But now every time they crested a hill, they could see their goal in the distance. Lots and lots of buildings, more buildings than Mags had ever imagined, even when reading about cities and towns. Part of him stared at all of those houses in bewilderment, while part of him looked at them with relief. If they were going to get hit by a storm, being in a place like this would be far better than being anywhere else. Even with all the travelers looking for shelter, surely someone would have space for them.
A series of images, rather than words, came to him from Dallen, and then he understood more of those words he had read. “Inns” and “taverns” and “innkeepers.” Visions of rooms full of small tables and stools, of food and drink exchanged for money, of beds hired out by the night. He understood that there would be no looking for shelter in a stable, that as a Herald and a new Trainee, they would be treated at one of these inns as well as they had been with the Guard—or that, if Jakyr chose, they would seek shelter with the Guard again.
Darkness closed in, the howl of the storm seemed right at their backs although not a speck of snow had fallen yet, and ahead of them, dim lights began to appear in the gloom. The rise and fall of the land alternately revealed and hid the town from them, and it never seemed to be getting any closer.
Just when Mags despaired of ever reaching their goal, suddenly they were there. They crested a hill to find the town spread out before them.
There was a wall about the place; not a high one, but enough of a wall to keep wild animals out and straying animals in. There was also a bar across the road, and a Guard at it, bundled up in furs and illumined by a torch. The Companions slowed and walked the last few paces to that bar, sides heaving. Mags clung to the pommel, feeling utterly drained. The Guard raised the bar for them, and they passed under it, Jakyr giving him a kind of vague salute.
They turned immediately to the right and followed the wall until they came to a large building built right up against the wall in the form of a hollow square. They entered the hollow through an arched passage; there were a few men about, and all of them were busy putting up shutters and hurrying around, making other preparations for the storm. Quickly. Jakyr dismounted and motioned to Mags to follow him. They went into what was obviously a stable, led the two Companions to two huge loose-boxes at one end, and prompted by Dallen and watching what Jakyr did, he got all of Dallen’s gear off him, wiped him down, bundled him in a blanket, fed him, watered him, wiped the gear down, and only then did the two of them make their way into the Guard building proper.
No one paid too much attention to them as Jakyr motioned to Mags to follow him. Evidently he had been here before, since he went straight down a corridor to the stairs, up the stairs, up another set of stairs, finally ending in an unoccupied room with six beds in it and a fire in the fireplace at one end. It was lovely and warm, and Mags hastened to throw his saddlebags on the bed, and following Jakyr’s example, hung his coat, stiff with cold, on a peg next to the fire.
“Hungry?” the Herald asked. Mags nodded. In fact, he was ravenous. A couple of meat pies and a handful of dried fruit had not done much to assuage his hunger, especially now that he was used to eating regular meals.
Once again, Jakyr motioned to him to follow; they went down to an enormous kitchen where a sleepy-eyed fellow gave them bowls of thick soup and slices of buttered bread, a couple more cold meat pies, and an apple apiece. They ate it all there, in the kitchen, perched on stools. When Mags looked around for more, the fellow smiled, and went to the pantry, coming out with a wedge of cheese and another apple.
“Bed,” Jakyr said shortly, and Mags nodded, following him back up to the room on the third floor, eating his cheese and his apple on the way. He finished the last bites of each as they reached the room itself, tossed the core in the fireplace, divested himself of his outer garments, and crawled into the bed. A moment later he was asleep.
He woke to the sound of bells, which was entirely expected. Jakyr was still asleep and didn’t look likely to move, but he was ravenous again. He followed his ears to the washing-up room and an indoor privy, then his nose to the kitchen and the eating hall. This time, when he sat down at a table as he had been used to do at the first Guard House, the Guardsman doing the serving asked him who he was, and what he was doing there. He had a moment of paralyzed fear, sure as he was sure of his own name, that he was about to be uncovered as some sort of imposter—
:Just tell him your name, that you are with Jakyr, and you are Chosen of Dallen.: Dallen gave a kind of mental chuckle, and Mags coughed and complied. His answer seemed to satisfy the man. There were no more questions, and there was a great pile of hotcakes and honey, along with a platter of bacon, in front of him shortly.
He kept his mouth busy with food and his ears open, and soon learned that the worst of the storm had missed the city, but had hit the countryside to the west very hard. The Guards were going out in teams to look for stranded travelers, and to check on isolated farms, before getting to work clearing the road.
It appeared that he and Jakyr were not the only people lodging with the Guard. An old man in bright scarlet asked how the road was to the east.
“Clear and clean; we got snow falling still, but naught like what’s to the west. Yon Herald must’ve brought us luck,” laughed one grizzled fellow. “I tell ye, little as I fancy going out to look for strays, I fancy being snowed in here with no one for company but you ugly dogs a lot less.”
That earned the man a laugh and some remarks about where he was likely to be spending that night. That interested Mags not at all, so he went back to his food.
After eating his fill, and tucking a couple of apples into his pockets, Mags tiptoed into the room, got his now-warm coat, and went to check on the Companions.
:We will be moving soon,: Dallen told him, after gleefully accepting the apple. :As soon as Jakyr wakes, nearly. Jakyr wants to get back to Haven as soon as he can. So tell the stable keeper to feed and water us and make up our nosebags with sweet feed. While he is doing that, bring down the big packs, and go to the kitchen, and ask for traveler’s pies, as many as they can spare, made up into two packets.:
Mags blinked at that, for he had seen the trays of waiting meat and apple pies in the kitchen. “We canna eat that many, and surely he don’t mean to ride like he did yesterday!” he exclaimed. He was still moving stiffly, though his muscles were loosening.
:Oh, not at all,: Dallen replied with amusement. : Most of the pies will go with the rescue parties. Jakyr will just want to be sure that if we have to stay overnight in a Way station, you don’t starve. He is an excellent fellow, but he has one deep flaw. He cannot cook. In fact, he has been known to ruin boiling water.:
Mags shook his head, but went and did as he was told. And since Jakyr still wasn’t awake, he decided to take advantage of the facilities and have a quick hot wash. Not a good soaking bath, though he would have liked one, but a thorough washup. No telling when he’d get another chance, and he was discovering that he liked being clean.