Brightly Burning

it's such an illogical mess, but I can't imagine them doing so.'

'I can't either,' Lan replied, dazed at the very notion. 'Where would they put everyone?'

'Well, that's the question, isn't it?' the Herald replied, with a wry smile. 'One solution would be to build the new structure in a logical fashion first, move everyone in, and tear the old one down. If they ever carry out their threat, that's the only way I can see it happening.' He turned to Lan and extended a hand. 'I'm Herald Pol, by the way, and I imagine you're wondering why I want to talk to you.'

Lan took his hand gingerly, but Pol put no pressure on it at all, just allowed it to rest in his for a moment. His handshake was warm, dry, and neutral. 'I don't know why a Herald would want to talk to me,' he said doubtfully. 'I'm nobody.'

'Well, you see, four of your schoolmates died in the fire that hurt you, and you are the only one we haven't asked about it yet,' the Herald said, and Lan felt his heart stop.

He felt as if the Herald was waiting for him to say something, but he couldn't think of anything. His mouth went dry, and he felt cold all over.

'What exactly were all of you doing in that classroom?' the Herald asked into the silence.

How can I tell him? He'll never believe me! My own parents didn't believe me!

Lan started shaking, and gripped the bench with both hands. 'I wasn't doing—anything,' he said through clenched teeth.

The Herald raised an eloquent eyebrow. 'Perhaps I should rephrase that question. What were the older boys doing to you?' When Lan didn't reply, his gaze bored into Lan's eyes, prying each reluctant word out of him.

I can't—

'I—they—were—they were—pushing me about—' He couldn't get his breath, somehow, and he was shaking so hard... why wouldn't this man leave him alone? He didn't know anything. 'I—it was a kind of game.'

To them, anyway.

'But why did they bring you there?' the Herald persisted. 'What kind of a game is it that involves large young men tossing a younger boy around? What was going on?'

Maybe if he just told the Herald the truth, the man would go away! 'They were going to flog me!' Lan blurted in desperation. 'Tyron said I was—that—he said—' He couldn't finish; after all, it was just his word against that of the other boys, and who knew what they'd told the authorities? That was why the Guard Captain was there, wasn't it?

The Herald gave a little nod to the Guard Captain, as if to say, 'I told you so.' He continued more gently, 'We've made a point of talking to some of the other youngsters, and they've been telling us some interesting things. Would you care to talk to us about it as well?'

He looked so trustworthy. He was a Herald! Shouldn't I be able to trust a Herald?

But there was a barrier to that. What if they decide I'm responsible for the fire?

And another. What if he really was?

No, that was ridiculous. How could he have started the fire? Impossible. And this was a Herald. Surely, if anyone would know the truth when he heard it, this man would.

'It depends on who you were talking to,' Lan said, unable to keep sullenness out of his voice, but relaxing a little. His heart stopped pounding, and he stopped shivering as much, but he still held to the bench with a death grip.

'Not the young devils in the—what-you-call—Sixth Form,' the Guard Captain rumbled unexpectedly. Paper whispered as he took a list out of his pocket. 'Young lad called Owyn Kittlekine in your group was the most talkative.'

Lan felt tension spool up again. 'What did he tell you?' he asked.

'Largely that the leaders of the Sixth Form were using the sloth and negligence of Master Keileth and your teachers to bully and abuse the younger students,' the Guard Captain said in disgust. 'We've had words with their parents, and that school isn't going to open again until matters are set right.'

'But we want to know—exactly—what happened in that room, Lan,' the Herald interrupted, 'I know you don't want to think about it, but when there is even one death, much less four, we have to know why. People are asking a lot of awkward questions, and we must have answers for them.'

Oh, gods. They do think I'm responsible!

This time, Lan wasn't shivering with cold, he was trembling with fear, and something angry and ominously familiar roused deep inside him. He began to flush as he spoke, feeling anger uncoil in his belly.

'They—Tyron—said I was eroding discipline because I wasn't letting them catch me to beat me up,' he began slowly. 'And because I wouldn't steal velvet from my father for him. He wanted scarlet for a Midwinter tunic, and he told me to get him some. When I told him I didn't get pocket money, he told me to get the velvet however I had to, and that he'd flog me for disobedience if I didn't.' Just the memory made him angry, and he felt a headache beginning. Once again, the Herald and the Guard Captain exchanged a look. 'He said he was going to punish me for that, and because some of the others were staying up in the classrooms over lunch like I was doing instead of going down to the Hall where Tyron and his bunch could get at them. And he said he was going to punish me for lying about being sick, and for lying about staying behind after classes to study and coming in early to study. He was going to flog me for all of that, and that was why they took me to the storeroom, where nobody could hear me.'

'Hmm.' The Guard Captain made a note, but said nothing. Once again, it was the Herald that asked the questions.

'And did he tell you just how severe your punishment was going to be?' he asked.