I need more assistants. My years may not number Elcarth’s, but I have not the raw energy of my students. I need more help. For the littles most of all. Jeri tries her best, but frightened children… do not find her approachable.
And Kerowyn, while skilled at training those of age to join mercenaries, had not the kindness nor the patience for children. Especially those who had never wished to raise a blade.
Where can I find more help?
He might be bound to Haven, but he had all of Valdemar to call on. He’d ask if there were any interesting accounts of swordsmen from Heralds out on Circuit. Even if they were not fit to teach at the Collegium, they might be leads to those who were.
In the meantime, perhaps Crathach’s odd ideas on bee stings would be worth trying after all. Dethor had suffered greatly with every change of the weather. His joints were not quite so bad yet – but anything to hold that at bay a few more years would be worthwhile.
:Are you taking Crathach’s name in vain?: Kantor broke into his musings. :Because he’s heading toward your quarters with Mical, and he looks worried. And intrigued.:
Either one on the Mindhealer was cause for concern. Both, and with his Object-Reader second cousin in tow? Alberich leaned on a wall and reached out with a polite mental tap. :If you are looking for me, class just finished, and I will be there directly, as soon as my creakiness permits.:
:Excellent!: Glee and concern rang in Crathach’s tone in equal measure. :We brought dinner. Mind if we meet you in your sitting room? I found something strange in the Healers’ cast-offs… and I want you there when Mical Touch-Reads it, because it’s very odd.:
Crathach was an old friend and true; Micah had grown to be a quite respectable Herald, far past the young idiot who’d shattered a salle mirror and then helped save his Queen. :For the two of you, I will always find time. What did you find?:
:What impaled that poor youngster Rikard.: A pause. :Or should I say, part of what did.: