Changes v(cc-3

by Mercedes Lackey

  He explained it all to Dallen as he washed and dressed. The Companion listened without interruption until he was done.

  ::I don’t like it,:: Dallen said, slowly. ::Oh, not the plan, the plan is sound enough. I just don’t like that it puts you in the position of hurting those children even a little. I can see why you think you have to—I just don’t like it.::

  ::No more do I,:: he confessed. ::But kin ye see another way?::

  ::No,:: Dallen admitted. ::Not an expedient one.::

  ::Aight. I’ll arsk their f’rgiveness later. Make it up to ’em. Mebbe thet Lord Somethin’ what took care a Selna kin find ’em someplace good t’ go. Now, I gotter find out what they was doin’. Maybe it weren’t nothin’ but runnin’ t’fetch stuff, an’ they don’ even know what ’twas they was fetchin’. But mebbe it were somethin’ important fer us t’know. Either case, I gotter find out.::

  Instead of going straight to lunch, he went to Nikolas’ rooms—and walked straight into a storm of tears.

  Nikolas nearly opened the door to his rooms in Mags’ face; they were both shocked, Nikolas that he was there, and Mags because Nikolas hadn’t sensed him before he opened the door. But Amily was wailing, and Amily never wailed, her voice thick with tears and pitched high with frustration.

  “But why?” she sobbed. “Why?”

  “I can’t tell you, sweetness,” Nikolas said, in a tone of voice that suggested to Mags he had used this very phrase several times now. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

  “You can, but you won’t!” she wept. “That’s not good enough! I got myself all ready for this! I can’t bear dragging myself around any more! I want to get it over with, and I want to get it over with now! What if something happens? What if Bear’s parents drag him off? What if the other Healers get tired of waiting about and get assigned somewhere else? What if it never happens?”

  Mags quickly deduced what was going on: for some reason, the complicated procedure to straighten Amily’s leg had been canceled, and she was justifiably upset, the more so because her father wasn’t telling her why. Somehow, something had changed, and changed drastically, between last night and this morning.

  “The King has already issued the order that Bear is to stay here,” Nikolas reminded her, an edge of exasperation in his voice. “And the cancelation has nothing to do with Bear.”

  “They don’t trust him!” she cried. “I trust him! That ought to be good enough!”

  Nikolas pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Amily,” he said sharply, “I have been over this with you a dozen times now. We will fix your leg. I don’t know when, but this is just a temporary delay. You have to stop this; you’re going to make yourself sick—”

  “As if you care!” she cried, burying her face in her arms.

  Nikolas gave Mags a look of frustration. “See if you can calm her down,” he said, in the tone of someone who was quite at the end of his rope. “I’ll be back.”

  Oh... great... How was he supposed to do that?

  He closed the door behind himself, quietly, and crossed the room to where Amily wept, draped over the arm of a settle. He sat down beside her. He didn’t know what to say, so he opted to say nothing; he just patted her shoulder now and again, awkwardly.

  Finally she stopped crying and sat up and looked at him with eyes red and swollen. “I don’t understand!” she said blotting her face with a handkerchief. “They just came and told me that they were putting off fixing my leg! They won’t give me a reason, and they won’t tell me when they will allow it! They won’t talk to me about it at all! Don’t they understand how scared I am to do this? Don’t they understand how hard it was to decide to go ahead? Why won’t they just—”

  “I dunno either,” Mags said, feeling utterly helpless. “This’s the fust I heard of ’t. There’s gotta be a reason... I dunno, mebbe they wanta give Bear more time t’get ever’body all coordinated like? Mebbe Foreseers figger there’s gonna be a summer plague or somethin’, an’ they’re gonna need alla th’ Healers? Mebbe—” Well, he could think of dozens of good reasons, but not any that meant they wouldn’t tell Amily the reason why. And there was a reason; he’d seen that in Nikolas’s face, in a brief flash of guilt when Amily demanded the reason of him and he’d said he couldn’t tell her.

  Couldn’t. Which meant he was under orders. If he hadn’t known the reason, he would have said something to that effect.

  What on earth could cause him to be under orders like that?

  Amily knew all of this as well as he did.

  And if the answer had been, “It can’t be done now because the Foreseers think it will kill you,” yes, she would be told that too.

  The only thing he could think of was that it had something to do with the new spies—or assassins—that he and Nikolas had uncovered, and that made absolutely no sense at all. As Mags was very well aware, although the King would do so with tremendous regret and a guilt that stayed with him the rest of his life, he would not hesitate to sacrifice anyone, not even the daughter of the King’s Own, for the greater good of Valdemar. And what difference could this procedure make to the safety of the Kingdom anyway? That was like saying the safety of Valdemar depended on whether or not a particular orchard had fruit this year.

  “You can come up with maybe’s until you turn purple, Mags,” she cried passionately. “So can I! I’m not a child; don’t I deserve to know what the real reason is?”

  “Reckon yer pa jest wants t’pertect ye,” he said, for truly, what else could he say?

  “But I don’t want to be protected!” Now she flushed with a little anger, which was good—at least she wasn’t crying anymore. “All right, I am going to be as afraid as anyone else if there is a good reason to be afraid, but I can face whatever it is! I can! I don’t need to be protected!”

  Mags thought about how Nikolas looked whenever he thought Amily was going to be hurt, even a little, and the lengths he went to in order to keep that from happening, and clamped his mouth shut.

  “Look, I’m certain-sure it ain’t ’cause they don’ think they kin trust ye,” he said finally. “An’ I don’ think it’s ’cause they reckon ye’d ever do summat thet’d cause a mort’a trouble. But mebbe they ain’t telling’ ye, ’cause if ye knowed, ye’d do summat that’d bollix things all up, wi’out realizin’ ye was doin’ it?” He shook his head. “I jest dunno—but I’ll try an’ find out.”

  She dried her eyes some more. “I hate not knowing things,” she said fiercely. “Father used to keep all sorts of secrets from me, because he thought I’d be afraid, or I’d fret too much about the danger to him, and I fretted more because I didn’t know what was going on! He knows that! He knows it better than anybody!”

  Mags could see that. “I’ll jest see what I kin find out,” he pledged, which was, after all, all that he could really do.

  “. . . and they won’t tell me!” Bear fumed, his anger underlaid with anxiety. Of course it was. Poor Bear—the first thing he would think was that this delay was because “everyone” had realized that his father was right, and it was the height of madness to have put him in charge of this project, only no one would tell him that because they were all going to be polite about it.

  Then he would be certain that the truth was that they all knew, and they were talking about him in pitying tones behind his back.

  Pitying or scornful.

  Bear had an active imagination. His next leap would be that shortly his father would be sent for, and he would go home and—

  And he would never see Lena again, nor any of his friends. He’d become an animal Healer, dispensing herbs for sick sheep. Maybe his father would allow him to take a human as a patient, so long as it was nothing serious—or was purely mechanical, such as setting a bone or stitching someone up prior to the “real” Healers doing their work.

  “Look—” Mags said, desperate to hold off the inevitable cascade of “and-then-they’ll-do-this.” “Has anybody said anythin’ ’bout this,
’cept ’tis bein’ delayed?”

  “No—but—”

  “How d’ye know it ain’t some Foreseer seein’ a summer plague i’ Haven?” Mags rubbed his temples. Getting Amily calmed down had been hard enough. Getting Bear calmed down was giving him a headache. “Hellfire, iffen there was one’a those, they’d be needin’ alla beds an’ ev’ry hand.”

  Bear gave him a look. “There hasn’t been a plague in Haven for over two hundred years.”

  “Then yer overdue,” Mags retorted. “It don’t have’ta be a plague. Could be a fire.” He thought about what a disaster that fire the assassins had set could have been if there had been a wind. “Hot, dry, big ol’ windstorm, some’un’s lantern goes over, whut happens then? Bad time t’hev some’un laid up i’ middle uv a complisticated Healin’.”

