to get out of it.”

Mags shrugged. “Whatever works,” he replied. “You don’ got to answer to us.”

“Yes, I do,” Bear said softly. “You’re my friends.”

Mags shrugged again, but he felt warm inside. Friends. That wasn’t at all bad. Maybe he didn’t need to know about his family. Not when he had friends like this.

And right now, all those other questions could wait, too. He was hardly the one best qualified to puzzle out the answers, after all. He was only one Heraldic Trainee in his first year.

:Only?: Dallen seemed amused.

:Quiet, you.:

“Well, then ye answer t’ me in a couple a days,” he replied, and chuckled. “’Cause right now ... I be on holiday. And so be you!”