Redoubt

by Mercedes Lackey

  And people were being considerate of him, especially after he started walking with a slight limp. They let him sit, even though all of them could have insisted that he stand in their presence. They made sure that the pages waiting on them brought him cooling drinks. One old lady even insisted he try her “special” mint cordial; he did so out of politeness, but he found it so delicious that he had to restrain himself from asking for more. The gardens had been specifically constructed to funnel breezes around, so they were cool and comfortable despite the crowding. And he had to admit the music was much, much better, plus there was a conjurer who performed clever tricks, a little performing dog, and some acrobats to watch—and some professional dancers, who made all the dancers that he had ever seen look like the mine kiddies capering.

  Once he knew what he was supposed to be doing for Nikolas, he also knew that Amily, of course, was already aware of what her father was looking for; she didn’t need Mindspeech to relay everything she heard because she could just drift over to where he was, drop a few pertinent remarks, and drift away again. But that was due to her own experience in and around the Court, working with Lydia’s friends under the supervision of Master Soren as well as with her father. Although Nikolas cherished his daughter, he didn’t overprotect her, and Mags knew he discussed nearly everything that wasn’t a secret with her. Since her abduction, that had been more of a priority rather than less. Keeping secrets from her hadn’t saved her; knowledge, and forewarning, might.

  But it had been a very, very long day. Even though he wasn’t drinking very much with spirits in it, he was beginning to find it hard to stroll around and even harder to focus his attention on conversations that didn’t explicitly include him. Not even the cooling breezes were helping, nor the mint cakes. When Nikolas finally noticed he was becoming muzzy headed, he ordered Mags to bed.

  :I’m sending Amily in too,: the King’s Own added, as a subtle way of letting him know that Amily wouldn’t be free to take off to the stable party. :She wasn’t playing Kirball, but she was with Lydia in the stands, and it got rather hot there.:

  Poor Amily! She wasn’t getting much of a holiday either.

  :That’s the hazard of being the offspring or spouse of the King’s Own,: Dallen said, sounding a bit sleepy himself. :When you are the King’s Own, you have to be willing to use everyone if you have to.:

  Mags thought about that, and countered, :Well, it ain’t using if we want t’be used, is it?: Because he couldn’t imagine Amily—especially not the Amily of late—not wanting to help if she could.

  Dallen chuckled a little. :Point taken; no, it is not.:

  So Mags just bade Nikolas goodnight and made his way down to the stable. He was very glad to see his bed again; he stripped off his clothing, threw the windows wide open to the breeze regardless of the noise outside and not even the party going on in the loft over his stable room kept him awake once his head hit the pillow. It had been a very long day, and he hoped that Nikolas would let him off easy on the morrow.

  Breakfast the next day was looking barren of people when he ambled up to the Collegium dining hall. If anything, it appeared that people were sleeping later this morning than they had yesterday. There wasn’t even a sign of whoever had laid out all the food on the tables. He resigned himself to eating alone, when, to his pleasure, Bear appeared.

  He didn’t have to wave, since there were only the two of them. Bear seemed just as happy to see him and sauntered over to stand next to him. They both examined the offerings on the laden tables thoughtfully before making their selections.

  “Where were you last night?” Bear asked, as they looked over the fruit. “Everybody was asking for you. They were a bit worried about that whack you got from the ball, and since I didn’t look you over, I couldn’t say one way or another, just that you weren’t in the infirmary or in your bed, ’cause I checked.”

  “Nikolas,” Mags sighed. Bear was part of his own little circle of support, so he didn’t have to say anything more.

  “Well, damn. Seems a shame to have to work when everybody else is having fun.” The Healer Trainee shook his head.

  “Well, I got to snatch what the highborn were eatin’, at least,” Mags admitted. “There’s some advantage. An’ there was a conjurer an’ acrobats.”

  “Huh. I’m jealous. I’d smack you, but I saw that hit you took, and I bet you’re bruised.” Bear mimed a cuff at his head anyway. “Let’s just take stuff that’s not sloppy and take over the Royal gardens before those the gardens are meant for wake up with hangovers. At least you can actually eat this morning, since you aren’t gonna be Kirballing right away.”

  That sounded like a fine idea to Mags, so they both loaded up with pies and other portable foodstuffs and headed for one of their favorite spots. But finding it already occupied, they changed their goal to another spot by the river, near the grotto that was always cool, if a little damp.

  “Somethin’ on your mind, Bear?” Mags asked, as the two of them threw themselves down on the turf to enjoy their food. They’d each taken a napkin and tied food up in them; now they untied their loot and spread the napkins out to share. He knew Bear very well, and could feel how his friend was trying to find some way of broaching something. There was unease, which Mags put down to Bear not knowing how Mags was going to react to what Bear said.

  “Well . . .” Bear picked at a bread roll for a moment. “Aye. Been something on my mind for a good long while, actually. If I can’t trust you, I might as well just throw myself in the river and have done. Lena and me, we’ve been talking. We’re thinking we ought to go talk to our Deans and see if they’ll let us get married.”

