The hostler merely waved to them as they rode out of the stable doors.
Mags’ whole thought at this point was for his bed. It appeared that Nikolas was like-minded, for the two of them practically flew up the hill to the Collegium, with both Companions moving at a very brisk trot, and there still wasn’t any light showing in the sky by the time they parted at the stable door.
“I left word with one of the servants I trust to leave some breakfast waiting for you in your room, Mags,” Nikolas told him as they hastily stripped the Companions of tack and stowed it. Fortunately so short a ride meant neither needed to be groomed, and although both of them had probably dozed some, it could not have been the sort of restful sleep they really needed.
“Thenkee, sir—” Mags began, but Nikolas waved him off.
“Part of what I do for you at the moment; when you make your own contacts among the servants, you’ll handle these things for yourself. Now go and eat and get some sleep. You did will tonight. And, oh—” he handed Mags the brooch. “Study that while you are still awake, and give me your thoughts later.”
He took it. “I will, sir, but—”
Nikolas just waved off his unvoiced objections, then headed for his own rooms and bed.
Nikolas had been as good as his word. There were pocket pies of the savory and sweet sort both, exactly the sort of thing that kept well and tasted fine cold. Someone had left a “sweating” crock set up for him as well—this was a sort of half-glazed vessel with a wooden spigot on the bottom that kept whatever was in it remarkably cool by evaporation through the unglazed portion. The cool water in it tasted as sweet as anyone could wish.
Following Nikolas’ orders, Mags studied the brooch as he ate his pies neatly and methodically. The cabochon-cut stones were nothing remarkable, though the finishing was very fine. The rose-gold told him nothing. The designs . . .
He caught his eyes unfocusing and his head nodding.
Not gonna get anything more done t’night, he thought blearily, and left the brooch on the table to stumble over to his bed and fall into it.
Chapter 6
The noon bell woke Mags, although the morning bell had not. It was already quite warm, despite having the windows open; a little longer and it definitely would be too warm to sleep in here. Now he was glad he had made the choice that he had, to sleep through the morning and get up at noon.
He threw on yesterday’s uniform, since it would have to go down the clothing chute anyway, carried a clean set of Grays up to the Collegium, and had a good bath before going down to what remained of the noon meal. Things were pretty picked over, but he was quite able to put together a solid selection—and just as he was settling in at a newly cleared table to enjoy it, Bear came rushing in.
Bear looked even more untidy than usual, though the effect was mostly due to his hair standing practically straight up, as it did when he’d been nervously running his hands through it. And he looked distracted—so very distracted that he didn’t even notice Mags was sitting there until Mags gave an unceremonious whistle. Bear’s head swiveled as if it had been pulled by a string, and his face lit up.
Uncharacteristically, he bounced over to where Mags was sitting, with his round face so full of repressed emotion Mags worried that he was about to burst.
“Easy on, there, m’lad,” Mags said, soothingly. “Siddown. Ye look like a runaway cart. What’s got ye so riled up, eh?”
“Amily,” Bear said succinctly, dropping down onto the seat next to Mags and helping himself to some of the veggies.
“Oh-ho!” Mags exclaimed with complete understanding now.
It had been determined that Amily’s crippled leg, if rebroken, could probably be Healed again—not perfectly, but she would end up with a leg she could actually use, instead of one that was a twisted burden to her. Bear was the first one that had suggested this, based on the fact that he had rebroken and set farm animal’s legs so that farmers didn’t have to put them down. It probably could not have been done anywhere but here—but here at the Collegia, Healer’s Collegium in particular, were some of the best and brightest in the Kingdom. And Amily was the daughter of the King’s Own.
“So, they’re gonna do it, an’ they gi’ ye a seat at front?” Mags hazarded.
Bear practically exploded. “They told me I’m the one to oversee it all, cause it’s my idea! Well, not exactly oversee, but the one to figure out what’s needed, get everyone together and agreed, and then be the one to keep everything running smoothly until she’s all fixed and walking!”
Mags blinked. On the one hand—
“Uh, tha’s good—” he said, feeling decidedly mixed about this. “But yer jest a Trainee—”
Bear didn’t seem at all upset that Mags was dubious. Instead, he nodded vigorously. “Exactly, and I’ll have the Dean checking over everything, and lots of people making sure that I don’t make some stupid mistake. But I have done this before, and no one else has. And they tell me that when Amily is all healed, not even my father will be able to say I’m not a real Healer.”
Now that he looked closer, Mags could tell something else. Under the excitement, Bear was scared. As well he should be, in Mags’ opinion. This was going to be dangerous work—dangerous for Amily, that is.
Ah, but Mags already knew just how badly Amily wanted this. And who was he to stand in her way?
He wanted to help Amily more than anything in the whole world. He wasn’t a Healer, and he knew nothing about Healing. So the only way he could help Amily in this was to help the Healers. To help Bear.
“Aight,” he said, slowly. “So, this’s kinda like plannin’ a Kirball game. Aye? So. Fust thing i’ th’ game’s gonna be getting’ th’ leg broke agin. But tha’s like sayin’ fust thing i’ a real game’s gonna be meetin’ th’ other team on field, an’ we know thet ain’t how’t goes. Aye? So... fust thing... fust thing i’ Kirball game’s knowin’ th’ lay of the ground.”
He quirked an eyebrow at Bear, who was listening to him intently. Bear’s eyes flashed.
“Yes! That’s it exactly! So the first thing is going to be to get some kind of... of map of where all the old breaks are, and how strong the mends are! Yes! And then get everyone familiar with it, even the ones that don’t have the Gift to see it—”
“Sounds t’me like ye’ll be needin’ some’un who kin draw?” Mags hazarded.
“Yes! No . . .” Bear began running his hands through his hair again
“No, whoever draws this has to be able to See what things look like and—”
“No ’e don’,” Mags said patiently. “When we gets some’un in what got robbed an’ ’e knows th’ face uv th’ feller what robbed ’im, we jest git Herald Rashi. She kin draw, an’ she got Mindspeech, th’ kind what sees pichers. She looks at picher i’ feller what was robbed’s head, an’ draws it. So ye gets Rashi, an’ she makes yer picher.”
“Or better yet! She makes a model!” Bear exclaimed, face alight again. “We can get cattle bones the right size and shape, we can break them and cement them together—”
“Saw ’em,” Mags advised. “Break ’on’t be th’ same as Amily, ’less ye saws ’em exact.”