“This isn’t the time or place, Mags,” she began. But with a toss of her long, brown hair, Lena interrupted, albeit politely.

“Chronicler Lilli,” she said, with a little bow. “I’m Bardic Trainee Lena Marchand. I know you’ve been asked to tutor three of the Heraldic Trainees. I would like to tutor Trainee Mags in your place.”

Lilli regarded Lena thoughtfully. “And why would you want to do that?” she asked carefully.

Lena smiled. “Because he’s my friend. And that makes me more motivated to help him pass his classes than you are; I want him to get caught up so he can have free time like everyone else. And because you have to teach three, while I will only have to think about one.”

The Chronicler scratched the back of her head. “If it was anyone but you—but they talk well of your scholarship, Trainee Lena. And I am confident of Mags’ ability to concentrate on his studies . . .” She pondered this for a moment. Then, “Very well. You must take care that there are no distractions. You may use the room next door to this one, and I will drill him afterward.”

Now the thoroughly bemused Mags was led by the hand to the designated room, where, with a determined look on her face, Lena set up two chairs, facing each other, with the table between them.

Somehow, and he could not quite reckon how, Lena made a lot more sense than the Chronicler did. He reflected as she drilled him relentlessly that he wished all his classes were maths and math-related. Those things had simple logic. Two into four would always be two, never five, never three. But the things people had done in the past! There seemed no reason for them.

Except that somehow Lena was able to explain the reasons. They might not be logical, but then, neither was Mags all the time. They were understandable. Perhaps that was what Chronicler Lilli had missed. Without reasons for what had happened, Mags simply could not grasp the events themselves; they became nothing but a series of things to be memorized, and his mind didn’t work well on strict memorization.

Having made more progress in an evening than he had in three, after Chronicler Lilli came in, drilled him on what he was supposed to have learned, and pronounced herself satisfied, Mags grabbed Lena’s hand and wrung it in wordless gratitude. She smiled shyly at him.

“I dunno why ye wanted t’ help a strawhead like me, but—ye’re a wonder, Lena,” he managed after a moment.

She ducked her head. “I don’t mind. And . . . I hate being in my room and seeing where Bumper’s box used to be, and—” Her eyes grew bright, and Mags hastily searched for something, anything to distract her. Then he hit on it.

“Ye’ve never met Dallen,” he said quickly. “Come meet Dallen afore ye go back t’ Bardic, eh?”