Читать книгу The Complete Soldier Son Trilogy: Shaman’s Crossing, Forest Mage, Renegade’s Magic - Робин Хобб - Страница 27

The carriage ride back to the Academy was a quiet one. It seemed to pass very quickly, as time does when one is dreading something. Both Spink and I were subdued, and my uncle very thoughtful. The bizarre séance and Epiny’s abrupt withdrawal after it filled my thoughts. I struggled with whether or not it was my duty to tell my uncle of all that had transpired. The worst was that I could not in good conscience talk about it without revealing to him my subjective experience of it. I dissected the ‘séance’, trying to recall every word that Epiny had said to me. Slowly, I began to see that it was my interpretation of her words that was so otherworldly and strange. She had never said, ‘I am Tree Woman, reaching for you from your past!’ I had supplied all those connections myself. All she had done was look at me with a strange expression on her face and mutter some vague references to magic and ‘hold fast’ charms.

I felt swept by a tide of revelation. I had created it all in my mind. That was all. Nothing had really happened. Charitably, I decided that Epiny did believe that spirits were invading her mind and making her say and do strange things. She was not a conscious fraud. I had been drawn in by her play-acting or delusion, and I had provided the unspoken details that had made the séance so alarming. If, as a rational and modern man, I looked at what she had said and done, there was really very little to it. I drew in a deep breath, and with great relief, rejected my fears. All my anxiety was of my own making, the penalty I must pay for having indulged in her ungodly game of séance. The next time, I would know better. I was older and a man. I had set her a bad example by participating. I would not make that error again.

Spink, too, was silent and withdrawn, staring out the window wordlessly at the passing scenery. I think my uncle mistook the cause of our gloom. As we drew closer to the Academy gates, he took a deep breath and then warned us that he had sent a messenger ahead that morning, to request ‘an hour of the commander’s time’. Then he added, ‘I know you two are dreading what your honesty may have brought down upon you and your fellows. If Colonel Stiet is any kind of true officer, then he will appreciate knowing that there are abuses going on within his command. Lieutenant Tiber deserves to be treated fairly, as do all first-years of any parentage. Stiet should take steps to assure equity, and I intend to ask him to keep me informed of his progress in dealing with the offenders. If what I hear does not satisfy me, then I will write to your father, or go directly to the board that oversees the Academy. If it comes to that, you both may be called on to testify. I don’t think it will go that far, but I want to be honest with you. Through no fault of your own, you have entered difficult waters. Nevare, I want you to write to me daily and with honesty. If letters do not arrive from you as expected, I will be visiting here again, so see that you do not neglect this task.’

My heart sank at his words, but I dutifully replied, ‘Yes, Uncle.’ To have him remind me that there were other, weightier matters hanging over my head dampened my spirits even more thoroughly.

We bade him farewell at the entrance to the Administration Building. Spink and I watched him as he strode up the steps and entered. I thought I caught a brief glimpse of Caulder when the door was opened. I hoped not. I’d seen as much of that youngster as I wanted, and desired still less to have anything to do with him after I had seen how Epiny disdained him. I wished I had not witnessed the scene between them; Caulder would not forget that I had seen his humiliation. Spink and I shouldered our bags and headed back toward Carneston House. Halfway there, Spink spoke up suddenly but quietly.

‘Epiny stays in my mind. She … defies comparison.’

I felt myself flush slightly. ‘That’s a kind way to put it,’ I replied gruffly. I felt it a bit unfair of Spink to point out just how oddly she had behaved. Surely he could see that it was not my fault, and that I had suffered just as acutely as he had.

Then he said shyly, ‘She’s so sensitive, and so lovely. Like a butterfly, wafting on the wind. I think she feels things much more keenly than the rest of us.’

For a time, I was quiet. I was shocked. Sensitive and lovely? Epiny? I had felt mostly irritated and embarrassed by her. But Spink had enjoyed her company? Strange thoughts were suddenly unfolding in my mind. To be certain, I asked him, ‘You liked her, then?’

A wide and foolish grin spread across his face. ‘Oh, more than liked! Nevare, I am smitten with her. Smitten. I always thought that was a silly word. But now I understand completely what it means.’ He took a deep breath and gave me a sorrowful look. ‘And now you will say that you are sorry, but that she is promised already and has been since she was a child.’

‘If you asked me, I would say she is still a child. If she is promised, I do not know of it, and I doubt it would be so.’ There was a much larger obstacle, one that I was loath to point out to him, but I was equally reluctant to leave him ignorant. I gathered my courage. ‘The problem would not be that she was spoken for, Spink. It might be that my aunt would be unwilling to consider an offer from a new nobility family. My uncle did not speak of it directly, but it is an open secret within our family that she resents my father’s elevation and allies herself only with old nobility.’

He shrugged, almost dismissing my concern. ‘But her father seemed to like me, and Epiny herself … well …’ He stopped short before he said anything indelicate.

‘Epiny obviously likes you,’ I admitted. ‘I thought her rather too forward about indicating that to you.’

His face and tone lightened, as if I had just given a brother’s consent to his courtship. ‘Then if I could win your uncle’s regard and good will, I might have a chance with her.’

I doubted it. I suspected that my aunt had a will of steel. Seeing how Epiny had ridden roughshod over my uncle, I doubted that he would stand up to my aunt well. And even if my uncle were well disposed toward Spink himself, all he had told me of his family made me sure that he was a poor prospect as a match for my cousin. No money, no influence, new nobility … ‘You might have a chance,’ I heard myself concede, simply because I lacked the courage to point out to him that his odds of success were less than a whisper’s chance against storm winds.

He looked at me oddly, as if he had somehow managed to hear my mental reservation. ‘Speak to me plainly here, my friend. Do you feel I set my sights too high? Would you oppose my courting your cousin?’

