Brightly Burning

in their pockets. The youngest of the group, Melly, taught History and Literature, and was one of the tutors for students having difficulties. She was assigned permanently to the Collegium, unlike the other three, because she was the best teacher that anyone had ever seen, with the talent—almost, one could say, the Gift—for getting younglings interested and excited about learning. That—and her size. She couldn't have been any taller than the average thirteen-year-old. Riding circuit required physical abilities that she didn't have, but that didn't matter. She could, and did, ride messenger service during any emergency. She could, and did, take her turn out 'on circuit' within Haven itself. She had dodged Karsite arrows and bandits, had come into Haven reeling in the saddle with exhaustion. Melly might not take the most arduous of duties, but no one could say that she didn't take the most hazardous.

And she was a deadly card player.

Melly was the first to arrive, with the other two right behind her. 'Pfui!' Tevar said, knitting black brows as the wind drove a gust of rain against the window glass. 'I hate this time of year!' He pulled his chair back with a scrape, and dropped into it, pulling his tail of sable hair to the side so he wouldn't get it caught between his back and the back of the chair.

Melly cast a glance at the window herself, peering from beneath a thick brown fringe of bangs that made her look like a cheerful little pony. 'I don't know; I rather like it, as long as the weather's out there and I'm in here.'

'Makes you feel sorry for the ones out there, though, doesn't it?' Damina asked, as she helped herself to food, then settled into her chair. 'Then again, it isn't like this everywhere.'

'It's still fine down in the south, and in the north the rains are over by now,' Pol agreed. 'For that matter, it isn't everywhere that gets these autumnal downpours, either, so you could be wasting your pity, Damina.'

'Oh, the gods forbid that I should waste anything so precious as pity!' she exclaimed wryly. 'I have so little of it to spare!'

'And far too much breath,' Tevar retorted. 'Are you going to talk, or play?'

With a chuckle, Damina cut the cards, and they began their usual fierce combat until the Collegium bells warned that classes were due to begin.

At the end of the day, Pol decided against dinner with the Court and opted for a seat with the rest of the Collegium. A Collegium dinner was the best possible antidote to a gloomy day.

He went in early, while the Trainees were still washing up, taking his favorite seat at a table over near one of the fireplaces. Those tables were generally kept clear so that the adults could claim them, perhaps out of pity for their 'old bones!' There were two or three other teachers there, and a group of Heralds entered right after he settled himself, Heralds who had just gotten back from their assignments and had not yet gotten new ones. He waved them over, although he didn't know any of them personally; they would have news of their sectors, and would be willing to share it. They were all fairly young, probably in their first decade of serving as full Heralds; all aggressively fit and lean. The three young men, two very dark, one less so, reached him first, followed by a blonde woman.

'Jonotan, Lake Evendim,' said the first to sit down, shaking Pol's extended hand, giving his name and the circuit he'd been on, just as a fifth Herald, an older woman, entered, looked about, and headed for his table.

'Kiela, Staghorn Forest,' the young blonde woman told him with a nod.

The broadly smiling dark man introduced himself next, as 'Lerrys, the Fells,' followed by a shorter, but equally dark fellow who was 'Wernar, Torgate.'

The last was another woman, middle-aged with gray streaking her mousy hair, that Pol knew very slightly. 'Charis! Good to see you!' he welcomed her. 'What sector this time?'

She settled into place with a weary sigh. 'Karsite Border,' she said, and got the immediate attention of the others.

'And?' Pol asked, assuming the duty of the questioner as host.

One of the Trainees came by about then with a platter of hot bread and a bowl of butter, and Charis made an unmistakable gesture toward him with her eyes. They waited in silence for the boy to get out of hearing distance, and in the meantime, the hall began to fill with chattering youngsters, making it easier for them to converse without being overheard.

'I'll give you the worst news first,' Charis told them, as they unconsciously bent toward her, all of them with grave expressions. 'There's going to be war. Maybe not this year, though I think it will come by Midwinter, but next summer at the latest. It's not bandits raiding the Borders anymore, and not Karsite outcasts desperately clawing out some sort of life, it's Karsite troopers, little squads of them. We finally caught some of them, and there were uniforms in their saddlebags.' She shrugged. 'The Sun-priests claim they were acting on their own, but we know better, obviously. Not even a Karsite is immune to a Truth Spell.'

They all let out their held breath as one. Pol shook his head. 'So they've started testing us, have they?'

'That's the general assessment,' Charis agreed. 'The current Son of the Sun is cautious. He isn't going to move until he's built up his troops there, built them up slowly so we supposedly won't notice, and that is going to take time. At least we're forewarned.'

Another set of Trainees came along with platters and bowls, and the discussion ended for a moment while the Heralds helped themselves. When the servers moved on to other tables, Jonotan asked the next question.

'Is there any good news?' he said, mouth twisted in a wry attempt at a smile that was not succeeding very well.

'We've got warning, and we've got time,' Charis pointed out. 'I just finished reporting to the King and Council; everyone is going to know by tomorrow. We're going to have to build up our own troops, I suppose; maybe evacuate the villages nearest the Border.'

'If you can,' Kiela pointed out. 'A lot of those people are Holderkin; they wouldn't move for any mortal, and I sometimes doubt if they'd even move for their gods.'

Charis made a face, but didn't contradict her.

'While you were there,' Pol put in hesitantly, 'did you happen across a Healer named Ilea?'

To his surprise, Charis laughed out loud, her gloom broken. 'Actually, I did, just before I left. There was an