The Valdemar Companion

by John Helfers; Denise Little

  “Those are all Heralds who’ve finished their Circuits and haven’t gone back out again. The teachers have already eaten.”

  Tafri nodded to show that he’d heard, but Adan just shook his head and gestured to him to follow him back out into the hall.

  The door shut on the noise and Adan sighed with relief. “All right, that was the common room. The girls’ side is on the other side of it on the same floor. Now, we all have to do chores— well, you saw the Trainees doing the serving. There are more down in the kitchen to do the washing up, and there were some helping the Cook earlier. So, first we’ll go to Housekeeper Seshel and she’ll get you uniforms and set you up with your chore schedule.”

  Within a candlemark, Adan and Tafri were back in Tafri’s worn, laden with piles of clothing and other articles. By now the sun was well up, and the little room was full of light. Someone had come in to mend the fire while they were gone, but otherwise everything was as it had been when he left, including his unmade bed.

  Adan tskd over that. “Bad form; as soon as you’re out of it, they want the bed made up and neat,” he told Tafri, who hastily complied. They put Tafri’s new clothing away in the wardrobe, all but the boots he’d been measured for. The Housekeeper (who had, Adan confided, replaced old Gaytha two years ago but could have been Gaytha’s younger twin for attitude) had deemed his new boots adequate until the ones in Trainee Gray arrived, along with some soft shoes and dress boots. Adan advised a bath before he changed into a new set of Grays, so nothing loathe, Tafri took himself and a change of clothing to the Bathing Room while Adan went on some errand of his own.

  Adan was waiting for him when he emerged, hair wet and slicked back and feeling like an entirely new boy. The boots he’d been given back at the village didn’t go too badly with the new Grays, being a sort of charcoal color themselves. Adan gave him a once-over and nodded satisfaction.

  “There now, you look a proper Trainee. Now to Dean Teren. He’ll be seeing what you know and reckoning which classes to put you in.” With a wave of his hand, he beckoned to Tafri to follow. “I’ll give you more of a tour on the way.”

  Adan was as good as his word; first they went up a floor and Tafri got a quick lecture on the Library. “This isn’t the only one, but you have to get special permission to use the Palace Library, the Library at Healers’ is pretty boring, the Library at Mages’ is absolutely off-limits to anyone who isn’t a Mage, and as for Bardic—” he shook his head “—too crowded for me.”

  “Mages’?” Tafri asked inquisitively as they clattered down the stairs to the as yet unseen first floor. “Is there a Mages’ Collegium now?”

  “Aye. Not very big yet. Herald Elspeth and her Hawkbrother started it a year after the Mage-Storms finished. Mostly it’s got Heralds in it, but there’s a couple of priests and some people that don’t seem to be anything but Mages. She told the Queen that it seemed to her we were either going to have to have a Collegium for them or take our chances on what they turned into on their own.” He opened the door at the bottom of the staircase for Tafri, “So they got the old Guard Barracks as soon as a new one got built. So far the teachers they’ve got are that old man from the Eastern Empire, the gryphons, a couple of Sunpriests from Karse, some mage that used to be with Herald Kerowyn and a couple of his friends, and Hawkbrother Darkwind.”

  “Gryphons?” Tafri gasped. “There’s gryphons here?”

  “Oh, aye, four of ‘em, but you probably won’t see ‘em much, no more than you will the other Mage-teachers—or the Bardic and Healer teachers for that matter. They’re pretty busy and we’re pretty busy. Now this is where all the classes are—”

  Adan dropped his voice in the open hail, and the drone of voices behind the many doors lining the hail showed that classes were definitely in session. Now that it was day, light for the hail came from open transoms above each door, which allowed the light from the windows of each classroom to shine into the hail.

  “All our classes are held here, and we share some of them with Bardic, Healer and Mage students, and some that aren’t any of those,” Adan said quietly. “Those are the ones in the blue uniforms. Some of them are highborn that don’t have their own tutors; the rest are here because they’re really good at something, like reckoning and artificing. There’s a couple here because they’re really good at teaching. Anyway, they’ve all got uniforms like ours, in their colors.”

  “We’re Grays, what are the others?” Tafri asked, as they walked quietly down the hall toward a door at the end.

  “Well, Bards are scarlet, so their Trainees are sort of rust-colored. Healer-Trainees wear pale green. The Mages kind of decided to wear a golden-brown, so their Trainees are in yellow, and the students that aren’t Trainees from any of the Collegia wear blue.” Adan paused at the door, and turned, gesturing to Tafri to do the same. “It’s almost time for class-change, so see for yourself.”

  Just then one of the ubiquitous bells sounded, and all of the doors on the hallway swung open. Tafri gaped at what seemed to be a horde of youngsters, mostly in Grays, but with perhaps half in uniforms of the other four colors poured out of the classrooms and milled around in the hallway. Adan grinned at him, and gestured to him to follow through the door that he held open.

  The peace and quiet of the hail on the other side of the door came as a relief to Tafri’s rattled nerves.

  “This is Heralds’ Wing,” Adan told him. “This is where all the Heralds that aren‘t stationed somewhere else permanently have at least a room, and the ones that live here have suites. Like Dean Teren—he’s the Herald in charge of our Collegium, and he’s a teacher too. But he’s always in his office the candle-mark before and after lunch.”

  The Dean had a suite of rooms halfway along the corridor, and Adan pushed Tafri in ahead of him through the door that was three-quarters ajar.

  The Dean was a plain man who reminded Tafri of a hunting hound going a little gray; friendly, a little stiff and not quite as fast as he used to be, but still eager and enthusiastic. His warm brown eyes welcomed both of them as he gestured, inviting them to sit in his neat, tidy office.

  “I can’t stay, Dean, I have kitchen duty,” Adan said regretfully. “But I’ll be back to get Tafri for lunch if you want me to.”

  “No, I’ll take him in,” the Dean replied easily. “You can take him around after; we’ll have his schedule then.”

  Adan left then, but Tafri couldn’t feel in the least uneasy around the Dean, who questioned him carefully about all the things he’d been studying, interspersing academic questions with ones about Tafri’s parents and home village. Tafri was very glad he’d been diligent in his studies, even of things he didn’t much like. He thought he was able to give a pretty good accounting of himself.

  Dean Teren made notes as they spoke, and when the bell rang again, he smiled at Tafri. “I think you’ll be able to fit right into our schedule without having to scramble to catch up, Tafri,” he said with great cheer. “Now, how about a meal?”

  Lunch was much like breakfast, except for the variation in menu, and that the participants were considerably more awake. To Tafri’s relief, Adan was waiting for him, and brought him over to a table at which a boy and a girl dressed in ordinary clothing sat. “These are your yearmates, Tafri,” he said without preamble. “This is—Holly, isn’t it? And Hadrin. Twins, in the ongoing tradition of twins at the Collegium.” He winked, but it didn’t seem to make the two who sat there any less nervous. “Our Dean is a twin, as are two of the Queen’s Own’s yearmates.”

  “Heyla,” Tafri said diffidently, but with the confidence imbued by having been here for half a day already and gotten into uniform. “Where’re you from?” He couldn’t make out anything from their clothing; less shabby than his had been before he was Chosen, but if their neighbors were anything like his, they’d showered these two with gifts before they were allowed to leave.

  “Hunsted,” said Holly, after a pause. “ ‘Tis a Guard Outpost, on Hardorn Border.”

&nb
sp; “We just got here,” Hadrin added—which might account for why they both looked so pinched and pale—it was with cold, probably, rather than with shyness. “Papa’s with the Guard.”

  Tafri and Adan exchanged a wordless glance, and Tafri nodded when Adan told the twins, “Well, if you just got here, then stay where you are and thaw while we get you your plates.”

  With food and hot cider inside them, the twins took on a healthier color and a livelier outlook. Tafri trailed along behind as Adan ran them through the same routine he had with Tafri that morning—down to Housekeeper for uniforms and chores, then up to the Trainees’ floor for rooms. The only difference was that after leaving Hadrin in his new room, the moment Adan and Tafri appeared with Holly on the Girls’ Side, a girl about his own age popped out of a door and took Holly in hand, shooing the “aliens” back to their own side as if she was shooing hens.

