Mags stared at the back of Nikolas’ heels and did frown. ::Thet don’ follow,:: he said instantly. ::Feller coulda killed a Shin’a’in an’ took it.::
::If he did—well, that’s why he’s dead now,:: Nikolas replied soberly. ::But it’s not likely. Shin’a’in on the Plains are almost impossible to find. Shin’a’in off the Plains are extremely suspicious of strangers. Rightly so, their horses are prized, especially the ones that they don’t sell. I’ve heard that the couple of genuine Shin’a’in studs that the Ashkevrons own are valued at their own weight in silver.::
Mags felt his jaw dropping. A horse’s weight in silver? He could scarcely imagine that much money.
By this point they were at the shop, and Nikolas repeated last night’s routine. When they were ensconced in the little room behind the barred window, and Nikolas had lit the lamp indicating they were open for business, someone came in almost immediately.
It was a Constable, a tall, burly, black-haired fellow with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw, who said nothing to Nikolas, merely peered suspiciously around the store as if he was looking for something. “Evening, Weasel,” he said, finally. “Been shown anything I should know about?”
“Whosir? Mesir?” Nikolas said innocently. “This’s a lee-jit-a-mit shop, sir. Nothin’ amiss here, no.”
The Constable snorted. “And I’m a Master Bard.”
“Are you, sir?” Nikolas’ expression was of utter guilelessness. “Well, ye should take down one of them instruments on the wall an’ give us a tune then! It’d be a rare pleasure to hear ye, sir.”
“Leave off!” the Constable snapped. “You know what the law is about taking in stolen goods!”
“None better, sir, as ye remind me of it every time ye walk in me shop.” Nikolas’ tone did not edge so much as a hair into sarcasm, but the Constable glared at him anyway. “Now if I could be interestin’ ye in some of me goods?”
“I’m more interested in that boy. Who is he?” The Constable thrust his face at the barred window. Mags considered many different responses, all in the flash of a moment.
’f I looks askeered, he’s gonna think I’m askeered of Nikolas. Then he’ll figger Nikolas’ up to no good. Mebbe he’ll try an’ take me away. Same if I act shy-like. Mags decided that a bold approach was in order, glared at the Constable, and stuck his tongue out at him.
“That cheeky little bastard!” the Constable exclaimed, affronted. “Why I—”
Nikolas cuffed Mags, then grabbed his chin and thrust his head up so he was looking directly at Nikolas’ face. “You show some respect fer the law, ye little demon-limb!” he said, enunciating carefully.
Mags sneered, then shrugged, and turned his back on the Constable. He sat down on his stool, still with his back to the man, and resumed his horsehair braiding.
“I’m mortal sorry, sir,” Nikolas said, putting an edge of a whine into his tone. “Right little bastard’s m’sister’s son. He’s been here afore, only I guess you was never here when he was. Deaf as a post from a fever. Promised her I’d take care of him.”
“Well, see to it that you beat some manners into him,” the Constable retorted, then Mags noted his footsteps retreating toward the door, and the jangle of the bell over it signaling his departure.
::Good thinking.::
::Didn’ want ’im reckonin’ I was some kinda slavey ye’d bought, or th’ like,:: Mags replied. ::Uh... meant t’ask ye somethin’... ye do know ’bout th’ Healers Collegium an’ Bear an’—::
::And that they plan to try and fix Amily’s leg, yes, of course I do.:: Nikolas sounded amused rather than alarmed. ::You surely didn’t think they’d keep that a secret from me, did you?::
Nikolas took out the stolen gems from last night and unlocked a panel at the back of the room. There was a box inside, and inside the box were several small linen pouches. He poured each cup of sorted gems into a separate pouch, and shook them. ::There. Good luck finding one set of stolen gems in a cup of stolen gems just like them.:: He turned back to Mags. ::Was there something else?::
::Bear’s in charge!:: Mags blurted.
His mentor nodded, slowly. ::Amily told me last night. You think I won’t approve?::
Mags shrugged. ::I didn’ rightly know. I was gonna ast ye t’gi’ ’im a chance. Not like ’e’s doin’ this wi’out supervision—::
::Exactly so.:: Nikolas clapped him on the shoulder. ::I trust the Dean, I trust the Healers’ Circle, and I trust Bear. I’ll let him know that myself, if you’d like.::
Mags considered that. ::Might steady ’im, sir.::
::Then I will. Now, knowing how you, Bear, and Lena are as thick as birds hatched in the same nest, I assume you’ve already had a hand in this project?:: Nikolas handed Mags his horsehair and box of beads, and Mags sat down to work.
::Aye. ’E’s makin’ a model uv Amily’s leg as ’tis. Then him an’ some senior Healers’ll study it over, figger out what needs t’ be done.::
::Slow, steady, and methodical. I approve.:: Nikolas didn’t ask if Mags approved; he already knew Mags did. As terrified as Mags was for Amily—what if this didn’t work and she was left worse off than before?—he knew she wanted it more than anything. How could he stand in the way of that? The only “hold” he had over her would be to say, “I can’t stand it if you try this. If you care for me at all, you won’t do it.” And that would be just wrong. She was brave enough to try this, to get the proper use of her leg back. She hated being a burden on people, hated that they would have to alter their plans to suit what she could and could not do. He also knew she worried for her father; she was the daughter of the King’s Own Herald, which made her a potential target to be used to control her father. As long as she was fundamentally unable to escape a kidnapper, she represented a serious vulnerability, and it wasn’t safe for her to go many places away from the Palace.
