It wasn’t the entire team, but it was a fair crowd; it included Halleck, Pip, Gennie and Jeffers as well as the young proto-Guards from the Foot, and he had to shush them more than once to keep them from disturbing the other people in the room. There were three other patients, though he couldn’t see who, or even what, they were— only that they mostly hunched themselves up in their blankets and turned their backs on the “fuss.”
“Dear gods, you look like a bad dyeing accident,” Pip observed cheerfully. “Try not to heal too fast, we’ll get lots of sympathy for our side at the first Kirball game.”
Gennie pretended to smack him on the back of the head. They all settled around the bed. “Tell,” demanded Gennie. “Or I’ll leave Pip with you.”
After he got done telling his part of the story—and being true to his word, minimizing his role and making sure Dallen got all the credit he deserved for trying to take on a skilled and armed fighter in a space where the Companion couldn’t even move—he finally got to ask some questions of his own.
“Anyone sayin’ wha ’appened down in Haven?” he asked.
Everyone looked to Barrett, who nodded. “No one’s making any sort of secret about it,” Barrett replied. “Your man managed to bolt before the Heralds and Guards got there, and vanished. There were at least five more besides the crazy one staying at the inn, according to the innkeeper. He had given them a couple of rooms over the stable that he was rarely able to rent out because of how noisy and smelly they could get when the inn was full—he’d done that because their crazy friend was given to fits of raving, and that kept him from disturbing anyone else. They’d only been there a fortnight or so.”
“Huh. Wonder where else they’d been stayin’ ’til then,” Mags said thoughtfully. “They had t’ be somewhere.”
“Wherever it was, the crazy one hadn’t been screaming his head off, or the other innkeepers would have remembered it.” Barrett said. “Anyway, they stole horses out of the stable, left the crazy one behind, and disappeared. The inn was in an uproar when the Heralds got there, over the stolen horses.”
“By now they’re long gone,” Pip said in disgust. “I wish I could get my hands on the one that beat up Mags.” His eyes glittered dangerously and Mags was a bit taken aback. This was a side of Pip he had not seen before.
“Either they’re really gone from Haven, or they stole the horses to make it look like they did,” Gennie put in.
“Huh?” Mags blinked at her. “Ye think thet’s likely?”
He couldn’t imagine why they would stay, but the mere thought made his stomach feel odd. They’d had a grudge against him before he caught them out. Now? They’d probably want his hide tacked up on a wall.
Gennie shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what I think, that’s what older and wiser heads than mine are thinking. They say that given that we thought they were gone the first time, from what I heard, equal weight is being put on both possibilities.”
“So... why’d they stay i’ the first place?” Mags wondered.
There were puzzled glances and shrugs all around the group. “I suppose they didn’t get something done that they needed to do,” Gennie said at last. “And there’s nothing they left behind telling us what that was—unless it was to kill the King.”
“This sure matches up with that Foreseeing,” Halleck said, speaking up for the first time. “Foreign blood— and an assassin. Let’s hope you put an end to that, Mags.”
“Eh,” Mags shrugged. “Was more accident than anythin’ else.”
“Well what I want to know is, will you be ready for the Kirball match?” Gennie demanded. Mags chuckled. He had been waiting for her to say something.
“Healer says so. Says I’ll be all green’n’purple, but I be good.”
Gennie sighed with relief. “Well in that case, I’m happy!”
Supper came and went, and Lena followed it, with another dose from Bear and a request.
Well, not so much a request as an “I plan to do this and of course I’m sure you won’t mind.”
“No,” said Mags.
“. . . but . . .” Lena said, making big eyes at him.
“Nu-uh. No songs,” Mags said firmly. “I ain’t done nothin’ t’ make a song ’bout.”
“But I need a subject for this week’s assignment!” she protested. “It’s perfect! I mean, I know you, and I know the story, and it’s topical, which is important, because it proves it isn’t something I’ve been working on all along on the side. Besides, it’s mostly just about keeping your eyes open all the time and—”
She stopped, abruptly, and shut her mouth. But not before Mags realized what she had just said.
He stared at her accusingly. “Ye already wrote it, didn’ ye?”
She dropped her gaze to the hands clasped in her lap. “Yees,” she said reluctantly.
“Ye din’ sing it fer anyone?”
“Um—”
He groaned. “Ye did. How’n hell did ye git a song wrote i’ less’n a day?”
“I needed a song for an assignment and I couldn’t think of a subject!” she replied pleadingly. “It was one of those ‘make up a song in three days’ assignments. Bards are supposed to be able to make things up on the spot, and this is supposed to train us in doing that. It was perfect! My class liked it!”
“Yer class.” He groaned. An entire class of Bardic Trainees had heard the song and liked it. Which meant an entire class of Bardic Trainees had probably memorized it by now.
“It’s very short,” she said in a small voice.
“It’d haveta be.” If his face hadn’t been so tender he would have buried it in his hands. “An’ since it’s short, they all learnt it already. Cause thet’s what Bards do.”
“Um. Sort of,” she whispered. “Sort of.” Which meant she’d taught them. Even better.
“Wonnerful.” Well there was no helping it. He had a song about him now. The best thing he could do would be to see if she could bury it with a better one. “Well, then, Lena Marchand, you owes me. An’ I am gonna collect.” He fastened her with a stern gaze, which was altogether ineffective since she was staring at her hands. “Yer gonna write ’nother song ’bout Dallen. An’ yer gonna make it better’n the one ’bout me.”
Now she looked up, with a slightly panicked look on her face. “I can’t promise it will be better!” she protested.
He didn’t relent. “Are ye a Bard, or no?” he countered. “Bards write t’ demand all th’ time. Ye jest said so. Well, I be yer first customer. Ye might’s well start learnin’ how t’ please the customer now, an’ be done wi’ it.”
She sighed heavily and dropped her gaze to her lap again. “All right,” she replied unhappily. “I’ll try.”
He could hardly believe it. He’d only been tucked up in Healer’s Collegium for a little more than a day and already this had happened.
Well, the best way to deal with it was to act as if it wasn’t important—and neither was he. But this was certainly nothing like what Herald Nikolas wanted him to do.
His thoughts were interrupted by Lena, speaking in what was almost a whisper. “Don’t you want to hear it?” she asked. “Even a little?”
He almost snapped out “No!” when he got a good look at her face.
Oh, how could he make her even more unhappy than she already was? That would just be the height of cruelty.
“All right,” he said, trying not to show his reluctance. “It was damn nice on ye, Lena. ’S jest, I don’ wanna fuss about me, an’ I thought ye knew that. I didn’ like the bad fuss, an’ I don’ like a good fuss about the same. Jest don’ like any fuss, ye ken?”
She nodded.
He reached out and patted her hand. “Bet it’s real good though. So le’s hear it.”
She lit up with a smile and reached down for the little gittern next to her chair. And Mags got to listen for the next half candlemark all about what a brave hero he was, when in fact, he was dead certain he was nothing of the sort.
