Bastion

trek to Haven; he wouldn’t have been able to sit Companion-back for more than a candlemark or two, and he never would have been able to endure the blizzard that shut them into another Guardpost. He still wasn’t sure how much time he’d spent there; much of it had been eating and sleeping in the first few days—the first time in his entire life he’d had a full belly and a warm, soft bed, the first time he had ever been completely clean, the first time he had ever owned clothing that wasn’t rags. The first time since he was a baby that people had been kind to him. “I’ll do that.”
    He went back up to the guest rooms—tiny little boxes all in a row on either side of the hallway, with comfortable but narrow beds that barely fit inside. Well, all but two, which were at the end, slightly larger and with larger beds that did fill the room. He found Amily in one of the little ones, staring at her pack in the gathering gloom as if she was trying to work something out.
    “Yer gonna go blind if ye don’t get a light,” he said, making her jump and squeak. He reached inside the door, and plucked the candle from its holder over the bed. There really was just barely enough room to move around the bed, not even enough for a table beside it. “You’d best close the shutters or it’ll get damned cold, even with a brick in your bed. I’ll get a light for you.”
    He went down the hall in time to meet the Guardsman who’d been sent to light all the main lamps and got a flame from him, then brought the candle back to Amily. She had closed the shutters as he suggested but was still contemplating her pack. “What’re ye doing, staring at the pack like that?” he asked. He couldn’t imagine what was in it that would make her look at it as if it held a snake.
    “Do you change for dinner here?” she asked, worriedly. “I didn’t bring anything nice.”
    He didn’t laugh at her; after all, she had been brought up in the Palace, where everyone turned up at dinner in fancier dress than they wore during the day. “No, it’s just like eatin’ at the Collegium. All ye do is make sure ye don’t come to table all over filth. Guards usually wash up good afore dinner, so I reckon we leave ’em the hot water an’ get a wash after. Water’ll have hotted up again by then.”
    “Oh, good! I already washed my face and hands in the caravan. I’m glad you know how things go,” she said, and held up her face for a kiss. “Can you show me around?”
    “Nothin’ I’d like better,” he lied—because there was definitely something he would like better, but—well—no privacy.
    •   •   •
    The dinner summons came when he had just about finished showing her the last of the Post. “We’ll prolly sit with the Captain and the officers,” he told her. “I didn’t the last time I was at a Post, but I was just a little’un. We’re all, like, honored guests and all. You want it known who your Pa is?”
    She shook her head. “Not really. Just saying I am Bear’s assistant should be reasonable. I don’t want to be fussed over.”
    He squeezed her hand as they went down the hall. “Well, then, just let Lita and Lena get all the attention, which they will. The rest of us might as well be invisible when there’s a Bard in the room.”
    The mess hall wasn’t that far from where they had been poking about—looking over the armory—so it didn’t take them long to get there, and as Mags had expected, the Captain’s servant intercepted them at the door and took them to the officer’s table. Jakyr and Bear were already there; Lita and Lena arrived shortly, and once they were seated, the meal was served.
    Which was to say, the men got up and got their food from the mess line, and the Captain’s servant brought them each plates that he filled for them. Mags didn’t mind; the food was good, with a couple of things he’d never tried before, and he wasn’t in the habit even now of leaving good food on a plate because it wasn’t exactly what he was hankering for.
    Mostly, he remained quiet and listened, and ate, as the Captain and Jakyr and (to his surprise) Lita exchanged stories. Or rather, it seemed a little as if Jakyr and Lita were in a kind of competition to come up with the most outrageous and amusing story for the entertainment of the table. They didn’t quite descend to the level of telling tales on each other, but he had the distinct feeling that in other company, or with more beer, it could