“Yessir.” Mags ducked his head. He was not at all averse to this plan; His Lordship made him profoundly uneasy, and he really, truly did not want Bear alone with the man. Not that he thought he would be able to fend off those highly trained bodyguards! But if anything happened, it would be impossible to silence a Trainee and his Companion. Dallen could raise an alarm before either of them came to serious harm.
He hoped.
:If anyone harmed a hair on your head ...: The rest of the thought, though Mags was not at all good at sensing feelings, was awash in red rage that shook him a little ... and gave him a strangely warm and happy feeling at the same time. :They would have to tell me where a door was wanted, because that is where I would kick my way through to get to you.:
“Sir, what about them mercs? They ain’t feelin’ them vrondi, surely? An’ vrondi ain’t throwin’ axes around neither—” Mags scratched his head and looked up at his mentor, who paused in his pacing. “We got th’ answer, mebbe, to the sick fellah, but what ’bout the haunt?”
“A very excellent question, and one I do not have the answer to.” Nikolas pursed his lips. “It’s just barely possible that all of them do have this Gift, but suppressed and undeveloped, and since it was hidden that way, the vrondi didn’t react to it and swarm them. But once someone with a working version of that Gift appeared, and the vrondi began to congregate, the men could see, or at least feel, their presence.”
“But the ax!”
“Does not sound like vrondi, no.” Nikolas shook his head. “I’m baffled. And to be honest, unless they were all from the same family, or at least the same bloodline, it is wildly unlikely that they would all have the same suppressed Gift.” He grimaced. “It does sound like a haunting, but the Palace has never been known to be haunted, and none of the Heralds have detected any such thing. I have to say, I do not like this very much. It seems to be another complication, and complications are something we can well do without. But now that we know about it, thanks to you, we will keep our senses alert.”
He smiled then, and it was a full smile, an approving one, and one meant for Mags to see. “Mags, I was not mistaken in my trust of you. You are proving to be a clever and resourceful apprentice. So, is there anything that/can do for you? Within reason, of course.”
It was not a question Mags had expected, but something immediately flashed into his mind.
“Get me, Lena, an’ Bear inta t’ the Guard Archives,” he said instantly. “On’y ye prolly ought t’ make it look like it come from one of her teachers. She’s gone an’ talked to ’em about it, but they ain’t given her permission yet.”
“The Archives?” Both of Nikolas’ eyebrows shot toward his hairline. “But—”
Again, he suddenly got that gazing-off-into-the-distance look.
“Ah ... your parents.” He nodded. “Yes, I can arrange that. In fact, I think it is a very good idea. The worst that you may find is what you have been told all along.”
Mags grimaced. “Aye.” He hesitated. “Do you b’lieve in Bad Blood, sir?”
“No, I do not,” Nikolas said, immediately and firmly. “I do believe that sometimes there are people who are born ... defective in the understanding of morality, and empty of empathy. But I don’t believe that has anything to do with who or what your parents were, and ...”
Now he hesitated and sat down again, looking at Mags very earnestly over his clasped hands. “It’s very complicated, Mags. But I have encountered people like that, and they are truly evil. What is more, they know they are being evil, they make a conscious choice. They simply do not care about anything other than themselves. You will know them if ever you meet them, I suspect. They can be very charming when they choose, but it is all surface charm, and you will always look beneath the surface.”
Now he smiled warmly at Mags again, another approving smile that made him flush, then stood up to come stand next to him. “Mags, if anything, you are the opposite of that. So no, no matter what you came from, I not only believe, I know your heart is good.” He reached out unexpectedly and ruffled Mags’ hair. “Your head, now, that remains to be seen,” he finished with a chuckle.
That night, Mags went to bed for the first time feeling good—completely, totally, and without reservations.
Unfortunately, it didn’t last. Because he spent the night in his dreams, hunting through the dark for something lost, precious, and in peril ....
Chapter 18
Mags was deeply mired in the middle of a complicated sum, so buried in concentration that his tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth a little, when Dallen jarred his focus.
:Mags—: the mind-voice came, breaking into his thought and making him lose track of what he was doing. :Mags, a moment:
Carry the one. Or was it carry the three?
:Mags—: came the voice again, insistently.
:I’m a little busy here—:
:I know but ...: Dallen sounded embarrassed. :I found out who threw the ax. At least I believe I found out who threw the ax.:
For a moment, Mags could not imagine what Dallen was on about.
Then he got it.
:Hell!: Mags almost burst out of his seat. :Where? When? What—:
:I will answer all those questions if you will come out to my stall. But quietly. I don’t want them to know we are watching them.:
Mags slammed the book closed and eased his door open. He slipped out, ducking low to be below the level of the stall walls, and into Dallen’s stall. The Companion had his head down and his eyes half closed, for all intents and purposes looking as if he was drowsing.
:Well?: Mags demanded.
:At the back of the stable there are five youngsters. Two are Heraldic Trainees, one is a Bardic Trainee, one a Healer Trainee and one a young man who is getting an education at the Collegia but will be apprenticed to a Master Artificer or Builder once that is complete. They are in the stall of a Companion called Colby. I believe that they are responsible for the ghostly activity in the bodyguards’ rooms.: Beneath his half-closed lids, Dallen’s eyes glittered.
:And how come you think that?: Mags ventured a peek over the top of the stall. There were indeed several people in the loosebox of a Companion far in the rear of the stable. And there was some smothered laughing going on.
.Because I know Colby and his Chosen Barrett are pranksters. Last summer they and their friends were the ones responsible for the circles and glyphs laid down in cornfields by night. Most of the countryside was convinced they were signs from the gods. The pranksters were never caught, and we, the Companions, never told on them, but ... we knew who it was. If the doors to the stable are wide open and every horse running loose in the fields, it is a sure bet Colby was responsible.: Dallen heaved a sigh. :He is ... very young, is Colby. He is well matched to Barrett. Colby ghosts up behind people, steals hats, or startles them with a loud whinny. No apple is safe from him, no picnic or quiet tete-a-tete in Companion’s Field goes unobserved or uninterrupted. Neither of them really consider thefurther implications of what they are doing.: