Closer to the Chest (28 page)

Katlie's mouth had fallen open at that. “Yes—but—how did you—”

“Pish, it's written in the rings under your eyes, your ashy skin, and the trembling of your fingers,” Asha said, as if it were of no matter at all. “And don't you worry about your parents. You're
still
a King's Scholar. You'll just be getting a different set of lessons for a while. If they send you messages, you'll get them. If they ask after you, the Heralds will tell them you're making them proud.” Asha stood up. “Understood?”

“Yes'm,” Katlie said obediently. But there was relief there. Perhaps the relief that someone
else
was going to take charge of her, and tell her what to do for a while?
Perhaps we assume too much of the Blues; assume they are as self-reliant as adults. I'd better talk to the Deans about this.

“Now, are you safe for the Herald and me to leave by yourself? Eat a good breakfast? Not do yourself any more mischief?” Asha demanded. “Promise me you'll do as the Healer tells you, and wait for me to come fetch you.”

Katlie nodded. “Promise, on Rimon's Tree,” she said, her pinched, round face looking very earnest.

Asha ruffled her dark hair. “Good enough for me. I'm thinking the Healers will let you go tomorrow. I'll make all the arrangements and I'll see you in the morning.” Now Asha looked at Amily. “Care to come with me, King's Own?”

“Certainly,” Amily replied, so relieved to be rid of this problem for which she had no solution, she'd have swum the river uphill if Asha had asked her to. The Acolyte went out the door first, and held it for Amily.

Asha looked back at Katlie just before she closed it. “You remember that promise now,” she said with a smile.

“Yes'm,” Katlie said obediently.

The door closed, and Asha motioned for Amily to remain quiet as they started back down the hall. Once they were well
out of Katlie's hearing, even if she'd had the ears of an owl, Asha winked. “Herald Mags sent me,” she said, “Or rather, it went a little like this. Mags headed for our Priory, and meanwhile Rolan was lurking outside Katlie's window and telling him everything that was going on in there with you and the other young wench. So by the time he and Dallen got down to our place, he knew all about the girl; he and the Prioress palavered, I got sent for, and he told me what I was to do on the way up.”

:I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner,:
Rolan said contritely.
:But I was rather busy being an accurate relay.:

For a moment, Amily was angry. They could have
said
something—couldn't they?

But maybe not. When she used her particular form of Mindspeech, she had to lie flat in a bed or supported in a chair and not do anything. Mags had been riding furiously down into Haven—he had to have been to have gotten down there and back so quickly—and maybe he just couldn't juggle listening to Rolan
and
riding like that
and
filling her in at the same time.

I'm tired, I'm already hot and it's just past breakfast, I'm hungry again, and I'm frustrated and I really need to watch my temper.

“How much of what you told her was true?” Amily asked instead, holding the door at the end of the hall open for her. It was one of the ones that came out into the herb garden.

“Thankee. Most of it. The only shading of truth is that Herald Mags came directly to us and asked for help, rather than the Prioress volunteering it.” They both went out into the sun-drenched garden, and Amily sighed at the heat. “You'll have to ask him yourself why he immediately thought of us, but I'm glad he did.” She pointed. “There he is now, waiting to take me back down.”

Amily caught sight of him, still on Dallen, waiting in the shade. “I have an idea. I'm starving. I know he's starving. I bet
you're starving. Let's beg some breakfast and take it somewhere cool to eat.”

“I do like the way you Heralds think,” Asha responded, as Rolan ambled up to join them.

•   •   •

Cold fruit juice, a basket of fruit, cheese, fresh bread, and butter made a more than adequate second breakfast. They took it to the grotto that Amily, Mags, Lena, and Bear used to share back when they were all Trainees. It was not just cooler than the air in the garden, it was actually comfortably cool there, and at this time of the morning there was no one using it. They spread their bounty out on the moss, and set to.

“How did you manage to think—” Amily began, looking at Mags.

“I didn't. Dallen did. He said
what that girl needs is a spine, and mebbe there's one for her at the Temple of Betane.
And I didn' even have t'think twice 'bout it.” Mags shoved half a slice of buttered bread into his mouth. “For once the damn horse volunteered somethin' useful.”

From outside the grotto there came an indignant snort.

“It's a good plan,” Asha agrees. “We'll put her with our Novices, but keep the exercises simple and easy until she builds up some strength. And—believe it or not, we may be a martial order, but we don't neglect the mind. What is it she's here for?”

“Math. Artificing. That's as much as I know,” said Amily. “I gather she's something fairly special along those lines.”

Asha ate a plum, neatly, with a care for the juice. “Hrrm. Not something we meddle in, usually, but I'll talk to the Prioress about it. We'll find something.” Then she got a sudden look of inspiration on her face. “Oh, wait, I know! Maps. Maps and navigation. Mapping requires all manner of calculations, and doing dead reckoning by sun and stars is an art form.”
Her face cleared. “That'll keep her busy enough until we can send her back up here again. And who knows, it may come in useful for her at some point.”

Amily pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to stave off a headache. “I wish it was as easy to figure out who this vile letter-writing creature is. I'm not sure it will be safe to bring her back here until we have.”

“I wouldn't worry about that,” Asha replied with a dry laugh. “When we're done installing that spine, if she gets another letter, she'll either laugh it off or use it for target practice.”

•   •   •

By noon, it was almost unbearably hot, and to cap it all off, there was a storm threatening. People were snapping at each other; the only reason fistfights didn't break out a time or two was probably because it was too hot to fight.

Those who had no reason to fight with each other were indulging in gossip that was actually malicious, and a lot of it centered around the water-rescue. Even those who knew nothing much about last night's near-tragedy knew that
something
in the way of an accident had happened last night, and they were perfectly happy to make up whatever gained them a lot of attention. Rumors were flying all over the Hill; even being told that it was nothing more salacious than a Blue student falling into the river didn't stop people from concocting the most ridiculous stories.

Or rather, they were stories that in other circumstances would have been taken as ridiculous, but with people sniping at each other, they became one more weapon in the ongoing gossip-battles.

Stories that one unspecified young lady, outraged over the fact that her betrothed was paying too much attention to another unspecified young lady (but everyone knew Helane was
the one meant) had gotten into a hair-pulling fight on the riverbank, and one or the other had gone in and had to be rescued. Or stories that an
older
lady, having grown tired of her husband's philandering ways, had confronted him and been pushed in.

These, of course, were piled on top of stories that had nothing whatsoever to do with what happened last night, just the usual vicious gossip that seemed to be echoing the Poison Pen. It was as if the horrible things in those letters had taken on a life of their own and were infecting everyone at Court.

Helane put on her prettiest gown and showed herself all over the Palace and grounds to shame those who were saying she was the one in the House of Healing, and to put the lie to the story she had been in an undignified fight. Mags thought all the better of her for that.

Still, by suppertime, everyone was on edge, and Mags had to reinforce his shields just to keep all the anger-edged thoughts from scratching their way in to him. He was probably much too silent during dinner, and he could tell that Amily thought he was being quiet because of something she'd done—or hadn't done—and
she
wanted to snap at him for it and he wanted to snap at her that he was just hot and tired and sick and tired of this Poison Pen business. But with every passing moment, it was getting harder and harder to keep from lashing out at something or someone, and she was the nearest. He had to keep batting down angry thoughts. They both managed to stop themselves from having an outright fight right there in the Dining Hall, and walked back to their quarters in complete silence.

Mags was seething. At Amily, and at himself. He
should
have been able to figure out more by now! But in order to do that, he'd have to use Mindspeech in a way he didn't feel was right.

Worse than that, if people found out about what he'd done, they'd never trust a Herald with Mindspeech ever again.

As for Amily, he was pretty sure Amily was wondering why he hadn't done anything by now, and blamed him for the fact this had gone on so long that poor Katlie had almost killed herself. And that was
totally
unfair. She should know better, since her father was King's Own
and
the King's spy!
I'll bet
he
never went poking around in random peoples' heads because he could!

He could just feel the irrational anger building up in him, like it had back when he was still a Trainee and Amily wasn't able to walk and he still hadn't known where the Sleepgivers were coming from or why they wanted him or even their name. It felt as if he had hot coals lodged in his gut. If it hadn't been threatening to storm, he might have been able to throw himself into the river to swim, or race Dallen around the Kirball field, but it was, and that would be stupid and he just . . . wanted . . . something . . . to hit . . .

He was all wrapped up in his thoughts when, half way back to their rooms, the storm didn't just break overhead, it
shattered.

A bolt of lightning arced down and literally exploded a tree just inside the fence of Companion's Field, and the thunder that accompanied it deafened him for a moment. Then the sky opened up and rain pounded down on them. Not like “rain” at all, like standing under a waterfall.

Without even thinking about it, they grabbed for each others' hands, and ran as best they could the remaining distance to their rooms. He got his hand on the door to the greenhouse by virtue of longer reach; he wrenched it open, and they both tumbled inside, panting, ending up sitting on the floor of the greenhouse, staring out at a downpour so heavy he couldn't see more than an arm's-length past the door. Anything further than that was just vague blurs.

They sat there, wordlessly, until Mags could finally hear again. He cleared his throat. “Got my ears back. You?”

She nodded. Slowly they both got to their feet and went
inside, shivering, because the temperature had not just dropped, it had plummeted.

“I think I might have to build up the fire,” Amily said, and laughed. “And for the second night in a row, you're a wet mess.”

“So are you,” he replied, with a slow smile. “Think we can save our boots this time?”

“Probably.” She shivered. “I want dry things. And as long as this is coming down, there's going to be nothing moving outside.”

They got changed into their night-clothes, and rather than building up the fire, just got a blanket and bundled together in bed to watch the storm through the bedroom window. It showed no signs of tapering off any time soon. All the tension between them seemed to have evaporated with that lightning-strike. Mags wasn't sure how long it was after it got dark that he found himself falling asleep, but after the last two days . . .
I've earned it . . .
And that was his last thought until morning.

•   •   •

The morning dawned bright and fresh and blessedly cool. Since for once they had gotten to sleep
early,
and since for once there had been no tearing emergencies to wake them in the middle of the night, they woke up naturally, about dawn. Mags lay quietly, listening to birds caroling, reveling in the fact that he wasn't covered in sweat.

:Temper back under control?:
Dallen asked.

:That why you didn't nag at me last night, nag?:
he replied, feeling much more like himself.

:You'd have needed stronger shields than you have to keep out all the garbage flying through the mental air last night,:
Dallen replied.
:You're not an empath, but when rage and hate are that strong all around you, something's going to get through. It was bad enough before the storm broke that the
Healers and Heralds barricaded themselves together in their Collegia and put up group shields. There is a
lot
of ill-will up here right now, and all I can say is it's a good thing it's only affecting the Court. And mostly only affecting women. Women don't generally duel each other.:

:Might be better if they did,:
he replied.
:Let out some of that crazy if they poked each other.:

“Talking to Dallen?” Amily asked. “Rolan and I have an idea.”

“And what idea'd that be?” he said, rolling over on his side to look into her face.

“We haven't checked on the Sisters of Ardana since they got vandalized, and I want to see if they've had any more trouble down there. If we get breakfast in a hurry, we'll be in time for their open services, and I've never been.” She wrinkled her nose as he made a face. “What? I feel like I need a nice big dose of virtue to wash out all the dreck from last night.”