those who were in it.
“It’s a new game that the Heralds are trying on the students this year. They are rebuilding the obstacle course out in the field and running it over that. It’s part goal scoring, part capture-the-flag and part team building.” Caelen was oblivious to the fact that none of this meant anything to Mags; fortunately, Dallen quickly provided his Chosen with images of what Caelen meant. “We think it will be a good learning exercise for the Trainees. I believe it originally got its name since Herald Kiri came up with it. She’s always one for inventing crazy ways to test the trainees, but this one has definitely become popular. The name seems to have stuck. It doesn’t hurt that one could say it was meant to honor King Kiril as well.”
Something nagged at the back of Mag’s mind, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, and the thought ran away as Dallen rang in loud and clear.
The Herald continued, leaning forward and becoming animated as he did so, “Here’s the basic idea. Now, we’ve done a lot of games on Companion-back in the past, but what is new about this is that the students form teams from all three Collegia. Some will be on Companions, of course, but some will be on horses, and then some afoot. It’s a twelve-person team, and the way we have planned to run it is that competition can be two teams against each other, a three-way, three goal arrangement or even four teams all in. Though for now, while we work play and rules out, it will just be two teams against each other.”
Mags frowned. “Wargames?” he repeated aloud.
Caelen winced visibly. “Well, that’s part of it. I can’t pretend it isn’t, but it’s a combination of riding skill, teamwork, communication and how well you use your Gifts in a pinch. There will be people on each team that don’t have Gifts, don’t have Mindspeech, don’t have Companions—which is just like a battlefield. This will test and train your abilities to put together an effective small force of all sorts of folk, setting things up so that each uses his strengths. That said, I think it’s going to be fun, and it’s going to be something for all the students to get involved in.”
Mags’ thoughtful frown deepened. “Gifts are allowed?” he asked, pondering how that would work.
Caelen nodded vigorously. “Within reason. I think we might have issues with someone using Firestarting to burn someone, since we don’t want actual combat as such, but I should think most Gifts will be useful. I suspect the people with the Fetching Gift are particularly going to be in demand for this. And those that don’t plan on a counter to it are going to find flag and ball scored against them without the other team even moving.”
Mags furrowed his brow. “Huh. I think I see. That’s gonna to take some thinkin’ about.” Actually, it looked as if the amount of planning was going to equal the amount of playing. Well as long as it wasn’t him having to do the planning. . . .
“Yes, it certainly is. Anyway, the riding instructors are going to be pushing people onto the teams as I permit. We don’t want people getting onto teams that aren’t fit for a bit of roughhousing, after all.” Caelen raised an eyebrow at him.
“ ’M pretty tough, sir,” Mags said, since he could sense Dallen’s excitement in the back of his mind, and didn’t want his poor Companion to explode. “Reckon this’d make me a mite tougher, too, an’ that ain’t bad.”
Caelen nodded. “Once this gets well underway, I suspect that your weapon instruction might be more focused on defending yourself from the back of a Companion as opposed to merely on foot this year. And if what I hear about the way you ride is correct, you’re going to be a popular pick for one of the two Heraldic positions on a team. Ordinarily I’d eliminate a first-year Trainee just on the basis of lack of skill and experience, but you have more than enough skill to make up for any other lack.”
That startled him. The idea of being popular and wanted for something was quite unexpected. He had never really thought of himself as excelling in anything other than riding, which was, face it, a rather solitary occupation; oh he was good enough with weapons, the hand to hand ones, but he wasn’t brilliant. And the riding, well, that was mostly Dallen’s doing, and he had figured everyone knew that. He didn’t quite know what to say in response.
Caelen looked pleased at his reaction. “Didn’t think you were any good, eh? Still worrying about not measuring up.” He gave a soft chuckle and tousled Mags’ hair. “Don’t worry about it. And don’t stand there gawping like a fish gasping for air. Go now, off with you. And if you change your mind about rooming up here in the main building, you let me know. All right?’
Mags closed his mouth, still blinking and tried to exit the room gracefully. He leaned against the wall outside, feeling a little breathless.
Dallen was amused.
That broke his shocked mood, of course, and made him laugh. Still laughing, he headed on toward the dining hall.
He clattered down the stairs to the main hall, and joined the thin stream heading in the direction of food. Savory scents were already filling the hallway, making everyone hurry. On the way, amidst a gaggle of other students, he spotted the dark, curly hair and rust-colored uniform of his best friend Lena, herself a Bardic Trainee. He called her name and she waved, and weaved her way through the crowd toward him.
“Mags!” she greeted him. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy—”
“You better’ve been eatin’,” he chided her. “I ain’t seen ye fer two days!”
She ducked her head, guiltily. “I’m sorry. I got caught up in a special project; it’s a four-person performing group. And yes, we were eating; our teacher had food brought in so we could eat while we worked. Did that history paper go over well?”
He grinned at her, relieved, as she tucked her hand into his arm and they breasted the crowd together. “Aye. It did, and thankee kindly, miss teacher. King Tyrdel and the war of the harvests, and how after ’e died, his daughter Elspeth made peace and expanded the borders wi’ treaties and a marriage.” He patted her hand. “I reckon a Bard coulda tole the tale better though.”
She smiled back. “Well, it sort of is our job to be historians, Mags. Bardic talent goes hand in hand with a love of stories; and it doesn’t matter if we make them up ourselves, nor if they are modern or from deep in history. At least so my tutors keep telling me.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Huh. I cain’t ’magine why anyone’d haveta keep tellin’ you anythin’. You never seem t’ ever stop workin’.”
“Oh they tell me plenty,” she replied, making a face. “Like I need to quit trying to write pieces with arpeggio if I’m no good at doing it myself. But I like arpeggio.”
He squeezed her hand as they got within sight of the door of the dining hall. “So, wha’s the answer?”
She sighed. “Practice I spose. As usual. Practice seems to be the answer to everything.”
The crowd in the entrance thinned as students filed into the dining hall and took seats for the meal. Lena started to pull Mags along.
“What’s the hurry?” he asked.
“It’s roast beef tonight, and beans with bacon. There’ll be nothing left if we don’t get in there,” she said. “Honestly, some people are just like locusts!”
She was exaggerating of course, and Mags had no fear of that. It hadn’t happened yet, and he didn’t think it was likely to in a hurry.
On the other hand, she was right about some people being like locusts. It was entirely possible that the choicer portions would have been snapped up if they didn’t get to a seat quickly. He increased his pace to match hers.
A figure in a full Bard’s outfit stepped in front of them, from one of the staircases that led to the upper stories. A tall and very handsome man, with dark hair that was greying at the temples, held out his hand imperiously, forcing them to a halt. “Ah, Trainees. Excellent. I need one of you to take this note to the King’s Own Herald. I shall be performing for an entertainment for the King this evening, and he needs to discuss with me which pieces would be best for the audience.” He held out a folded piece of paper.
