sort of thing he’d expect out of—well, someone
like Pip. Not Dallen.
:Well,:
he said.
:That’s the last thing I would’ve expected you t’say.:
:Really?:
Dallen sounded mildly surprised.
:I thought you was all about playin’ by the rules!:
he responded.
:There are no rules about Trainees getting married,:
Dallen replied smoothly.
:And it’s often easier to ask forgiveness than beg permission. I’ve been thinking
about it, and every single one of the drawbacks to their idea has two or three points
countering it, in favor. They are very responsible. Bear is already being treated
as a peer and an adult by the rest of the Healers. He’s right about his father, and
I see no good solution to that problem as long as he is still technically a dependent.
It’s always possible—not likely, mind you, but possible—that some situation would
require the King and the Collegium to withdraw their protection from him. And I thought
of another thing. Lena is still a Trainee and has not yet begun to make a name for
herself—but when she does, I rather doubt at this point that she would care to be
associated with the name “Marchand.” However, “Bard Lena Tyrall” has a rather nice
ring to it, wouldn’t you say?:
Mags refrained from chuckling, because Amily would ask
why,
but he was highly amused at that. And Dallen was right.
:Of course I am. I generally am. Right, that is. But it is nice of you to agree.:
:And so modest, too,:
Mags jibed.
Dallen just curved his neck and posed.
* * *
In the end, the question of whether Nikolas was going to ask the two of them to continue
their eavesdropping was solved by the new Princess. They had just settled in to listen
to a consort of lutenists in a riverside pavilion, when a page found them and delivered
invitations to both of them from Lydia. She wanted her old friends about her for the
barge viewing, and he and Amily were being invited to share her viewing stand.
Mags had to laugh at that. “That’s better’n the mudbank under the bridge, I’d say,”
he said cheerfully.
But Amily looked thoughtful. “I think there’s a little more to this than is on the
surface. I think we should talk to Father.”
Before Mags could suggest it, Dallen was Mindspeaking with Rolan, and he came back
with a reply
:Oh, I may faint with surprise. He’s actually not busy. Rolan suggests we all join
him for some dinner, then you can take care of your dinner duties before the barge
procession.:
“Yer Pa says we should come join him for dinner, Dallen says,” Mags relayed, looking
at her for her reaction.
He was relieved when she smiled. “My instincts are still good, then! He’ll have gotten
something brought to our rooms, they are the only place you can find privacy at a
time like this. Well, shall we?”
Dallen had drifted off somewhere, not being interested in the lute playing, so the
two of them made their way slowly to the King’s Own’s quarters, under Amily’s own
power. Under other circumstances, Mags might have been impatient, but their path was
so impeded by other people that there was no way they could move other than slowly.
Amily had been right; though people streamed and thronged everywhere in the grounds
and even the Collegia, as soon as they opened the door to the Heralds’ Wing, they
were met with an empty corridor and relative silence. Mags let out a sigh, not realizing
until this moment how the crowds had begun to wear on him.
“It’s been fun and exciting, but it’s time for everyone to be gone,” Amily said firmly,
as if she had read his mind. “It’s just as well that people are getting tired of being
crowded into shared rooms here and in the Great Houses on the hill.”
The celebrations would be continuing for the rest of the week down in Haven, Mags
knew—but that sort of thing would not interest most of the highborn and wealthy. There
would probably be private fetes and
like Pip. Not Dallen.
:Well,:
he said.
:That’s the last thing I would’ve expected you t’say.:
:Really?:
Dallen sounded mildly surprised.
:I thought you was all about playin’ by the rules!:
he responded.
:There are no rules about Trainees getting married,:
Dallen replied smoothly.
:And it’s often easier to ask forgiveness than beg permission. I’ve been thinking
about it, and every single one of the drawbacks to their idea has two or three points
countering it, in favor. They are very responsible. Bear is already being treated
as a peer and an adult by the rest of the Healers. He’s right about his father, and
I see no good solution to that problem as long as he is still technically a dependent.
It’s always possible—not likely, mind you, but possible—that some situation would
require the King and the Collegium to withdraw their protection from him. And I thought
of another thing. Lena is still a Trainee and has not yet begun to make a name for
herself—but when she does, I rather doubt at this point that she would care to be
associated with the name “Marchand.” However, “Bard Lena Tyrall” has a rather nice
ring to it, wouldn’t you say?:
Mags refrained from chuckling, because Amily would ask
why,
but he was highly amused at that. And Dallen was right.
:Of course I am. I generally am. Right, that is. But it is nice of you to agree.:
:And so modest, too,:
Mags jibed.
Dallen just curved his neck and posed.
* * *
In the end, the question of whether Nikolas was going to ask the two of them to continue
their eavesdropping was solved by the new Princess. They had just settled in to listen
to a consort of lutenists in a riverside pavilion, when a page found them and delivered
invitations to both of them from Lydia. She wanted her old friends about her for the
barge viewing, and he and Amily were being invited to share her viewing stand.
Mags had to laugh at that. “That’s better’n the mudbank under the bridge, I’d say,”
he said cheerfully.
But Amily looked thoughtful. “I think there’s a little more to this than is on the
surface. I think we should talk to Father.”
Before Mags could suggest it, Dallen was Mindspeaking with Rolan, and he came back
with a reply
:Oh, I may faint with surprise. He’s actually not busy. Rolan suggests we all join
him for some dinner, then you can take care of your dinner duties before the barge
procession.:
“Yer Pa says we should come join him for dinner, Dallen says,” Mags relayed, looking
at her for her reaction.
He was relieved when she smiled. “My instincts are still good, then! He’ll have gotten
something brought to our rooms, they are the only place you can find privacy at a
time like this. Well, shall we?”
Dallen had drifted off somewhere, not being interested in the lute playing, so the
two of them made their way slowly to the King’s Own’s quarters, under Amily’s own
power. Under other circumstances, Mags might have been impatient, but their path was
so impeded by other people that there was no way they could move other than slowly.
Amily had been right; though people streamed and thronged everywhere in the grounds
and even the Collegia, as soon as they opened the door to the Heralds’ Wing, they
were met with an empty corridor and relative silence. Mags let out a sigh, not realizing
until this moment how the crowds had begun to wear on him.
“It’s been fun and exciting, but it’s time for everyone to be gone,” Amily said firmly,
as if she had read his mind. “It’s just as well that people are getting tired of being
crowded into shared rooms here and in the Great Houses on the hill.”
The celebrations would be continuing for the rest of the week down in Haven, Mags
knew—but that sort of thing would not interest most of the highborn and wealthy. There
would probably be private fetes and
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