Anthea Sharp
Spring arrived at the Collegium in a flurry of blossoms and an unseasonably warm streak of days that teased the promise of summer and made everyone restless. The halls rang with students’ laughter and ever-increasing admonishments by the instructors to stop running and frogs belong outside and throwing petals at each other may be fun, but who do you think is going to sweep that up?
“I can’t get my intermediate harp class to settle down,” Bard Shandara Tem said with an exasperated sigh as she sat with her partner, Healer Tarek, on the comfortable couch in her rooms. “They haven’t been able to concentrate enough to make it through the sonata we’re rehearsing even once.”
He slipped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Same thing with my students at the House of Healing. Everyone is so distracted. Even the older ones. I had to stop Lyssa from adding double the amount of licorice root to the stomach tonic she was brewing.”
“What’s to be done? I don’t remember spring fever ever being this bad.” Not even when she was a student, which truly didn’t feel that long ago.
Tarek shook his head. “Wait for the weather to get worse, I suppose. Rain and clouds should dampen everyone’s high spirits. Meanwhile . . .” He grinned at her. “We should enjoy it while we can. Let’s take a picnic out by the Terilee River. You can serenade me while I make you a flower crown.”
“That sounds lovely.” Shandara had to admit a little escape would be nice. The students weren’t the only ones feeling a bit restless. “You know how to make flower crowns?”
“It’s part of every countryside lordling’s training,” Tarek said with mock seriousness. “We don’t have gold and silver, so blossoms must do for our ladies.”
She nodded gravely. “Then I look forward to this demonstration of your skills, milord. I confess, I’d no idea flower-weaving was among your Gifts.”
“Oh, I have many talents.” He waggled his brows at her. “Wait until you see my wood-chopping skills.”
“I imagine that’s very useful, out in the wilds. Too bad we live in Haven.”
He drew back and gazed into her eyes. “Someday, I’d like to take you to Strand Keep. It’s not as forsaken a place as you might think. And you could get to know my family better.”
“I’d like that.” Though she had her doubts about Tarek’s father, who seemed curmudgeonly at best. Anyone who believed that the Gifts didn’t exist, well . . . She’d try to be on her good behavior when they met.
Tarek stood. “Let’s go to the kitchens. I’ll get the picnic basket.”
Shandara grinned and went to put on her cloak. “Perfect. I’ll bring the lap blanket for us to sit on.”
They were almost at the door when a knock sounded. Exchanging a look with Tarek, she went to open it.
“Master Tangeli,” she said, surprised to see the grizzled Master Bard at her door. “Is everything all right?”
Judging from his expression, the answer was no, and worry spiked through her.
He frowned. “I’m afraid we have a bit of a problem. May I come in?”
“Of course.” She gestured for him to enter. “Is it urgent, or can I make you a cup of tea?”
“Tea would be welcome,” the Master Bard said, then nodded to Tarek. “Healer Strand, I’m glad you’re here, too. The more instructors know what’s afoot, the better.”
“What’s going on?” Shandara asked, taking off her cloak. It seemed their picnic would have to wait.
“As you’ve no doubt seen,” Master Tangeli said, “the Collegium seems to be infected with a rampant case of spring fever.”
“Unfortunately, the Healers don’t have a cure for that,” Tarek said with a rueful smile, pulling out a chair for the Master Bard then settling across from him at the small table.
Shandara set the teakettle on the hearth and joined them.
“I fear things will get worse before they get better,” the old Master said.
“Oh?” She and Tarek exchanged wary looks.
“Indeed.” Master Tangeli let out a heavy breath. “This morning, during his history lecture, Bard Alvee mentioned Fool’s Week. Unfortunately.”
“What’s Fool’s Week?” she asked.
“And why is it unfortunate?” Tarek added.
“Because the students hardly need an excuse to engage in more shenanigans.” Master Tangeli waved a scarlet-clad arm. “Fool’s Week used to be a Collegium tradition, back when I was a new instructor. For one week in the springtime, the various Collegia would play pranks upon each other. As you can imagine, very little useful learning happened during that time, and we finally put a stop to it.”
“It feels like the students are hardly paying attention now,” Shandara said.
“Yes,” her mentor said dryly. “Imagine how much worse it would be if all their energies were directed toward foolery.”
“Maybe that’s not a bad thing,” Tarek said, leaning back with a thoughtful look. “Get it out of their systems, as it were, and then they can get serious again, once the week’s over.”
“It’s a good thought,” Shadara said. “Depending on the type of pranks, I suppose. What kinds of things did the students used to do?”
“Well.” The old Bard’s expression softened slightly. “There was that time a group of Blues managed to get a cow onto the Palace roof.”
She laughed, then sobered. “Poor thing. I imagine that must have been messy.”