  Adan left Tain alone in his own room while he guided Hadrin through the intricacies of getting cleaned up, into uniform, and down to Dean Teren for evaluation. Tain used the time to put his things away properly, including all of his gifts from home and the precious little pouch of coins that Adan had explained was his “stipend,” spending money allotted to each Trainee at quarter-year intervals, so that they all had spending money alike. Then he stared out his window, down into a snow-covered bit of garden and across at an L-shaped building he supposed must be Healers Collegium from all the green-clad bodies going in and out.

  :And how is your first day as a Trainee, Chosen?: asked Adelayan out of nowhere.

  He jumped, but grinned immediately, and concentrated on thinking his answer rather than saying it out loud. :If I could have Ma and Da here, it’d be pretty near perfect,: he replied truthfully.

  :If we had everyone’s Ma and Da here, there’d be no room for Heralds, and no work for all the Mas and Das,: Adelayan pointed out. :You‘ll be busy enough you won‘t miss them too much, I think. And if you get lonely—you have me.:

  Warmth filled Tafri, and a feeling of utter contentment. Because, of course, that was true, the truest and the best thing that had ever been said to him. He had Adelayan, and he was a Heraldic Trainee, and at some point in the distant future—well—he would be a Herald!

  Four

  Trying the Paces

  “So, there you are. I’m to be your mentor—I’ll show you around and if you need anything, all you have to do is come find me,” Tafri said to the youngling standing uncertainly beside his new Companion in the aisle of the stable. The youngster—Rojek was his name—was unusually tall for his age (thirteen), and very thin; with his unruly puff of white-blond hair he looked like a dandelion gone to seed.

  Rojek blinked eyes as blue as his Companion’s, and suddenly smiled. “Guess I look like I was rode hard and put away wet,” he drawled. “Thenkee, Tafri. I can use a helping hand about now.”

  Tafri laughed. “We all can when we first show up here,” he said cheerfully. “Are you up to the work of cleaning—”

  :Civera,: Adelayan supplied.

  “—Civera?” Tafri said smoothly, without a noticeable pause, “Or are you about ready to drop?”

  “Both.” Rojek squared his narrow shoulders and raised his chin. “We’re horse-folk, born and bred. No matter what, see to your mount afore you see to yourself.”

  “With a hand, then,” Tafri said, and helped Rojek to take the tack off Civera (a neat-footed little mare as long in the leg as her Chosen was) and give her a good nose-to-tail grooming. Then because Rojek was clearly coming to the end of his energy, Tafri fetched one of the Companion-grooms to make sure she got a good feed, and took the latest Chosen off.

  It was long after supper, but there was a cupboard especially for raiding by hungry Trainees in the kitchen, so Tafri took his charge there, watched him inhale vast quantities of ham, bread, and butter, and then took him first to the bathing room and then to the nearest empty room he could find. The poor lad was asleep before his head hit the pillow; Tafri saw to it that his room was marked and went off to find some of his friends.

  As he expected, they were up in the Library, commiserating over a particularly hard assignment in History. The twins, Hadrin and Holly, had been his best friends since they all started here together, and Jisette and Borek, though one was a Blue and the other a Bardic Trainee, were from the same year-group and had gravitated toward the Heraldic trio as if they’d all been friends for life.

  “I just got the new Trainee, and I need to swap kitchen duty or something with one of you,” Tafri said, as soon as all four of them finished picking his brain for clues as to what Herald Chronicler Myste wanted in their essays in the History class they all shared. He was the best of all of them at History, and he’d finished the assignment the day it was handed out, instead of waiting until the night before it was due as his friends had. On the other hand—he was the one who was always late on his Maths, and it was Jisette and Hadrin who had to bail him out of a slough of desperation. That was what friends were for, after all.

  And for helping each other out when conflicts came up.

  “What’ve you got?” Hadrin asked.

  “Breakfast. Cook’s Helper,” Tafri told him, and Hadrin made a face, as he’d expected his friend would.

  “Anything but that,” Hadrin groaned, for Hadrin hated even the concept of “morning.” “I’ve got scrubbing the bathing room, and I’d trade you, but not for a morning duty!”

  “Well I don’t mind morning,” Holly said—as Tafri had hoped she would, since she was a lark to her twin’s owl. “But Tafri’s got Orienteering right after lunch when I’ve got dish washing. Can we trade right around?”