  “That’s not even a word,” Bear said crossly, but he was listening at least. “So why not just tell me that?”

  “Cause Foreseers got caught lookin’ stupid ’bout me?” Mags replied. “Mebbe ’cause—look, yer part’a my crew, so I kin tell ye. They’s a couple new lads from thet merry band’a killers, an’ they are whoa better’n the first lot.”

  Quickly, he told Bear about the situation he and Nikolas had unearthed. As he had hoped, it at least got Bear’s attention and got his mind off his own troubles. “So what’f they seen this new lot doin’ somethin’ that hurt a buncha people? So, aye, they tell head of Heralds and head of Healers, and they find out Nikolas knows ’bout ’em already. But they ain’t a-gonna bandy this ’bout. Iffen it gits out, people’ll panic, start seein’ assassins ev’where, next thing y’know, there’s people beatin’ up people on account’a they got a funny way’a talking, or they look furrin’ or—well, you know people.”

  Bear nodded, slowly, reluctantly. “But wouldn’t Nikolas tell you?”

  “Not iffen ’e was ordered not to. ’E’s kept plenty’uv things from me. Hellfire, I’d wanta go tell Master Soren an’ my other friends down i’ Haven, an’ they’d wanta warn their friends, and sooner or later, some’un’d slip.” By this time, he was half convinced himself. It made perfect logical sense.

  “I mean,” he continued, “Le’s go ahead an’ get real crazy. ’Cause these fellers don’ know what kinda weather we’ll get, mebbe they cain’t count on the right sorta stuff to make a big fire, an’ they know we got the Foreseers what might See somethin’, an’ Heralds that’d get roused up right quick iffen they ran ’round settin a lot of fires. But mebbe they got a new kinda plague where they come from, new t’us, mebbe. An’ mebbe they know what spreads it. So mebbe they come ’ere wi’ thet i’ baggage, an’ are getting’ ready t’turn it loose.”

  Bear shuddered, the anger in his expression fading, being replaced y alarm.

  “I ain’t sayin’ ’tis thet,” Mags hastened to add. “I’m jest sayin’, could be. Aight?”

  “All right,” Bear agreed. “But where does that leave me?”

  “Where’d it leave ye afore ye got tapped fer Amily’s fixin’?” Mags countered.

  “Well... .” Bear rubbed the back of his head ruefully. “Keeping Lena from feeling bad, as much as I could. And classes. And doing my work with the healing kits. I feel bad for putting some of that aside, but I have the basic kit now, and that part is out of my hands . . .”

  “Aight. So figger ’stead’a runnin’ ’round tryin’ t’be three people, ye got leave t’jest be one fer a change.” Mags punched his shoulder, lightly. “Wish’t I c’d say th’same.”

  ::Mags,:: Dallen interrupted. ::Time to go. Nikolas has arranged that leave.::

  “I gots t’ git,” he said, feeling both a bit of thrill and a lot of apprehension.

  “. . . and not to go to class,” Bear said after a moment, studying his face. “You’re going to be down in Haven all the time now.”

  “Mebbe.” Mags shrugged. “Dunno yet. Mebbe we’ll move inter thet shop fer a while. I dunno. Might could be e’en Nikolas dunno. Jest know I gotta go now, cause we gotta be down there long afore sunset t’day. I gotta start huntin’ fer this new lot.”

  Bear gave him a long and measuring look. “These people almost killed you,” he said, somberly. “Three times, they almost killed you. And the ones that almost killed you, you say weren’t as skilled as these new ones.”

  “Aye, I figgered thet part out,” Mags said dryly. “Might’ve been no bad notion t’have some other Gift, aye? Too bad we don’ get t’pick, I’d’a picked one thet made it so I had t’be treated like King hisself.”

  “And what Gift would that be?” Bear asked.

  “Dunno. Kingdom’s Luck? Thet a Gift? Whatever, I’m th’ one thet kin hear these lads, so I’m the one gotta go.” He honestly wished it could be anyone but him right now. Or better yet, that there were two of him.