“There were messes aplenty, as I recall,” Master Tangeli said. “Which is why I’m not in favor of Fool’s Week starting up again. Though it may already be too late. I hear rumors that young Edwold is masterminding something—which is why I’m here. You’ve a bond with the boy, Shandara. Maybe you can get to the bottom of it before things get out of hand.”
“Maybe. He’s a prankster, that’s for certain.” Indeed, she suspected the recent army of salamanders let loose in the corridors had been Edwold’s handiwork. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d smuggled amphibians into the Collegium.
The kettle boiled, and she rose to make them a pot of tea.
“Maybe Lyssa can help, too,” Tarek said. “She and Edwold are friends, and her Empathy is very strong.”
“Anything you could do to help us nip this in the bud would be appreciated,” Master Tangeli said, with a long-suffering expression. “Sometimes I truly hate spring.”
• • •
The next morning, before Shandara even had time to speak with Edwold, it became clear Master Tangeli’s fears had been well founded. As Shandara and Tarek approached the Common Room for breakfast, gales of laughter erupted into the corridor. A Herald incongruously wrapped head-to-toe in her cloak hurried past them, and Shandara gave Tarek an apprehensive look.
“That doesn’t sound promising.”
A grin pulled at his lips. “But it sounds amusing. What do you think Edwold did?”
As soon as they stepped into the Common Room, the answer became clear. Every Herald in the room wore pink, ranging from rose-colored Trainee’s garments to the shocking fuchsia of what had formerly been Herald’s Whites.
Shandara tried to hide her grin behind her hand, and Tarek let out a laugh.
“How in Haven did they manage that?” he asked.
The Herald who’d passed them in the hall glanced back, and Shandara caught a glimpse of bright pink beneath her cloak.
“Apparently, some of the Bardic students colluded with the laundry staff,” she said sourly. “They hid our clothing, except for these. Do you know how hard red is to get out of Whites?”
Another Herald, this one actually wearing Whites, clapped her on the shoulder. “Amazingly, it washed right out, though wearing damp clothing isn’t the most comfortable. Dry Pinks might be better than wet Whites.”
“Still.” The first Herald frowned and glanced at Shandara. “You Bards had better look out. How’d you like to find a Companion curled up on your bed?”
“Speaking of Companions,” Tarek said, “why didn’t they alert you this was happening?”
The Herald in white shook his head. “Apparently, they thought it would be amusing. And temporary, so there’s no real harm done. It seems this sort of pranking is an old tradition called Fool’s Week.”
“So we’ve heard.” Shandara’s lips firmed. “On behalf of the Bards, I offer my sincere apologies.”
She glanced at the knot of russet-clad students at one table, Edwold among them, sporting a mischievous grin. For the rest of the week, she’d require that he take his meals with her and Tarek. Not that it would stop his mischief, but it might blunt it a little.
“Just wait,” the pink-clad Herald said. “I’m sure the Herald Trainees will come up with an appropriate response.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Shandara said. There was no way the younger Heralds-in-training would let the Bardic students off without pulling a joke of their own.
She led Tarek to the table of Bardic Trainees and cleared her throat meaningfully. Edwold jerked his head around to meet her gaze.
“Bard Shandara,” he said innocently. “Good morning.”
“Edwold, you look to be in the pink of health,” Tarek said, which made the whole table explode into giggles.
“Don’t encourage him.” She swatted her partner on the arm, then turned back to Edwold. “If there are going to be ongoing pranks, which I am not endorsing by the way, then there must be some ground rules.”
“Rules for Fool’s?” one of the younger students piped up. “Do those really exist?”
“They do now.” Shandara took a deep breath and pitched her voice to carry. She was aware that all the nearby tables were listening, and she wanted word to spread to the entire student body.
“One.” She held up a finger. “Nothing mean-spirited or dangerous. Nobody hurt. Two—nothing damaged or broken. And three—messes get cleaned up. Understood?”
Edwold and his friends nodded. Shandara turned, slowly surveying the now-quiet Common Room. Everyone was watching her. Oh, dear. Had she just given official approval for Fool’s Week?
On the other hand, things had already been set in motion. Better to make sure the rules were in place before the retribution pranking began.
“Understood?” she said again, more strongly this time.
A chorus of agreements reassured her.
“Only a true fool would break these rules,” Tarek said, his serious expression lending weight to the words.
She exchanged a look with him. Well, they’d done what they could. Fool’s Week would run its course.
“And Edwold,” she said, turning back to the boy. “You’ll be taking your meals with me and Tarek for the rest of the week.”
“Really?” His expression fell.
“We’ll ask Lyssa to join us, if that helps.” Tarek raised his brows.
Edwold blushed faintly. He’d had a strong case of hero worship for the Healer Trainee ever since she’d helped him during a difficult time the year before.
“Well . . . all right,” he said.
