Free Bastion by Mercedes Lackey Page B

That made it worth carting them all that distance.
    He could see why no one considered Thurbrigard any sort of a threat worth investigating. First, it didn’t seem to be a very prosperous Kingdom, so it was logical to assume it didn’t mount much in the way of armed forces. In the case of the gemstones, they were semi- precious. It was really the intricate carving that made them valuable, not the intrinsic value of the stones. If that was their best export, they weren’t a wealthy land. Second, before Thurbrigard could be a threat to Valdemar, its army (if it even had one) would have to wade across two or three other countries, one of which was the ever armed and ever hostile Karse. There would be plenty of warning long before it got as far as Menmellith if the rulers decided to get up to no good.
    For that matter, the sudden abandonment of our Border by Karse would be a good clue that there was something up, he thought, watching as Gennie and Jeffers passed the ball back and forth between them.
    And third—why would they ever bother to come this far north? What could Valdemar offer that was worth trying to invade it across three other countries? Nothing that they couldn’t get by going to war much closer.
    No one could ever have anticipated that some remote assassin clan would decide to come calling.
    He felt someone coming up behind him and recognized her by the “sense” of her as Amily long before she actually reached the fence. “You could ask for your place back,” she said, putting her arms up on the top rung and leaning her chin on it as he was doing. “On the team I mean.”
    “They already offered it,” he replied, ruthlessly pushing down a feeling of melancholy. “But it don’t feel right, takin’ it from Wolf. He’s good.”
    “Not as good as you!” Amily protested—truthfully, actually. Wolf and his Companion weren’t as fast or as agile as Mags and Dallen. Wolf couldn’t Mindspeak to every other Companion and human on the team, either.
    Still, they could learn to be as fast and agile, and Wolf’s Gift of Farsight could prove just as useful as Mags’ Mindspeech.
    “But he ain’t gonna get better ’less he’s pushed to it, an’ if I take my place back, he ain’t gonna get pushed.” Mags suppressed a sigh. He didn’t say aloud what he was thinking—that after having all those memories shoved forcefully into his head, he just couldn’t look at Kirball the same way anymore. He’d been indoctrinated into the mindset of people who literally did not have a word for game. Sure, in the back of his mind he had always known that Kirball was training for warfare—and he and his fellow players had even usedthose moves to help rescue Amily and capture—briefly—two of the assassin clan. But he hadn’t felt it, not deep inside. But now, he did. Now whenever someone made a move, his mind overlaid it with how that would play out in combat. He could still play, and play well . . . but the game would never be free of that for him, ever again.
    He’d never again be able to lose himself in the game, which was half the fun of playing it in the first place.
    Maybe this was why the experienced Guardsmen—the ones who had combat experience—hadn’t volunteered for the team.
    “Nah, it wouldn’t be fair,” was all he said. “You busy?”
    “Well, there are always things I can do . . .” She hesitated. “I was going to see if I could get a lesson with the Weaponsmaster.” She brightened. “I really love Weapons work! He’s been really kind about fitting me into every class I turn up for.”
    Well, that would be something both of them could do. “Good idea.” He smiled at her. “Reckon we can both use as many of those as we can get.”
    The Weaponsmaster, of course, was already putting a class through training. And as usual, it was a mixed class of mixed ages and levels of expertise. That hardly mattered; the Weaponsmaster was so skilled a teacher that this was merely a slight