Mags smiled back at him, tentatively.
“I’ve been hoping you’d be one of the people to join us in Kirball, Mags,” said Setham, without any preamble, sticking out his hand for Mags to shake. “I’ve been hearing a lot about how well you and Dallen work together. I think you’ll be a cornerstone of my team.”
“Your team, sir?” Mags said, surprised. “I thought I heerd this was all Trainees. An’ mebbe Guard?”
“So it is, but teams need coaches, and that would be me.” Setham grinned. “I was a jockey before I was a Herald, I rode steeplechases, and now that I am a Herald, I am one of the scouts and cross-country specialists. Archer and I are pretty well known for our ability to scramble over, under, or through just about anything,”
The other Companion nodded and whinnied. On closer inspection yet, Setham was very short indeed, definitely no taller than twelve hands, and his Companion, Archer, was so compact and cobby he was almost pony-sized.
:We call him—Archer, that is—The Cat. He never seems to put a foot wrong,: Dallen confirmed. :I may be faster across the straight, but even I can’t move across bad terrain the way he can. And if you can believe it, Setham has never been thrown or pulled from Archer’s saddle.:
“So, the first thing I want you to do is cast your eye over the playing field,” Setham continued. “Get a good impression of it. We chose the roughest part of Companion’s Field for this.”
Obediently, Mags did as he had been directed, and the first thing he noticed was that this was even more challenging than the obstacle course. Instead of the usual rail jumps, this had—well—terrain, was the only way he could think to describe it. Gullies, a major ravine, little hills with abrupt drop-offs, stone fences as well as rail fences, culverts, bridges, even a stream he hadn’t known existed, that led into the river. There were no big hills, but there were bits of very steep slope, enough to make even the most sure-footed Companion pause. No effort had been spared to create this thing—there were even lines where turf had been laid over what must have been raw earth after hills had been made and gullies created.
But unlike the obstacle course, there was no pattern, no obvious path you were supposed to take around this.
Something that the obstacle course did not have was two identical little stone buildings, with ramps up to the tops of them, one on either end of the field.
“What do you think of it?” asked Setham.
“Not sure what t’ think sir,” Mags confessed. He scratched his head. “Looks risky.” Actually it didn’t so much look risky as insane. He could scarcely imagine trying to ride over this thing at speed.
:I like it. It’s a real challenge!:
“There is a lot of risk there, I won’t deny it,” Setham replied. “Only the best riders will be able to take this course full out. You and Dallen will take falls, I am sure. People are going to get hurt. But we have a big influx of Trainees right now. Historically that means that we are going to need those Trainees when they become Heralds, and that means Valdemar is going to be facing some trouble down the road. Better some bruises and breaks now than dead Heralds later.”
Mags turned to see if he could read Setham’s expression. This was the first time he had ever heard a Herald being quite that—blunt.
Setham looked deadly serious. “I’m not the first Herald in my family,” Setham said. “I’m fourth generation in fact. My great grandfather was in the middle of the Karsite conflicts, and my grandfather knew Vanyel. Now... maybe the reason we’re getting all you Trainees is because Valdemar is about to get a lot bigger. I won’t deny that’s possible—all sorts of little dukedoms and tiny kingdoms are looking at us and thinking they might want to throw in with us. We’re all hoping this is why we have so many new Chosen coming in, so many new foals being born. But we aren’t going to count on that. We’re going to count on finding ourselves neck deep in war, and needing lots of Heralds, and if the other happens, we’ll just be glad and feel lucky.”
Mags scratched his head. “No way t’ tell?” he ventured.
Setham shook his head. But then, he relaxed. “However, we also know whatever happens will be years away, and no rule says we can’t make this training fun as well as risky,” he continued. “So—that’s why we are doing it this way.”
“Yessir,” Mags said. “I kin see that. But ye said, on’y the best. So what ’bout the rest? Ain’t they gonna need the trainin’ too?”
“Oh they’ll get it,” Setham replied. “They will certainly get it. The difference is that we want the best for the first teams, to get everyone excited and motivated. Then in the regular riding classes, we’ll teach the Kirball technique and strategy instead of the old riding lessons, and I hope that will stimulate some more excitement.”
Mags wrinkled his nose. “Not sure what yer aimin’ fer, with all this excitement stuff. Sir.”
Setham leaned against the fence. So did his Companion. It struck Mags that he had never seen a Herald and Companion who looked quite so alike before.
“Look, you seem like a serious young fellow,” Setham said slowly. “I tell you that the Circle is looking at the current conditions and anticipating trouble in a few years, and you understand that. I can see it in the way you react to what I just told you—you squared up your shoulders, you looked a little resigned, but determined to meet the challenge. Am I right?”
Mags flushed a little with embarrassment, but nodded.
“But you’ve got to have seen how some of the Trainees just don’t—seem to take things nearly as seriously as you do,” Setham continued. “Knowing your background... your reaction is logical. Knowing theirs, well, so is theirs. They aren’t what you would call ‘grown up’ yet. They’re still thinking about things the way someone who has never had to face hardship thinks about them. Even that lot that helped you rescue your friend, Bear—within a fortnight or so, the fear of the rescue had faded, and it became just a fantastic adventure in their memories. Whereas you—”
Mags shivered. He still had the occasional bad dream where he saw those mad eyes, and knew that he could, very easily, be dead in a few moments.
“Exactly.” Setham nodded. “You actually know, in your heart, that you could be killed or worse. They still think, in their hearts, that they are immortal. They’ll learn better, but they don’t know that now.”
“So... that’ d be why they don’t take some of the trainin’ serious-like.” This was somewhat unreal to Mags; he had seen death often enough that he could not remember a time when he hadn’t known, emphatically, that if he wasn’t smart and careful and clever all the time, the next corpse could be him.
Still... he had seen for himself how some of the others were. They talked, they acted, as if death simply didn’t exist for them.
It was just one more way in which he simply did not fit in. For a moment, it made him feel his isolation all the more.
Then again, Setham was not like that. Setham understood.
He fumbled his way in the direction Setham was trying to go, reasoning out loud. “So since they ain’t takin’ the trainin’ serious enough, an’ maybe not puttin’ ’nough effort inta it, ye reckon t’ give him—what’s it called? Motivation? Somethin’ that’ll make it worth it to ’em t’ fling thesselves inta it.”
Setham grinned. “Exactly. Nothing gets interest going like a game. Where going over and over the obstacle course gets boring, Kirball is going to be exciting. Some people will do very well at it. Those people are going to find their reputations going up, and they are going to become popular. Other people will want to have some of that popularity, and so they will strive more for it. It’s just human nature. We like to have heroes.”
Mags blinked at him. “I—you ain’t thinkin’—”
“I don’t know for certain, Mags, if you’ll become wildly popular because of this. You tend to be solitary, and that will work against popularity.” Setham looked at him shrewdly. “But you already have something of a good reputation, because of helping to rescue your friend. I think you should prepare for the fact that others will want to associate with you if you become a star player of Kirball.”