  For a moment, Mags was not sure he’d heard Bear correctly. “Wait, what? Married? Wouldn’t that—what about your studies and all?” There weren’t any married Trainees at any of the Collegia. Would the two of them be told they’d have to leave? “I mean . . . I ain’t never heard of that. I heard of people older than us, who came here as Trainees, an’ they had t’ leave their families behind until they was in Greens or Reds.” Not Whites, of course. He’d never heard of an adult with a family being Chosen.

  “But they weren’t both Trainees, the husband and wife, that is. We’re both Trainees. And if you choose to get your Healing training at one of the Houses outside of the Collegium, you can keep your family with you. I mean, that’s what my own father did. Aside from that, Lena can leave her room at Bardic, and my space is pretty big and private,” Bear pointed out. “More than big enough for two.”

  Mags nodded; Bear was in charge of the greenhouse, and his quarters, unlike those of the rest of the Healer Trainees, were those of the original greenhouse tender, who had been a full Healer. They had been meant for someone like one of the instructors permanently assigned to Haven, a Senior Healer who might very well have had a family, so they were actually more spacious than the quarters housing the King’s Own, making up in space what they probably lacked in luxury. Bear was there because Bear knew more about herbs and how to tend them than anyone at the Collegium, and he had been entrusted with the greenhouse almost since the time he had arrived here. He had a bedroom, a sitting room, another room he just used for storage, plus the greenhouse and a stillroom. There was plenty of privacy, and Lena could practice without bothering any of the other Healers or Healer Trainees.

  “Aye, but . . . will they let you keep studyin’?” That was the question. Would they insist that the distraction of being together could not possibly allow for concentration on work? That was ridiculous if you knew Bear and Lena; they’d likely be less distracted, if anything, but there was always going to be someone who would find something to object to.

  “Lena’s looking into that, seeing in the archives if there have ever been any Trainees that kept their families here, or at least, nearby.” Bear let out a breath, as if he had been afraid Mags would oppose the very idea. Mags didn’t,
not outright . . . where he came from, among the virtual slaves at the mine, those who had energy left over at the end of the day for anything other than scrambling for a little more food just went ahead and did what they were going to do without thought of marriage. And his masters were perfectly prepared to marry off their youngsters in the cradle if that would get them some kind of advantage.

  On the other hand, here, Trainees were not exactly encouraged to think about things like getting married. After all, there was a lot of schooling to get through before they would go into full Reds, Greens, or Whites. Some of them had, in fact, used the very opportunity of being selected for the Collegia to avoid an unwelcome marriage.

  Mags considered all of this. “They’re gonna say you’re too young. You’re gonna say your pa was gonna marry you off regardless. They’re gonna say how can Lena go off on ’er Journeyman round, and you’ll say you’ll go with ’er an’ teach people how t’ use your kit. Or you’ll say, why can’t she do her Journeyman round in Haven, an’ you can stay here an’ teach and show the midwives and all down in Haven how t’ use yer kit.” Bear had developed a kit of herbs and instructions that people who had some medical knowledge, like midwives and herbalists, could use if there was no true Healer nearby. The Healers’ Collegium and Healers’ Circle were, for the most part, excited and supportive of this idea. There were never enough Healers, and always people who could have been saved by such knowledge.

  Bear’s father and brothers, however, who were the Senior Healers at their local House, were adamantly against it. Then again, Mags had the suspicion that if Bear said the sky was blue, his father and siblings would insist it was some other color.

  “I hadn’t thought of that argument!” Bear said, looking a little more cheerful. Cheerful enough to stuff the rest of the roll into his mouth.

  “Aye, but . . . Bear, are you sure?” Mags chewed his lower lip. “I mean both of you . . . ’tis easy enough t’ get married, but once in, harder out . . .”

  “I . . . if it was anyone other than you saying that, Mags, I’d be mad,” Bear replied after a moment. “And I know what you’re saying. But people younger than us get married all the time, all over the Kingdom. Most people get married as young as we are, if they aren’t wealthy or highborn. The earlier you can start on a family, if you’ve got a farm, the better. Even the highborn marry off their youngsters if there’s a political advantage. I can’t imagine living my life with anyone but Lena, and she feels the same way. And if we don’t do this,” he continued, in tones of desperation, “my father is just going to keep trying to get me married off to go breed ‘proper’ Healers with a Gift, and . . .” he waved his hands around a little in a gesture of despair. “What if some day the Collegium says he’s right? Right now, there’s no reason to give in to his bullying, but you never know what is going to happen with power and politics, and my father is damned good at getting his own way. He’s just as good at figuring out advantages. But if I’m married, he can’t keep playing that game.”

  “He’ll prolly disown you,” Mags observed thoughtfully, and salted and ate a hard-boiled egg. “That wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

  “There’s only one thing I would regret about that, and it’s that it would make my mother very unhappy. I’d hate to upset my mother that way, but . . .” Bear sighed. “I figured, with the Prince’s marriage and all, and how my father hired Cuburn to mess things up and Cuburn ended up helping those assassins because he was an idiot real fresh in everyone’s mind, if we asked now, we’d be more likely to get a ‘yes.’ I just can’t keep waiting for my father to drop some other rock on me. If I were married, legally, he’d have no more say in what I do. Lena looked that up. Once people are married, no matter how young they are, they can’t be pushed around by parents unless they choose to be. They become an independent household, and if they choose to reject parental support, they have no obligation to obey anything a parent says.”

