Brightly Burning

skates back here with you, after. That will give you something active to do. I'll go nudge up one of the grooms, and I'll meet you at the door.:

Yes, and he probably could organize some of the others for games on the ice, once he started skating at the Collegium. Broom-ball was always fun; skates weren't that hard to come by, you could always make a pair of wooden runners if you didn't have the ready money to buy steel ones. He thought with pleasure of being able to show Tuck how to skate, if he didn't already know how.

Feeling much more cheerful and ready to go, he pulled a heavy knitted garment, shapeless, but warm, over his shirt and canvas tunic, shoved his feet into his boots, and threw his cloak on over all. He left his tray outside the door to be picked up later, and headed back out again, pulling on his gloves as he walked.

The Trainee with the mop was nowhere in sight, but the floor was dry and clean again. He met the cold at the door with determination that brightened when he saw Kalira waiting for him.

:What do you suppose Macy wants to talk about?: Kalira asked, as they passed the Guard, who waved at them as they went by.

:I'm not sure,: he replied. It was so quiet out here—he was getting used to the constant buzz of the Collegium, and even in Alderscroft in the middle of winter there were noises from the forest and barns. Here in the heart of Haven, where he had least expected it, he found silence. The homes of the wealthy, enclosed behind their walls, only showed that they were inhabited by the shadows moving in the curtained, lighted windows. Even the sound of Kalira's hooves was muffled by the packed snow, and he was reluctant to break the silence by speaking.

:She's not the only one who wants to talk in private, though,: Lan continued. :I want to talk to her about Elenor.:

The young Healer had been acting very peculiar, to his way of thinking. One moment she was friendly and her normal self, the next, withdrawn and watching him with the most peculiar expression. Tuck was no help; he was completely infatuated with Macy, and kept turning the conversation back to Lan's sister. And he hadn't been able to talk to Macy alone, because whenever she visited the Collegium, Tuck was with them every step of the way.

:Hmm. Not a bad idea. I haven't been with you enough to see how she's acting,: Kalira admitted. :Macy is probably the best one to ask. I hope Elenor isn't worried because there's something wrong with her father; Satiran doesn't tell me much.:

That could well be the case. :Pol's been looking strained and rather seedy lately,: he replied, now concerned himself. :I hadn't thought of that. You don't think he's sick, do you?:

:Not sick, but overworked, and certainly there is something that has him very concerned, enough to prey on him night and day.:

That got Lan's attention. :I wonder what's on his mind? I hope it isn't me—I mean, I hope I'm not getting horribly behind or something—:

:Something to do with the Kingdom, not you, Chosen,: Kalira assured him immediately. :They've put him on the Privy Council, I'm not sure why, but he's spending a great deal of time in meetings.: She looked back at him over her shoulder, and cocked her ears at him.

:Ah,: Lan said, relieved, and dismissed Pol from his concern. If it was Kingdom business, there was nothing he could do about it.

The uncomfortable silence in the residential district gave way to sound as he and Kalira entered the first street of shops. But here they ran into a slight problem. A furniture shop was taking a delivery—a very bulky delivery—and the street was blocked. A wagon loaded with massive, carved furniture, pulled by four oxen, had backed up to the store front, probably because the wagon was too large to fit into the alley behind it. The wagon and its team completely crossed the street. Nothing bigger than a cat was going to get by for a while. They stopped, and Lan eyed the blockage.

:Bother,: Kalira said cheerfully. :Well, no matter. I know a way around, but we'll have to go through a rather rotten district.:

:Rotten or not, they're not stupid enough to bother a Trainee,: Lan replied. :Are they? I mean, most people know we could call for help.:

:I was just pointing that out because you'll probably see a lot of unpleasant things.: Kalira sighed, :You won't like it. It was one thing to be poor in a little village like yours; it's entirely another to be poor in a city. Even Haven has its share of thieves, beggars, and ne'er-do- wells.:

:But as a Herald, there's going to be a lot of things I won't like. I might as well get used to it. And if there's something going on that somebody should know about, then we can call for help.: That seemed perfectly reasonable to him, and Kalira evidently agreed, for she shook her head and cut down a side street.

The problem with Haven was that once you got off the main thoroughfares, you couldn't necessarily get from one place in the city to another very easily. It was designed that way, to confuse invaders and force them to divide their numbers, thus rendering them more vulnerable to the defenders. Valdemar was long past the time when anyone needed to think about invaders taking Haven, but the main part of the city could not be changed at this late date. Shops and houses were backed not by alleys, but by continuous walls. The only way to get into an alley was through the building. This would be another unpleasant surprise for an invader, and another opportunity to trap small parties of invaders and finish them off.

Lan had no idea of how to get through this maze, but Kalira did, so he relaxed and let her pick out the way. Within a very short period of time, he was in an entirely new sector; a farmer's market. It was empty now, the stalls holding nothing more than a few wilted cabbage leaves or chicken feathers, but the faint scents and the arrangement told him what it was. Kalira picked her way through it daintily, and exited the area through an alley on the other side.

This was another residential district, but a poorer one than Lan had seen before. No silence here; babies squalled, adults quarreled, drunks sang, children played or fought, all at the tops of their lungs. There was light, but it was from oil torches, fueled with something that smoked and had an unpleasant smell. There was no glass in the windows to keep out the cold; just shutters, most of them with rags stuffed into cracks.

Another sound broke through the general babble; the sound of a serious fight. Ahead, two gangs of boys