watch, although I must say there are not too many people wanting to be players except for Heralds. Though if it is going to be as dangerous as I’ve heard, that is just as well.”
Pleased, Mags told them all about it, from Herald Caelan suggesting he should look into playing, to the interview in Setham’s room.
“I dunno,” Bear said, looking worried. “It seems pretty dangerous to me. Real easy to get hurt. I looked over that field and I wouldn’t want to ride over it, much less play a game on it.”
“Well it’s kinda supposed to be dangerous,” Mags pointed out, and repeated what Setham had said about the huge influx of Trainees. “There kinda ain’t a point to it, if it ain’t dangerous. It’s s’pposed t’ wake the Grays up a bit. Make ’em figger out they ain’t immortal.”
“Still, dammit, I don’t want to be dealing with your broken head or broken neck, Mags!” Bear said, looking a little desperate. “If this is supposed to just be training, it shouldn’t be so dangerous that people come out of it seriously hurt. Bruises and maybe a break or two is one thing, but not a broken neck.”
“I don’ think Dallen’d let me break m’neck,” Mags pointed out. “I’d be more worrit about them as is on foot or reg’lar horses.”
“Point,” said Amily, and smiled. “I think it’s wonderful that the two of you were asked in the first place. Are there going to be trials? I had heard there were.”
“Aye, an’ I’m t’ be in ’em fer form’s sake,” he told them and added shyly, “An I’d take it kindly if any of ye could get away t’ watch. Unless it’s too mortal bad weather!” he added, and sighed. “Knowin’ my luck, twill be pourin’ cold rain.”
The morning of Mags’ trial day threatened rain, but it never actually happened. By noon, the sullen clouds were reluctantly moving off without actually producing so much as a drop. Mags turned up at the Kirball field, though, prepared for the worst.
Prepared in more ways than one, as well. Although nothing had actually been said about armor, Mags had brought an open-faced helmet, a neck-brace, a stiff leather kidney-belt, shin-guards, arm-guards, and a chest protector. Having worn all of these in weapons’ practice, he was reasonably sure that he could move and ride well enough in them to satisfy Setham.
The others had made no such preparations. Setham looked astonished at his rig-out, then pleased. “I hadn’t even gotten into discussions with the other coaches about protection,” he said, “But it looks as if you have anticipated a great deal of what we might need. Well done, Mags.”
One of the older Trainees—the girl—raised a hand. “Permission to go raid the practice armory and bring things back here for the tryouts, sir?”
Setham looked pleased all over again. “Permission granted, Gennie. Take Halleck with you.”
The two sped off. Setham surveyed the rest. “You footers and cavalry,” he said after a moment. “You’ll be at a disadvantage against Heralds. Even the ones that don’t have strong Mindspeech will still have their Companions talking to each other and relaying. So, I want you to sort yourselves into groups of four, talk among yourselves, and work out a quick way to deal with that. When you’ve done that, I’ll put you out there in your group to defend the goal, four at a time, and put two Herald Trainees against you. Now, divide up!”
There were about two dozen people trying out for both the foot and horse groups. One of them was Jeffers, who looked excited and a little sick. Maybe sick with excitement. He was on a cobby little bay that Dallen looked at with approval.
Mags was a trifle surprised.
Dallen ambled over to Jeffers’ side, giving Mags no real choice in the matter. “Heyla,” Mags said. “I seen ye at Master Soren’s, aye? I’m Mags.”
“What?” Jeffers started a little, then smiled weakly. “Oh, yes, probably. I mean, I don’t know Lydia really well, but we shared some tutors back when we both took classes at Bardic, and we’re more or less in the same circles.” Belatedly he stuck out a hand, which was a little cold. Mags removed his gauntlet and shook it solemnly.
“This Kirball, seems people are takin’ it important, aye?” he offered.
Now Jeffers’ blue eyes lit up. “Well they should! I mean, it’s not just a game, you know! This is going to be training in case, well, you know, combat training. I could never have gotten my father to agree to combat training with the Guard, but this! He thinks this is just a hearty, manly sort of game, and he thinks my playing it is a fine idea. I’m not about to tell him it’s more than that!”
“So why’s yer Pa not want ye fightin’?” Mags asked.
Jeffers sighed. “He’s a pacifist. And that’s fine for him. He really is quite good at negotiating settlements with people, and because of that, he thinks everything can be negotiated, and no civilized person should ever have to pick up a weapon. If he was forced to choose between grabbing a weapon and hurting an attacker or being hurt himself, and negotiation didn’t work, he’d choose to be hurt rather than inflict harm.” The young man knuckled the side of his head a little. “And I admire that, I really do. He absolutely has the courage of his convictions. But I can’t live like that.”
Mags nodded, although he couldn’t understand someone not being willing to defend himself at all. “Well,” he said, after a moment of thought. “When ye get on team, reckon you an’ me could meet up at salle afore or after practicin’, an’ I could give ye a bit uv trainin’ like. Don’ reckon Weaponsmaster’d mind. Ye jest tell yer Pa ye was practicin’ extree wi’ me and not what at. Won’t be a lie then.”
Jeffers jaw dropped a little, and his eyes widened. “You’d—you’d do that? For me?”
“Dunno why not.” Mags grinned a little. “Happen I kin get some on Lydia’s friends t’ come by too. So if I got stuff to do, we kin
Jeffers seized Mags hand and shook it fervently. “Mags, thank you, thank you! You don’t know what this means to me!”
“Eh, well.” Mags flushed a little in embarrassment. “It’s not like I cain’t use extree practice m’self.” He was saved from trying to think of anything else to say by the arrival of Gennie and Halleck, who had brought back enough miscellaneous armor to fit out all the riders.
Jeffers attached himself to a group of three horsemen, one of whom looked to be quite highborn indeed, if the quality of his tack and clothing was any indication. It wasn’t flashy, in fact it was the opposite, but among many other things, being around Lydia had taught Mags how to assess what someone wore.
The fellow made no fuss at all about strapping on the worn and grungy armor, though, so he didn’t seem to have any airs about him.
Then again... these people had all been invited directly by Herald Setham. So whoever they were and whatever their backgrounds, they had passed his muster.
It was Gennie and a third Trainee, Pip, whom Setham set off against the first group of foot-players. Mags very quickly saw why Setham was considering her for team Captain. She and Pip moved together in a way that Mags recognized had to be due to Mindspeech. Although the foot-players managed to keep them from lobbing the ball through the goal-windows for a while, eventually a clever feint on the part of Gennie caused them to concentrate on her long enough for her to flip the ball to Pip, and Pip to peg it through an unguarded window.
Then it was the turn of Jeffers and four of the riders against Gennie and Mags.
