“Sit down, Mags. I expected you would ask me this sooner or later.” Mags sat down on one side of the table he used to study and eat on; the Herald sat down opposite him. Nikolas drummed his fingers on the table a moment, then scratched his upper lip with his index finger. “That is an interesting ethical question. The answer is ‘sometimes.’ Using Mindspeech in that way is intrusive, and you are essentially forcing other people to allow you to see what they do not want you to see. Or, if you wished to use that Gift for misdirection, you would be forcing them to see what you want them to see. From there it is a short step to forcing other things on them. On the other hand ... if you should happen to be in a room full of potential enemies, and you know that they are dangerous to you—and I mean physically dangerous—you would be foolish not to use your Gift.”
“So—” Mags began. Nikolas interrupted him with one of his rare smiles.
“For right now, unless something changes drastically, the answer is ‘no, it would be wrong.’” The right side of his mouth quirked up in a rueful smile. “I will make a point of speaking with Herald Caelen about some more lessons I would like you to have—specifically, one which will be less a class and more a series of ethical puzzles.”
Mags scratched his head. “Not sure I follow—what’s a ethical puzzle?” He knew about puzzles, of course, and riddles. Those were games; he had been introduced to riddle games by his new friends. But why would you take a class in such things?
Nikolas chuckled. “Questions like you just asked me. Ethics—that is the slippery side of ‘right and wrong.’ Some things are very obvious, but some aren’t—like when it is ethical to use your particular Gift. You are by no means the first youngling to be concerned with this sort of thing. Normally, Bards and Healers take these classes—they are confronted with the need to make ethical decisions about how to use their Gifts all the time. The Bardic Gift, for instance, is the ability to use music to influence people, make them understand or feel the song you are playing. And that can be a good thing; it causes your audience to connect with you and with the music. But if you use it to influence someone outside of that music—well, your result as well as your intention must be very pure indeed. So we require all Bards with the Gift to take this class.”
Mags’ brow wrinkled. “But wouldn’ that make me stand out? Thought we didn’ wanta do that.”
Nikolas nodded. “That is correct—but anyone with Mindspeech as strong as yours should attend these exercises, too. There will probably be at least one other Heraldic Trainee there, and maybe more, depending on whose Mindspeech is looking strong enough to need something like this. We can’t disguise the strength of your Gift, since nearly everyone that is a Herald is already aware of it. The very best thing we can do, in fact, is to make it very clear that you are strongly aware of how it can be used and misused. And after that—we trust the Companions. As long as the Companions are sure you are still trustworthy, then you should be treated as such by every Herald, at least.” He sighed. “Even if some of us are convinced that the rest of us are so wrongheaded about the founding of Heralds’ Collegium that we should have our ears boxed.”
Mags looked at him soberly, very much troubled. “Sir—there be that many Heralds bein’ at odds with each other? With what’s happenin’?”
Nikolas closed his eyes as if in pain and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “That is just the problem, you see. I don’t know. Some of them have very vocally come up and told me off to my face, but others ... there are surely others festering in silence. And I would not care about dissent if I knew that it would result in healthy dialogue. I do not in the least mind a good argument, and I think the mere fact that the Companions are in favor of this idea should weigh heavily with those who are in dissent and will eventually sway everyone. But it is possible that some of them may be used by other people whose motives are anything but pure. We Heralds don’t know everything, our Companions don’t know everything, and very clever people who are good at manipulation can use peoples’ resentment against them, and against the rest of us. I’m not out to expose or expel anyone, Mags. I just want to keep an eye on the people around them, so I can, I hope, head off any dangers.”
He hates this, Mags realized and, obscurely, that made him feel better.
Then Nikolas looked up and smiled wanly. “And hopefully this will all prove to be the workings of my overstrained imagination and my tendency to worry about everything.”
Mags nodded somberly. “Hope so, sir.”
“Now, let’s try that exercise again ....”
Chapter 14
The days of the holiday flew by. What he had thought were going to be empty and lonely times turned out to be neither. When Herald Jakyr did not appear until Midwinter’s Eve, Mags had actually forgotten he was supposed to come at all, and his arrival came as something of a surprise.
For once, the salle was empty. The mercenaries, so the rumor at breakfast said, had gotten into a drinking contest down in a tavern in the city. They had won—barely—but two workmen who had seen them brought back up again in a hired wagon told everyone within earshot that it was unlikely they would be moving swiftly this morning. If at all. From the condition they had been in, and the fact that they were brought up just at dawn, well, the workmen were taking bets on whether they would be seen in public at all that day.
So Mags had the salle all to himself, which he rather liked. He’d been able to set up an archery target inside, something he rarely had a chance to do, which was a vast improvement over standing in the snow to shoot. When he had shot his required fifty arrows, and had decided that throwing knives at his current skill level was going to be hazardous to the big glass mirrors, he switched to simple exercises to round out the workout. He was working out against the pells alone when he heard someone enter the salle. He didn’t look up, however, until he heard a familiar voice say, “Fancy trying your skill against me, youngling?”
And then he whipped his head around and grinned with delight. “Herald Jakyr! I—”
What he was about to say was I forgot all about you coming, but fortunately he stopped himself. That would be—very impolite. Jakyr weighed a practiced blade in one hand and said, with a look of embarrassment touched with a bit of apprehension, “I know you were expecting me, but I was detained. And I can’t stay—”
“Well, you come at last, so I c’n give ye my little somethin’!” Mags replied happily, resolutely tightening his shields against Jakyr’s thoughts. He didn’t want to know what the man was thinking ... but guilt gave them such force that a little of it leaked through anyway .... not someone else, clinging to me, strangling me ...
“Little something? Mags, you didn’t get me a Midwinter Gift—” Jakyr betrayed more apprehension, although if he hadn’t been getting those lessons from the King’s Own, Mags probably wouldn’t have seen it. “That is really unnecessary.”
“Come on, ’s just a bit of nonsense, but Dallen said ye might like it.” He put up his practice blade and headed for the door, and Jakyr had perforce to follow. “I was makin’ stuff for m’ friends for Midwinter, ’cause Dallen said ’twas the thing to do, an’ he reckoned ye’d like these. I got two good friends who are Trainees—ye’d laugh t’ see us—one’s Healer, one’s Bard.” He chattered on about Bear and Lena, and watched Jakyr’s tension slowly ease, in the set of his hunched shoulders that straightened, and in the uncreasing of his brow. So. Jakyr probably had delayed his arrival because he had been afraid that Mags was going to be ... needy. He had assumed he would be the only “friend” Mags had.