Redoubt (12 page)

:Don’t concern yourself. First of all, you know I am right outside your door. Second,
you sensed someone coming, recognized the mind as Bear’s, and didn’t even break your
concentration,:
Dallen advised him.
:Don’t worry, your instincts are just as sharp as ever.:

Oh. Well, all—

“I
need
you to come with me,” Bear insisted again, oblivious to the silent dialogue going
on between Mags and Dallen. “Right now, please.” He fidgeted a little, shifting his
weight from one foot to the other. Mags was using a single candle with a clever reflector
that concentrated all the light on his book, so the peculiar lighting actually made
Bear look a little sinister.

“Might help if ye told me why,” Mags replied mildly, shutting his book. “I do got
studyin’, unlike some folks that’s got no problem with book stuff.”

“Lena and I . . . we’re trying to do what you said to do, but Father Poul wants to
talk to
you,”
Bear said, a bit desperately.

Mags sighed and shoved his book aside. “Now? Really? I don’t got leave t’be down in
the city late tonight.” It wasn’t late yet . . . the sun was barely down. But if he
had to spend any time at all down in Haven, it
would
be late when he got back, and it might be after the time when Trainees were supposed
to be abed. “And I don’t reckon ye want me to go to Nikolas or Caelen an ’splain
why
I wanta be down in Haven tonight. It’s all right fer
you,
you got leave to be down there any time,” he added, a little crossly. Granted, he
had an extraordinary amount of freedom now, but he was, by nature, still cautious
about everything. When there wasn’t immediate danger, or when he wasn’t acting directly
on Nikolas’ orders, he just didn’t want to chance getting into trouble. His body remembered
what “trouble” meant, all too well, and even if he knew in his head that no one was
going to beat him half to death here for an infraction, his instincts were still set
by his life in the mines.

:I’ll tell Rolan that Father Poul sent Bear for you,:
Dallen said unexpectedly. And at Mags’ start of surprise, the Companion added
:What? It’s not a lie. It’s just not the entire truth.:

Well . . . that was interesting. So . . . a Companion was willing to occasionally
tell a partial truth?

Then again, Dallen didn’t seem to be the run-of-the-mill sort of Companion, if there
was such a thing.

:Are you going with me?:
Mags asked. A good question, since having Dallen along would make it easier to pass
the Gate Guards without question. Since the night that the assassin had tried to burn
down the Companions’ stable with all of them in it, an insect couldn’t get over the
walls without a challenge, so sneaking in and out was completely out of the question.

A mental snort of disdain.
:Of course I am, otherwise it will take you all night. Father Poul won’t think twice
about keeping a boy as long as he likes, even a Herald Trainee, if Poul thinks he
needs to question him in detail. He
will
think twice about keeping you if I am there to insist it is time to go back. Remember,
he is used to impulsive younglings colluding with each other to do something foolish.
Normally he would trust Bear and Lena, and he’d trust you, but in his eyes, this probably
looks very foolish indeed and could potentially bring a great deal of trouble on all
of you.:

Mags sighed again. “All right,” he said reluctantly. “But if you wasn’t my best friend . . .”

Bear didn’t let him finish that statement, hustling him up out of his chair and out
the door. Mags didn’t bother with tack on Dallen, not for a little jaunt like this.
He mounted Dallen’s back without any effort at all, just putting his hands on Dallen’s
shoulders and rump, hopping up, and swinging his leg over, then leaned down and offered
Bear a hand, pulling his friend up to sit behind him. Bear took a double handful of
Mags’ short-sleeved tunic to steady himself. Mags glanced back to make sure he was
secure.

Bear’s dumbfounded expression made him pause. “What?” he asked.

“You’ve gotten strong . . .” Bear said slowly. “You still look like anybody could
take you, but you’ve gotten
strong.”

Mags just shook his head, twined his left hand loosely in Dallen’s mane, and patted
Dallen’s neck as they cantered out of the gates and down the road that would take
them into Haven. “All the Kirball, all the roof-runnin’, an’ yer just
now
noticin’? Bear, all this business with yer Pa an’ Lena’s has made yer mind go soft.”

