Unknown Wars Chapter 20: Blind Trust
An off putting drizzle, masquerading as early morning fog, greeted Marie when she lifted her head from her linen pillow two days later. While she was fond of Alberich's bed, over her own lonely one, the events that transpired the following morning after her cozy stay over were not worth repeating any time soon.
As soon as it was light enough to see two hands in front of their noses, the senior most healers had descended upon the happy sleepers. After an abrupt and rude awakening they had bestowed upon the pair of Heralds the most guilt laden and stern lecture of injury recovery dos and donts that had been heard in twenty years. Afterward Alberich has been dosed with another tray full of potions and salves, while Marie was quickly and efficiently removed from his abode with firm instructions to,
"leave him to mend properly." As one prudish healer had put it, in an admonishing tone.
No doubt it was the healers devote belief that she had squirreled him away on purpose with the sole agenda to exhaust the poor man. It was a saving grace to her dignity that she found their ideas endearing and ridiculous.
It was just as well, this was going to be a busy day, might as well get an early start on it.
Briskly walking across the field to her dormitory, she found the cool air and light drizzle quite refreshing after so many months of intense heat and drought. Although her steps were spirited and her trip brief, her hair was still slick against her scalp and her uniform damp by the time she reached the side door.
Once in her room she decided against a bath, since she had effectively just had a small one outside. Instead she donned a fresh uniform and combed out her hair until it was dry enough to braid. Grabbing her research and tucking the clan journals into her leather satchel, she stuffed a few apples into her pouch pockets and made it to her classroom a hair before Inan and Teren.
Inan was looking at the arrangement of desks and the supplies in the next room, noting that what he had originally assumed was going to be a light tussle ring, was set up rather like some of the science halls in the artificer's guild. He puzzled some more on the purpose of this arrangement while Teren skimmed the lesson plans Marie had prepared for his approval.
"Why the laboratory set up in the other room?" Inan asked after his appraisal of her space.
"I realized that although Kyril tasked me with designing the new curriculum, it was not in his intentions to land me with the sole responsibility of teaching both sets of classes. My real talents lie within teaching an attitude that will be cultivated through the joined efforts of many. I can teach tactics, war theory and history, survivalist methods, and I have a unique experience on the subject of spying, and securing a nation against her enemies. That is really what Kyril and Elcarth want from me.
"I will instruct the trainees through a theory class for the time being, but I expect that eventually the same subject matter can be integrated into the broader History classes.
"I had initially thought of teaching advanced combat tactics, but that should really be left to Alberich's discretion and direction. I can step in, to teach specific anecdotes to that underlying discipline, but how would it look to non-Heralds if combat and physical war skills were being split so openly between two instructors. It would draw suspicion where it would not serve us. No, it is better if Alberich continue as he always has, and he and I can discuss where enhancements are needed on a person to person basis."
"He has already agreed to this arrangement?" Teren asked with surprise written plainly over his features.
Marie nodded.
"Alright, there is one point I feel I should mention as your advisor. I know that Alberich had that uniform made for you as an alternative to the "target outfit" that the rest of us wear, but it seems to me that a formal instructor of the Collegium should wear Whites." he hedged.
"I respect the position you are taking, however I disagree with you. Selenay has no issue with my continued use of this off-color uniform. I do admit that there will be instances when nothing but the official whites will do, but I do not agree that my teaching position is necessarily one of them. You may rest assured that whenever I take my students off of the Collegium grounds, as an instructor or not I will wear the appropriate set of Herald Whites. However, for most of my lessons conducted within these two rooms, and elsewhere within the company of Heralds this set is ideal for my purposes. Not to mention that some of my lesson plans will require that I wear other outfits specific to the lesson at hand. Besides which, there are no official rules about what instructors should wear when teaching." she added a little defensively.
"Do you mean, to wear various outfits, for the assuming a character for obtaining confidences?" Teren asked confused.
"Not just that, I want to address the logic of and theory of fashion and wardrobe. I intend to illustrate this through the use the shrouds my people used to wear into battle, and how accessories tell much more about a person than questions and answers alone. Aspects of wardrobe are also vital for the purpose of teaching invisibility."
"Invisibility?" Teren asked skeptically.
"It's a much simpler tactic, than you are assuming Teren," Inan began.
"He's right, in this case, invisibility is mostly about blending into your surroundings, and of course stealth techniques, anything else can only be achieved with magic." Marie finished.
Teren chuckled at this, and Inan and Marie shared a knowing glance. Once they had collectively realized that magic wasn't "real" to the people of Valdemar, they were both more conscious of instances like this. Teren had thought they were making a joke, it was a point of annoyance for both of them, but it couldn't be helped.
"You're right there are no exact rules about what an instructor should wear while teaching. I suppose it was never worked out since most of the teachers are Heralds, Healers, or Bards with our own impressive uniform. Dressing in the uniform is intended to give everyone an equal footing, but for these specific lessons you've planned, I don't think it would hurt anything to wear something different if it helps you illustrate a particular point." Teren said conceding to her motives.
"Now then, have you come to any conclusions about how we, the rest of the staff can help lessen your academic load?" Inan redirected evenly.
In the end, it had been decided that almost all of the tactical defense and offense training would continue to be handled by Herald Alberich and his second hand instructors. Marie's general classes would focus specifically on the study of combat theory, though for her additional instructions she would broaden this to a kind of special survivalist training that would be interdisciplinary. However only full Heralds whom had already completed their internships would be eligible for these extra lessons.
Subjects that could be enhanced had been altered already for the new term, to take some of the load off of Marie. Among these, Geography was now including a partial curriculum on local edible plant life, Artificers were also holding special lessons open to the Herald's Collegium to learn basic tool construction, from both found objects and local raw materials.
"Before we depart, I have been asked by Kyril and the Queen to explain that they feel it is time to introduce us to your network of artisans. I think they wish to know those others whom you trust with your affairs, and theirs." Inan stated trying to make their request sound as reasonable as possible.
Marie smirked at his attempt, and looked to where Aaron was listening from his perch in the rafters. At her slight nod, he expertly scampered along the high beam to a small window. Once there he paused as if waiting for some further command.
"Alright, I will make the inquiries. Should I have them come to the Palace, or will sending word be enough?"
"They should try to come to the Palace on 'artisan business' if they use that phrase specifically we will know how to direct them." Teren explained.
Marie nodded in an unconcerned way, but made a gesture to Aaron who pushed the widow open and crawled through it like a mouse in a drain.
Teren never gave any indication that he had seen Aaron, but Inan was smirking behind his fist over the whole affair. He tried not to laugh as Teren continued,
"Also, are you still sure you want to enlist your youngest spies to co-instruct these classes? I do not question their abilities, it is just most unorthodox to enlist the help of unaffiliated children to teach Heralds and Herald trainees."
Marie and Inan both fixed Teren with a sharp look.
"This whole situation is unorthodox, in your own chronicled histories nothing like this has ever been attempted before. Personally a different approach is why I was asked to do this job, the methods I use have a purpose, I would ask you to trust in my judgement if nothing else?"
Teren was still unconvinced but the look of unwavering support Inan was giving Marie quieted some of his nerves, and he conceded to her wishes in the end.
"Besides Aaron will be there as well, and I know you have nothing against him," Marie teased with a brief smile.
Teren did admit that he liked Marie's friend Aaron quite well. The man had a familiar sense of humor that reminded him of his own mother. As quiet as Aaron was, his wit was sharp and quick and Teren enjoyed the mental sparring between them. In private Teren had often wondered why the young man had not been chosen, but then he remembered that although there were many wonderful people in the world, the makings of a Herald were special and it was possible to be truly good, and kind and live a graced life without having the makings of a Herald. In the end he had concluded that Aaron must be one of these.
What Teren didn't know was that upon his first arrival in Haven, a companion had approached him. Aaron had spoken once about it and only to Marie. The spirit had not confronted him to choose him, but to inquire about him. The answers he had given the being were honest and nothing was held back. He had confided that somewhere during that conversation the companion had decided that Aaron was best suited for a life outside the Heraldic Circle, and he had agreed.
A Herald's sense of duty had to be first to country, then to kin, but in Aaron's case this could never be so, for he had sworn his most serious vows to kin before all others. The companion that had sought him out seemed to understand that while Aaron may have had the makings of a Herald, that ultimately it wasn't the right life for him.
Marie hadn't been surprised by Aaron's encounter, nor was she surprised that he had turned it down in a way. Without taking him for granted, she too understand what the Companion had seen in him and for him, and felt honored to be his friend.
When the meeting was over, Marie contemplated her options. She could easily spend the whole day sending out summons to the network, but she wanted to wait until Vorn came back to her with his latest report. Undecided, she sat in a wide seat, wooden chair near one of the large windows and pulled out her new journal.
The clan histories had become too large to continuously keep rebinding the pages. Instead she had gone to a great amount of trouble to find a piece of hide thick enough to make another newer version of the previous journal. She kept them strapped together by the same buckle so that the back cover of the first was the front cover of the second. This way she was assured to never loose them. The final rebinding had been very tricky, and had required making a pocket-like cover for the older journal while still allowing unhindered access to the second.
Lounging sideways and at an angle in the chair, with her back to the door, Marie reread her father's entries from as far back as twenty-five years ago. His amazingly small handwriting was still legible and dark against the pale yellow waxed hide. The ink he had used hadn't faded at all over the years, much to his daughter's relief.
Her father had expressed the same doubt and overwhelming pressure she was now faced with. It was not a new feeling by any stretch of the imagination. Every time she had taken on a new pupil whether here in Haven or in the desert of her far away home she had felt a resurgence of fear for their fate. Being a war general meant knowing that not everyone would survive. What was worse than that truth, was knowing that if they did die that it might be because she hadn't taught them well enough.
It was the same for Alberich. Every time the Death Bell tolled like a ghost from a bell-less ruined tower, he felt that somehow he could have done more, and that he had failed them. There wasn't anything the others could do for him because as twisted as the thoughts were, they were in at least part, the truth. Never to the guilt ridden extent that he felt them to be, but there was truth in the idea that there was always something else they could have learned. However learning everything there was to know would never guarantee the saving of lives.
She didn't know how long she had been sitting there drawing comfort from the personal thoughts of her father. As she read she could hear his voice as if he were sitting next to her speaking his thoughts aloud to her. After all that had befallen her, both sad and joyous, she still missed him like a part of her had disappeared never to return. Feeling a dull ache in her heart made her pause in her study to take a few slow breaths.
That's when she heard it. A small, barely noticeable sound from just inside the door.
The air seemed mustier than it had been a moment ago, and she could deftly smell the charred cinder smell that came from the coal cellars near the Palace kitchen. Under the ashen coal smell was the unmistakable waft of sweet grass that grew only in Companion's Field. Dissecting the scents in the room further she could pick up the cinnamon flakes that Mero used on his pastries. Breakfast was still thirty minutes shy of being served, so it had to be a cook's helper or a kitchen hand. She mentally recalled the names on the roster this morning and half smiled when she realized who it must be.
"Hello Skif." she greeted calmly.
Skif stared at her back, he knew that he shouldn't have been surprised, but she hadn't twisted around to see the door and he wasn't deep enough into the room to show up as a reflection in the window glass.
"How'da know it was me?"
"Smell."
"But I took a bath!"
"I didn't say I was smelling you, but I could smell where you have been." she began
Now she did get up from the chair and walked casually to her desk and slid her father's journal safely into a locked compartment under the table top before continuing.
"Jeri let it mention that you prefer to ride with Cymry in the early morning. Sweet grass is the most fragrant at this time, and no doubt your boots are covered in the dew water that collects on it's long stalks. You are also on the roster as a kitchen hand this month, which explains the pungent smell of coal dust mixed with the spicy cinnamon flakes that Mero sprinkles on his Breakfast pastries. Not to mention that there are very few people among trainees and Heralds alike that have the stealth skills necessary to open a door like that without being heard." she concluded soberly.
Crossing her arms over her chest but wearing an amused smile she leaned against the girth of the desk and took him in as he digested her analysis.
"Alright, ye got me."
"What can I help you with?" she asked not stirring from her current position.
Her eyes furrowed a little when his posture instantly changed from a playful trickster, to that of a nervous boy. Whether he was conscience of it or not, he had shifted from a straight position on the sturdy balls of his feet, to a slouched timid stance. Marie was taken for a moment by the reveal of insecurity he was displaying, but let him get his words out in his own time.
"Well I has things t' say n' I'm sorey fer not say'n em before." he almost stammered.
"You mean to say, 'you have things to say'?" she corrected.
She knew that Skif had been tutored in speech and language but that he still struggled with proper grammar and diction. She couldn't blame him, Valdemarian was not a simple language, it was laced with tricky rules that were bound to trip up the new scholar. Only constant practice would help him in that regard.
"Yes ma'am."
Now she did straighten in order to get his full attention before saying,
"Marie. Whether we're in classes or talking as we are now, I am just another Herald and my name will do."
Skif nodded and she gestured for him to pull up a chair nearer to her desk.
"Before you begin, I need to say something specifically to you, if you don't mind? I understand that you have a certain penchant to lift items from your classmates and others. I know it to be for what it is, a laugh, but you must listen to me carefully now. Things in my possession, both in this room and on my person, are not to be trifled with. I carry dangerous and sensitive materials with me at all times, and I ask that you never play around with that. Do we have an understanding?"
Her face was devoid of any of the softness that had been there only seconds ago, and her tone was an icy nail in Skif's mind that showcased her seriousness.
Numbly he found himself nodding, and just like that her hard features were once again soft and calm.
Jeri had confided to Skif that while Marie was one of her closest friends, despite the large gap in their ages, Jeri had no illusions about her friend either. Skif had walked away from that particular conversation both highly respectful of Marie's abilities and also very intimidated. Keren had a similar, although not as intense, effect on the young trainee. However where Keren was like a surrogate aunt to Skif, it was clear that Marie was destined to be the commander he never wanted to disappoint. As harsh as that reality was in light that she was a Herald, he supposed they were all lucky that she was on their side.
But that wasn't why he was here now.
Skif looked down at his hands as he tried to formulate his next words.
"Since that scuffle in Hell's Gate..."he paused,
"You see Jeri and I, well we've been talking and-"
"Let me guess, she may have intimated my personal connection to the weapons-master?"
At the small boy's expression, she could easily guess why he was here.
"You don't owe me any sort of apology for what happened to him. As I understand it, if he hadn't been there you may not have lived through the night. Correct? It had to done, it was the right course of action, and that's all that matters. We are Heralds, we understand the stakes and the consequences of our actions and inactions. If you feel you need to apologize further, you may, but I do not require such an apology from you."
"I just- he says I can learn so much from you, and I didn't want to get off on the wrong foot, you know?" he muttered still shame faced.
"Nonsense, now is that all?"
Now Skif was smiling gingerly, and the confidence was beginning to show in his body language again.
"Good, now off with you. I'll see you tomorrow in class."
As Skif slipped out the door, Inan slipped gracefully back in, this time with two hot bowls of porridge and eggs. He sat in the chair that Skif has vacated and handed her one of the trenchers. From his front pocket he produced a spoon for her which she accepted with a smile. In return she reached into her satchel for one of the apples and handed it to him.
"Thanks. So why are you still huddled up in here while the rest of us are in the Hall for breakfast?" he ventured.
"Was reading some of Father's training entries, before the would-be apology." she said, knowing full well that he had overheard at least the last half of her conversation with Skif.
"Yes, can't have that. People might think you're nice." he half mocked.
"You wound me!" she scoffed sarcastically, taking a bite of eggs.
They sat there in a comfortable silence each lost in the silence and the unique comfort of warm food.
"You know, even after living here so long, I still feel like each dish of warm food is a gift." Inan said softly, almost innocently.
"I feel that way, but about other things."
"Like what?"
"Hot water on demand." Marie sighed.
"Oh don't get me started, when I first got here I would have slept in those tubs if they let me." Inan managed a strained laugh, but his eyes revealed his regret.
Whenever Inan let down the blockades that best described his personal walls, he felt as though he was constantly saying something that Marie might interpret as a betrayal. He knew how she had felt when she had first arrived at the Collgium. He knew that given the circumstances it must have been very hard to cope with his choice not to return to the desert and their father.
"I don't want you to feel bad about that, what's done is done, and now that I've gotten some distance on that anger I can see that if things hadn't played out exactly as they have I wouldn't be the way I am. I'll never be grateful for your choices, but I cannot deny the person I am now because of their effect on my life. So please don't feel so timid on that or any subject. In some ways I am happy that you weren't in danger like the rest of us."
She stopped then, realizing that she had started rambling, and not wanting to make him feel worse she dug into her porridge a little more while trying not to look at him.
Inan blinked a few times at her, there were many things he had never expected her to bring up, and that was at the top of the list. Slowly he went back to his food, before taking a chance on her current state of mind.
"When Ivorn went...Did he-" Inan faltered, finding it nearly impossible to ask after his father's fate.
Marie lowered her spoon back into her bowl and stared at a small fleck of lint that was stark brown against his white uniform. Her eyes became slightly unfocused as she remembered the day. For a few precious moments all she could focus on was her own steady breathing, before she raised her eyes to Inan's inquisitive face.
"No, he didn't suffer."
Inan longed to ask for more details, but the expression on Marie's face was too stricken to push the matter any further. Instead he nodded his head and returned his gaze back to his food.
Marie continued to eat the last of her porridge, even though all the flavor had died on her tongue at Inan's question. Feeling an overwhelming need to change the subject and break the now awkward tension in the room she launched into an area of discussion they had been equally willing to avoid.
"I've been talking to several of the older bards, historians, and Herald-Chronicler Myste, about how magic died in Valdemar." she stated, watching him closely to gage his reaction.
Inan sighed. It was all the reaction Marie needed.
"I take it from your reaction that you experienced similar findings in your research?"
"Well, if by that you mean that a topic discussed at great length one day, is partially forgotten the next?" he jeered scathingly.
"Yes. That. Besides which, why aren't we affected to the same degree?"
"I've wondered that myself, and I remembered a conversation I had with one of Red's cousins once during holiday. He told me of a traveling magician, nothing fancy or dangerous, just hand tricks enhanced with a little mage light for flare. Apparently he tried to take his business from Hardorn into Valdemar but was never able to spend more than a few hours here. He said there was a 'feeling' about this place that seemed to chase him out, every time he tried."
Marie digested this.
"While he was within the borders of Valdemar, did he try to consciously not use magic?"
"Yes, but whenever he did an act, even without the use of mage lights he said he would experience an overwhelming urge to flee across the border within a night after. That got me thinking about magic users verses magical beings."Inan continued.
"From what you've suggested, the logical conclusion is that whatever keeps the people from remembering magic also seems to keep magic users out!" Marie exclaimed.
"It doesn't answer why Heralds seem to be immune to the 'feeling', but not the memory loss." Inan pointed out.
"Nor does it explain why you and I, and nearly all of my Eyes remember magic as real." Marie added.
"Nearly all?"
"Aaron said that before he was reunited with Vorn and I, that he couldn't recall for certain whether our childhood encounter with the mage-made wyrsa had happened or if he had dreamed it." she recounted solemnly.
Inan left out a long whistle, but confusion was written all over his features.
"But I've been here at least ten years, and you said he only arrived six years ago? Why was he affected so differently than I?" Inan wondered aloud.
"That I don't know, but I've been writing all of this down so if I start to forget I can remind myself, I promise to do you the kindness of reminding you should your memories waiver. It's not just you and I that have distinct memories of magic, Alberich has a few, although all of them are from his life in Karse. Maybe..." she drifted off.
"It's not much to go on, but we should try to keep researching and listening for others who know and remember as we do." Inan asserted.
A tentative plan in place, Inan gathered up the dishes and made his platitudes before departing for the library.
The soft drizzle of the morning had given way to dark low clouds and steady rain. Marie watched from an alcove window on the back stair as the water created a series of puddles that soon would become small ponds.
Wrapping her oiled cloak around her shoulders, cinching the hood tightly around her head, and tucked her satchel high on her shoulder before she braved the downpour. Darting between the deep eaves along the smaller buildings she was able to stay out of the worst of it until she had passed the guards gate and was trudging down the gravel road that led directly into Haven.
Once in the city, proper, she was bustled and bumped as people on all sides kept their head down to keep the water off the back of the shirts. She avoided the worst of the crowds by tucking close to the buildings. Unfortunately this meant she had to walk under the great down spouts, it was like hiking behind waterfalls, but it kept her out of the chaos in the roadway.
Finally she reached the glossy red door of The Smithery Shop and shook the excess rain from her cloak before entering. It wouldn't do to leave a wet stain on Herb Doloven's floor.
Despite the awful turn in the weather, the shop was full of its usual business, and Marie exchanged welcome greetings with the clerks she knew and one of the more amiable unaffiliated students she's seen around the Collegia.
Nathen was the seventh son of a country-bred nobleman. He wasn't in line to inherit much of anything except a small country estate east of Lake Evendim. Not to mention that he would have to be married a year before he could even plan to move in. So his parents had sent him to court in the hopes that he could carve himself a place in the world. Upon arriving, he had soon learned that his humble background and soft mannerisms were not an asset to the movers and shakers at Court. He wasn't interested in maneuvering politics or gossip, and he didn't possess any power to speak of, so largely he was ignored by the other players.
This meant that he kept his head in his books and was often found sitting under a window somewhere reading, or conversing with the other serious minded students within the Collegium. Marie had often come across him, in the gardens on warmer days. He always asked how she was, and when there was time they would discuss books and exchange personal niceties.
"Why are you out in this, when you could be hauled up with a book somewhere warm?" she asked socially.
"I'm bored with the gossip fodder at Court, and needed some time out of the Palace." he said while examining the rapier he was buying as the clerk searched for an appropriate case.
"Court getting on your nerves lately?"
Nathen nodded absently.
"Everyone seems to have the best and brightest theory on Lord Carthwright's murder. Not that any of them cared about him at all, they just want to be seen as clever, it's disrespectful, and I don't feel inclined to play into the intrigue game."
Herb had come out from behind the back room curtain and waived to her. Pausing him with a signal, she turned back to Nathen as he was readying to leave.
"Have you any plans after dinner?" she asked driven by an sudden impulse.
"I never have after dinner plans, m'Lady." he chuckled.
"The usual place?" she suggested, hoping he would pick up on her meaning.
He lifted his eyebrow but nodded,
"Until then." he said cordially with a small respectful salute.
Marie waited until the shop was empty of customers before engaging the owner. One significant look to Doloven, and the clerk rushed to lock the door and close the curtain across the display window. When the shop was secure, he drew back the curtain behind the counter to allow Hyden Archer and two elderly gentlemen to step through. The pair of greying men were twin brothers, Fenden and Merish, both specialized in intricate metal work and fasteners. Behind them Aaron was standing guard by the back door.
"Doloven, thank you for offering us the use of your shop." Master Archer intoned.
"Not at all, this meeting affects me too, and it is by far the easiest to secure." he returned.
"I'm sorry for the nature of this summons, however the Queen has requested an introduction with our artisan resources. As you four are the only ones I've had direct contact with since my arrival, I must ask you to do some of the inquiries to the other artists. If they are still interested in running messages, you may tell them that the Heraldic Circle now fully supports their operations. "
"How are we to introduce ourselves to Queen Selenay?" one of the elderly jewelers asked.
"Feden, all those who wish to stay, in the loop must go individually to the Palace. When asked you must use the phrase 'artisan business' to be recognized at an agent of the network. Once admitted you will be put under the Truth Spell, this is not my requirement but a safeguard of the Monarch's Own, I hope you understand."
"Times have grown darker, m'Lady, given the circumstances surrounding Carthwright's demise I wouldn't expect less." Merish replied soothingly.
"There will be other things to consider but, until we are certain who is in and who is out, they cannot be discussed here." Marie said finally.
"Understood." came the unanimous response, and as they had come the three men exited through the back of the shop.
Marie waited until Doloven had pulled back the curtain in front, and with her face concealed under her cloak hood Marie made her way back to the Palace Gate.
...
The rain was still falling hard when Nathen made the lonely trek up the twisting back stair to the so called 'usual place'. It wasn't so much a place as a junction of hallways with a built in stone bench off to one side covered in a thick blue cushion. It was Nathen's favorite reading nook, and though it was supremely comfortable he never saw another sitting there. Marie had called it the usual place, because it was where she most happened upon him.
He was still early for his meeting, and sat gingerly across the cushion, only to give a small shriek when he heard something hiss at him from over his head. Startled he looked up and saw the Herald in question reaching down from a high central beam.
"What the-?" he began.
"No time to get into it, give me your arm." she said authoritatively.
Not knowing how else to handle the situation Nathen gave a small jump from the edge of the seat he was now standing on and was surprised when he felt himself being hauled upwards to her location.
Nathen was not a very big young man, at fifteen he was mostly bone with very little muscle or heft to speak of. Once he was up, he grappled his way to a tentative sitting position along the truss of the ceiling.
"Okay, now I want you to pivot and walk to the wall in front of you." Marie instructed.
Nathen looked along the beam to the wall and noticed a dark shadowy patch that seemed to be missing some stones. Below he saw the eight foot drop he would suffer if he lost his balance. Gulping a little he focused on the wall and stood on shaky legs. Still looking ahead and not down, he made his way carefully to the far wall. As he neared he could plainly see that stones were indeed missing from the surface and that an alcove existed beyond the stone work. He turned his head to ask Marie something and spooked when he saw that she was less than a finger's length behind him. He would have tumbled off the beam had she not shot out her arm to help steady him.
"Don't look anywhere but that alcove in front of you, on the other side is the Herald's library. As a blue, it would be hard to explain your presence there, but it really is the safest place to talk."
Nathen accepted the logic of this, even though he was sure that there were easier ways of getting him into the Library, say a note from the Dean?
He regained his confidence and took the last steps to reach the wall. He climbed carefully through the stonework and sat against a low bookshelf as Marie waddled through. He watched her replace the stones, and followed her to a study corner in the far back of the book stacks. The thin layer of dust covering a small table set between two cushioned chairs intimated that they were in a part of the room that few ventured to. This suspicion was confirmed when Nathen sat in one of the chairs and coughed at the cloud of dust motes that puffed into the air in his wake. Overhead the rain could be heard pounding on the clay tiles of the roof that lay over the thatch.
Marie looked at Nathen, and felt it only polite to be the one to begin since she'd gone through all that trouble of maneuvering him to a secure spot.
"I know that all of this seems highly irregular,"
"A bit, yes" he answered half in annoyance and half in mirth.
"I have been thinking of that first conversation we had, about how you didn't know where your life was taking you, but you didn't believe that the tactics of Court were right for you."
Nathen nodded, remembering the discussion. It was the first time someone had taken any sort of interest in him, and he had been inclined to talk too much, although she had never said so.
"You may not agree or be interested in the political maneuvers, but you do understand them. You said that after watching your three eldest brothers fight over inheritance rights in your own family, it was easier to figure out the motivations of others if you just listened to them talk long enough.
"Is that what bores you about Court, that no one tells the truth, that they are all out to further their own agendas?" she asked.
Nathen thought about it seriously for a few moments.
"Yes, I suppose it is. I mean, everyone I meet at Court is interested in me until they find out that I'll never play the game to their level. Once they know I'm not a political equal somehow the masks come off, and I can see them all for who and what they really are. They are all the same! Greedy, power hungry, and spiteful. It's about who they use and take advantage of to complete their own selfish goals.
"I grew up revering Court, as the fair minded intellectuals of the realm, and Heralds as the heroic adventurers. Now I'm here, and I wish I could go back to that ignorance. Don't misunderstand me, I still believe in the Heralds of the realm, but how can the good of the realm prevail when Court is filled with such, such- Snakes!" he hissed.
Marie took in his rant with hope in her heart.
"What if you helped us, Heralds I mean, to stay ahead of the game?" she offered.
"How?"
Marie had been analyzing every nuance of his behavior for signs of deception. Given the delicate nature of this experiment she needed to be absolutely certain of his character. She had even cast a truth telling spell. It didn't compel one to tell the truth, it just covered a truthful person in a faith bluish tinge of light that only the caster and third party observer could see. Nathen could not see the apparition around his head and shoulders even though Marie could.
"Heralds are responsible for a lot within this kingdom, and there are not enough of us available to be stationed everywhere in the hope of learning something valuable. In this case we require friends who can monitor social scenes where we would be unwelcome.
I'm sure you've realized that there are groups at Court which are not fond of Heralds?" she said carefully.
"I have." he said softly.
"Power is a force that corrupts those who are weak willed and greedy. Unfortunately power can only be satisfied by the pursuit of more power, and this often leads to immoral behavior and questionable judgement."
"I would agree with you, but don't the Heralds wield power? And the Queen surely she has power."
"I've come to understand that power is an illusion, a kind of ghost that can never be caught. At least not the kind of power that the courtiers and nobility vie for. I would say instead that we Heralds, the Queen included, have responsibilities and duty to our kingdom and citizenry. We keep the peace and help things run smoothly and when needed fight in battles because we are first and foremost servants to all of Valdemar. The power you envision we have in our strength and numbers isn't one hundred percent real."
"The major players at Court and their various supporters across the kingdom seem to think it very real, but it's complicated."
Nathen seemed to be having a hard time coming up with the right words.
"You mean because they are either threatened by us or consider themselves above us?" Marie supplied.
Nathen nodded.
"Yes, it is a puzzle. Unfortunately those Heralds who are stationed at the Palace have more vital activities to pay attention to, and most of the time it becomes a game of guess as to which courtiers are for or against Heralds and why. That's where I was hoping you could assist us."
"You want me to spy?"
"Not really, I want you to do what you've always done. Watch, listen, analyze. The only difference is that I would like you to confide your observations formally and regularly to either myself or to another Herald I would like to introduce you to. Does this sound like something you can do?"
"And this will help you do your jobs?"
"Most ardently. There are some things that even Heralds cannot do without help."
...
Jeri was looking around the hall, trying to watch the doors for any sign of Marie. Keren, who was a few spaces down from the young woman gently lent behind Skif and Derek to say,
"She's probably preparing for her first lesson. When my twin first began teaching he was a nervous wreck." she confided.
Jeri nodded glumly. To take her mind off Marie's absence she picked up the card she had found tucked under her door this morning.
The students whom had gained competency in language, history, and rudimentary weapon skills had found similar notes under their doors too; Indicating an altered class schedule that incorporated a new 'Theory' class and room assignment.
The Heralds had been personally handed summons from younger trainees that were all written by Elcarth and bore his signature alongside Selenay's. The summons decreed the need for discretion in all matters concerning what would be discussed at the assigned meeting room later that evening.
The Lord Marshal Herald, Hedric, had been very specific when he had presented his opinion to the Queen and her other Herald council. What Marie was attempting was too important to leave in the hands of pages. Pages nominally in control of the lords they served, or their families served. Further no one was to speak of anything they knew about Marie's methods or endeavours before the meeting gathered.
It had been difficult for Teren not to let anything slip to Keren, but he agreed with Elcarth that too often secret matters had been carelessly shared among Heralds. No one in particular was to be blamed for this, they were only human, and all humans made mistakes.
...
Marie wasn't sure how this first lesson was going to unfold. It was important that she have the trainees before the Heralds, if for no other reason than to make them contemplate the gravity of their roles as would-be Heralds while at their other lessons.
Changing the perception of an entire community would take small and decisive steps.
She could hear the slightly frantic steps of students milling around the hallways, trying to gather at her door early to show their excitement or earnest for their studies.
The door, as some of the earliest students had discovered, was locked. Inside the classroom, above the heavy door frame, Alia was dangling high up in the shadows of the ceiling from the central wood girder. At Marie's command it would be the smaller girl who would drop down to lift the latch and then scramble back up to her hiding place.
On the other side, the alcove at the end of the corridor was full of students, but not until Dirk and Kris had joined the confused crowd did Sherrill, who was leaning against the wall hear the audible 'snap' of the lock hinge open.
She immediately pulled hard on the handle and the door swung deceptively easy and opened to reveal a completely bare room. The only furnishings were two large wardrobes against one wall. Dirk was one of the first to enter the room behind Sherrill, because of his position in the room he could see a nondescript figure sitting on the large desk in the next room through the archway.
He began to walk confidently in that direction until two things happened almost at once.
Through the high archway leading to the second room, Dirk spotted a second figure tucked sloppily behind and to the side of the desk.
The person on the floor had Marie's red hair, and was wearing Whites!
Dirk spun on his heal to tell the rest, when the door that had opened so freely for them a minute ago, slammed shut with a firm snap of the lock bolt. He grabbed Sherrill and Kris by the arm as he moved back towards the door and experimentally pulled.
It didn't move an inch.
The others, although they didn't know Dirk very well, saw the sudden change in his demeanor and followed him back towards the door. The most curious thing in their minds, was that when the door slammed shut no one had been standing close enough to manage it themselves. Nor was there any detectable draft that could have moved it.
Skif came to stand by Sherrill who was looking intently at Dirk's face.
Dirk was trying to communicate through clumsy hand signals to Kris, but Kris just looked more confused than before. Giving up Dirk clutched at his head to be as close to his friend's ear as possible.
"Danger, Marie is injured. On the floor." he murmured.
Skif and Sherrill could get the message by watching his lips move as he spoke to Kris.
Apprehension was spreading on the faces of the other upperclassmen, and a few had quietly and efficiently pulled small objects from their school bags that could be used as weapons.
One girl, whom Dirk couldn't remember the name of, had taken the kingdom flag from over the mantle and was bunching it's length in her hands as one would in preparation to throw a distraction cloth in front of an enemy.
Dirk, and Kris always had at least one blade on them, and Skif of course had his wrist worn throwing daggers. The others were finding their own makeshift weapons from the junk lying around the room.
Sherrill felt like the odd one out, all she had was her book bag. However she realized that it had a good strong strap, and she had gained arm strength in the year that she had been here. Quietly she took some of her ink pots out and replaced them with a heavier book of Skif's for added weight. If it came to that she could lobby it like a chain mace.
As a stealthy group, with the smaller more agile people in front they inched towards the archway. Skif was the one to poke his head around the pillar. He gave a hand sign that two people were seen, just like Dirk had described.
The mob turned the corner in a quick rush to take on the unfriendly figure, but when they charged mere seconds later the figure was gone. The Herald was still on the floor next to the desk facing away from them, but they would be vulnerable to attack if they all rushed to her side.
Skif's attention was not on Marie's prone form. He was looking deeply into the inky shadows above them. Sherrill had followed his gaze, and out of an instinct she had never felt, she swung her book laden bag around her body and directly overhead, releasing it into the rafters. The bag disappeared from view, but there was no indication that it hit anything.
SLAM!
Every student jumped when the book bag came thundering down upon the table in the far corner to the far left of their gathering.
As five of the larger students kept their rapt attention on the hidden ceiling, and it's occupant or occupants, Derek had made slow but steady progress toward Marie who was still lying motionless on the floor. Never taking his eyes off his surroundings, just like she'd taught him, he turned her over with a careful nudge of his knee as he knelt.
With one quick glance he sprang away from the body on the floor and back to the relative safety of the group with a sharp,
"That's not Marie!"
"What?" Dirk exclaimed.
"The girl on the floor, that's not her"
Later Dirk would understand that his mistake had been to let his surprise overtake his concentration.
As he looked to where the body on the floor had lain, he felt something wrap itself around his middle and as the sensation of being pulled impossibly toward the ceiling shocked him. The red haired body on the floor was no longer there.
Panicked cries erupted from the crowd of students who watched as both Dirk and Kris were spirited away into the rafters.
Behind them in the first room the door latch was undone and the remaining students bolted for the door. When they poured into the first room both Heralds Inan and Teren were standing on either side of the door, smiling and looking rather smug.
This break in their collective panic caused everyone to still and breathe an unconscious sigh of relief.
"It was an exercise." Sherrill breathed.
"Of course. We're not in the habit of placing our trainees in danger. If the threat had been real, what do you suppose would have happened?" Teren asked the group.
For a moment it seemed as though no one had the answer, until Derek spoke up,
"Our companions would have sounded the alarm if no one could mind-call to another Herald for help, and you would have been here with the guard to break the door down."
"Something like that" Inan chuckled.
"Now that the exercise has achieved it's purpose, you may all return to that second room." Teren said smiling before the pair of Heralds left, closing the door gently behind them.
Sherrill walked over to the massive frame and pulled on the handle. Just like before, the door swung freely outward without a single creek in the hinge.
Turning to her classmates, she shrugged,
"Just checking."
Feeling somewhat foolish for not figuring out the game sooner, the students returned to the other room and saw first that Kris and Dirk were sitting behind desks that were placed in a small semi circle around the larger desk. They hadn't been ten feet away, yet there had been no sound of moving furniture, it seemed almost like magic.
Marie was sitting upon the largest desk in a rather unprofessional fashion. Her legs were crossed and her feet tucked under the opposite knee. Her hands steepled under her chin, and a purposeful and calculating expression was firmly in place. Her eyes hard and cold as she anticipated the incoming group of students.
This gaze did not change as the students chose their seats.
She was also not wearing the typical uniform of Herald's Whites. Derek had noticed that particular detail right from the start. He had also noted that her outfit was entirely foreign from anything he had seen her wear before. The fabric was black or dark smoke colored and the cut was well fitted to her body, and it hung slightly loose around the ankles. She wore no shoes, but her feet had been rubbed in a greasy grey oil to hide the white of her skin. Her brow and hair were covered in a dark shroud that twisted around her nape and draped down her back.
Marie couldn't show it yet, but she smiled inside when she saw the wheels of evaluation turning in her youngest student's head. This ability to see to the heart of matters beyond his experience and years, had been why Marie had defended her choice to include Derek in her classes.
With only a few exceptions, Derek and Skif being included, the only trainee students she would ever teach were the upperclassmen, those who were within a few years of getting their whites. Additionally each of these students had to be approved by Alberich, and deemed "mature" enough to handle the complex subject manner.
Her intense scrutiny didn't seem to bother Derek in the slightest, nor did it openly phase Skif, who had an annoyingly wide grin on his face.
Once Dirk and Kris had seen who was hiding in the rafters, their apprehension and panic had melted like sun on morning frost. Now they sat in deep contemplation of their introduction to Marie's methods.
The others were squirming a little under her sharp eye, and she let them off as she looked above them and snapped her fingers once.
Alia and Aaron's appearance made the students start.
Those that had concluded that their teacher had recruited help with this drill, had been half expecting to see people climb down out of the rafters by the way Marie's stare had indicated a presence above them. Again, they felt like rabbits caught in an obvious trap.
Alia and Aaron pushed aside their own dust and sand colored shrouds and were immediately visible on either sides of Marie, though tucked flat against the long wall behind her.
Another body came into view then, a small slender redhead that closely resembled Marie crawled out from behind the desk, wearing Marie's Whites. She looked up at the collected students with a cheeky grin that rivaled Skif's. As she stood she pulled off the wig of red hair. The girl's own blond hair was the same as the girl against the wall, and as straight.
Marie waited until the wig was removed before pulling free her own dark shroud, which revealed her own hair, that had been dramatically cut short and cropped close to her skull.
Understanding was communicated in a vast sea of widened eyes and raised brows.
"Now they are ready" Orestes urged.
"As you can see, based on this morning's example, this is not a class taught in the traditional way." Marie began.
"These people are my friends and are approved by the Herald Circle and the Queen to be co-instructors and my attendants within these walls. This means that if they ask you to do something, they are asking on my behalf and you are to follow their instruction as though it were from my direct command.
"The two identical twins are Honey and Alia, and the gentleman to my right is my life long friend Aaron Wanderer."
Aaron took small courtly bow, and Alia and Honey curtsied to the students.
"The purpose of this class is to explore the reasons we react to different situations, how these reactions manifest in groups as opposed to the individual. This will help you understand how miscommunications have lead to larger arguments, and wars. I am here to help prepare you for war-time situations. I am also compelled to teach you to ask questions, not only of myself but of everything and everyone around you. You must always search for the reasons behind things, the smaller details that helped contribute to the situation. By discovering these finer details and facts you may be better equipped to mediate a conflict, or to defend yourselves and others from dangers.
"Herald Alberich teaches you the practical realities of war, fighting and defending yourself. I am here to teach you the theory and the techniques of war beyond the battlefield." she finished eloquently.
"Now what was I trying to achieve by that demonstration?"
...
A few candle marks later, the first class left Marie's domain rather sobered by their first lesson. Even Skif, who was normally a jovial sort seemed, to the rest of the Collegium, a little somber that day, but perhaps he had caught the cold that was going around?
By lunchtime, all the upperclassmen and a smattering of younger students had become acquainted with Marie's style of teaching.
Jeri was still too young, although she was an accomplished fighter, to be included in Marie's lessons. Next year it was widely agreed that she would be ready, but not yet. This didn't stop her from trying to get her friends to relay what it was like for them; all throughout the meal.
However this tactic didn't get her as far as she had hoped. It wasn't that the students were being tight lipped as a rule, it was that they couldn't think of the correct way to accurately describe the lesson. Jeri admitted defeat when the ninth girl was asked and all she got out of her was,
"Alberich works our muscles, Marie works our brains."
Meanwhile Dirk was on the training pitch battling Alberich with the blunt end of his practice sword. Dirk had even managed to strike a killing blow, but this single victory was eventually out shined by the overwhelming number of kills that the weaponsmaster had delivered to his exhausted frame.
Alberich had expected more from his pupil. He himself was only just able to return to his lessons, and was not yet able to put his usual effort into his teachings.
"You fought weakly where yesterday you were strong." Alberich barked at the end of the lesson.
Dirk nodded from his bent position, trying avidly to catch his breath.
"My mind is elsewhere today."
"What can be so important that you let your guard down?" his teacher mocked.
Dirk didn't often ask questions of his instructor's personal lives, and with Alberich never. However Marie's lesson about seeing behind the initial appearance had struck a heavy cord in him. He hadn't realized how pertinent it was to his everyday life until he contemplated the weaponsmaster. Before he could check himself he heard himself say,
"It's harder on you than anyone else, isn't it? You train us to be the sword of justice, the living arms and hearts of wrath. When the Death Bell rings, you aren't just loosing a Herald, a friend, you feel like you've failed, don't you?"
Silence.
Dirk felt his face flame a fraction and his heart still. What had possessed him to say such a thing? He kept waiting to hear a rebuke, a scoff, something...anything.
Alberich was measuring young Dirk, although he knew that the man before him was more insightful than his peers, this was an unexpected statement.
He considered for a moment brushing it off, but the comment was not meant to hurt, only inquire a realization that few had ever given in regard to him.
He walked to where Dirk was half squatting half standing on shaky tired legs, he thrust a hand under Dirk's arm and guided the man to a hay bale and handed him a cup of water and a towel. The younger man accepted both with a grateful nod and made use of them.
Finally when Dirk was no longer heaving, and his color had dimmed to a normal less embarrassed pink, Alberich answered him.
"It is similar to failure, what I feel. I regret not teaching them more, not pushing them to be better. It is irrational this thought. Many times they are dead because they were facing unbeatable odds, that no man or woman, even I could not escape from. It does not stop the self doubt, nothing will. But no I am not loosing a peer, or a friend. It is like I am loosing my child." he said slowly.
"I train you, most of you from the first moment of holding a sword or bow. Though many fear or dislike my lessons, respect begins there. Respect grows into trust, trust has always been hard for Valdemarians."
"Because you are from Karse?" Dirk asked the obvious question.
"Yes, and I was trainer of weapons for their soldiers too. There is much blind trust in people because they were born on the right side, even if their motives work against us. Many hate me, distrust me even though I am a Herald. Blind trust equals blind decisions."
This statement made Dirk wince a little. Marie's lesson this morning had been about just that notion. Blind trust. They were all guilty of giving in to the trap of factors and details that appeared to be one thing, but were actually another. Blind trust was dangerous indeed.
"Heralds are different. We are sisters and brothers, alike, the same. As a kind of child to father bond is made between my students and I, I will say that no parent was ever meant to outlive their child." Alberich murmured.
Dirk nodded and the two sat in the peaceful quiet of the afternoon.