Intrigues

tremendous excitement in his mind-voice. :You want Herald Setham. Wait a moment... :

Mags waited patiently, shivering a little in the cold wind. Was the wind never going to stop blowing? There wasn’t even a hint of spring on it yet.

Dallen was probably speaking to Setham’s Companion. That always took time. Of course, it would have been possible for Dallen to allow him to “hear” Dallen’s side of the conversation, but that would have ended up being confusing. It was also possible for him to listen to both sides, but that would have meant taking down shields, and getting permission. Companions were notoriously reluctant to let anyone but their own Chosen listen to them.

:Archer says Setham will meet you at the new Kirball field,: Dallen told him, finally. :It’s where they’ve been putting in all those new obstacles.:

“Aye, I know it,” Mags confirmed. He changed direction to head for the field, which actually had been part of Companion’s Field before it had been partitioned off. “Why ain’t they using the old course?”

:Not big enough.:

By now it was late afternoon, the sun was making long shadows with the Collegium buildings, and his stomach growled. He hoped that either the explanation wouldn’t take long, or that Herald Setham would be just as hungry as he was and willing to continue any discussion over food. It wouldn’t be long now until the dinner bell.

“Why ain’t the old course big enough?”

:Because they will have to fit two dozen or more people on it at the same time. They’ve finalized the rules, so we’re in luck, whatever Setham tells us is exactly how things are going to go now.:

He saw the Herald—and his Companion—waiting for them beside the new rail fence that marked the boundary of this “ball ground.” He had expected Setham to be young; it had seemed to him that anyone who was getting into something like this was going to have to be young. He thought that his expectations were confirmed when, from a distance, the Herald seemed to be shorter than even he was. He was surprised to see, as he got nearer, that while Setham was, indeed, a lot shorter than Mags, he was also well past middle age. He wasn’t a dwarf, but he was certainly not much taller than twelve or fourteen hands. The top of his head barely came up to Dallen’s shoulders!

Setham was wiry, and he kept his brown hair hair cut quite short, so that the gray at the temples was quite evident. He had a thin face, and intelligent brown eyes, and a mouth that looked as if it smiled often.

Mags smiled back at him, tentatively.

“I’ve been hoping you’d be one of the people to join us in Kirball, Mags,” said Setham, without any preamble, sticking out his hand for Mags to shake. “I’ve been hearing a lot about how well you and Dallen work together. I think you’ll be a cornerstone of my team.”

“Your team, sir?” Mags said, surprised. “I thought I heerd this was all Trainees. An’ mebbe Guard?”

“So it is, but teams need coaches, and that would be me.” Setham grinned. “I was a jockey before I was a Herald, I rode steeplechases, and now that I am a Herald, I am one of the scouts and cross-country specialists. Archer and I are pretty well known for our ability to scramble over, under, or through just about anything,”

The other Companion nodded and whinnied. On closer inspection yet, Setham was very short indeed, definitely no taller than twelve hands, and his Companion, Archer, was so compact and cobby he was almost pony- sized.

:We call him—Archer, that is—The Cat. He never seems to put a foot wrong,: Dallen confirmed. :I may be faster across the straight, but even I can’t move across bad terrain the way he can. And if you can believe it, Setham has never been thrown or pulled from Archer’s saddle.:

“So, the first thing I want you to do is cast your eye over the playing field,” Setham continued. “Get a good impression of it. We chose the roughest part of Companion’s Field for this.”

Obediently, Mags did as he had been directed, and the first thing he noticed was that this was even more challenging than the obstacle course. Instead of the usual rail jumps, this had—well—terrain, was the only way he could think to describe it. Gullies, a major ravine, little hills with abrupt drop-offs, stone fences as well as rail fences, culverts, bridges, even a stream he hadn’t known existed, that led into the river. There were no big hills, but there were bits of very steep slope, enough to make even the most sure-footed Companion pause. No effort had been spared to create this thing—there were even lines where turf had been laid over what must have been raw earth after hills had been made and gullies created.

But unlike the obstacle course, there was no pattern, no obvious path you were supposed to take around this.

Something that the obstacle course did not have was two identical little stone buildings, with ramps up to the tops of them, one on either end of the field.

“What do you think of it?” asked Setham.

“Not sure what t’ think sir,” Mags confessed. He scratched his head. “Looks risky.” Actually it didn’t so much look risky as insane. He could scarcely imagine trying to ride over this thing at speed.

:I like it. It’s a real challenge!:

“There is a lot of risk there, I won’t deny it,” Setham replied. “Only the best riders will be able to take this course full out. You and Dallen will take falls, I am sure. People are going to get hurt. But we have a big influx of Trainees right now. Historically that means that we are going to need those Trainees when they become Heralds, and that means Valdemar is going to be facing some trouble down the road. Better some bruises and breaks now than dead Heralds later.”

Mags turned to see if he could read Setham’s expression. This was the first time he had ever heard a Herald being quite that—blunt.

Setham looked deadly serious. “I’m not the first Herald in my family,” Setham said. “I’m fourth generation in fact. My great grandfather was in the middle of the Karsite conflicts, and my grandfather knew Vanyel. Now... maybe the reason we’re getting all you Trainees is because Valdemar is about to get a lot bigger. I won’t deny that’s possible—all sorts of little dukedoms and tiny kingdoms are looking at us and thinking they might want to throw in with us. We’re all hoping this is why we have so many new Chosen coming in, so many new foals being born. But we aren’t going to count on that. We’re going to count on finding ourselves neck deep in war, and needing lots of Heralds, and if the other happens, we’ll just be glad and feel lucky.”

Mags scratched his head. “No way t’ tell?” he ventured.

Setham shook his head. But then, he relaxed. “However, we also know whatever happens will be years away, and no rule says we can’t make this training fun as well as risky,” he continued. “So—that’s why we are doing it this way.”

“Yessir,” Mags said. “I kin see that. But ye said, on’y the best. So what ’bout the rest? Ain’t they gonna need the trainin’ too?”

“Oh they’ll get it,” Setham replied. “They will certainly get it. The difference is that we want the best for the first teams, to get everyone excited and motivated. Then in the regular riding classes, we’ll teach the Kirball technique and strategy instead of the old riding lessons, and I hope that will stimulate some more excitement.”

Mags wrinkled his nose. “Not sure what yer aimin’ fer, with all this excitement stuff. Sir.”

Setham leaned against the fence. So did his Companion. It struck Mags that he had never seen a Herald and Companion who looked quite so alike before.

“Look, you seem like a serious young fellow,” Setham said slowly. “I tell you that the Circle is looking at the current conditions and anticipating trouble in a few years, and you understand that. I can see it in the way you react to what I just told you—you squared up your shoulders, you looked a little resigned, but determined to meet the challenge. Am I right?”

Mags flushed a little with embarrassment, but nodded.

“But you’ve got to have seen how some of the Trainees just don’t—seem to take things nearly as seriously as you do,” Setham continued. “Knowing your background... your reaction is logical. Knowing theirs, well, so is theirs. They aren’t what you would call ‘grown up’ yet. They’re still thinking about things the way someone who has never had to face hardship thinks about them. Even that lot that helped you rescue your friend, Bear—within a fortnight or so, the fear of the rescue had faded, and it became just a fantastic adventure in their memories.