Changes

ahead now that you’ll probably get your Scarlets a year early, if not sooner than that.” The Dean shifted her weight to one foot and raised an eyebrow so eloquently that Mags was ashamed of his own effort earlier. “So. What is it going to be? Start acting like a perfectly normal girl, study and create, yes, but also eat and play and sleep? Or am I going to have to put you to stable duty?”

Lena stared at her, eyes wide and shocked, and finally remembered to close her mouth. But what had startled her was not the parts about stable duty. “Get—get my Scarlets—a year early?” she stammered.

The Dean threw up her hands. “What, am I speaking Karsite now? Didn’t I just say that? Haven’t your teachers been implying as much? Yes. Or sooner than that. You don’t have to worry about falling behind. You’re making the rest feel rather badly, actually, which is scarcely fair. That poor little brat Marchand brought in is terrified of living up to your standard. He’s sure that if he dares say a word to you, you’ll somehow magically and instantly see him for a fraud and have him thrown out.”

“I—what?” Lena’s jaw dropped again.

“I must be speaking Karsite,” the Dean muttered, loudly enough that both of them could hear her quite clearly. “No one understands a word I say today. Lena, there is only one thing in which you are not so very far ahead of your yearmates that they would resent you if you were not a pleasant and friendly person. You need to work on performing in front of large audiences alone. And to be absolutely honest, I’ve put people into Scarlets that never mastered that. There are plenty of Bards out there who won’t play for more than a dozen people at a time.”

“There are?” Lena said, dazed.

“There are—however, do not take that as permission to slack. I want to see you trying, and trying hard, to overcome your stage fright. And since you are so far ahead, believe me, much more will be required of you than your yearmates. But for now, I want to see you learning how to be a person. You can’t create if you don’t have experience.” She none-too-gently turned both Mags and Lena around and shoved them at the door. “You. Two,” she said, enunciating with exquisite precision. “Out. Eat. Play. Do not come back before your next class. Or I shall visit great wrath upon you.”

Lena still seemed stunned, so Mags grabbed her elbow and towed her out of the office.

From there it was a short trip down the stairs and out the door. The coolest place he could think of to have their impromptu picnic was a kind of cave-grotto down by the river. Most of the time it was entirely too damp to be pleasant, but he was pretty certain it would be nice today. And he didn’t particularly care if someone else was there, either.

Which was just as well, because there was: a couple of young highborn fellows from the Palace, one in brown linen with all the edges piped in red, and one in a dull green of much better quality than the first. They were engaged in a spirited game of hares-and-hounds, laid out on one of the little stone tables this place held. They looked up when the two Trainees came in, waved in a lazy fashion, pointed at the other side of the grotto, and went back to their game.

The cool in here was a fabulous relief from the heat outside. There was just a bit of a damp smell, but with an overtone of green that made Mags think it came up from the river. Moss thickly carpeted the floor, the artifical “cave wall” of the grotto was cold to the touch, as were the stone benches on either side of the three little stone tables. Mags set the basket down and took a seat as Lena did the same.

By this point Lena was mostly over her shock. She won’t b’lieve it, a-course, not e’en when ’twas th’ Dean hersel’ what tol’ ’er she was thet good. Not once she starts t’thinkin’ bout it. Which would be where Bear would come in. Once Bear started showing her what the Dean had just told her, Lena just might, slowly, start to accept that it was nothing about her that made her father treat her like something he’d scraped off his boot. No, it was all about Bard Marchand and what Bard Marchand wanted.

I gotta figger out whut ’e’s getting from thet boy . . .

Mags unpacked the basket. There was a lot of food. More than two people could eat, and only one of them was going to actually be eating. There was so much that it caught the attention of the two fellows at the portable game board. They looked, and looked away, looked, and looked away, and finally one of them caught Lena’s eye.

“I suppose you’re going to eat all that?” that one finally said, wistfully. “Erm... we got up too late for luncheon, and the Palace Cook told us to ‘take your lazy carcasses out of my kitchen, dammit.’ ”

Mags was amused at that. They could, of course, go down into Haven and have whatever they wanted at any inn in the city. Or they could go visit the stately manor of some friend, who would have father, mother, or housekeeper order them up something. Clearly, however, they were disinclined to move very far in this heat.

Prolly figgered on waitin’ till Cook fergot ’bout ’em, then gettin’ a page t’fetch summat fer ’em.

That startled Lena into speech. “Oh, no!” she laughed breathlessly. “Please, come help yourselves.”

With glee, they did, coming over, and when Mags assured them that it was all right, that he had already eaten, taking everything that the two Trainees pressed on them. They were very polite about it and thanked them both profusely before returning to their game with their booty.

“Lissen,” Mags said, when the young men were immersed in the game again, munching on the food in one hand while they moved counters with the other. “I didn’ come over t’ git ye in trouble wi’ yon Dean. I come over t’git yer help wi’ Bear.”

Immediately her brows knitted with concern, her own woes set aside for the moment. “Is it the whole business of fixing Amily’s leg?” she asked, and then answered herself before he could say anything. “Of course it is. He has to be worried sick about it. He’s in charge, which is an awfully big trust and an awfully big responsibility. It’s bad enough that it’s a fearfully dangerous thing to do, but Amily is our friend. That just makes it all worse.”

Mags nodded. “Now look. Reckon them what’s in charge got a pretty good hold’uv this. I think, akchully, thet th’ reason they put Bear i’ charge ’ere, is on account ’f a coupla thin’s. They wanta gi’ ’im th’ chance t’ show ’is pa ’e’s got th’ stuff. They wanta put ’im inna place where ’e ak’chully sees fer ’isself thet ’e’s got th’ stuff. Aye? Gi’ ’im whatchacall—self-confidence. I don’ think they knowed ’ow much ’e’s like t’fret hisself t’pieces on account’a ’e cain’t think’v answers. Eh? Then ’e cain’t think’v answers on account’a ’e’s frettin’ hisself t’pieces. Jest goes roun’ an’ roun’. I kin ’ep ’im some, an hev, but the frettin’ part, I cain’t do nothin’ ’bout thet. So. Thet’s where ye come in.”

She nodded, slowly. “I can see that. I need to make sure he eats, because—” her eyes flickered to the