would be because he was in trouble or that someone was looking for a scapegoat to punish.
He reminded himself that he wasn’t in his old life. He’d never had that sort of thing happen to him here.
But it was hard to break his old ways of thought. He could all too easily imagine a hundred things he would have done or said wrong. As he worried them all through, the class dragged along.
He tried to reason with himself. Maybe Caelen wanted to see him for a good reason rather than a bad one. Probably Caelen wanted to see him for a good reason. Maybe that Herald had told Caelen he had a good idea, and Caelen wanted to ask him about it. Finally he managed to convince himself that this was the most probable—a sign that at least, if he had not overcome his instinctive reactions, he could finally reason his way past them.
Regardless, everything about the impending meeting kept him distracted during a lesson that was not one of his best subjects. This was the language class, and language, with all of its rules about grammar and spelling— made no sense to him. Nothing about it was logical, and just when he thought he’d gotten a rule straight in his head, it all went out with some exception or other. And as for his spelling, well, it was... creative.
This generally made for a long lesson at the best of times, and being preoccupied made it longer.
At last the teacher dismissed them, though unfortunately with a writing assignment. Just what he needed, with his head all of a muddle. Mags wondered if Lena would help him put it together, and then wondered if he was going to be too busy trying to make up for what he’d done wrong to ask her.
Once again, his mood dropped, and he had convinced himself that he was in trouble. He pulled his books together into his shoulder bag, suddenly wishing the lesson had been even longer. What could Caelen want?
As he walked along the corridor, feeling as if he was under a dark cloud, and wondering if he should pretend he never gotten the note, he felt a familiar presence in the back of his head.
That was enough to lift his mood, at least a little. And give him enough courage to head for Caelen’s office and knock tentatively on the door.
“Come in,” called Caelen through the door.
Mags pushed it open. The block-like Herald was, as usual, rather buried in things on his desk. There were sheafs of papers stacked precariously around him, and it was impossible to tell which were things he was done with and which he had yet to work on. Mags blinked owlishly at the piles. How did Caelen ever get through all the work that was piled on him? Every time he thought that he was piled high with work, he would get a glimpse of what Caelen faced, and know that the work of a Trainee was nothing.
Caelen looked up and gave Mags a warm smile, and then followed his gaze, and made a wry face. “Budgeting,” he sighed. He waved vaguely at the piles. “I have to account for every penny spent in Herald’s Collegium, and my procrastination has come back to bite me. Again.” He stabbed a finger at the paper in front of me. “It doesn’t help that I have no idea sometimes what I’m signing for. Here it says we ordered a bale of dried marrow root.” He rolled his eyes. “I have no idea what marrow root is, or, since this order is missing half of its information, where it came from. And yet, I have to sign to say it’s justified. And if someone comes to ask me what in heaven’s name I was thinking when I signed for it, I will be sitting here looking like a fool.”
Mags peered at the paper. “Bear would prob’ly know,” he suggested, trying to be helpful.
Caelen laughed. “Well, since he’s the one that put in the request for it, I sincerely hope so. I gather it is something that he feels would do you lot good in the winter.” He put aside the piece of paper, and looked Mags over. “You’re growing,” he noted, nodding approvingly. “It’s good to see you filling out, considering the size you were when you arrived. I won’t say you were the smallest Trainee we have ever had, but you were certainly the thinnest, and certainly the shortest for your age.”
Mags looked down at himself. “Can’ really help it,” he said, shrugging. “Sorta happens all by itself.”
The Herald rubbed his greying temples. “I suppose it does,” he replied with a nod. “Well, that brings me to the reason I brought you up here. I was reminded today that you are in a room that is usually used for the grooms that care for the Companions, and I thought, now our building work was getting closer to completion that you might like one of the newly built rooms that are free. It would get you out of the stables and in with the other trainees.”
Mags was shocked, and his jaw dropped. “Move away from Dallen?” he asked, aghast.
Caelen gave a chuckle. “I can see, if you put it like that, that it would be a wrench. But it would stop you from standing out as . . .” he gave a wry smile, “the Trainee that we stuck off in the stable.”
“How’s that bad?” Mags asked, adding as an afterthought, “Sir? Not like it bothers me.”
“You’ll recall that bit of an altercation over you being there in the first place,” Caellen said with a grimace. “You know already that there are many of the adults who would be certain any boy out in a room alone far from adult supervision is certainly up to no good, Trainee or not.”
Well of all the things he’d heard here, that took the prize for making no sense. “But I got ’dult supervision!” Mags protested. “Companions! Bunches on ’em! If I was t’ get t’ jiggerypokery, ye know they’d be callin’ in t’ their Chosen!” He could just imagine it, too. Say, purloining a couple of bottles of wine to try out what being drunk was like. He’d not get two cups into the first bottle before half the Collegium, including all the teachers, would be at his door. And he didn’t even want to think about what would happen if he was up to anything worse than that. And what Dallen would say to him—he’d rather be whipped.
Caelen shrugged. “You have a very good point about the supervision. Well, if that is how you really feel, I won’t make you move. I thought a boy your age would be a little worried about how the others might think of him. It might be thought a little odd to be down there all alone. People are very likely to wonder why you are there, if there is something, that makes you antisocial, or if—oh, say for example, your Mindspeech is less than controlled, and we are keeping you apart from the others to prevent problems from it. Or as if you are some sort of pariah, and we want to keep you away from the others to keep you from contaminating them.”
Mags shook his head. “If’n I can stay, I want to,” he stated firmly. “It ain’t like I’m in the way. It’s the warm end o’ the stables, ’n I think the Companions like me being there. If somethin’ was t’ happen, I’d be right there, ’fore even someun’s Chosen could or one’a the grooms, ’cause the Chosen ’d haveta run down from Collegium an’ Dallen’d wake me afore a groom knew there was aught wrong. I dun mind bein’ alone; I’d druther, actually. It’s quiet. Easy t’ study. Easy t’ sleep, ain’t no one larkin’ about an’ makin’ noise. I never had no privacy afore, an’... an’ I like bein’ where no one kin bother me. An’ I definit’ly like being next t’ Dallen.”
“Well. I suppose if you feel that strongly about it.” Caelen sighed. “I suppose it can’t hurt to have someone in the stable as we come toward foaling season anyway. The Companions usually keep everyone aware of when foaling is likely, but once in a while it’s a surprise.” He cocked his head and looked Mags over. “I reckon you’ll be able to keep a level head in an emergency—and of course, the Companions will help. Even though Dallen is a jokester, he’s solid in a crisis, I understand.”
Mags grinned with relief—and a little at hearing Dallen described as a “jokester.” Evidently his “tweaking of Rolan’s tail” had gotten around. “Aye, sir. That I reckon ’e is.”
Caelan blinked. “You know—you are a little young for this, but something just occurred to me. I’ve something I’d like you to consider adding to your lessons. It’s a good thought, actually, and something that will... get you working with some of the other Trainees a good bit more.”
Caelan carried on, oblivious to Dallen’s comments; well, after all, he couldn’t hear them. Companions rarely Mindspoke to anyone but their Chosen. It was unusual that Rolan had let Mags hear his sarcastic remarks to Dallen. “You and Dallen have an exceptionally close bond—I’m told your Mindspeech is remarkably strong. According to your records you and Dallen are also two of the leaders in the riding lessons. Those two things would make you a pair of ideal candidates for what I have in mind.” The older Herald grinned like a young boy. “Think you’d be up to being part of a Kirball team?”
Mags frowned. “Kirball?” He’d heard the term bandied about, mostly during meals, but hadn’t really gotten any notion of what it meant besides that it was some sort of game. A brand new game, one that several of the Heralds themselves were devising for the Trainees—but Mags had no idea what was involved. Well, other than the fact that, judging by the exuberant hand-gestures and pantomime, it was probably going to be very exciting for
