The protector's succinctly worded description of what and who awaits her attention brings a chill to Sidonwy's heart.  "Ask him to bide a moment and I will attend."  The protector nods and goes while Sid gets to her feet and follows more slowly, as they'd both known she would.

Shifting impatiently, tapping his foot, the bruiser complains to the protectors, "Time is money, friend."  Sid enters the goblin's field of vision, bowing courteously, if shallowly.  Setting her staff more firmly, she says,  "I understand you have a delivery for the Headmistress, sir.  I am she."  She points with her chin at the pack.  "I'd be pleased to hear how your Boss came by this charge, and by that item."  Sidonwy composes herself to wait, certain there can be no satisfactory answer.  

Sidonwy meets the courier's expectation with a nod, taking the pack.  With the worn weight of it in her hand, she takes a hard breath against the tightness in her chest.  Carefully, conscious that all must be done properly, she says, "Your Boss was correct, sir.  I, and the School entire, thank you for the service you have done in bringing us both the note and these things."  Sid bows, more deeply this time and for longer.  Straightening, she continues, "I would appreciate it if you would give your Boss my thanks and the School's together, for his aid to one of our own, and the respect shown to him, especially in informing us.  It will not be forgotten."  Hitching up the pack awkwardly, Sidonwy rummages in her pouch, passing over the coin she finds almost blindly.  The goblin's blink and spreading glee at the size of the handful registers vaguely, a passing thought, 'I'm glad someone can be happy now.'  Another slow breath, and Sid says, "Please tell your Boss that I and several others of the School will come to pick up our fallen one and anything else he may have been carrying."

The goblin's response is indistinct, but registers as correct, and entirely different in tone than the one he arrived with.  Sid nods again, and with a gesture, asks the protectors on watch to escort the courier to such gates as the School now has.  

She's conscious of the sounds: birds, wind, the distant ring of a hammer on metal, the quiet murmur of voices.  There's the warmth of the sun and the firmness of the earth under her feet, the staff in her hand and the familiar ache in her leg.  All of those things are true, real, and then so must be the note she finds.  

Sid reads the note twice, striving to draw her mind to full attention, as though fighting a spell that would demand she do other than her own will.  After the second pass, she lifts her head and looks around, conscious of the many that have chosen to loiter nearby, or are openly waiting.  As she looks some flush or drop their eyes or fidget, though most meet her straightly, some already with tears beginning.  

Raising her voice slightly, Sidonwy says, "As you may have guessed, the Troll that courier spoke of was Malulji.  He returned to the jungles of his tribe, where he passed his youth, to find his end.  That was his wish.  Passing from this world, his spirit will find those of his first family, the children and wife he cherished and so rarely spoke of.  With this note, he expresses his love and care for each of you,"  Sid looks at those listening, "his second family."

Someone in the second rank, below Sid's sight, begins to cry, a thin hiccoughy sound.  Sid takes another slow breath, and the too-brief distraction of replacing the note neatly in the pack.  Then, facing her School, her friends, her family, she asks, "While I have no doubt of the Baron's courtesy, it's not how I'd have things done for one of our own.  Malulji chose to spare us the grief of attending his passing, but he deserves every honor we can give him.  By a show of hands, who is free now and able to travel swiftly to him?"

Seeing the hands go up, and the regretful head shakes and mulish looks of those that must stand down, Sid almost smiles.  She nods to those that will go.  "Go to him at your best speed and attend him in honor.  Provisions will have to be made, for our safety here, and to show Malulji due respect there.  As soon as may be, I, and whoever chooses to follow, will join you so we can speed him with all ceremony.  Go now."  

Seeing the few turn to go, she looks again, imprinting the shapes and names of those that have heard her words, confident  of her people's long memory.  "We will meet the challenges of the days to come, and the grief of our loss, with the strength Malulji helped build in all of us, and the kindness of his care.  Spirits be with us, now and always."

Llejna was in a spirited debate with another student on the merits of climbing vines as appropriate visual barriers between patient beds when she saw the Goblin talking to one of the Protectors.  She continued in her debate, somewhat absently as Sidonwy bows to the Goblin and takes a pack from him.  Llejna's eyes follow the movements and narrow slightly as she holds up a hand to the other and turns her attention to Sidonwy, moving closer as she watches the note being read.  Reaching up to tug on a white feather that is dangling from her horn, she waits.   Sidonwy's words reach her ears softly at first, then more clearly as she slowly moves forward and circles around the outside of the gathered group to listen. 

Bowing her head and scuffing the ground as she hears the news, her thoughts start to wander.  Tugging on her feather without realizing it, her thoughts drown out the rest of Sidonwy's words.  Someone pushes past her and she mumbles an automatic apology, moving to the side and then turning to walk to the edge of the cliffs.  She sighs as her gaze looks out over the peacefulness of the plains.

Seeing Reagan, Lucasta lowers her sword to rest.  To Reagan's question, she answers, "No."  Then, more gently, "Not yet, at least."  Perhaps other words could be said, or should, but Lucasta falls silent, dropping her head slightly.