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

teacher had food brought in so we could eat while we worked. Did that history paper go over well?”
    He grinned at her, relieved, as she tucked her hand into his arm and they breasted the crowd together. “Aye. It did, and thankee kindly, miss teacher. King Tyrdel and the war of the harvests, and how after ’e died, his daughter Elspeth made peace and expanded the borders wi’ treaties and a marriage.” He patted her hand. “I reckon a Bard coulda tole the tale better though.”
    She smiled back. “Well, it sort of is our job to be historians, Mags. Bardic talent goes hand in hand with a love of stories; and it doesn’t matter if we make them up ourselves, nor if they are modern or from deep in history. At least so my tutors keep telling me.”
    He cocked his head to the side. “Huh. I cain’t ’magine why anyone’d haveta keep tellin’ you anythin’. You never seem t’ ever stop workin’.”
    “Oh they tell me plenty,” she replied, making a face. “Like I need to quit trying to write pieces with arpeggio if I’m no good at doing it myself. But I like arpeggio.”
    He squeezed her hand as they got within sight of the door of the dining hall. “So, wha’s the answer?”
    She sighed. “Practice I spose. As usual. Practice seems to be the answer to everything.”
    The crowd in the entrance thinned as students filed into the dining hall and took seats for the meal. Lena started to pull Mags along.
    “What’s the hurry?” he asked.
    “It’s roast beef tonight, and beans with bacon. There’ll be nothing left if we don’t get in there,” she said. “Honestly, some people are just like locusts!”
    She was exaggerating of course, and Mags had no fear of that. It hadn’t happened yet, and he didn’t think it was likely to in a hurry.
    On the other hand, she was right about some people being like locusts. It was entirely possible that the choicer portions would have been snapped up if they didn’t get to a seat quickly. He increased his pace to match hers.
    A figure in a full Bard’s outfit stepped in front of them, from one of the staircases that led to the upper stories. A tall and very handsome man, with dark hair that was greying at the temples, held out his hand imperiously, forcing them to a halt. “Ah, Trainees. Excellent. I need one of you to take this note to the King’s Own Herald. I shall be performing for an entertainment for the King this evening, and he needs to discuss with me which pieces would be best for the audience.” He held out a folded piece of paper.
    Mags expected Lena to take it, since she was the Bardic Trainee, and this was definitely one of her expected duties. He glanced at her, and was surprised to find her white-faced and unmoving. He reached forward and took the paper from the man, and nodded. “I know Herald Nikolas, sir. I’ll take it.” The Bard nodded, and turned on his heel without a further word. Mags turned to Lena.
    “That was rude.” he muttered. “ ’E coulda said please at least.”
    Lena was staring open-mouthed at the retreating figure. Mags looked from her to the man, curiously. “D’you know him or summat?” he said, “Doesn’t look like he knows you too.”
    Lena blinked slowly and shook her head. “He ought to have recognized me,” she said, in a strained tone of voice. “He’s my father.”
    Mags stared at the note in his hand and looked at the retreating bard, nonplussed, and then back at Lena.
    “But . . . ” was all he managed, looking at the shaking girl. He just couldn’t think of anything to say.
    She made it easier for him—in the sense that she abandoned any pretense of conversation when she turned and hurried back down the hallway the way they had come without saying another word to him. He went after her, but when she broke into a sprint, that made it quite clear that she didn’t want him around. Or, knowing Lena, anyone around.
    She dashed around a corner and was gone before he reached it. He slowed to a halt, and