Disclaimer: I still disclaim everything. Enough said.
Anyway, my review count is going up, which makes me nice and happy. I know, I've been awful about updating lately. I've been busy with school and I have nasty writers block a lot of the time. Total evilness.
Fireblade: Aww, he is. He is so very cute. It makes me want to snuggle with him myself. Healers would be funny drunk, but I don't think they do that sort of thing.
Tenshi: It's not really about much of anything at the moment, I'm afraid. It's just sort of how he's passing the time. And yeah, I mean, you can't write that time period without an appearance by Pol.
Violet Rush: Lirain is cute too, you're right. And I know, I have to learn to update.
Oceanmate: Oops –blushes- Did I mess up? I should go edit that. Thanks! And yeah, the PoV thing was a sort of spontaneous tack on, just in case anyone was wondering about Lirain.
Tessabe: Yes, yes you're right, I know. I'm awful. Must update. I'll write it on my hand or something.
Wizard: Yes, I'll try to make sure something actually happens soon.
On the updates front, I'm going to get to the plot driving parts again soon, and the story should end in maybe seven more chapters. I'll see how far I can stretch it, as I have no idea what I'll write after this is done. On the other hand, I'm totally running out of things to call the chapters.
Treet and Pol seem to want to become friends, which doesn't really fit canon-wise. I guess after Pol's internship, they'll sort of grow apart, leaving the way clear for a totally true-to-canon ending.
Anyway, I guess I'll start writing and maybe we wont have to wait a month for the next installment. Heh…-hides- I just cant seem to update, can I?
What is with me and this story lately? I'm just going to post this before I mangle it worse. I have to apologize, there's sort of a plot gap between the last point I wrote well and the next point I know how to write, so I'm just doing my best to fill it in, I'm afraid.
Chapter 22: Collegium
With a conscious effort, Treet unclenched his hand, absently smoothing the material of his cloak flat where it had been bunched in his fist. Logically, he was sure that he looked just as neat as he had when he had last looked in the mirror approximately five minutes ago. He was quite certain, however, that his hair was out of order or his pale robes mussed.
He wondered what he had been thinking, signing up to take classes with Heralds. They were as far above him, a common Holderkin boy, as the sky itself. Either that or they were as far below him as to be dirt beneath his feet. Treet rather doubted that, though. From what he had heard, the Heralds held the kingdom of Valdemar together as tightly as glue. Either way, how could he expect to mingle with them?
A small voice inside Treet's head reminded him that the Trainee he had met previously hadn't seemed uppity. He had, in fact, seemed altogether as friendly as one of the other Trainees in Healers would be. He had no idea why Heralds seemed to unapproachable when the other Healers were on their way to becoming the family he had always wished for. Possibly it was that while the Holderkin didn't usually bother to condemn Healers, a great portion of their wrath was always reserved for the Heralds.
Having picked up his schedule the previous day, Treet was able to head directly for the classroom listed as his first class. History. He grimaced. Unless they decided to talk about Elspeth the Peacemaker and her ideas on foreign policy, with which Treet was painfully familiar, he suspected he would be woefully ignorant. After that was Maths, which wasn't so bad. Treet had always reckoned himself fairly good at sums, although he had only been taught the most rudimentary of mathematics, he had surpassed most of his sibs at those. After that, he would have Geography followed by Weapons and then his day with the Heralds would be done.
Although most Heraldic Trainees also learned the rudiments of many languages, folklore, orienteering and many other things, Treet was only taking the basic classes. He knew he would probably never wander the wilds of Valdemar or travel to foreign lands, and he was content to miss out on those other lessons.
By this time, Treet had reached his first classroom. He paused at the door, wondering if he should enter, and the sound of laughter from inside decided him.
There was no sign of laughing students. Trainees in the Grays of their rank were sitting in somber groups around tables. There was no teacher in sight, but they seemed to be working already.
"It is my belief that the Randale-Arven negotiations were a valuable catalyst in the eventual restructuring of Hardorn due to problems in the temporal rulership of the aforementioned nation." One Trainee intoned pompously. Another nodded. "I couldn't agree more."
Treet's face fell. He had never heard of anything like a "Randale-Arven negotiation". He turned to leave, or at least hide in a corner somewhere, when he heard the sound of laughter behind him.
As he turned, one of the Trainees laughed so hard he fell off of his chair with a loud thud. "You didn't really think we were discussing the Randale whatsits did you?" He chortled, barely able to get the words out.
Treet nodded, unsure what was going on. "You weren't?" He asked uncertainly.
"As far as we know, they had nothing to do with Hardorn at all. They might as well have taken place in Iftel for all we know about them."
As Treet stared in no little relief, he began to grin himself. He could see that there was some small amusement in that prank. They certainly hadn't allowed him to believe it long enough for it to become malicious.
The ice broken, one of the Trainees came up to Treet and led him to an empty chair. Treet recognized him as the Trainee he had asked about Herald Karissa the previous week.
Noting the spark of recognition, Pol bowed mockingly. "Herald Trainee Pol once again at your service, although minus Satiran at the moment. I imagine we'll be in a few of the same classes, as we're sort of in the same Yeargroup."
Treet considered this and decided to be daring. He also bowed, saying stuffily "And I am, of course, your loyal servant, Healer Trainee Tretin."
This sent Pol into gales of laughter. "I didn't think you Healers knew how to have fun. That was spot on. You sound exactly like Lord Cedrin. He's one of the court nobles," Pol added, noticing Treet's confusion. "I sometimes get to spy on the court during my Farseeing lessons, so I've "met" a good few of the nobles in my short weeks here."
Treet smiled and would have said more, but at that moment the teacher walked in. Treet was fascinated by him. If it hadn't been for the disarming smile he shot the class at a whole as he entered, he would have looked like a figure straight from a ballad, ready to charge into battle. As it was, he certainly cut a dashing figure in his Whites.
"Good morning everyone. I'm Herald Aldric and I'll be your history teacher."
From then on, Treet had no more time to muse about the figure his teacher cut. He was entirely involved in the lesson. He had greeted the idea of actually learning on the first day with a little resentment at first, but the information was so fascinating that Treet couldn't help but become bound up in the story of the first few years after the founding of Valdemar.
After the class had ended, Treet, slightly dazed, headed to Maths, where the teacher was an old Herald, presumably retired. She mostly spent their class setting them problems to complete in groups and circulating the room to see how everyone was doing.
Treet was more impressed by the room in which Geography was taught than by anything done in the class itself. The room, a fairly large one, was covered floor to ceiling in maps! Maps of specific areas, maps of the border, road maps, terrain maps, maps of other countries, maps Treet had never even knew existed. During the class itself, which was basically a lecture on what would be expected and a project assignment, Treet continually had to force his eyes away from those maps and back to the front of the room.
As soon as the teacher dismissed their class, Treet rushed out of the Collegium, blinking in the midday sun. After running back to his rooms and changing into the slightly more worn set of clothes he had been given for arms practice, he headed back outside, hoping he would be able to find the salle.
He looked around for a moment before spotting an area that looked as though it might be the salle, where his Weapons class was to be held.
He began to trudge towards it, hoping he wasn't expected to bring his own equipment. His worldly possessions consisted of what he had been given at the Collegium, the horse he had run away with, which he had stupidly left at the market, and a pot of glue, currently in the possession of a crazed Herald in the vicinity of the Border.
He shrugged. He was rather indifferent on the subject of worldly possessions, a trait probably stemming from his inability to hide anything from his brothers long enough to get attached to it.
As he reached the salle, he could see a line of Trainees already stretching, supervised by a lean woman in worn Whites. It was a mark of the slow change that had come over Treet that he didn't even stop to think about what his Father would have said on the subject of women bearing arms. He simply walked over to her and said, rather shyly "Excuse me, Herald? I'm new."
She turned to look at him, stern but not bad-tempered, from what Treet could tell. His old weapons teacher had been both, the latter rather more noticeably than the former.
"I see. From Healers?" She nodded at his uniform, obviously not requiring an answer.
"Any previous experience in self defense?" She looked down her nose at him, obviously expecting to find him wanting.
"A little," Treet replied timidly. "I can use a dagger a little, but only a small one, for emergencies. I would have started to learn the sword this year, if I hadn't left home."
To his relief, the Armsmaster did not inquire further, favoring him with a gruff nod. "If you would like to learn the sword, I can teach you a little of that. I would like to teach you the short sword, as it is handier in the close quarters sorts of situations Healers are most likely to find themselves in."
Treet simply nodded, desperate to avoid her gaze. She was the sort of person who was downright frightening when her attention was concentrated on you. Most Trainees tried not to let that happen.
To his utter relief, she did not instantly hand him a sharp weapon and expect him to sink or swim. She set him simple enough exercises with a wooden short sword and a straw target, designed to give him a feel for the weapon and strengthen the muscles he would need to wield a real sword one day. At first, Treet was clumsy, but as the Candlemark wore on, he managed to at least hit the straw dummy most of the time. Nevertheless, by the time he left, he was utterly exhausted and glad of the Candlemark and a half lunch break he had before he was to meet Healer Sera for his first lesson.
After bathing and grabbing a quick meal, consuming it at a rate which caused the Trainees around him to marvel, Treet headed back to his room, flopping onto his bed and falling fast asleep, only to be rudely awakened a full Candlemark later by the sounds of the class change bell sounding at the Heralds Collegium in the distance.
Thankful that the bell had woken him, Treet hurriedly straightened his robes and splashed water onto his face. He was looking forward to this part. He found it slightly incongruous that although he had been a Trainee enrolled in the Healers Collegium for more than a moon, he had no more of an idea as to what Healers actually did than he had had before he had entered the Collegium for the first time.
When he stepped through the door that divided the House of Healing from the rest of the Collegium, Sera was waiting for him. Upon seeing him, she smiled and beckoned for him to come closer. "Since today's our first day, I'm not going to keep you for too long, I'm sure you're already exhausted. That said, before I start actually teaching you anything, I'd like to take you on my daily rounds, so you can get a bit of an idea as to what it is I actually do."
Sera's protestations to the contrary, that simple statement led to several Candlemarks of explanations and Healings. Treet reminded himself several times that he had asked for this, had only recently wished to know more of a Healer's job.
In some rooms, the miasma of pain and despair were nearly too much for Treet to stand. People who had been healthy, often at the peak of their lives, did not take well to sudden incapacitation.
As time went on, however, Treet's initial nausea turned to more of an itch. He wanted to help these people; he could feel his Gift energy, all untrained, trying to reach out beyond his shields to pour into the patients. He restrained it with some effort, fearing what he might do if he tried to Heal without training, but he was comforted by the fact that he was obviously not ill-suited for the job of Healing, as his initial nausea had made him fear.
He listened closely to Sera's slightly absent-minded explanations of her duties, already thinking forward to the day when he would perform them. He returned to his room that day tired, but feeling a sense of belonging and rightness.
