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  Nikolas smiled with satisfaction; Herald Caelen was another around whom he actually showed something other than a smooth mask. “And how much brandywine did that take? Am I going to have to restock your cellar?”

  “Enough, and yes. Nothing like being able to choose your moment to make a request.” Caelen chuckled. “It does help that they all feel guilty about assuming Mags was some kind of bizarre assassin planted among us.”

  “At least we won’t have to worry about that again,” Nikolas grumbled. “I swear to you, if I hear the words ‘black’ and ‘Companion’ together in the same sentence any time soon, I am going to use the speaker for mucking out Rolan’s stall from now until the death of the universe.”

  “And I’ll help,” Caelen promised, then stole a cushion from Nikolas and stretched out on their blanket. “Curse Whites. I would love to lie down on the grass right now.”

  “Liar,” Nikolas said, throwing a second cushion at him, which he confiscated and added to the first.

  “Truth-Spell me,” Caelen said lazily. “Then tell me about the old sticks. Are they coming around? Who do I need to cosset and coddle and coax?”

  Amily and Lena ignored all this in favor of whispered conversation that involved a bit of giggling, but Bear, and especially Mags, listened with fascination. Mags filed every word away for later—Nikolas would probably ask him about it. This was how things were done, he had learned, at least among the Heralds—not in stiffly formal meetings conducted like religious ceremonies, but between two old friends who happened to be very powerful men.

  Nothing they discussed was earthshaking, yet it was all important. What Nikolas knew was vital to the future running of this new Heraldic Collegium. Armed with this, Caelen would know where to put forth extra effort in bringing other Heralds, who did not approve of this new way of training the newly Chosen, around. He didn’t know all of the “old sticks” all that well, but Nikolas knew everything about everyone. If he didn’t know exactly what it would take to convince someone, he at least knew all the strings to pull to make the reluctant Herald dance.

  Caelen could do the rest. When Mags had first gotten here, he had thought that Caelen was very intelligent, very kind, and rather unworldly. He had gradually come to realize that Caelen hid a very shrewd nature and sharp political savvy behind that unworldly exterior. While Nikolas knew how to make himself invisible, Caelen knew how to make himself look utterly harmless.

  What Caelen knew about those in his care was vital to how Nikolas would continue to make use of the Collegium and the Trainees in it. Though he lived at Court, Nikolas rarely interacted with the Collegium. He didn’t even know who all the Trainees were. Caelen was able to tell him—and tell him who their parents were and what, if any, important ties they had.

  That was where Mags came in. Part of his “job” was to be Nikolas’ eyes and ears among the Trainees. So occasionally—

  to Bear’s eye-bulging surprise—Nikolas would ask him a question about one of the Trainees, and he would answer it in as much detail as he could. Which was often quite a lot.

  Eventually the conversation went from quite serious to light and personal, and it was obvious Nikolas was not going to ask Mags any more questions. That was when Bear nudged him.

  “What was all that about?” Bear whispered. Mags shrugged.

  “You might as well tell me now. I’ll pester you until you do,” Bear pledged.

  “Ain’t nothink, really. Ye saw how Herald Nikolas likes t’know ’bout all the Heralds, on’y they’s too many Trainees now fer him t’ put eye on personal.”

  “So you’re his eye. Huh.” Bear regarded him thoughtfully and with a touch of admiration. “I ’spect this ‘little project’ of his means you’ll be taking time off classes again. So—what? He’s training you to be a spy?”

  Mags blinked at his friend. He never, in a hundred years, would have suspected Bear of being that astute.

  “No—wait—don’t tell me. Just let me know if you need me to cover for you. Like get you class notes or something so you don’t fall behind, or find out about the sorts of things I know about.” Bear chuckled at Mags’ expression. “What? You saved my life, and if you’ve forgotten that, I haven’t. I owe you.”

  “ ’Twas more Barrett an’ ’is crew than me,” Mags said weakly.

  “ ’Twasn’t Barrett standing off a madman with a poisoned blade,” Bear retorted.

  “You know,” Nikolas remarked conversationally, “You two haven’t actually been whispering for quite some time.”

  They both froze. “Oh,” Mags said, weakly.

  Nikolas looked at Caelen. Caelen shrugged as well as a man lying flat on his back with his hands under his head could. “You know I advised this some time ago,” Caelen said. “You have your little gang, which includes me. It’s time for Mags to build his own.”

  Nikolas nodded. By this point Lena and Amily had given over even pretending to gossip and were staring, listening avidly.

  Mags glanced around. They were in an excellent position not to be overheard. Virtually everyone nearby had packed up and gone off elsewhere. Those who remained were not anywhere near close enough to hear them.

  “Yes, we are surrounded, but at a distance. And they’re all part of my ‘gang,’ as Caellen puts it,” Nikolas said, as he followed where Mags was looking. He pointed with his chin. “That’s Healer Sofrens, who came from my village. Rolan told me to bring him along when I was Chosen. Little did I know his father was beating him half to death whenever he was drunk, which was becoming distressingly often. Over there are three of my yearmates, who helped me when I was being trained as I am training you, Mags. And Bard Lita. Jakyr was part of my group too, but he’ll not show his face where Lita is if he can help it.” Now he sighed. “Jakyr, like Lita, still is a part of my network, in fact. I suspect my errands are part of the reason why he and Lita had a falling out.”

  Mags thought about that and decided to say something—because at this point, he knew quite a bit about Herald Jakyr, the man who had rescued him from the mines when Mags’ masters would not allow Dallen anywhere on their property. Jakyr was a good man, he had to be in order to be a Herald, but if Nikolas thought that he was to blame for what had fallen out between Jakyr and his former lover, well, he needed to be told otherwise.

  “Mebbe part. Not all,” he said firmly. “I owes Herald Jakyr. Mun rescued me, eh? But ’e rabbits soon’s ’e thinks a female’s thinkin’ temples and pledges. Dunno why, but that’s ’is prollem, an’ you got naught t’do wi’it, sir.”

  Now it was Nikolas’ turn to stare. “How on earth did you work that out?”

  Mags snorted. “Fust candlemark I was ’ere, fust pusson we met was Bard Lita. Don’ need t’be Mindspeaker t’work thet out when ’tis in front’a yer face.”

  Caelen coughed. “Get to the point, Niko.”

  Nikolas shook his head. “Right. Look, you two—this is something Amily already knows. I’m the King’s primary information gatherer—”

  “—he means spy,” Caelen said helpfully. Nikolas glared at him.

  “I’ve been doing this as long as I’ve been King’s Own. I was doing it before I was King’s Own, in fact. This isn’t usually what the King’s Own does by the way, I just happen to be quite good at it.” Where anyone else might have looked a little uncomfortable right now, Mags was struck by how—relaxed and ordinary Nikolas looked. He was so used to playing the role that now he probably couldn’t remove the mask anymore, so to speak. “Now, of all the Trainees I have examined over the years, Mags is proving to be the best at doing the same things I do. So I have every intention of making him into my partner. If all goes well, he’ll replace me eventually, but I sincerely hope this will be a partnership for a good long time.”

  “Good,” Amily said firmly. “I won’t worry as much if there are two of you mucking around doing secret things. And I think Mags has more sense than you do, Papa.”

  Caelen smothered a laugh. Nikolas sighed and rolled his eyes.
>
  “Never have children,” he advised Bear, “They either cause you to wish that you had smothered them at birth, or they turn into your mother.”

  “Grandmama has more sense in her little finger than you do in your whole body, Papa,” Amily said. Nikolas looked aggrieved.

  “To return to the subject,” Nikolas said, severely, “no one can do this sort of thing without support. So you three are to form part of that support. Pick who else you tell carefully. Ask Caelen first. I’ll tell my group, so they know to help you and to take you seriously if and when you come to them for help.”

  All four of them nodded. “Some uv th’ Kirball team,” Mags said meditatively. “Gennie an’ Pip, an’ mebbe Halleck. Lydia and Master Soren. Thet’ll do fer now.”

  “Good choices, all,” Caelen nodded as he spoke. “Lena, on no account are you to tell your father.”

  She gulped and looked a little guilty, but she nodded. “I promise, sir,” she pledged. “Not a word to Father.”

  Caelen sat up. “Good. Because Tobias Marchand couldn’t keep a secret if someone sewed his lips shut on it. I’m off. See you at the concert.” He got to his feet and dusted himself off.

  “Tell the boys to put the double saddle on Rolan, would you?” Nikolas asked, then glanced at Mags. “Unless—”

  ::Tell him yes,:: Dallen said instantly.

  “Uh . . . .Dallen says to tell you yes,” Mags relayed obediently. “Oh! He means to put the double saddle on him! So I’ll—” he blushed.

  “So no one will ever think twice about you being in my company.” Nikolas smiled slightly. “We’ll cement everyone’s speculation that you and Amily are close by having you take her to the concert. Everyone knows how protective I am of Amily. They’ll assume, when they see us together, that I am keeping a stern eye on her suitor.”

  “Which you are, Papa!” Amily giggled. “You can’t fool me.”

  “Quiet, wench,” Nikolas growled. “I still have parental rights, you know. A little respect, if you please!”

  Mags didn’t know quite where to look, so he settled for staring fixedly at a vague point in the distance.

  Now Lena was giggling.

  Bear elbowed him. They exchanged a look. Then Mags dared to look at Nikolas, who sighed and shook his head.

  “I’ll get Dallen and meet you here,” Mags said hastily, using that as his excuse to escape.

  But as he was getting the peculiar double saddle—not so much a double saddle as a saddle with a seat a bit more secure than a pillion pad—arranged to Dallen’s satisfaction, something occurred to him.

  ::Why don’t all Heralds know Nikolas’s the King’s spy?::

  ::Because whenever they think about it, we Companions point out how ridiculous an idea that is,.:: Dallen replied immediately.

  Mags was stunned. ::I thunk ye couldn’ lie in Mindspeech!::

  ::You can’t,:: said Dallen. ::It’s not a lie. It is ridiculous. No other Monarch’s Own in the history of Valdemar has been a spy. It’s insane. It’s impossible.::

  So . . . you can’t lie in Mindspeech . . . but you don’t have to tell the truth, either . . .

  That was a revelation. It was one that could be useful.

  ::All we do is tell the exact truth. We just don’t exactly answer the question.::

  Mags thought about that some more. ::Would ye ever do thet t’me? Not ’xactly answer th’ question?::

  ::No.:: The response was so immediate, and so . . . forceful . . . that he was taken aback.

  ::Why not?:: He had to ask.

  But the answer was yet another he hadn’t expected.

  ::Because you could tell.::

  What?

  Dallen nudged him in the shoulder with his nose. ::Now hurry up and mount. Everyone is waiting.::

  4

  The concert was fine. Lena acted like a trouper, singing in the chorus without a sign that she had been slighted. Mags wanted to dislike Marchand’s protégé, but he couldn’t; or at least, he couldn’t dislike his musicianship. He didn’t perform anything original, and if he had Bardic Gift, he didn’t display it, but he certainly was a good musician. And his three solos were warranted, Mags supposed; he did play three wildly different instruments—flute, fiddle, and trumpet. Nor were any of his solo pieces overly long, more like interludes while larger groups got on stage.

  So maybe Marchand wasn’t trying to show off his protégé, just doing something sensible to keep people from being bored. Maybe.

  But if Mags was any judge, probably not. Marchand never did anything unless it had some possibility of making him look good. Finding a young Bard with that much raw talent and ability was going to make him look good. That was what Mags figured, anyway.

  Amily loved the whole concert, and afterward Herald Nikolas whisked them all off to a very enjoyable evening at an inn where a troupe of actors was performing short comic plays with performances by acrobats and tumblers in between. Mags suspected that Nikolas was trying to distract Lena; if so, it worked. She was still laughing and chattering with Amily about the funny lines in the plays as they all parted to go to bed.

  But as he climbed into bed himself, after throwing all the windows open to the breeze, he was not thinking about the comic plays. Nor was he really thinking about the inevitable confrontation Bear was going to have in the morning, nor how Lena was going to deal with this newest slight on the part of her father. Oh, those things were in the back of his mind, but he had something more personal to occupy his thoughts right now.

  ::Nikolas’ project—:: he said hesitantly to Dallen. ::I know ye all gossip worse’n bored kitchen help. An’I know Rolan tells ye things sometimes. Whatcha know ’bout it?::

  ::Some. As you have already guessed, it’s about the assassins.::

  Well, that was scarcely a surprise. Although . . . ::They ain’t exactly assassins,:: he pointed out. ::Fust time, they was just spyin’, near’s we kin tell. Second time, they was after thet book fer their code. ’Kay, they kidnapped Bear when they was pretendin’ t’be envoys an’ stuff, but we figger ’twas t’take care’a the ’un thet went crazy. There wouldn’t’a been no killin’ at all if they’d been able t’get off Palace grounds wi’ ’im. ’Twas on’y bein’ cornered an’ caught made ’em dangerous. They mighta been bullies, but they didn’ really hurt anyone till then.::

  ::And they might have remained merely kidnappers. Until they had no more use for Bear,:: Dallen responded, a little tartly, as Mags tucked his hands behind his head and stared at the vague shadow of a bat flitting about the ceiling, catching bugs.

  ::We don’ know thet . . . :: he protested, then sighed. ::But aye, prolly. Second time though . . . :: He shuddered at the memory of the ruthless, cold killer whose mind had brushed against his so many times. ::Aye, that ’un, he was somethin’ I’d’a called an assassin.::

  And he’d planned to destroy the stable full of Companions as a distraction while he stole back the book he needed to decipher the coded messages of his superiors.

  ::Well, Nikolas intends to set the two of you up in Haven as a father and son in some shady business or other. I’m not sure what it is; it will be shady enough that you’ll have a lot of contact with criminals, but also so no one will be surprised to see Guardsmen or Constables coming in from time to time.:: Dallen seemed a little perplexed. ::This is not my forte. I cannot imagine what that could be, but I am sure he has something worked out. What he wants to do is find out if there are any more of these people, either that there are some who haven’t left, or new ones. To do that, he has to discover who set them up here in Haven. They knew next to nothing about Valdemar; someone had to give them local help. He wants to find that person—or persons. Once he does, with luck, we might have a better path to discovering what they wanted and where they came from.::

  And why one of them thought he recognized me . . .

  A trace of that uneasy thought must have crept across to Dallen. ::You do know that this could all have a very, very simple explanation, don’t you?:: />
  He blinked. ::An’ what’d thet be?::

  ::Mistaken identity. They do say that everyone in the world has a twin somewhere. Perhaps he knew your “twin.”:: Mags sensed Dallen’s mental “shrug.” ::The simplest explanation is generally the correct one.::

  ::Mebbe . . . :: But Mags didn’t really believe it. No, there was something more going on there . . .

  But worrying at it was not going to solve it right now either. More interesting was that Nikolas was going to set the two of them up together, and that he had openly called him a “partner” in front of the others.

  This . . . this was amazing. Yet, at the same time, it woke old aches. He knew one reason why Nikolas had chosen him for this life—it was because he had no family. If he vanished, there would be no repercussions, as there would be if, say, he were highborn or had other connections that could cause complications. The few people who knew him on sight would not let it slip if they saw him in an unexpected place, or out of uniform—not like someone with a hundred cousins who might bump into him and accost him loudly and publicly. There was no one that he could let things inadvertently slip to who didn’t already know what he was doing.

  He had no ties, no loyalties,except to the Heralds, who had saved him from what would have been a very short life of starvation, privation, and pain in the gem mines. He was related to no one in Valdemar, owed no one else anything, and no one owed him. He was the orphan child of two young people who didn’t even speak the language and who had been murdered by bandits. The few things that had been left offered no clues as to their land of origin.

  He could not have been more perfect to be trained as a spy if Nikolas had gone out and arranged it all himself.

  And that was the ache. Although he made jokes about how he preferred being an orphan, the truth was, when he saw people who were happy in their families—Master Soren and his niece Lydia, Nikolas and Amily—he was raw with envy. Family brought along baggage, but it also gave support of a sort he’d never had . . .