  Bear made a face. “Just—”

  “Don’ say ‘be careful,’ aye? I ain’t goin’ inter this plannin’ on doing stupid shite.” Mags gave him an evil stare.

  It had the desired effect. Bear laughed a little. “Point taken. And I suppose you had best get on your way before Nikolas gets annoyed with you. Go on, I’ll—try not to let my imagination get the better of me. I’ll definitely keep Lena sane, and try to do the same for Amily.”

  Mags thought about advising him to do—or not do—any number of things. But in the end—would any of it do any good? Probably not. “I’ll let ye know when I kin, what’s what,” he said instead. “Iffen ye see me t’morrow, least ye’ll know I ain’t fightin’ fer bedspace wi’ bugs down i’ Haven.”

  And he had to leave it at that.

  He met Nikolas at the stable and knew immediately by the size of the packs that Dallen and Rolan were carrying that he would not be seeing his friends over lunch—not tomorrow, and maybe not for a while. A moment later, Nikolas confirmed his guess.

  “I can’t say that I will be terribly unhappy at not having to deal with my daughter for a while,” the Herald murmured as he tightened the girth on Rolan’s saddle, and made sure that everything was comfortable for the Companion. “Maybe by the time I am back up here, she’ll have decided that I am not the worst father in the Kingdom.”

  “I—” Mags tried to think of something to say, and couldn’t. He finally just shrugged. “Ain’t nothin’ I kin say, sir. Iffen yer unner orders, well... an’ I reckon ye cain’t even tell me thet much. An’ iffen ye cain’t tell me, aye, ye cain’t tell Amily. I don’ like it, an’ she don’ like it, an’ it ain’t fair, though. Ain’t like we’d tell any’un, an’ any’un thet thinks we would’s daft.”

  Nikolas just gave him an opaque look. “Let’s just say that events in the past have proved that Foreseers sometimes interpret what they See incorrectly, no one wants to chance that happening this time, and leave it at that. Amily will get her leg mended as soon as can be managed, and Bear will be the one overseeing it. I just can’t tell you, or her, or him when that will be. Now let it go. That’s more than I should have told even you.”

  “Yessir,” Mags replied, and got into the saddle. “So... any notion ’ow long we’ll be livin’ o’er yer shop? Attic’s like t’be mortal warm t’sleep in. I dunno, might could wanta think ’bout sleepin’ elsewhere?”

  “We’ll actually be living in a squalid little basement—or rather, what was a squalid little basement before I smoked out all the vermin and made some improvements,” Nikolas told him, though he didn’t look at all happy about this. “I couldn’t do too much without exciting attention, however, so it will be rough.”

  I don’ think ’e ’as the least little idea of rough, Mags thought to himself, but with more amusement than bitterness. Maybe it was a good thing that even Nikolas forgot, now and again, just who he was talking too. “ ’Tis a basement. Be cooler than attic. Might could be cooler nor up ’ere. Dunno whut yer room’s like, but mine’s been a-getting’ warm.”

  “There is that,” Nicolas admitted, and hoisted himself into the saddle as well. “So, off we go to our grand adventure of sleeping in a cella
r, bathing in a bucket, and eating dubious sausage and hoping it isn’t so dubious that we need a Healer afterward.” He shook his head, and Rolan echoed the gesture. “Oh, the grand and glamorous life of the King’s Own! I’ve more than half a mind to kidnap Marchand and show him what our work is like on an intimate basis. Maybe then he wouldn’t be so cursed jealous of me.” He led the way out of the stableyard and onto the road.

  Jealous? Huh. Thet might ’splain a few things . . .

  “Oh, I wouldn’ do thet, sir,” Mags said aloud as they passed through the gate and moved down among the Great Houses. “Fust time ’e felt a mouse run o’er ’im i’ th’ night, ’e’d bloody scream so loud ’arf Haven’d think we was stranglin’ a cat. Then, there goes us bein’ all quiet-like.”

  “It would be worth it,” Nikolas said, fervently. “Can you imagine his face?”