Bastion

use one of em for a steambath? I liked the one we used back at that inn.”
    “Huh. We’d want one far enough away from where we’re actually sleeping that the damp doesn’t get into our bedding, but . . .”
    “I hope this doesn’t immediately make you against the idea,” Lita said dryly. “But I like it, I like the idea a lot. I favor steam baths in winter. We could set up the canvas tub in there to use for water for the rocks and to wash in. Plus, steam is good for winter ailments.”
    “If we get sick, steam’s good for carrying medicine into the lungs,” Bear pointed out.
    “In that case, I appoint you in charge of seeing it done,” Jakyr said, handing Bear his dinner. “Try to find one where the damp will be carried farther into the caves rather than toward the living space.”
    “I can do that,” Bear nodded.
    Amily looked around, and sucked in her breath. “I never would have thought we could do anything like this,” she said. “I thought—well, I thought things would be harder than this.”
    “More primitive, you mean?” Jakyr laughed. “They still will be. When we go out to the villages, Mags and I will still be using the Waystations, and you and Bear and Lena and Lita will be living in the caravan. We just have this very comfortable place to retreat to, and if the weather looks like it’s going to close in, we’ll leave the village to sort itself out for a time and get ourselves back here.”
    Amily chuckled a little. “I wouldn’t call the caravan primitive.”
    “You won’t have to cook for yourselves if you don’t want to, either,” Jakyr pointed out. “Mags and I will.”
    “If you youngsters get on my nerves, I can trade a room at the inn, if there is one, for singing,” Lita pointed out. “That’s pretty standard for Bards. Well, so is trading music for a space on the hearth, but I think I am going to hold out for rather more than that. I’m not exactly the average traveling musician.”
    “You have a far better command of music and speech than that. One sharp, scolding sentence from you will have them offering you the inn to go away,” Jakyr replied.
    “I’d take that as a compliment,” Lena put in before Lita could respond. “That sort of command would take a Gift.”
    “Oh, she has a Gift, all right,” Jakyr said. “The Gift of flaying someone’s hide from his back with a few words.”
    Lita was opening her mouth to respond when she was interrupted by the sharp stamping of hooves on stone and two explosive equine snorts. She snapped her mouth shut, as Jakyr’s head jerked up.
    :Chosen,: said an unfamiliar Mindvoice, :You can stop being an ass, or you can walk to the village in the morning. It’s up to you.:
    Mags hid a smile. He’d bet that Jakyr had forgotten that Mags could Mindhear any Herald or Companion. He’d also bet that Jermayan bloody well remembered.
    •   •   •
    “Why’re we leaving now?” Mags asked Jakyr, as they rode out through the entrance into The Bastion in the thin light of early morning. “I thought we were gonna let the Bards an’ Bear go in first.”
    “I don’t think we’ll need them,” Jakyr scoffed. “They can be just as useful finishing up making our headquarters fully functional. More.”
    :Someone has his knickers in a knot,: Dallen sniggered.
    Mags couldn’t disagree. But he also didn’t mind seeing what happened if they approached this as if it were just any ordinary Circuit, and not one where the locals considered them intruding strangers. He wanted to see how Jakyr handled that, because that was the hallmark of a good Field Herald.
    Mind, Mags was unlikely to be called on to fulfill the duties of a Field Herald . . .
    But unlikely things had happened to him in the past.
    It took them all morning to get to the Waystation just outside of town. Jakyr had told Mags that the condition of the Waystation, which the locals were required to keep supplied and tended, told you a great deal about the attitude of the locals toward Heralds.
    So the condition of the Waystation they approached didn’t bode particularly well for their reception.
    It was shuttered up tight, and while it wasn’t dilapidated, it was not by any means in particularly good shape. The pile of firewood beside it was meager. There was barely enough hay for a few days, and it looked and smelled like last year’s. When they opened the Waystation and checked the supplies, it was clear that no one had restocked this one since the