:Change.: Dallen’s flanks under his legs heaved in a huge sigh. :This is an enormous change in how Trainees are turned into Heralds. They are used to seeing four or five new Trainees come in over the course of a year—suddenly there are more than sixty of you, counting the ones out with mentors. It is an enormous change, and the challenge is that it is not possible for every Herald to personally know every other Herald now. And it never will be again. In his heart, he knows that he never will be able to say “I know Herald So-and-so is trustworthy because he is my personal friend.” Now he will have to take it on faith because he is another Herald. This changes everything, and the only way he thinks he can be absolutely sure that these new Trainees will be as good as he and his friends are, is to insist that they be under the eyes of himself or one of his friends during their training period.: Dallen started up again at a walk, and Mags scented snow in the air. :He doesn’t have Mindspeech. He can’t talk to his Companion. And he doesn’t much like people your age.:

“We’re even, then, ’cause I don’t much like him,” Mags muttered.

:And that is exactly the difficulty for him. There are people he does not much like who are essentially being forced on him by circumstances, and—:

“—and don’ think ye can make me feel sorry for ’im,” Mags interrupted aloud. “ ’Cause I won’t.”

Again, Dallen’s sides heaved with a sigh. :All right. I won’t.:

He moved from a walk into a canter, and then into a gallop, and began taking jumps. After that, Mags had plenty to think about other than his recent fright.

Following a good workout, they reported to the stable again where Mags helped Lyr with his seat, and from there, after giving Dallen a good rubdown, Mags went to weapons practice.

The practices were always a mixed lot of Heralds, Bards, Healers, and others. But today there was a knot of young men Mags did not recognize, in clothing that looked rather different from that of the others, and not just in color. The cut was different; the tunics were shorter, and had high collars and an odd side-closing to them. The others were all a-buzz about the newcomers, but no one seemed to know who they were. The Weaponsmaster put an end to the mystery.

“These young gentlemen are the escort for several foreign merchants that have come to negotiate with the King,” he said, putting an end to the buzz. “They requested to be allowed to work out and practice among you, and the King has granted that request. They are to be treated no differently than one of you. Now, let’s get loosened up.”