They left their log with Bear, who had managed to round up three woodcutters, all in the green of Healers, and returned to the log pile at a trot. Soon the steady procession of logs had worn the road smooth, which made pulling easier for horses and Companions. Each time Mags got to the buildings, he could see them swarming with people bringing in supplies of all sorts, workmen nailing shutters on the windward side of the building closed, and a steady procession coming toward the stable of carts hauling hay from what must have been a storage barn. He wondered where they were going to put it all, then ceased to worry. Let them figure it out; his business was not in the stable. Right now, he and Dallen had logs to haul.

After six runs, something had changed up at the Palace, heralded first by a crack that sounded as if lightning had struck the place and made everyone jump. It turned out that there were some mechanical aids for reducing all that wood to manageable size. For the life of him, Mags could not see how the things worked, but there were two devices that were splitting entire logs lengthwise into quarters, which were then taken to two-man saw teams to be reduced to fireplace and furnace size. The sound of the logs splitting was startling even when you knew it was coming, and the horses shied every time it rang out. They were all working as hard and as fast as they could; horses and Companions alike steamed with sweat, their breath coming in great moist clouds as they pulled on their burdens.

Finally, as dusk fell, the sound of horns rang out over the entire complex, joined by all the bells of the Collegia.

:That’s the signal,: Dallen said, heaving at the log. :No more. The storm is almost on us, and these will be the last loads.:

And, indeed, those Companions and horses that were not already carrying logs were turning back, heading to their stables.

Mags had long since delivered plenty of wood to Bear; the last couple of candlemarks he had been taking their loads to one of the Palace entrances. Now he and Dallen delivered their final burden, Mags tucked the chains up into the harness, and they plodded wearily back to the stable.

And there they found one solution for the hay storage problem. The Companions were no longer in commodious loose-boxes. The stable was full of rectangular bales of hay, from floor to ceiling. One by one, the Companions were being rubbed down to take off the sweat before they chilled, covered with not only their own blankets, but extras. Then they were backing into narrow slots in those enormous stacks of hay bales. They looked for all the world like toy horses being put away on a shelf. The bales were stacked so closely together that they touched the Companions on either flank.