Changes

suitor.”

“Which you are, Papa!” Amily giggled. “You can’t fool me.”

“Quiet, wench,” Nikolas growled. “I still have parental rights, you know. A little respect, if you please!”

Mags didn’t know quite where to look, so he settled for staring fixedly at a vague point in the distance.

Now Lena was giggling.

Bear elbowed him. They exchanged a look. Then Mags dared to look at Nikolas, who sighed and shook his head.

“I’ll get Dallen and meet you here,” Mags said hastily, using that as his excuse to escape.

But as he was getting the peculiar double saddle—not so much a double saddle as a saddle with a seat a bit more secure than a pillion pad—arranged to Dallen’s satisfaction, something occurred to him.

::Why don’t all Heralds know Nikolas’s the King’s spy?::

::Because whenever they think about it, we Companions point out how ridiculous an idea that is,.:: Dallen replied immediately.

Mags was stunned. ::I thunk ye couldn’ lie in Mindspeech!::

::You can’t,:: said Dallen. ::It’s not a lie. It is ridiculous. No other Monarch’s Own in the history of Valdemar has been a spy. It’s insane. It’s impossible.::

So... you can’t lie in Mindspeech... but you don’t have to tell the truth, either . . .

That was a revelation. It was one that could be useful.

::All we do is tell the exact truth. We just don’t exactly answer the question.::

Mags thought about that some more. ::Would ye ever do thet t’me? Not ’xactly answer th’ question?::

::No.:: The response was so immediate, and so... forceful... that he was taken aback.

::Why not?:: He had to ask.

But the answer was yet another he hadn’t expected.

::Because you could tell.::

What?

Dallen nudged him in the shoulder with his nose. ::Now hurry up and mount. Everyone is waiting.::

Chapter 4

The concert was fine. Lena acted like a trouper, singing in the chorus without a sign that she had been slighted. Mags wanted to dislike Marchand’s protege, but he couldn’t; or at least, he couldn’t dislike his musicianship. He didn’t perform anything original, and if he had Bardic Gift, he didn’t display it, but he certainly was a good musician. And his three solos were warranted, Mags supposed; he did play three wildly different instruments—flute, fiddle, and trumpet. Nor were any of his solo pieces overly long, more like interludes while larger groups got on stage.

So maybe Marchand wasn’t trying to show off his protege, just doing something sensible to keep people from being bored. Maybe.

But if Mags was any judge, probably not. Marchand never did anything unless it had some possibility of making him look good. Finding a young Bard with that much raw talent and ability was going to make him look good. That was what Mags figured, anyway.

Amily loved the whole concert, and afterward Herald Nikolas whisked them all off to a very enjoyable evening at an inn where a troupe of actors was performing short comic plays with performances by acrobats and tumblers in between. Mags suspected that Nikolas was trying to distract Lena; if so, it worked. She was still laughing and chattering with Amily about the funny lines in the plays as they all parted to go to bed.

But as he climbed into bed himself, after throwing all the windows open to the breeze, he was not thinking about the comic plays. Nor was he really thinking about the inevitable confrontation Bear was going to have in the morning, nor how Lena was going to deal with this newest slight on the part of her father. Oh, those things were in the back of his mind, but he had something more personal to occupy his thoughts right now.

::Nikolas’ project—:: he said hesitantly to Dallen. ::I know ye all gossip worse’n bored kitchen help. An’I know Rolan tells ye things sometimes. Whatcha know ’bout it?::

::Some. As you have already guessed, it’s about the assassins.::

Well, that was scarcely a surprise. Although... ::They ain’t exactly assassins,:: he pointed out. ::Fust time, they was just spyin’, near’s we kin tell. Second time, they was after thet book fer their code. ’Kay, they kidnapped Bear when they was pretendin’ t’be envoys an’ stuff, but we figger ’twas t’take care’a the ’un thet went crazy. There wouldn’t’a been no killin’ at all if they’d been able t’get off Palace grounds wi’ ’im. ’Twas on’y bein’ cornered an’ caught made ’em dangerous. They mighta been bullies, but they didn’ really hurt anyone till then.::

::And they might have remained merely kidnappers. Until they had no more use for Bear,:: Dallen responded, a little tartly, as Mags tucked his hands behind his head and stared at the vague shadow of a bat flitting about the ceiling, catching bugs.

::We don’ know thet... :: he protested, then sighed. ::But aye, prolly. Second time though... :: He shuddered at the memory of the ruthless, cold killer whose mind had brushed against his so many times. ::Aye, that ’un, he was somethin’ I’d’a