Changes

The cooks were more than prepared for people who were getting food for more than just themselves and had provided “baskets” hastily sewn together out of coils of grass, not intended to last past the picnic. And most of the food was intended to be eaten with the fingers. Mags returned in triumph laden with “baskets” heaped with vegetables in puff-pastry, a nice selection of cheeses, little individual loaves of bread, a clever “cup” of butter made of a cabbage leaf, and raw vegetables cut up bite-sized with a hollowed-out cabbage holding something to dip them in. He was the first to return, and Amily was laying out plates from the basket. As he put down his bounty, one of the Collegium servants left a pair of pitchers with water beading up on the glazed surface beside Amily.

Nikolas and Bear returned next, with cold ham, a bacon-and-egg pie, and a whole cold, roast chicken. Lena was very partial to ham, but Amily preferred chicken; Mag was amused to see that Bear had the chicken and Nikolas the ham. Last of all came Lena, with a “basket” full of pocket pies, honeyballs and strawberry- or custard- filled tarts.

Quickly the food was distributed, and there ensued contented silence, broken only by such quiet sentences as “Don’ ’spose there be more’a them mushrooms?” and “Anyone want ham?” Mags, for one, hadn’t eaten since breakfast as he didn’t like to have more than a bit of soup just before a game, and he was fairly certain Bear hadn’t taken a break to eat all day. Between the two of them, they managed to inhale anything that no one else wanted, and when the last crumb was gone and no one wanted to send them off for another round, they reclined on cushions with identical expressions of satisfaction.

Nikolas looked at them with incredulity. “Where do you put all of that?” he demanded, as the girls giggled. “I am quite certain the human stomach cannot possibly contain everything you put into yours.”

“They’re growing lads, Niko,” said the Dean of the Herald’s Collegium, Herald Caelen, strolling up and sitting down on a corner of the blanket. “Don’t you remember when we could eat like that?” He rubbed his middle with a mournful expression. “No more, alas. Too many honeyballs and I will look like one.”

The breeze stirred the leaves of the tree above them; a page came by to collect the baskets, with another to pick up the dishes and carry them away. Nikolas sighed. “What do you want, Caelen?” he asked with resignation, echoing Mags’ sudden suspicion that Caelen was not here by accident. “You would never drop yourself down on my picnic without a ‘by your leave’ unless you wanted something.”

Caelen pretended to look offended. “It isn’t what I want, it’s what you want. Your little project with Mags will count toward his year in the field; the Circle approved.”

Nikolas smiled with satisfaction; Herald Caelen was another around whom he actually showed something other than a smooth mask. “And how much brandywine did that take? Am I going to have to restock your cellar?”

“Enough, and yes. Nothing like being able to choose your moment to make a request.” Caelen chuckled. “It does help that they all feel guilty about assuming Mags was some kind of bizarre assassin planted among us.”

“At least we won’t have to worry about that again,” Nikolas grumbled. “I swear to you, if I hear the words ‘black’ and ‘Companion’ together in the same sentence any time soon, I am going to use the speaker for mucking out Rolan’s stall from now until the death of the universe.”

“And I’ll help,” Caelen promised, then stole a cushion from Nikolas and stretched out on their blanket. “Curse Whites. I would love to lie down on the grass right now.”

“Liar,” Nikolas said, throwing a second cushion at him, which he confiscated and added to the first.

“Truth-Spell me,” Caelen said lazily. “Then tell me about the old sticks. Are they coming around? Who do I need to cosset and coddle and coax?”

Amily and Lena ignored all this in favor of whispered conversation that involved a bit of giggling, but Bear, and especially Mags, listened with fascination. Mags filed every word away for later—Nikolas would probably ask him about it. This was how things were done, he had learned, at least among the Heralds—not in stiffly formal meetings conducted like religious ceremonies, but between two old friends who happened to be very powerful men.

Nothing they discussed was earthshaking, yet it was all important. What Nikolas knew was vital to the future running of this new Heraldic Collegium. Armed with this, Caelen would know where to put forth extra effort in bringing other Heralds, who did not approve of this new way of training the newly Chosen, around. He didn’t know all of the “old sticks” all that well, but Nikolas knew everything about everyone. If he didn’t know exactly what it would take to convince someone, he at least knew all the strings to pull to make the reluctant Herald dance.

Caelen could do the rest. When Mags had first gotten here, he had thought that Caelen was very intelligent, very kind, and rather unworldly. He had gradually come to realize that Caelen hid a very shrewd nature and sharp political savvy behind that unworldly exterior. While Nikolas knew how to make himself invisible, Caelen knew how to make himself look utterly harmless.

What Caelen knew about those in his care was vital to how Nikolas would continue to make use of the Collegium and the Trainees in it. Though he lived at Court, Nikolas rarely interacted with the Collegium. He didn’t even know who all the Trainees were. Caelen was able to tell him—and tell him who their parents were and what, if any, important ties they had.

That was where Mags came in. Part of his “job” was to be Nikolas’ eyes and ears among the Trainees. So occasionally—
to Bear’s eye-bulging surprise—Nikolas would ask him a question about one of the Trainees, and he would answer it in as much detail as he could. Which was often quite a lot.

Eventually the conversation went from quite serious to light and personal, and it was obvious Nikolas was not going to ask Mags any more questions. That was when Bear nudged him.

“What was all that about?” Bear whispered. Mags shrugged.

“You might as well tell me now. I’ll pester you until you do,” Bear pledged.

“Ain’t nothink, really. Ye saw how Herald Nikolas likes t’know ’bout all the Heralds, on’y they’s too many Trainees now fer him t’ put eye on personal.”

“So you’re his eye. Huh.” Bear regarded him thoughtfully and with a touch of admiration. “I ’spect this ‘little project’ of his means you’ll be taking time off classes again. So—what? He’s training you to be a spy?”

Mags blinked at his friend. He never, in a hundred years, would have suspected Bear of being that astute.

“No—wait—don’t tell me. Just let me know if you need me to cover for you. Like get you class notes or