Changes

“We’re going, Mags. This is a dead end. We’ll find another way to track down these Agents. But this isn’t working.” Nikolas’s face was a mask, unreadable. “Maybe you somehow infected those children with some—fantasy of what you thought was happening. Maybe this is coming from some other source than the children. Maybe they are hallucinating. I don’t know, I only know that what they are showing you is impossible, and we’ve been told to pack up and come back. It’s over.”

“But—”

“It’s over.”

He clamped his mouth shut on any further words. He listened silently while Nikolas gave directions about the disposition of the children—being sent off to a home for orphans somewhere outside Haven, he gathered. He hoped they’d be happy. He was laden with sorrow and guilt for what he had done to them—he’d terrified them completely, and they might never get over it—but at least they were still alive. If the Agents had gotten hold of them, they wouldn’t be.

He could scarcely believe that Nikolas, of all people, was dismissing what he had heard from these children. Nikolas knew very well he hadn’t somehow “infected” them! It didn’t work that way!

Dammit, I know it don’t work thet way!

He had not projected so much as a stray food-thought at those children! There was no way that he could have influenced them!

He turned his mind to Nikolas, but was met with an absolute, rock hard barrier.

Finally, he let out his breath in a sigh, as Nikolas stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting.

“Aight,” he said, feeling bitterness so profound he could taste it. “It’s over. Le’s get back.”

He lay on his back in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He hadn’t had anything like an appetite when they got back; he’d had a hot bath and gone straight to bed. Nikolas... he could scarcely describe what Nikolas was being like. It wasn’t as if Nikolas were angry at him, not even for putting those kids through a pretty bad experience. And it wasn’t as if Nikolas were blaming him for anything—

No, it was as if Nikolas wasn’t even... there. As if something had pulled every bit of his mentor’s attention away so completely that there was nothing to spare for Mags.

As if there was nothing that Mags could possibly say or do that would contribute in any meaningful way when Nikolas was being so totally uncommunicative.

Dismissed, that was the word. Mags had been dismissed.

Did I fail? he wondered bleakly. Hev I so messed up thet there ain’t no possible way I kin get back t’ th’ way ever’thin’ was?

But... he hadn’t influenced those children. He knew he hadn’t! Why would he ever even think even in his most fearful fantasy that the Agents had people planted here?

But . . .

But if not, what could the explanation possibly be?

Is’t me? I mean, it was me, list’n t’ their thinkin’. Mebbe it weren’t them thinkin’ it, but me thinkin’ it was them thinkin’ it . . .

Now his head was splitting, trying to second- and third-guess himself.

::I’m not any happier about this,:: Dallen said fretfully, startling him. ::I trained you. I gave you my training, and it is the best. I’ll stand by it. I cannot imagine any way that you could either have misinterpreted the children, or influenced them.::

::Then what?:: he replied in anguish. ::How? How kin it be true an’ not-true?:: He pressed the heels of his hands into his temples and tried to think. It was tempting—so tempting—to just give in on this one. He wasn’t in disgrace. No one blamed him for anything, and certainly no one suspected him of trying to make trouble. And no one was accusing him now of being some foreign agent himself . . .

When he opened himself to the stray thoughts up here, there was none of that suspicion and accusation there had been before... although there was a lot of heavy shielding going on that was new. It was harder to shield emotions, though, and he wasn’t getting any animosity under all the shields.

Think. It ain’t th’ end uv th’ world.

It was like he’d told Bear. What did he have before all this started? He was still a Herald Trainee. He had his classes, he had Lena and Bear and Amily, he had the Kirball team. He had Kirball itself, and he had plenty of things he was good at. He could just let things... be things.

After all, he was only a Trainee, he wasn’t supposed to be able to do the same things as a Herald. He didn’t have the experience, he didn’t have the knowledge... wouldn’t it just be smarter to let it all go and let other people deal with it?

Of course it would... .

He sighed. Problem is, I ain’t very smart... .

. . . and I ain’t gonna let it go.

After a long and restless night, he still found himself with no appetite at all. And since the Dean had not given him his new class schedule—only the third one this quarter—he found himself feeling a little sick, very headachey, still wracked with guilt over what he had put those children through, and with nothing to do.

He stared at the ceiling, as the light in his room grew. He felt the breeze die, and the air become heavier