Changes

had very vivid memories of Amily spinning fanciful tales of near-hysteria, and Bear and Lena breaking into a quarrel before they’d left. “They was achin’ fer a fight when they left m’room,” he said carefully.

“Well... let’s just say they all got one.” Caelen shook his head. “Nikolas is down in Haven, and he was said to have left so quickly that even Rolan was taken by surprise. Lena and Bear had what was described to me as an ‘epic’ and very public battle, parted ways, then Bear promptly stalked down to the Guard barracks and for reasons unknown to me had a shouting match with a Guard Healer by the name of Cuburn. Lena spent the entire afternoon mewed up with Master Bard Dean Lita, at the conclusion of which Bard Marchand was sent for, and there was more shouting, and Marchand was forbidden any further contact with one of the other Bardic Trainees.”

Mags whistled. “An’ I slept through alla thet?”

“Consider yourself lucky,” Caelen replied. “This way you weren’t asked to take a side. That is why I advise you to avoid them if you can.”

When they emerged, Mags blinked in surprise. The sun was going down.

“I slep’ all day?” he exclaimed.

“Which is why I came to find you.” Caelen slapped him lightly on the shoulder. “When you didn’t appear at class and you were not in your room, people were worried. The only reason no one went into a panic was because Dallen was not in the least bit disturbed. Dallen told my Companion where you were and that you were sleeping off Gift overuse.”

“Aye. Tha’s what Dallen tol’ me. Said t’sleep ’er off.” It was so amazing not to have a headache!

“Try to get something to eat, I order you to get plenty to drink, and it won’t hurt you to sleep more,” Caelen told him. “Now, I need to go break up another contentious argument in the library. Remember my advice about your friends. Even Amily, at this juncture.”

Caelen stalked wearily off without even saying goodbye, Mags stood in the doorway, feeling the heat pummel him, and felt his refreshed spirits wilt and sink.

Bear and Lena at each other’s throats in public? Amily driving her father off?

Here he’d thought they’d at least solved their big problem for the short term—but solving it only seemed to have made everything else worse.

He groaned. Any appetite he’d had was gone.

::Dallen?::

::Ah, you sound better.::

::Aye. Sleepin’ he’ped. Reckon mebbe I better do some more on it. Cause from what Caelen says, jest by sayin’ “heyla” I c’ld start a war.::

Dallen snorted. ::Not just you. Come on along to the field. I’ll show you a cool place for a lie- down. One with nothing in it to bite you.::

::Don’ haveta ask me twice.:: The mere thought of more sleep was intoxicating. ::Jest gimme time fer a wash-up an’ clean stuff. I could sleep fer ’nother day.::

Chapter 17

The next few days were spent in catching up with classwork and some very careful watching of what he said so that he didn’t launch anyone else into a fight. And tempers were very short. No one seemed to be getting enough sleep, everyone was dozing off in class, and the grotto was full of people all the time. So was the bathing room, as people tried to cool off with baths. The river was full of splashing bodies. Any place there was a marble or stone floor, you could expect to find someone lying on it. Permission had been given to everyone in the three Collegia to wear as little clothing as their modesty and the sensibilities of others would allow.

But it wasn’t just the heat. Perhaps it was that so many people up here were Gifted, and irritation tended to spread. But after the blowup in his rooms, and after learning about the subsequent fights that Lena and Bear, and Amily and her father, had had, Mags was determined not to contribute to the situation. No matter what happened, no matter what the provocation, he refused to discuss anything other than classwork, the weather, and Kirball. He managed to sidestep every single potential quarrel that started brewing in his vicinity that way; some, though not all, he was able to completely avert.

As for his friends—well, things were not exactly “friendly,” although he hadn’t quarreled with any of them. He’d just snapped at them, he’d been a bit impolite, but he hadn’t actually said anything that bad. But the other fights . . .

He had a confused “memory” of actually being there at the time of the other altercations—he hadn’t been, of course, but finally he decided that someone who had been in earshot must have told him about it when he was feeling heat-sick and the memories had leaked over. Certainly a lot of people knew the quarrels had taken place, and certainly none of the parties had been making any attempt to keep their voices down.

Lena and Bear avoided him, out of embarrassment, maybe. Or maybe they had been advised by their respective Deans not to go to him or Amily until things calmed down.

Amily—he couldn’t explain her silence. She made no attempt to contact him for several days, not even after he had a batch of mint drink that the Cook was experimenting with sent round to her. One the one hand, he felt deeply hurt, but on the other, if he was going to follow Caelen’s advice—which he was—he shouldn’t be trying to talk with her anyway.

It was hard, though. They’d always been able to count on each other for sympathy and at least a ready listener. He wasn’t really having conversations with the rest of his friends so much as he was being a referee, which wasn’t any fun and just drained him.

He felt—well, not miserable. No matter what, if things didn’t sort themselves out by the time Ice and Stone were finally dealt with, Mags was determined to get it sorted out. But aside from the enervating and irritating effect of the heat, and the constant need to pick his way carefully among potential fights, and missing his friends and really missing Amily, his spirits were decidedly low. Melancholy, that was it. He went to sleep in that relatively cool spot out in the Field at night with a headache; he’d wake up without one and with the hope that things would be better. He’d endure the heat and the