Lena and Bear looked at him still as if they could not believe what they had just heard; he nodded as the babbling that had broken out all over the room turned into a roar of voices. Heralds and Trainees were explaining to their friends what he was about to tell his. “It’s no joke. We gotta get goin’. Dallen says him ’n me are gonna haul logs. We best get at it.” He gave them what he hoped was a stare that conveyed the gravity of the situation. He had been through blizzards like this. They might not have.

Lena took a deep breath, looking as if she didn’t quite believe it could be that bad, but didn’t dare disbelieve him either. “Well, in that case—”

“We get to it,” Bear said firmly. “We daren’t lose my plants. Lena, let’s get wood stacked against the wall by my furnace in case no one thinks of it. Mags? In case no one thinks of my furnace?”

He nodded, making an instant decision. Dallen, he was sure, could make it right. But better to take care of it now than to wait for permission, which might come too late or not at all. “Dallen an’ me’ll bring ye logs, but getting ’em split’ll be up t’ you.” Mags went to the line of pegs where all the coats and cloaks were hung; he wiggled his way in among all the others going after their gear, grabbed his coat, and hurried down to the stable where all the Companions, partnered or not, were being put into abbreviated harnesses with chains on the sides. Mags recognized these from his lessons as the “pulling harnesses” all Heralds took with them into the field. Dallen seemed to know where he was going, so Mags just hauled himself up onto his Companion’s bare back and joined a procession of similarly mounted Trainees, Companions alone, and even stablehands with common horses down a little road he hadn’t paid much attention to before this. It ran along the inside of the wall around the Palace and Companion’s Field, and it ended in the biggest pile of logs he had ever seen in his life.