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.::
Chapter 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 protege, 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.