Intrigues: Book Two of the Collegium Chronicles (a Valdemar Novel) Read Online Free

the future because you know there will be bad ones. And, sadly, there will always be bad times; it’s in the nature of things.:
    Well he could certainly agree with that.
    Dallen nudged him. :The rule is that most things don’t matter as much as you might think. So long as you keep that firmly in mind, then neither foe nor loving but misguided friend can hurt you—at least not so badly that you can’t recover.:
    Mags regarded him dubiously.
    :We’re none of us quite so sure of our place in the world that we can’t be rocked off our feet by bad times. It’s the getting back up again that counts. Not that you fall, but getting back up again counts for more in the long run.:
    Mags snorted. “You ought to set up shop in the Mindhealer’s area and charge a penny a customer with all that.”
    Dallen raised his head and looked regal. :You can mock. But answer me one important question, if you will.:
    Mags nodded.
    Dallen lowered his head and looked his young trainee hard in the eye. :Are you actually going to eat that other half of your pie?: he queried, pointedly. :Because if you’re not . . . :
    Mags sighed, then laughed, and gave it to him.

2

    W HEN Mags left the stables, he hadn’t so much as a hint of a crumb anywhere about his person. Dallen had even made big eyes at him until he turned all his pockets out, proving there wasn’t even a fragment of crust left. As he pulled the door closed against the wind, he caught a glimpse of someone approaching out of the corner of his eye. He turned, and saw an older man, a full Herald, in pristine whites, walking toward the stable door. He was holding a half-eaten pocket pie in one hand. Mags grinned at him.
    “I see yer had the same idea I had,” he announced. “Don’t let my Companion—Dallen—see ye have that, or ye might lose it. And fingers too.”
    The Herald blinked in surprise, and then let out a rich mellow laugh. “Ah, you’re Dallen’s Chosen? That would make you Mags, yes?” His cultured accent showed that he was highborn, but he seemed quite relaxed and utterly friendly. Most of the time when Mags saw a full Herald, unless it was a teacher, it was usually someone in a tearing hurry.
    Mags nodded and smiled back, noticing that the man had curiously colored eyes, a very light gray. Silver, he would have said, if he’d been asked to put a name to it. They looked very odd and striking with his dark hair. Mags wondered if he could be newly assigned as a teacher—or perhaps just in from Circuit. There were new Heralds coming and going all the time.
    “We’ve been hearing very good things about you, Trainee Mags.” The Herald nodded as if to emphasize that he agreed with the assessment. “I’m glad I had the chance to run into you. You came to the Collegium with no expectations, and no memory of how we used to teach trainees. Are your classes going well under the new system? Is there anything about them that you think is giving you and your fellow Trainees trouble?”
    Mags gave a surprised chuckle of his own; given how many Heralds were still against the “new system,” he was pleased to find one that seemingly wasn’t. More than that, he was pleased to find one that was actually interested in improving the system rather than just criticizing it. “Well, I’m not as good at figurin’ past sums as I oughtta be, I think. But I’m catchin up with folks ’n doing pretty good wi’ history, I reckon. If I was t’ say, though, I reckon some on us, like me, yah, but some others too, needs extree help, an’ not all on us is brass ’nuff t’ go find it. Them highborns, they kin go to ma or pa an’ say, ‘get me a tutor, eh?’ But we cain’t. We cain’t pay fer ’em, an mostly we kinda shy off askin’ teachers.” He pondered a moment longer. “So . . . mebbe jest find summun’s willin’ t’ give the help an’ hev’ ’em say ’bout it in class? No hevin’ t’ ask fer help, nor tryin’ t’ find summun willin’ t’ give it, ’cause