Bear let go of his tunic long enough to smack him lightly in the back of the head.

It was well after lamp-lighting that they reached Father Poul’s little temple. It
was a walled area in one of the poorest areas of the town, with a front courtyard
that was open at all hours to all comers. Mags was not entirely certain which gods
Poul represented, since after a while they all seemed to blur together to him. The
important thing was that he and his brother priests administered to some of the most
poverty-stricken and desperate people in Haven—and that Bear often came down here
to help them.

The wall about the place was plain rough stone. It was there largely to give the priests
and acolytes some semblance of peace and privacy rather than to safeguard much of
anything. The building within the wall was made of similar rough stone, with plain
wooden doors and windows with wooden shutters for harsh weather. There was no way
that turf would survive all the traffic, so it had been filled with river gravel and
sand. There were benches made of salvaged wood to sit or lie on, and a much-patched
swath of canvas had been affixed across the area for shade in the day.

Although it was after lamp-lighting, the courtyard was still playing host to people
who were looking for help, either spiritual or physical. The poor folk didn’t have
much choice about when they could come to a place like this for help. They were limited
to those few hours they had between finishing their work for the day and falling into
a weary sleep, so there was actually more activity here in the evening than there
was in the day.

The arrival of a Companion caused a bit of a stir and brought one of the Temple acolytes
out to find out what was going on before Mags had even dismounted.

“Father Poul asked t’see Mags,” Bear told the brown-robed acolyte shortly. The young
man nodded and disappeared back inside the Temple. As with most such places in Haven,
Mags was unsurprised to see that the courtyard was in use for many purposes. Some,
too poor to afford lamps, candles, or even tallow dips, came here to read or to learn
to read or figure. They had their own place, under one of the two courtyard lanterns.
The sick and injured waited patiently off on the quietest, darkest side of the yard,
and those who were here for reasons not obvious sat on benches in the middle.

Father Poul came out after a bit of a wait; Mags knew him well enough, since he had
come down here a time or two in order to give Bear a hand. He was short, slight, and
harried. The thinning of his hair might have had more to do with his habit of seizing
a handful of it at the scalp when vexed than to balding. Like all the denizens here,
he wore a simple brown divided robe. The priest gestured them to a side door in the
wall, that looked to lead into a garden. Since his gesture had included Dallen, and
the door was big enough to accommodate him, the Companion came too.

It was, indeed, a garden—a very neat and efficiently planned herb and vegetable garden,
lit with a single small lantern. That was probably a necessity—if someone came in
over the wall, whoever came to investigate would need
some
light to see by. It didn’t afford any seating to speak of, but it did seem to offer
some privacy. Dallen politely backed himself into a space where he wouldn’t trample
anything.

Father Poul didn’t waste any time with polite niceties; he came straight to the point.
“If what Bear has told me is the truth, you already know why I want to talk to you,”
the short, slight priest said firmly. He planted both hands on his hips, in an “I
will not tolerate any nonsense” pose.

Mags sighed, wishing he could see the priest’s expression in the gloom. “They want
t’ get married. They think it’ll solve some of their prollems. I tol’ ’em that Dallen
tol’ me that they prolly ought to, an’ that it’d be easier t’ do it and let things
sort themselves out than try an’ get permission. I dunno if it’s gonna solve much,
but I trust my Companion, an’ it’ll at least stop Bear’s Pa from tryin’ t’ treat him
like a prize breeder. That pretty much what they told you?”

“Your
Companion
told you this.” Poul made it a statement rather than a question, but Mags answered
as if it had been a question.

“Aye. He don’t seem t’mind bendin’ rules, does Dallen,” Mags sighed. “I s’pose since
he’s a Companion, people won’t think so bad of him for it.”

Dallen bobbed his head emphatically and pawed the bare dirt with a hoof.

Father Poul huffed out his breath, sounding a little annoyed in the darkness. “I’ve
never known a Herald or a Trainee to lie about what their Companion told them—”

Dallen snorted indignantly, and before Mags could stop him, he nipped the priest’s
sleeve in his strong teeth and gave the sleeve, arm and all, an admonishing shake.

“Here now! I wasn’t saying he was lying
now,”
Poul snapped, pulling his sleeve back. Dallen let him have it. He rubbed his hand
over his head, seized a handful of hair, and then let it go. “Well, now you’ve presented
me with a pretty problem. A Companion advised this. And if they were just a little
older, I wouldn’t hesitate. But—”

“You reckon why a
Companion
would say to do something, eh?” Mags retorted. “Prolly a good reason he can see that
we can’t. I reckon I’d listen to ’im if I was you. I tol’ ye, he don’ seem t’mind
bendin’ the rules, ’cept Lena’s been checkin’, an’ there ain’t no rules ’bout Trainees
gettin’ married. I s’pose there’s rules about young’uns gettin’ married outside of
what their folks arrange, but . . .” He shrugged. “Near as I can tell, rules ’bout
Trainees not bein’
forced
t’get married is the only thing goin’.”

Dallen stamped a hoof to emphasize Mags’ words.

“I can see that I’m not going to shake either of you on this, anyway,” Father Poul
said, a little crossly. “I thought perhaps it might have been Bear that persuaded
you, on the strength of your friendship, but I can see I was mistaken.”

“Aye,” Mags said shortly. Then added, belatedly, “Sir. An’ it’s gettin’ late, an’
I don’ wanta break the rules about bein’ down in Haven late.”

Dallen shook himself all over and looked pointedly at the door.

“All right, all right, you can go,” said the priest, waving dismissively. “I’ll have
to rethink this—
you
stay,” he added to Bear. “You and I are not done yet. I’ll make it right with your
superiors if need be.” He shook his head and muttered, “Even if I have to lie about
it.”

Mags made his escape, and while under other circumstances he might have been reluctant
to leave Bear in Father Poul’s hands . . . well . . .

In this case, Bear had put himself there.

* * *

Mags was not at all surprised two days later to come into an uproar at dinner and
discover that Bear and Lena had done exactly as he advised. The word was all over
all three Collegia; gossip was that the two of them had gone straight down to Haven
after luncheon and come back a couple of candlemarks later to present themselves as
a couple to the Deans. They had been closeted with the heads of the Collegia ever
since, and there was a lot of speculation as to what was likely to happen to them.

Mags just held his peace. As he had said, it was very difficult to force a lawfully
married couple apart if they didn’t
want
to be forced apart. Add to that Bear’s situation, and Lena’s, and the fact that Mags
knew they would present themselves with a well-thought-out plan for the future, and
he figured the conclusion—once everyone exhausted all the shouting and scolding they
would feel themselves bound to do—was forgone.

And so it was. Near the end of supper, the two appeared in the dining hall, hand in
hand, looking tired but satisfied.

No one had left, of course; everyone knew that the first place they would come would
be here, and by this time everyone who could fit inside was in there waiting, including
Amily, who was just a little, tiny bit put out with him for
not
telling her what he had known before this happened.

“You might have said
something,”
she whispered for the third time, as the buzz of conversation made the room feel
much too small.

Finally, he told her the truth. After all, she really deserved the truth, didn’t she?
“I didn’t say nothin’, on account of I didn’t have Bear’s leave, and I figgered you’d
feel obliged to tell yer pa.”

She opened her mouth to object, her pretty face betraying her obvious irritation,
then stopped. She closed her mouth, opened it again, then closed it. The irritation
was replaced by thoughtfulness.

Finally she spoke. “I’m still
annoyed,”
she said. “I see your points, but I am still annoyed.”

“Aye, and I still didn’t have Bear’s leave,” he countered.

“Did you even ask for it?” Irritation again.

“I figgered if he wanted ye to know, he’d’a tol’ ye himself.” That did seem, at least
to
him
, to be irrefutable logic. “It’s not like he isn’t seein’ ye once every couple of
days, aye?”

The irritation was replaced with frustration, because she knew very well he was right.
The meetings were even in private, since he was making sure her leg was continuing
to heal correctly.

“An’
wouldn’t
you have felt obliged t’tell yer pa?” he continued—

:You really are pressing your luck, you know,:
Dallen interjected.
:You might win the argument, but you might not like the results of winning.: