some help—Bear. After that successful work on Amily’s leg, Bear was only technically a Trainee and only at his own insistence. But this was fall, and fall meant that Bear had a great many medicinal herbs to transplant and bring into the greenhouse for the winter—not to mention a great many herbs to harvest and preserve.
So he wandered over to Healers’ Collegium to see if he could lend a hand.
Bear greeted him with relief, a sort of breakfast sandwich in one hand and a small sickle in the other. Lena was gone already, probably to her first morning class, having brought Bear back something to eat. “I’ll say you can help me,” was the grateful response. “There aren’t many I know I could trust to do what I tell them, and they’re all either busy with patients or classes. Take this—” he thrust the sickle at Mags, handle first. “—and come with me.”
Mags followed him out to the herb garden. “You already know wormwood, eyebright, and comfrey on sight,” Bear said, and Mags nodded. “I want you to carefully cut each plant off just a little above the ground and harvest it. Make sure to keep your cut clean, and don’t crush or bruise the stems. Keep them separate, obviously.”
“I can do that,” Mags said confidently. “Bring the baskets back when I’m done?”
“Yes, I’ll show you how to hang them for drying and where.” Bear hurried off, and Mags knelt in the soft earth between the rows of plants and began his harvest.
Maybe someone else would have found the work backbreaking, but Mags had spent most of his life laboring on his knees in a gemstone mine, and this was infinitely superior to even the best of moments in the mine. He was in the sun, the air was clean and cool, and the work was delicate enough to be interesting. He got into a slow rhythm and was a little disappointed when he realized he had run out of plants to cut.
He brought the three baskets to Bear, who showed him how to bind them with thread at the cut ends, three plants together at a time, and hang them upside down in the drying room. He had only just finished that task when Dallen nudged him in his mind.
:Nikolas and his lot want to see you now.:
Well, at least now he was in a better frame of mind for it. :Tell ’em I’m on my way,: he replied, and told Bear.
“Bah. Well, when they turn you loose, if you are still of a mind to help me, come on back,” Bear said good-naturedly. “This time of year there’s no such thing as too much help.”
Following Dallen’s directions, Mags found himself at last in a small, comfortable room in the Palace, facing four people: three Heralds including Nikolas, one of whom had set up as a sort of secretary, and someone who looked like a scholar.
“Relax, Mags, take a seat over there on that couch, and make yourself comfortable,” Nikolas ordered, as he looked around and waited for them to tell him what they wanted him to do. “The more relaxed you are, the easier this will be on everyone.” Mags did as he was told, as Nikolas indicated one of the Heralds with a wave of his hand. “Herald Cende usually assists the Chief Magistrate of Haven when witnesses need to be questioned. Her particular Mindspeech—”
“Oh! I know Herald Cende by reputation!” Mags exclaimed, and smiled a little. This was going to be easier than he had thought. He’d expected he was going to have to pummel his memory until he got a headache from it. “You kind of—nudge things out of being forgotten.”
Cende, a vivacious brunette who looked to be in her late twenties, laughed. “That’s as good a description as any. No one quite knows what to call my Gift. This is going to get quite tedious, I expect; we’ll be asking you to go over the same part of a story several times, and I’m sorry for that, but it’s the only way I can get you to keep remembering things.”
Mags nodded. “That makes sense. If you’re just kinda nudging things, it’s gonna take a few times through every story
So he wandered over to Healers’ Collegium to see if he could lend a hand.
Bear greeted him with relief, a sort of breakfast sandwich in one hand and a small sickle in the other. Lena was gone already, probably to her first morning class, having brought Bear back something to eat. “I’ll say you can help me,” was the grateful response. “There aren’t many I know I could trust to do what I tell them, and they’re all either busy with patients or classes. Take this—” he thrust the sickle at Mags, handle first. “—and come with me.”
Mags followed him out to the herb garden. “You already know wormwood, eyebright, and comfrey on sight,” Bear said, and Mags nodded. “I want you to carefully cut each plant off just a little above the ground and harvest it. Make sure to keep your cut clean, and don’t crush or bruise the stems. Keep them separate, obviously.”
“I can do that,” Mags said confidently. “Bring the baskets back when I’m done?”
“Yes, I’ll show you how to hang them for drying and where.” Bear hurried off, and Mags knelt in the soft earth between the rows of plants and began his harvest.
Maybe someone else would have found the work backbreaking, but Mags had spent most of his life laboring on his knees in a gemstone mine, and this was infinitely superior to even the best of moments in the mine. He was in the sun, the air was clean and cool, and the work was delicate enough to be interesting. He got into a slow rhythm and was a little disappointed when he realized he had run out of plants to cut.
He brought the three baskets to Bear, who showed him how to bind them with thread at the cut ends, three plants together at a time, and hang them upside down in the drying room. He had only just finished that task when Dallen nudged him in his mind.
:Nikolas and his lot want to see you now.:
Well, at least now he was in a better frame of mind for it. :Tell ’em I’m on my way,: he replied, and told Bear.
“Bah. Well, when they turn you loose, if you are still of a mind to help me, come on back,” Bear said good-naturedly. “This time of year there’s no such thing as too much help.”
Following Dallen’s directions, Mags found himself at last in a small, comfortable room in the Palace, facing four people: three Heralds including Nikolas, one of whom had set up as a sort of secretary, and someone who looked like a scholar.
“Relax, Mags, take a seat over there on that couch, and make yourself comfortable,” Nikolas ordered, as he looked around and waited for them to tell him what they wanted him to do. “The more relaxed you are, the easier this will be on everyone.” Mags did as he was told, as Nikolas indicated one of the Heralds with a wave of his hand. “Herald Cende usually assists the Chief Magistrate of Haven when witnesses need to be questioned. Her particular Mindspeech—”
“Oh! I know Herald Cende by reputation!” Mags exclaimed, and smiled a little. This was going to be easier than he had thought. He’d expected he was going to have to pummel his memory until he got a headache from it. “You kind of—nudge things out of being forgotten.”
Cende, a vivacious brunette who looked to be in her late twenties, laughed. “That’s as good a description as any. No one quite knows what to call my Gift. This is going to get quite tedious, I expect; we’ll be asking you to go over the same part of a story several times, and I’m sorry for that, but it’s the only way I can get you to keep remembering things.”
Mags nodded. “That makes sense. If you’re just kinda nudging things, it’s gonna take a few times through every story
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