“Maybe he’s bewitched you too, Lena!” the fat fellow put in furiously, turning beet red with rage.
Bear shoved his way in to stand on the other side of Mags. Slowly he looked the overweight Trainee up and down, and then spent a long and pointed time staring at the laden plate still in his hands. “Ferd Lekson, I just got this to say to you. You insult a fellow out of nowhere, then get mad because he gives you back what you gave him, and even madder because he tells you to your face what your so-called friends won’t, which is, if you don’t quit stuffing your face five times a day, there won’t be a Trainee uniform in all of Bardic that will fit you. Now, I got to say Mags was rude. But you were just as rude, and you started it, and you’re making it worse for your side with all your dumb accusations.” He put one hand on Mags’ shoulder. “Mags is Chosen. That should be the end of it. But he also saved my life last winter, and a couple of other people’s and you seem to have forgotten all of that.”
Mags was astonished. He had never heard Bear talk like that before.
“Now, you and your friends just take your dinner somewhere else, because one more word out of you and I’m gonna have to decide you need to get treated for your own good and make sure you’re on the special meals list.”
Ferd went white at that. Mags knew what the special meals list was—it was for people who had troubles with some sorts of foods. There weren’t more than a handful of people who were on it, and most of them were glad to be—it meant that the cook made absolutely certain that the foods that made them ill never got anywhere near the plates that were destined for them.
But if Bear put Ferd on it—Mags would bet nearly everything that Ferd would find himself restricted both in quantity and the kind of food he’d be allowed, and the only way he’d get anywhere near a piece of pie or cake would be if someone slipped it to him.
“You can’t do that!” Ferd spluttered.
Bear got grim-faced, and his eyes behind his lenses grew cold as steel. “Try me. Maybe I’m only a Trainee, but when it comes to things like that, even the senior Healers listen to me, and I can have a list of twenty reasons why you need to be on it without even thinking hard.”
Muttering to his friends, Ferd backed down and the lot of them slunk away. Bear sat down, Lena beside him, with a sigh.
“This’s jest the beginnin’ ye know,” Mags said glumly, staring down into the soup he no longer had an appetite for. “They ain’t done.”
“I know,” Lena said, looking after the lot of them with a worried face. “And what’s worse is, nobody else here said anything to defend you.”
“You’d think some of the Grays would,” Bear said loud enough for those nearby to hear him. “After all, it’s Mags today—but who’s to say it won’t be one of them getting accused of ridiculous things tomorrow? Anything that can be used against him could be said about any other Chosen.”
It was... very quiet. People kept their eyes on their meals, though no one seemed to be in the mood to eat.
“Reckon I’ll go down t’ practice early,” Mags said abruptly, and shoved what was left of his meal away. “Thanks Bear. Thanks Lena. Least I know I got two friends.”
Dallen said nothing as he stalked out of the dining hall, resolving not to eat another meal there until all of this was sorted.
But he had to wonder—why on earth was he here when so many people didn’t want him?
Mostly cause I got nowhere to go.
That was the shame of it. There was no way he could just run away from here. Not so much for himself as for Dallen; the Companion ate a lot, and needed decent stabling, and all that cost money. What did he know, besides how to mine? Nothing. If Bear were in this position, he could just pack up and leave and set himself up as an animal Healer just about anywhere. Even Lena could go on the road as a wandering musician, even if she couldn’t claim to be a Bard. Both of them had obvious talents and gifts or Gifts that would make them welcome anywhere they went.
He had—exactly nothing. Except mining, and where was he likely to get a place doing that? Even if Cole Pieters’ mine was in better hands now, it was a sure bet that there were miners enough already. He didn’t know any other sort of mining.
Beg on th’ street, mebbe. Do odd jobs. He smiled mirthlessly as he trudged through the cold wind down to the Kirball field. Get job as a ash-boy. Mebbe I should. That nice merchant with the soap-shop had taken care of Dallen. Maybe she’d be willing to keep on doing so.
:I never thought you were a coward, Mags,: Dallen said sternly.
But Mags just rubbed his forehead; he reached the still-empty field and went and sat down with his back against the goal-castle. :Mebbe ye don’ know me as well as ye think ye do,: he replied. :Mebbe they’re all right, an’ ye’re wrong.:
:And maybe the sun will rise in the west tomorrow,: Dallen retorted. :I can’t prove it won’t, but I think that is more likely than that I am wrong about you.:
All Mags could do was sigh.
Chapter 7
:WHERE are you going?: Dallen asked, as he went past Dallen’s stall—wearing, not Grays, but the Palace page uniform he’d gotten through Nikolas. :And why are you wearing that instead of your uniform?: Dallen’s head was up, and his ears pinned back.
Mags turned and looked his Companion in the eye. :Goin’ t’ get breakfast. I ain’t eatin’ in hall till this gets sorted. An’ I don’ wanta get snubbed by kitchen staff neither. Figgered if I wear this, they won’t look past th’ livery. Gonna say I’m fetchin’ food for Herald Jakyr, get the stuff an’ bring it back t’ me room.:
Dallen went very still for a long moment. Mags shrugged, and moved on past. He was tired of knotted stomach and ruined meals. At least this way he could eat in peace.
But before he got to the door, one of the other Companions intercepted him and shouldered him aside, then planted her ample hindquarters right in front of it and stood looking down her long nose at him. He recognized her as Pip’s Litri. She didn’t have to Mindspeak him; it was plain she was not going to let him pass.
:You get back in your room and put on proper Grays,: Dallen said firmly. :What did Nikolas say about not making yourself conspicuous? This isn’t going to solve anything. People are watching you now. If you stop showing up for meals, you’ll only make people more suspicious of you.:
He stared at both Companions. “I cain’t eat wi’ ’em starin’ me down alla time!” he exclaimed in despair. “M’gut’s all inna knot afore I even get in th’ door!”
Litri snorted at him, as if to say she still wasn’t moving. Dallen was not going to give in, either. :Just do what I told you. We have a plan.:
Shoulders hunched, Mags obeyed his Companion. He went back to his room, changed, and shuffled unhappily up the path to the Collegium. With heavy reluctance, he pulled open the door and went in, although he would much rather have been slouching his way to the worst Languages class ever than have to go eat under a sea of—
He stopped in the middle of the corridor, in mid-thought. There were half a dozen people waiting there for him. Bear, Lena, Gennie, Pip, Halleck, and the alternate Gray team member of the South, Meled. If it hadn’t been friends, he’d have turned and bolted for the door, but since it was, he just stood there for a moment, baffled. Before he could say or do anything, they surrounded him, Gennie took one arm, Pip the other, and the lot of them bustled into the dining hall as a group.
As a group, they took up an entire table. Gennie and Pip pushed him down on a seat between them, with Bear and Lena across from him. And as a group—Bear and Lena included—they started chattering about Kirball, immediately, doing absolutely nothing to keep their voices down.