Bastion

might be in a better position to judge than he was.
    He certainly hoped so.
    By this time, they were out of the district of merely prosperous houses and into the one of extremely wealthy mansions—passing right by Master Soren’s home, in fact. The place was shuttered up, and no surprise, really, with the Harvest Fair going on. Master Soren must be up to his eyebrows in business right now; he was involved in every aspect of the cloth trade since he was on the King’s Council, and he would deem it his duty to personally oversee trade at this Harvest Fair. He certainly couldn’t wait around his own doorstep on the off chance that Mags would be coming by. And Mags was quite certain that as soon as his business allowed, Soren would personally come to see that his young friend was all right.
    Still, he felt a faint disappointment, which he quickly scolded himself out of.
    It ain’t as if you’re all that important, either, my lad! he reminded himself. And since all the Companions and their Chosen up on the Hill had certainly known to the quarter-candlemark when he would be arriving back at the Collegium, he knew he could be certain of a warm welcome from his friends.
    :You very nearly got a warm welcome on the road,: Dallen put in, as they passed from the homes of those who were merely wealthy to those who were wealthy and highborn. :It was only being reminded that those who skipped classes would get demerits that prevented a general stampede through the Harvest Fair.:
    Mags smothered a laugh. :That could have been awkward.:
    :A bit more than awkward. Having us galloping through the Fair would be likely to set all the animals in an absolute uproar, and not all the Animal Mindspeakers on the Hill would have been able to keep them quiet.: Dallen shook his head vigorously. :No, you’ll just have to put up with an avalanche at the—oh, look, here it comes now.:
    “Here it came” indeed. Ahead of them, the main gates to the walls around the Palace and Collegia sprang open, and a flood of Companions—some with Gray-clad Trainees, a few with Heralds in full Whites, and many carrying double with people in Healer Trainee Green, Bard Trainee Rust, and Guard Blue—came pouring out. There were even a few ordinary horses amid the crush, which poured down the road and surrounded the five riders in a shouting, laughing mob.
    And then the shouting, laughing mob, having engulfed their prey, turned around and carried the five back up through the gates in a relentless tide of exuberance.
    •   •   •
    It took all afternoon before people stopped mobbing Mags, pounding his back, and welcoming him home in the heartiest possible manner. He was actually starting to feel a bit bruised by the time he sat down to supper with his closest friends.
    Not that the dining hall wasn’t full to bursting with everyone who could cram in there, but at least he was finally able to not have to answer a hundred questions at once. In fact, he didn’t have to answer any questions at all; his friends kept his plate and cup full, didn’t ask him anything, and let him have some peace. It was good to be surrounded by his friends. Next to him was the Healer Trainee, Bear, with his round, affable face and his air of peace. On the other side of Bear was Bear’s wife (though it was hard to think of her as his wife, even now), the Bardic Trainee Lena, tiny, dark-haired, and with the most melting brown eyes he’d ever seen that didn’t belong to a baby rabbit. They were literally his oldest friends at the Collegium.
    And on his other side was Amily. Amily, who, to him, was the most lovely girl there. Amily, whose intelligence and bravery shone from her eyes, whose beauty was so quiet that most people overlooked it. Not as dark or as small as Lena, they might have been sisters, otherwise. But where Lena was finally acquiring the ability to catch and hold peoples’ attention, as a Bard must, most people’s eyes slid right over Amily. Which suited her just fine.
    Between Amily and Bear, he felt bulwarked on either side by peace.
    So he ate, and when he wasn’t eating, he held Amily’s hand. And sometimes when he was eating, he held Amily’s hand. Princess Lydia, unmistakable with her mane of red curls and her brilliant green eyes, even managed to sneak out of the Palace in a purloined set of Grays to join them at the table, although, of course, absolutely no one was fooled by her “disguise.” She couldn’t stay long, of course; only the