“Good.” Shandara knew Lyssa wouldn’t mind—the girl often took meals with them. And Haven knew, every bit of help they could get keeping an eye on the high-spirited Edwold would be appreciated.
• • •
Early the next morning, before the sun had cleared the horizon, a commotion outside woke Shandara. Yawning, she got up and belted on her robe, then went to the window to see what was happening. Pre-dawn light brushed the sky with silver, yet despite the unreasonable hour the courtyard below hosted an impressive number of Herald Trainees. Every one of them had a pot or pan in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other, and several Trainees were already clanging on them as they crossed the flagstones toward Bardic Hall. A few Heralds had also joined the parade, along with a half-dozen Companions glowing pearly-white in the rising light.
As she watched, shifting from foot to foot on the cold wooden floor, the lead Trainee opened the door to Bardic and led everyone inside. With a soft chuckle, Shandara slipped out of her room, nodding to the other sleepy-looking Bards who’d risen to see what was going on. She went down the stairs, lingering in the stairwell to watch while the corridor outside the Trainee’s dormitory rooms filled with gleeful Heralds.
“One, two, three!” one of them yelled, and they began bashing at their pots in earnest, creating a cacophony of mismatched rhythms.
Then they began to chant, yelling out the words.
“Bardic students up so late, early morning’s what they hate,
But if we have to wear pink, dawn will come with yell and clink!”
They began to stomp their feet, redoubling the clamor.
“Don’t think you can lie abed, pleasant dreams inside your head,
Not when there’s a score to settle, we’ll bang loudly on this kettle!”
And with that, they beat ferociously on their pots and pans, while their companions whinnied and stomped their hooves. Doors opened up and down the corridor as grumpy Bardic Trainees responded, rubbing sleep out of their eyes.
“Can’t you at least keep proper time?” one of them complained, their hair sticking flat to the side of their head.
“We cannot keep your time!” a Herald Trainee shot back.
“But we can certainly rhyme!” another one added, laughing, and their Companion snorted in amusement.
“About face!” the ringleader called from the back of the line. “Forward march!”
Shandara drew back into the stairwell as the parade clanked off, leaving a disgruntled dormitory of sleepy musicians in their wake. Even once they were out of Bardic, she could hear their pot-banging echoing off the stone walls of the Collegium. The Bards weren’t going to be the only sleepy ones at their classes that day.
The shenanigans weren’t over, however. At dinner that night, everyone suddenly found their lips and mouths tingling, and a few students launched into impressive sneezing fits. All except the Healer Trainees, who couldn’t help laughing at the general chaos.
“My mouth!” Edwold cried. “It’s on fire.”
“Nettlewort,” Tarek said, reaching out a hand to keep Shandara from taking a drink of water. “I think it’s in the pitchers.”
“Don’t worry.” Lyssa grinned at Edwold. “It’ll wear off shortly. Meanwhile, I’d take Tarek’s advice.”
After a few moments the meal returned to normal, although with a marked avoidance of the water pitchers.
• • •
A day passed without incident, but the next morning, Shandara discovered the corridor to the outside door of Bardic Hall blocked by students. Some were laughing, while others peered out the open door.
“What’s going on?” she asked, making her way to the threshold. Outside, a dozen pairs of shoes stood abandoned in the courtyard “Whose shoes are these?”
“Everyone’s,” said a girl in a rust-colored tunic stranded a few feet from the door. “Someone put glue all over the flagstones. It’s remarkably sticky!”
She bent to unlace her boots, and Shandara noted another sock-footed student hopping across the empty footwear like a frog over lily pads, trying to reach clear ground.
“But how are we going to get to breakfast?” another Trainee asked.
“Jaya crawled out her window.”
“Thom jumped clear.”
“What if we rolled a rug out, and everyone walked on that?” Shandara suggested.
They quickly acted on her suggestion and managed to get the rest of the students out of the hall unscathed. That problem solved, Shandara accompanied the students to breakfast, noting the collection of shoes stuck outside the Healer’s Hall as well.
In the Common Room, the Blues were looking inordinately smug—and all of them seemed to be in possession of their normal footwear.
“I hope you’ve concocted a glue remover, in addition to that impressively sticky adhesive,” Shandara said to one of the oldest students. “Otherwise you’ll be unsticking shoes from the courtyard for days.”
The young man raised one brow. “Don’t worry, Bard Shandara. We know the rules.”
Indeed, by lunchtime all the formerly trapped shoes were neatly lined up outside the doors, ready for their owners to claim them. Still, Shandara noticed the students were careful where they stepped—at least for the remainder of the day.
The glue made an appearance again that night, when Shandara and her friends discovered that all the utensils were firmly affixed to the wooden tabletops of the Common Room. Edwold doubled over with laughter every time a hapless diner sat down and tried to pick up their fork, but swore to Shandara it hadn’t been his idea. He’d had nothing to do with it.
“I still require your company at every meal,” she said to him.
