Changes

another woman who was obviously better off in the world than they were.

As for Amily herself, although she would often come back up the Hill bowing under a mingled burden of compassionate grief and anger, Mags could see that being there, doing something that he and Bear could not, and accomplishing something good, was making a slow but profound change in her. She wasn’t just a cripple anymore in her own eyes; she wasn’t just the Herald’s daughter who had not been Chosen herself. She was Amily, whom Bear and Brother Killian relied on to handle the heartbreaking cases that would not respond to them. She was Amily, who had managed to get three women in the past fortnight to leave their abusers and allow the Brothers of the Well to get them away to the sanctuary of their corresponding Order of women, off to the north in Amberdeen—which was more than Brother Killian had been able to do in six months.

Mags only wished he’d had as much good fortune. He hadn’t gotten so much as a hint that the Agents were anywhere in the city at all—neither rumors nor brushes of their presence. Up the Hill, absolutely no one had been acting out of character. If he had had absolutely nothing to do but listen to and watch folks, perhaps he might have gotten somewhere, but as it was, he wasn’t even running up dead ends, because he wasn’t finding any beginnings.

Nikolas and the other Heralds were similarly baffled, if the stonewalling on Amily’s Healing and the stoney faces were anything to go on.

He reflected on this with a feeling of dull urgency as he and Bear, with Amily on Dallen, made their way back up the Hill after another of Brother Killian’s charity afternoons.

“Bloody hell,” Bear said, with feeling, flapping the loose neck of his sleeveless tunic to cool himself. “I never thought I’d miss winter. I swear, the hardest part of doing this stuff for Killian is the climb back up afterward.”

“I’m sorry,” Amily immediately said, contritely, from her perch on Dallen’s back. “I—”

“Nah, never mind ’im whingin’,” Mags interrupted. “The walk’s good fer ’im. He’d ne’er get any exercise otherwise, wi’ ’is nose i’ book all th’ time.”

He kept his tone light to cover his disappointment—and his growing unease. He couldn’t help but get the feeling that time was running out to find the Agents and their plants. They had to be planning something soon, he just felt it, like a storm about to break.

Bear snorted. “As if—” he began, as they passed through the gates with a wave to the Guards standing sentry, who looked only slightly cooler than Bear.

That was when whatever he had been about to retort was lost in the stampede of Heraldic Trainees bearing down on Mags.

Dallen backed up quickly to avoid having Amily jostled. The Trainees were all talking at once, asking him if he’d heard, if he knew—since none of them bothered to say what it was they were so roused to a fever over, all he could do was shake his head.

That was when Gennie and Pip came fording through the throng, good-naturedly pushing the rest out of the way until they got to Mags.

“Where have you been?” she demanded. “We’ve been looking all over for you ever since the announcement!”

“Off wi’ frien’s.” Mags said, gesturing vaguely toward Haven. “Wha’ ’nouncement?”

“Well... it seems that half of Valdemar has gone mad for Kirball,” Gennie told him, so excited she was bouncing a little on her toes. “But they don’t just want to see it, they want to play it too.”

“Wait—” it was Bear who spoke up before Mags could, frowning and combing his fingers through his hair in agitation. “That’s insane. The only reason hardly anyone gets hurt now is because you’re playing it with Companions. That field is a nightmare! You go using ordinary horses, and you are just begging for broken bones and maybe someone killed!”

“Everyone knows that,” Pip replied. “That’s why the Guard’s been working with some of us to come up with a simplified version—one that uses a flat field and doesn’t need Heralds. We’ve been training two Guard teams for a moon or so now. We even have two versions, one with riders and one using all foot.”

Bear stopped making his hair stand on end. “Ah,” he said, calming down. “Oh. Well . . .”

“The point is,” Gennie interrupted, “The King himself authorized a Kirball Festival! He’s going to have us demonstrate our style and then have Guard teams demonstrate the new styles! He’s checked with the Healers and the Guard, and everyone agrees that we can start training again even though there’s a lot of summer heat— with precautions, Bear, so don’t start making your hair look like a hedge—and have the Festival in time for the start of Fall Quarter! Isn’t it fantastic?”

Mags didn’t quite know what to say. “Aye,” he managed. “Fantastic.”

Fantastic t’ think there’s three enemies up ’ere, we dunno who they be, there’s at least two more down i’ Haven we cain’t find, an’ we’re gonna do... games.

::That was my reaction,:: Dallen said, ::until Rolan pointed out that the Agents will certainly think we are unaware of their presence, will certainly try to take advantage of this opportunity... and... ::

Mags waited. Dallen’s Mindvoice was... smug. Really smug.

::And?:: he prodded sharply, when Dallen had let the silence go on for too long.

::And he as much as admitted that yes, you were correct, there are three operatives up on the Hill somewhere, no, they still don’t know who they are, and they are hoping to use this Festival as the means of smoking them out.::

On the one hand... that was absolutely insane. No one in his right mind would do something like this . . .

On the other hand, the three—spies, operatives, whatever they were—did not know that the Heralds knew they were there. The Hill was going to be thrown into a games-mad frenzy for the next moon or so. Schedules would fly right out the window, people would become unpredictable in actions and habits, and that would put the Agents under a tremendous amount of pressure. They might snap under it. They might make mistakes.