Intrigues

The rage died with him.

Abruptly emptied, Mags sat there for a moment, the bloody knife still poised in midair.

Then someone else hit him from the side, and his gut erupted with fire again. He curled in around the agony, blood oozing into his hands as he clutched his middle. His shields came down, snapped up, came down, snapped up, as the world spun around him and—dozens of babbling, angry voices—his gut screamed and—Who, what, why, who—his vision blurred, he looked up to see the King with the knife in his hands, and the front of his Whites dyed with blood, and—blood, death, rage, rage, rage—he looked down to see his own hands dripping with blood and—who, death, what, blood, rage—

Somehow he staggered to his feet. Somehow, with one hand clutching his stomach, he started to reach out. Somehow—

Then all the voices in his head shrieked at once, and he reflected, blasted it all back at them and—

He felt impact at the back of his head.

Then . . .

An explosion of light.

He went down. But he held to a thin, thin strand of consciousness, falling in and out of blankness.

“. . . how did he get in . . .”

“. . . how did both . . .”

“. . . saw him stabbing . . .”

Shouting. Hooves battering wood. Splintering wood.

Blankness. Then, something white, enormous, big as a house, and white, standing over him. Warm, sweet, hay-scented breath washing over him, taking some of the pain. Closing off some of the minds screaming in his head.

“Rolan! What in the name of—”

A snort. A hoof pawing the ground impatiently beside Mags’ head.

“That’s who? Mags? Then who is—”

“Never mind that, for the gods’ sake, get a Healer here!”

And that was when, mercifully, it all began to fade, voices, pain and all, leaving behind nothing but quiet, darkness, and peace.

He woke up with the warm sunlight pouring down on him, and the familiar sharp scents of herbs and soap around him. Huh. Reckon I know where I am.

:I rather thought you would. Welcome back, Mags.:

:So how beat up’m I this time?: He was disinclined to move, because he really didn’t want to spoil things with pain right now. He could feel a lot of bandages around his midsection, though.

:A slash across the ribs, one across the bicep that is rather deep, and three gut-wounds that by some miracle did not touch anything vital. Altogether, considering who you faced—:

He restrained a shiver, because it would hurt. :Damn lucky. I saw ’im take out that thief. I seen lightnin’ strike slower. Did I kill ’im?:

Dallen sighed. :Unfortunately yes. Then again, questioning might not have gotten anything out of him anyway.:

Mags didn’t consider it unfortunate at all, but he didn’t say anything. Considering how slippery Temper had been, there was no telling if they would have been able to hold him, much less question him.

:Which one was he?:

:Surprisingly, not the chief of the alleged delegation. In fact, I am not sure you ever actually saw him when they were all up here at the Palace. He was one of the underlings, not one of the bodyguards. Or at least, he was feigning to be.:

:Huh.: Mags considered that. :That makes sense, actually. Best place t’ hide.:

:So I am told. Well, it looks like both of us will be ready to start Kirball practice at about the same time.: Dallen seemed inclined to change the subject, and but Mags wasn’t going to let him.

:So who hit me?:

:Which time?:

Mags thought about that for a moment. :Who hit me i’ th’ head?:

:That would have been Herald Yvanda. I am told she smacked you with a large branch.:

That would account for the big bump back there. :Who knocked me offa Temper?:

:That would be the King. He was the first one there, because he was actually in the stable. He had to climb up into the loft and get down out of the hay door.:

:Bloody ’ell.: Mags wasn’t sure whether to be appalled or full of admiration. Both, probably.

:There are going to be some changes made to the stable,: Dallen added, a bit grimly. :More than one door, and breakaway hinges. I’m afraid that the place is built a little too well.:

:Aye.: He thought about how close Dallen had come to being roasted, and this time couldn’t hold back the shudder.

:But now the vision is explained. It was your blood the King was covered in. They were rather appalled when they saw how thoroughly you had dispatched the man you called Temper, but then most of them had been experiencing what you did as your shields went up and down, and on reflection, the general consensus is that they are surprised you hadn’t diced him into a thousand pieces.:

He thought about that. :Reckon it was because I was runnin’ outa strength an’ blood.:

:Very probably.:

“I know you’re awake,” said Bear, startling him into opening his eyes. “You aren’t going to get out of taking my potion by pretending you aren’t.”

“Oh, ye reckon?” he said. Then, feeling extremely awkward, “Look, I’m sorry—fer what I said—”

“I’m not. There was enough of it that was true that Lena and I needed to hear it, and better from you than someone else.” Bear handed him a glass. Whatever was in it looked vile. “However, to get back at you, I have made sure these potions are all made from the worst possible tasting alternatives in my list.”

“Figgers.” He held his breath and drank it down.

It was bad enough to make his eyes water. “Ye weren’t lyin’!” he gasped.

Bear just smiled, and pushed his lenses up on his nose. “My brother went home,” he said, looking very smug. “I don’t know what was said to him, but he left without anything more than a really irritated goodbye. He really hates being told that he’s not the last authority on everything. He gets treated that way by everyone in his House, and he thinks he should always be treated that way.”

Mags thought he detected more amusement than anger in Bear’s tone. He smiled, and felt his eyes starting to close.

“You get some rest,” Bear said, as his lids fluttered shut.

Another Healer woke him so that he could get some lunch, gazing sternly at his rather bony torso. “All that work to get some meat on you, and you go and make it all to do again,” he scolded. Then he ordered the food, and Mags had a bit of a hard time getting through it all. “I hope the next time you get into trouble,” the man added, a little crossly, “You don’t decide to blast all of us out of our beds.”

“I didn’ reckon I had time t’ call people one at a time—” Mags began.

“Well next time ‘reckon’ on something else. Get the proper Mindspeech training. And finish that food.” The Healer seemed to think he had won something, and exited. Mags just shook his head. He still didn’t understand people.

The next time Bear came, he brought Lena, and Mags steeled himself for his apology to her. But she didn’t even let him begin it.