“That won’t keep him out of trouble,” Lyssa said.
“Not entirely.” Tarek nodded. “But even a little bit might help.”
“You wound me.” Edwold tried to grab the nearest knife to make a show of plunging it into his heart, then looked sheepish when the utensil stayed firmly glued to the table.
“Ha,” Lyssa said. “Serves you right.”
• • •
The week went on, the weather balmy and the halls filled with foolishness. No one was quite sure who stuffed the pocket pies with onions, or how the Collegium’s bells could be tampered with to make such a terrible clanking sound, but the general hilarity rose with each incident. Shandara couldn’t count the number of times she had to remind the students of the rules of Fool’s Week.
Including Edwold.
Lyssa alerted her that the boy was up to something, so Shandara went in search of him. She discovered Edwold behind the House of Healing, leading four small goats with ropes about their necks. Well, trying to lead them, as the creatures clearly had minds of their own.
“Help?” Edwold said in a slightly strangled voice, his arms outstretched to either side as the goats pulled in opposite directions.
“I do not want to know where you were taking these creatures,” she said, grabbing one of the ropes and pulling a goat away from the new leaves of the rosebushes.
“They were taking me,” he said woefully.
“Well, put them back where you found them. And let me point out that goats brought indoors are both destructive and messy. A clear violation of the rules.”
“I’m sorry.” He sounded genuinely contrite. “I suppose I didn’t think that one through.”
“Think harder next time. Here, pass me another goat. I’ll help you return them to their homes.”
“Thank you.” He glanced up at her. “For a teacher, you’re not so bad.”
She raised one brow. “For a student, neither are you. Most of the time.”
They shared a smile and, goats in tow, headed back toward the gates of the Collegium, goatly disaster averted.
• • •
At the end of the week, the weather finally changed, clouds rolling in and the days turning chilly. The instructors breathed a sigh of relief. On Friday evening, the entire Collegium was summoned to the recital hall in the Palace.
“Are we all in trouble?” Edwold asked, glancing about as the students and instructors filed in and took their seats facing the stage.
“A little,” Lyssa said, tilting her head in the way Shandara recognized when the girl used her Mind Healing Gift. “I think the instructors are tired of Fool’s Week.”
“That’s too bad.” Edwold made a face. “There are so many more tricks we could play.”
“Too many,” Shandara said. “This is a school, in case you’ve forgotten.”
She glanced about, glad to see no one was sneezing or seemed to have amphibians hidden in their pockets. The meeting had been called unexpectedly enough that none of the students had time to concoct any mischief beforehand.
Master Tangeli strode onto the stage, accompanied by several other Masters in Scarlets and vibrant Greens. They were joined by two of the highest-ranking Heralds, their sparkling Whites showing not even a memory of pink.
“Students, friends, and colleagues,” Master Tangeli called, his Bardic-trained voice filling the room. “Your attention, please.”
The crowd murmured and settled, and when it was quiet enough for the Master Bard’s liking, he continued. “While these last few days have been somewhat amusing—” snorts of laughter rang out here and there, “—all good things must come to an end.”
He glanced at one of the Heralds and the woman stepped forward, an official-looking paper in her hand.
“By decree of the Dean’s Council and the Crown,” she read out, “this meeting marks the official end of Fool’s Week at the Collegium. Going forward, any pranks or foolery will have consequences, and further disruptions will not be tolerated.”
There were a few unhappy groans, presumably from students who had plans in motion, but all the instructors nodded. Shandara exchanged a look with Tarek.
“It will be good to get back to actual learning again,” she said quietly.
“True. But it’s been a memorable week, you have to admit. And it’s not quite over.” He winked.
“What?” Edwold looked at them. “What’s going on?”
“Shh,” Lyssa said.
All of the Masters stepped to the edge of the stage.
“Before we let you go,” Master Tangeli said, “there is one final thing. Instructors, please stand.”
Shandara and Tarek both rose, along with the rest of the Collegium’s teachers. Shandara’s fingers closed around the little bag in her pocket, and she smiled.
“Three,” the Master Bard said, reaching into his Scarlet robe. “Two. One.”
With the other instructors, Shandara pulled the bag out, poured the contents into her hand, and blew it up toward the ceiling. Glitter-infused thistledown filled the air, dancing and sparkling.
“Grand!” Edwold jumped up, laughing, and pulled Lyssa to her feet.
All around them students were grinning and exclaiming, even more so when the Heralds on the upper balconies added their own sparkling contributions. The room was filled with light and joy, a blizzard of shimmering iridescence falling over the entire Collegium.
“It’s going to be impossible to sweep up,” Shandara said, shaking shiny bits out of her long hair. “But worth it.”
“Yes.” Tarek scooped her into a one-armed embrace and kissed her.
And there, among the glitter and laughter, Fool’s Week came to its happy and fitting conclusion.