  Mags stared at the river. A flock of ducks just below them kept glancing up hopefully at them. They weren’t bold enough to come right up and beg, but up here at the Collegia, ducks associated people with food, rather than becoming food. “I still dunno, Bear,” Mags said doubtfully. “Seems to me it’d be better to just stay quiet.”

  “Can’t do that.” Bear shook his head. “Can’t keep standing around waiting to see what my father’ll try next. You gotta deal with your past, Mags, you have to. If you don’t, it’ll just keep coming back to haunt you, and one day it’ll do something to you that you can’t get out of.”

  I wish I either knew my past or that it would let me alone, Mags thought. Either would do. At least Bear had some idea of what he was up against, and why.

  “Before you do anything, lemme think on it a couple days, all right?” he said, finally. “Mebbe I can figger out a way to do it better.”

  Bear shrugged. “All right. It’s not as if we’re going to be able to actually sit down and talk with anyone with all the wedding business going on. Or . . . well, I could, but Lena couldn’t. Everyone in Bardic is so busy entertaining people there’s no point in trying to get them to think of anything but who they’re performing for and what they’ll be doing. I never even get to see her except as part of an audience until nightfall, and that’s not a good time to try to round up someone to talk about anything serious.”

  Mags wished he could talk to Lydia or Master Soren about this. Lydia by preference—but obviously this was not the time to impose on their friendship. And actually . . . now that Lydia was the Princess, perhaps she was not the best person to go to after all. She might feel an obligation to tell the Deans of Healers’ and Bardic Collegia about it. Master Soren, on the other hand, might be a good choice. Or he might know someone who would have some good advice, like a priest of some sort. And priests were obliged to keep things secret that they were told in confidence.

  “Have a sausage roll,” he suggested, and Bear accepted. “Might as well enjoy breakfast. Yer pa ain’t gonna come ridin’ through the gates with a bride in ’er wedding dress t’day.” Then he had to laugh. “An’ even if ’e did, there’d be so many lads here thinkin’ ’e was an angry pa with a daughter lookin’ fer ’em that you could ’scape in the stampede.”

  Bear had to laugh at that.

  By the time they finished, the Palace servants had begun setting up for the last day’s entertainments, and people had begun to appear from the Palace to enjoy those festivities. Some of the servants were making their way down to the riverbank, laden with what looked like pavilions and with purposeful energy in their steps. Some of them stopped right outside the grotto . . . and it occurred to Mags that if there was one place beside the river that was clearly suited for keeping cool drinks cool, it was where the two of them happened to be sprawled. “Ain’t there supposed to be boat races today?” Mags asked, noting a look in the eyes of the nearest that said It would be very nice if you weren’t here right now. Of course, no Palace servant was going to be so rude as to shoo off a Trainee, but if they were in the way—

  “Oh, pox. Aye.” Bear got to his feet and dusted himself off. “Here, let me give you a hand. They’ll want us to clear off so they can set up.”

  The two of them cleaned up what was left of their impromptu picnic, to the unspoken gratitude of the servants. No sooner had the two of them gotten out of the way than a pavilion was set up on practically the same spot they had occupied a moment before, and servants began bringing baskets of bottles and jugs to store in the back of the grotto.

  “Where’s Lena?” Mags asked belatedly, as they moved back toward the Palace.

  “Busy all day,” Bear sighed. “Just like yesterday and the first day. Don’t get to see her until tonight. Since I figured way ahead of time that people were going to mostly need hangover tea and remedies for overeating, and made up pounds of both for the past couple months, I haven’t had anything to do with the visitors. They wouldn
’t want to see a Trainee anyway; they wouldn’t trust anything less than a full Healer.”

  “Go talk to Trainee Finny,” Mags suggested. “She’s a Fetcher, an’ she’d be real useful with the Healers doin’ the Kirball matches. She can pick up an’ hold a whole person. If somethin’ bad happened, she could lift a person into a stretcher without hurtin’ ’im more.” Out of the corner of his eye he’d just caught some motion in the Kirball field and spotted a few of the Kirball players over on the course, playing the version of the game that was just for fun and didn’t need helmets or padding. That is what had reminded him of his promise to Finny—but once he’d told Bear, he found himself wondering if there was room for him on either team.

  :I saw that too,: Dallen said with interest. :Want to join?:

  :You really need to ask?: he retorted.

  :Meet you there.:

  Bear had seen the direction he was looking and laughed good-naturedly. He knew Mags altogether too well, it seemed. “You never get enough of that, do you?”

  He grinned sheepishly. “Well . . . I . . .”

  “No, no, you don’t need to explain,” Bear chuckled. “Don’t have to explain that you just like to do something. I’ll go listen to Lena play, she always likes it when there’s friendly faces in her audience. When she’s done, I’ll go have a chat with your Finny. If you say she’d be useful, then there’s no doubt she would be.”