  That was quickly settled, much to Jisette and Borek’s amusement—Jisette didn’t have chores, as she lived in her parents’ suite in the Palace itself, and Bardic didn’t require anything of its Trainees that would interfere with the flexibility of their hands. So in place of things like scrubbing floors and heavy laundry, Bardic Trainees were required to put many hours in on cleaning, repairing and restoring musical instruments.

  “What’s this one like? Where’s he from?” Borek wanted to know. Tafri quickly filled all of them in.

  “Adelayan says that Rolan says that he’s from one of the same horse trading clans as his first Herald,” Tafri concluded, wondering at the coincidence.

  “What—King’s Own Talamir?” Holly asked. “Havens, I wonder if he’s related?”

  :Not really, except insofar as all of the people in the Giyano Clans are related,: Adelayan said, and Tafri relayed that as well.

  :This youngling has been fostered on and off with a trading partner, though, so he hasn’t the problem with being under a roof that Talamir had when he first arrived,:

  :What problem?: Tafri asked, baffled.

  :Ask Myste; she was one of Talamir’s pupils, she’ll remember, choose your moment wisely and you might distract her from handing out another headache of an assignment to your Bardic friend,: Adelayan said teasingly.

  Well, Adelayan might think it was teasing, but Tafri thought it was an excellent idea and filed it away for future use.

  Meanwhile he helped all of his friends with their assignment until Herald Myste herself came up to send them all to bed by the simple expedient of going around and blowing out all the lanterns in the Library. They weren’t the only ones driven out of the study carrels, but they were the only ones who viewed Myste’s arrival with displeasure rather than relief. When Holly made a feeble protest, the Herald tilted her head forward and looked sternly at them through the top half of the thick lenses of the divided “spectacles” she wore so she could see at all.

  “Am I to assume that this plea for more time past your bedtime is because you failed to complete my assignment?” Myste asked with deceptive mildness.

  Borek (who had just finished his work), clasped his hands and gazed at her out of big brown eyes he made to seem even larger, somehow, “Why—no, Herald Myste! It’s just that we’ve gotten so fascinated by the way the negotiati
ons with Duke Merano were handled that we wanted to see what else we could find!”

  Myste’s eyes narrowed behind the thick glass, but Tafri saw her mouth twitch a little. “You,” she told him, trying to sound stern, though Tafri could hear the laughter in her voice, “would probably find yourself hanged one day if it wasn’t for Bardic Immunity. As for the rest of you—the lights are going out. If you choose to short yourselves on sleep because you didn’t get to the assignment when you should have, that’s your choice, but you’ll be doing it in your own rooms.”

  And with that, the plump Herald blew out the nearest lamp, forcing them to gather up their things and retreat to the stair-case, trying not to giggle.

  Well, at least the others were mostly done with their essays; it really wouldn’t take more than some polishing, which could be done easily enough in their own rooms. So Tafri and Hadrin said good night to the other three on the landing; Borek and Jisette headed for Bardic and the Palace respectively, and Holly for the Girls’ Side.

  All of Tafri’s morning was spent in taking his charge through the same introduction to the Collegium that he had been through four years ago. Not that the lad was any trouble; by afternoon he’d managed to make a half-dozen new friends, and it looked as if he was going to fit right in with his year-mates as easily as a hand fitting a well-made glove.

  By afternoon Tafri felt enough at ease with how the boy was doing to leave him to his own devices and do the scrubbing in the bathing room that he’d traded off his morning chore for. It wasn’t his favorite thing to do, down on hands and knees, applying soap and pumice to the floor, but it was better than the other half of the job, which was applying the same substances to the bathtubs, basins, and privies.

  Then, when he’d completed that job, it was time to collect his charge and take him to Herald-Captain Kerowyn for assessment in weaponry and riding. Given his background, Tafri guessed that the boy would be brilliant at the latter, and no better than anyone else his age at the former. He was right on both counts, but Herald Kerowyn, though she was fully as tough as her predecessor, Herald Alberich (who was now semi-retired), was nowhere near as frightening in appearance, and at least didn’t intimidate newly Chosen into fumbling just by looking at them. She assigned the boy to Herald Jeri’s section, deeming him neither so wretched that she would have to take him on herself, nor so good that she felt he could handle the extra attention. She and Jeri shared out the really good students in weapons, but she never let Jeri take students that were really abysmal. Tafri didn’t know why—and he had been one of those who were really abysmal—but he was grateful.