Мерседес Лэки - Passages

“Good morning.”

Marjom startled. She looked up to find Candry standing in the wide doorway. “Hello. How did you end up feeding the goats?”

“I was looking for you, and I offered to help with animals. Our holding was a goat farm, and I had expected to grow up raising and milking goats. I often do the morning feeding. Lessons won’t start for an hour.”

“Are you homesick?” Marjom asked.

Candry blushed. “It’s lovely to be here, and I wouldn’t trade away Blackie for anything.”

“Someone named a Companion Blackie ?”

“She has a black spot on her nose. Or had. It’s faded to gray, and I’m told it will be invisible soon. She told me it was a birthmark.” She smiled. “Besides, I didn’t name her. We never do.”

“True enough.” The Companions’ choices often implied a sense of humor. “When do you leave?”

“It was going to be in three months. But now I’m to ride out next week. They sent me to look for you. There are three of us going out early from my class, and we’re to spend three days with you and another of the Heralds who came back.”

The reins slid through Marjom’s fingers, slightly slippery with saddle oil. What should she say? Of course, she would go, but what did she know to teach youngsters this green? “Tomorrow?”

“Today. Can I help you finish your tack? Are you doing your saddle, too?”

Before she could answer, Candry pulled a saddle horse over, dusted it off, threw a used blanket over it, and started for Marjom’s saddle.

Marjom hung the bridle over its wooden peg and poured a thin stream of fresh oil across her cloth. She supposed someone would have eventually done this for her, at least here in Haven. “So, when you’re in the field, you’ll have one other Herald with you, maybe a few others sometimes. Once I did a whole Circuit with just me and three Healers. That must have been twenty years ago, a summer when a sickness came through, and we could only save three out of four even with the Healers.” She started rubbing the mud off her stirrups. “But they knew nothing of tack. I had to take care of theirs as well as mine. If I remember, they’d always been in town before. The whole trip was hard for them.” She was getting lost in memory, so she forced herself to refocus. “If you forget anything . . . cleaning or mending or food or first aid materials—it can hurt you, or even kill you.” She checked to make sure that Candry was paying attention and grunted in satisfaction when she saw the girl’s eyes were wide, even though surely she’d had this lesson somewhere before. “Here’s what goes into the most basic of field packs . . .”

Half an hour later, the saddle was put away, and Marjom was doing her best to keep up with Candry in spite of her aching feet. They arrived at a small classroom with a cheerful fire and a tray of hot tea. Herald Witman was already there, and he scooted over to make room for her. Sitting down felt good.

Besides the three students, all of whom looked like mere children, there was one other person in the room, a small woman of middle years in street clothes with bland features. As soon as Marjom arrived she nodded and said, “You all may begin. We’ll bring lunch in three hours. For today, the students have prepared questions.”

Left unsaid, the implication that the Heralds were expected to develop a lesson for the next day.

Candry directed a question at Marjom. “What scared you the most the first time you were on Circuit?”

That was easy. “We were in the woods one night when three bandits surprised us. They wore bearskin coats and came from upwind, and somehow even the Companions . . . .”

She and Witman told three stories each about fear before lunch arrived. As the students started to set out the food, Witman took her outside. “We should change the topic,” he told her.

“To what?”

He smiled “What do you think?”

“Failure. They have to learn to fail.”

“All right. Then after the break I want to work on courage.”

“That’s broad,” she said. “What kind of courage?”

He paused. “The courage to do what you have to, even when you don’t like it.”

He had that right. She smiled at him as they started back in. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one chafing at this assignment.

By the time they finished, she felt as tired as she did at the end of a full day of protecting the Border. The students hurried off to somewhere, chattering, leaving her and Witman to walk back together. He moved as slowly as she did. She didn’t mind. It was easier than keeping up with Candry. They were silent, so she spoke to Hannra. :How was your day?:

:Excellent.:

She did sound happy. :What did you do?:

:I spent the day testing Blackie’s reflexes.:

Whatever that meant. :Was that fun?:

:Yes, and now I’m tired. You feel tired, too.:

:I am. Sleep well.:

When they were halfway to Heritage House, Witman broke the long, companionable silence. “That was better than I thought it would be.”

She pursed her lips. “I miss the Border. Already. Where were you?”

“In the north. Not as much fighting there. But there have been some wicked storms, even for this time of year. We lost a few barns to twisters. We had to spend three days dragging livestock out of flooding pastures. The storms seem like a bad omen.”

“I hope not.”

“Me, too. I’ll be glad of a bed tonight.”

It was her turn to say, “Me, too.” Her feet didn’t have any sharp pains like after a day of riding, but all of her joints ached. The cooling night wasn’t doing anything to help her move more easily. “I’m ready to just sit still and not talk to anyone until tomorrow.”

As if his voice felt as worn as hers, he merely nodded.

They rounded the corner and Heritage Hall came into view. “I really hate that name,” she said.

“Me, too.”

Still, the windows spilled light cheerily into the street, and the planter boxes had been finished sometime today while they were gone, making the place look a little bit more settled.

Chalena opened the door for them, and the surprising chatter of students and some older voices as well spilled into the street. “Welcome home.”

“Who’s here?” Witman asked.

“Some of the Heralds who get to leave because you came back, and the students you helped today. And a few others. The party is to celebrate your sacrifice, and welcome you to your new role.”

As a retiree. She swallowed, and she felt her eyes flash with tears that she breathed away. Today hadn’t gone too badly. And she’d get better at teaching with practice. She looked around at the food and the many people, and she heard both celebration and apprehension in the undertones of the conversation.

Chalena stepped past them to greet someone else.

From the corner, Candry raised a glass.

Witman leaned in and said, “Is it that bad?”

Had he seen the tears, or did he understand because he felt the same? “No. No, it’s not too bad.” She glanced at Candry, who had turned back to her circle of friends. “No. We can still be useful.”

The table overflowed with food and drink. Bright candles and oil lamps illuminated almost every corner of the big kitchen and dining room. The smell of fresh baked bread and fresh meat helped her perk up. Maybe she wasn’t, actually, too tired for a glass of wine and some conversation. She smiled at Witman. “Wine?”

He smiled back. “Yes. And I like chocolate. I think I see some.”

Maybe they’d let her go back at the end of the war. Maybe she could find a student Healer to work on her feet.

She reached out to Hannra, showing her a quick taste of her day, the students. :What do you think? Bandits tomorrow? Or something about small-town diplomacy?: