“I can’t think of why something like that would happen otherwise.” Lena’s eyes were shining now. “There aren’t any classes for another two days, I am going to poke around and see what else I can find out. A mystery! I love mysteries!”
Now that she had cheered up, Mags felt it was a good time to give her the present he had gotten her. He reached into his tunic and brought out the pretty little wooden box that Lydia had helped him pick out to hold it. “Went t’ the Midwinter Market. Jakyr come in late an’ only stayed a day, I reckon ’e felt guilty, so ’e give me some money an’ I reckoned I’d get ye both summut. So ... ’ere.” He handed her the box, which had a harp carved on the top of it. She exclaimed over the pretty thing, then opened it. Mags was very pleased with that find, which had been a stroke of pure luck. Just as there were merchants who tried to pass off inferior articles as more valuable than they were, there were also those who didn’t know what they had. He had found, in a secondhand dealer’s booth, this very pretty string of deep red beads. The merchant thought they were glass, but his expert eye had seen that they were, in fact, garnets.
“Oh, Mags!” She pulled the beads out of the box and ran them through her fingers. “Please tell me they didn’t cost you a fortune!”
“Bah, this’s me!” he scoffed. “I got help bargainin’.” In fact, it had been Lydia who helped him bargain for that, and for the pretty carved wooden charms he had attached to all the page-markers. “I still got coin fer me.”
Thus reassured, she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him quickly. “It’s so pretty! And Bardic Scarlet, too! Thank you!”
“Show ’er yer mitts, Bear,” Mags urged, and Bear displayed his mittens. “Can’t have his precious fingers froze, now c’n we?” he teased, and she laughed.
“He needed mittens like those on our trip,” she said. “He had to borrow a pair of mine, and they weren’t nearly as nice and warm as these. His poor fingers kept getting cold and stiff.”
Then she snapped her fingers. “And that reminds me of something else. On the way home, Bear and I were talking, and—Mags, do you want to find out what really happened with that raid on the bandits where you were found?”
That came as such a complete surprise to him that all he could do was gape at her and say, “Wha—” He stared stupidly at her for a moment, then gathered his thoughts. “Uh, I—guess—”
“Well, we can do that. The records of all the Guard reports are kept here, and Bards get access to everything but the sealed stuff. All we need to do is find the report of that raid and see what it says.” She looked at him in triumph. “What’s the worst that can happen? We find out you are just what that horrible man claimed you are, a bandit child, which is scarcely your fault. But I think he lied. I think we should look into it.”
Mags felt a little thrill of mingled apprehension and excitement. Could he—
::I think you should, too, Mags.:
Well, that settled it.
“We’ll do it,” he said decisively.
__________________________
With both boys in tow the next morning, Lena went in search of where and how to get at the Guard Archives, and that was when they ran into their first snag. Although Bards had access to the Guard reports, Bardic Trainees needed special permission.
“You’ll have to get one of your teachers to give you a letter stating that you need to use the Archives for research, Trainee,” said the stolid old man in Guard Blue sitting behind the desk at the entrance to the Archives. “We can’t have every young Trainee in here poking around just to satisfy her curiosity or to win a bet. Those are the regulations.”
Lena sighed, but she didn’t push the subject. “I’ll be back with that letter,” she said firmly.
“And when you are, I’ll let you in. Not before.” The man crossed his arms and gave her a stern look. “There is sometimes sensitive and personal information in those reports. Things other people would rather not have bandied about. As a courtesy to them, we don’t let just anyone come in here and start reading through things.”
It was witheringly clear that he was not going to budge an inch on this. Mags tapped Lena on the shoulder. “’S all right, we c’n come back later,” he said. Reluctantly, she nodded.
All three of them left the Guard barracks, which was some distance away from the rest of the complex of buildings, and trudged back through the snow to Healers. “D’ ye think you c’n get that letter?” Mags asked anxiously. Now that he had committed to finding out the truth, he wanted to get on with it.
Lena snorted delicately. “He’s making a big fuss about nothing. Hardly any of the Trainees want to come here; it takes a lot of work to read something in a Guard report and come up with a song. Everything has to match—you can’t change the story just because you don’t like the way it came out or the person that should be a hero is a really unpleasant person. That is why people trust Bardic news and Bardic history songs. It’s a lot easier to just make something up for a tale song. I can get that letter. I just need to figure out which of my teachers is most likely to give it to me.”
They pushed through the door into Bear’s quarters. And there was someone waiting for them. One of the Palace servants in the special blue-and-white livery rose from his seat, a look of relief on his face. “You’re the herb Healer?” he blurted.
“Trainee,” Bear corrected. The man waved that off.
“Everyone says that you are the one that knows everything there is to know about herbs. I need something to make people sleep. Those wretched bodyguards are demanding it for one of their masters.” The poor fellow looked exceedingly harried.
“Such things are dangerous—” Bear warned. “Too little and they don’t work, too much and they can kill. And you can become addicted to them.”
“Frankly, Healer, if that man doesn’t stop moaning about being watched all the time, I may kill him. He hasn’t slept in three nights. Please, give us at least one night of peace!” The man gestured entreatingly. “I’m begging you!”
Mags, Bear, and Lena all exchanged looks. “I’ll get my bag. My friends are coming with me.”
“I think that is a good idea, Healer. I don’t trust those men. I wouldn’t be alone with them for my own weight in gold.” He waited patiently while Bear gathered up his necessaries and loaded Mags down with them. Then he gestured to them to follow.
They followed him up to the Palace, with Mags struggling to contain his excitement at being asked, invited in, to see the very men he was supposed to be keeping a remote eye on. Lena did not even try to pretend to calm. Her eyes sparkled, and she almost skipped.
They went in through a door he would never have dared use if he had been here alone. It was, however, clearly a servants’ entrance, since it was plain and let out into a utilitarian hallway, not at all dissimilar to the ones in the Collegia. And, to be fair, Mags would not have known it was “utilitarian” if he had not had Dallen’s point of view to give him a comparison.
Shortly, however, he had a comparison of his own as they entered into a hall that clearly housed something other than servants.
Whitewashed plaster and black beams gave way to rich wood paneling. The wooden floors were polished to a soft gleam, and shiny metal polished lanterns were mounted at intervals along the walls. Though they were not lit at the moment, it was clear that this hall would be as brightly illuminated at night as anyone could wish.