Closer to the Chest Read Online Free PDF Page A

in.
    â€œJust in time!” said Mags, from where he was sprawled on a padded bench. “I’m starving.”

T he dining hall was full; full enough that there was a steady babble of conversation echoing off the ceiling, and Mags had to look hard to spot some room for himself and Amily at one of the long tables. Spring and summer tended to bring more Trainees to all three Collegia. For the Bards and Healers, the reason was obvious; it was easier to travel then, and Spring in particular made people inclined to make new beginnings. Why there should be more
Herald
Trainees in Spring and Summer, however, Mags could not think—
    :Simple, if it’s not a screaming emergency to fetch our Chosen, we’d rather wait until good weather,:
Dallen said, as he and Amily took their places at a table that had just been cleared. Mags chuckled; Amily gave him a knowing look. They had scarcely sat down when a server bustled up with mugs and a pitcher of cold, clean water and another of herb tea, followed by a second server with wooden platters, bowls, and so forth, and a third with food. As usual, the aromas were enough to make anyone’s mouth water. The Collegia neverstinted on food and always made sure they had excellent cooks. The meals might not be the fancy stuff served at the Palace, but they were always perfectly made and tasty.
    As they served themselves from common platters and bowls, Mags caught a few words of conversation behind them that sounded
very
familiar; in fact, it could have been a repetition of the sort of animated conversation he and his mates had had a scant three years ago. The subject was Kirball, of course. As he concentrated a little to make out what they were saying through the babble of dozens of voices all speaking at once, he figured out that the Trainees behind him were discussing the best sort of strategy to use against a team that had someone with the Fetching Gift when they themselves didn’t have anyone of the sort. Oh, it was tempting to lean over and give them a bit of advice, but Amily caught his eye and shook her head. “Let them work it out for themselves,” she mouthed. He sighed a little, but nodded. And she was right; the only way for them to learn to work together was to actually
do
it . . . even if it was a bit disconcerting that they didn’t recognize that (former) Trainee Mags, the first ever star of one of the very first four Kirball teams, was sitting right behind them.
    But before he could feel too much of the sting of not being recognized, he felt a slap on the back as someone slid in next to him, on the side not occupied by Amily. “You’d best have saved some of those dumplings for me, old horse,” said Pip as he made a grab for the bowl full of dumplings, chicken, and gravy. “I shall be aggrieved otherwise.”
    â€œWell, if I’d known you was back, I’d’ve et it all,” Mags teased, handing him the basket of bread, and snagging a roll for himself. “When did you sneak in?” When Pip had taken the bread and set it aside, Mags handed him the new peas.
    â€œI was right behind you on the road up the Hill, if you’d’a looked,” Pip replied, filling his plate with dumplings and chicken, then reaching for the peas. “I said to myself, ‘that ass looks familiar,’ and my Companion says, ‘it should be, youwere behind it on the Kirball field often enough,’ and that’s how I knew it was you.” He paused long enough to shove a huge spoonful of dumplings into his mouth and let out a sigh of happiness. When he’d chewed and swallowed, he sighed again. “I’ve been South. Sheep country. Mutton, lamb, mutton, everlasting mutton. They’ve got chickens, but they don’t trot ’em out even for Heralds. It’s mutton pie, stewed mutton, hashed mutton, mutton chops, mutton roast, and for a little variety—mutton ground up and stuffed into pocket