I laughed out loud. ‘Spink, no, of course not! I can think of nothing I would like better than to call you cousin as well as friend. But what I might oppose is my cousin courting you! My friend, in temperament and manners, I think you could do far better than Epiny. Even if you were thinking of taking a plains wife.’

He looked shocked and then gave an odd laugh. ‘A plains wife? My mother would kill me. No, she wouldn’t have a chance. My brother would do it first.’

Our steps had carried us to the door of our dormitory. We checked in with the sergeant and then went up the steps to our room. Spink asked me not to speak too much of Epiny before the other fellows, and I was only too happy to comply. We greeted Oron and Caleb. They were both finishing their assignments at the study table. They kept us listening for some time as they recounted their stay with Oron’s aunt. She had hosted a musical gathering at her home, and they were full of stories of ribald songs, risqué dancing, and a young woman who had bedded both of them on the same night with neither the wiser to it at the time. Even now, they were astonished, scandalized and delighted to have such a wild adventure to tell. It made the tales from Caleb’s penny adventure books pale by comparison.

I was almost relieved that they gave us no room to talk of our own time away from the dormitory. Spink and I were talking of settling down and getting our assignments finished before the evening meal when we opened the door to our room. There we halted, filled with dismay that rapidly turned to anger.

My bunk had been overturned and all my books strewn about the floor. My carefully pressed and brushed uniform parts were scattered around the room. It looked as if someone had thrown them down and then trampled and kicked them about. There was a dusty footprint clearly outlined on the back of my jacket. Spink’s things had suffered similar vandalism. The bedding from the other bunks in the room had been flung about, but Natred and Kort’s belongings still rested on their shelves. Whoever had done this had targeted Spink and me for most of the mayhem. Spink recovered first, beginning to curse savagely in a low voice very unlike his normal tone. I stepped back into the common room and called Oron and Caleb. They came quickly, wondering what could be wrong, and then stood in shock when they saw the mess in our room.

‘Any ideas on who might have done this?’ I asked them.

Oron spoke first. ‘We only returned to Carneston House about an hour ago. And I had no reason to come in here.’ He looked at Caleb.

Caleb was as mystified. ‘Our room was fine when we unpacked. Nothing was touched in there.’

‘Check the other room,’ Spink suggested brusquely.

In the room that Gord shared with Rory and Trist, Gord’s bedding and possessions were the only ones that had been disturbed. The mess in there was even worse than in our room; Gord’s books and personal items had been heaped on top of his bedding on the floor, and someone had urinated on them. In the closed room, the smell was overpowering. We quickly backed out.

‘I’m reporting this to Sergeant Rufet,’ I announced.

‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’ Caleb asked me. The gangly cadet looked even more anxious than usual.

‘It’s going to be seen as tattling,’ Oron added, scowling. ‘And no one likes a snitch, Nevare.’

In one sense, I knew he was right. A deep dread surged in me. This was how they reacted simply because we knew what they had done. This was how they sought to cow and silence us. When they discovered that we had talked to my uncle and that he had taken the matter to the commander, what would they do then? Abruptly, I knew that keeping silent about this and accepting their abuse would not stop it. My uncle’s complaint to Colonel Stiet might stir them to worse things, but keeping silent hadn’t made them leave us alone. Reporting this was the only way I could stand up to them. Difficult as it was, even though my fellow cadets might see me as weak, I held myself to what my uncle had said I must do. ‘It’s not “snitching”.’ I told Caleb and Oron. ‘It’s a cadet reporting vandalism to the dormitories while we were gone.’ They just stared at me, unconvinced. Why was this so difficult? My uncle had said it was the right thing to do. ‘I’m going downstairs now. Leave this mess alone until Rufet has seen it.’

‘Should I go with you?’ Spink offered quietly.

‘I think one of us is enough,’ I told him, but he knew I was grateful for his offer.

With every step I took down the stairs, doubts assailed me. Reporting it seemed a whining and babyish thing to do, running to the sergeant to tattle. I knew the others might speak with disdain. Were we too soft to take a bit of pranking in stride? Yet the early months of school were past, and what had been done to our rooms went beyond ordinary hazing.

I stood before the sergeant’s desk until he looked up at me. Then, in as calm a voice as I could muster, I reported the damage to our rooms and possessions. He heard me out, his face darkening with anger. Then he led the way back up the stairs to survey the mess for himself. He questioned Oron and Caleb, but they had nothing to tell. The mess could have been made at any time. When he realized there would be no easy discovery of the culprits, his orders were terse. ‘Clean it up. Have Cadet Lading report to me. I’ll see that you get fresh bedding. There isn’t much more I can do.’

Spink and I set to work on our area immediately. As our other roommates trickled in, they expressed various levels of outrage or amusement at our predicament.

‘It isn’t just the time lost when we should be doing assignments,’ Spink complained as he pulled the bedding tight on his bunk. ‘It’s the feeling of invasion, and of being the butt of a joke with no chance to hit back.’

Rory had come into the room. Without anyone asking him to do it, he began to put Natred’s and Kort’s bedding back on their bunks as he spoke to us. ‘At least your stuff is just tossed about. Our room reeks like a sty and it’s freezing in there. Oron says he just about passed out from the smell when he first walked in, so he opened our window. That didn’t help much. Trist is furious with Gord; he says if he don’t come back soon and clean up the mess, he’s just going to toss all his stuff. And I’ll be there lending a hand!’

‘It’s not Gord’s fault!’ I said. ‘No more than this is our fault. Trist should be mad at whoever did it.’

‘Well, I sort of see it both ways,’ Rory replied obstinately. ‘Obviously, you and Spink and Gord made someone really mad at you that night. Gord’s never said what happened, but I don’t believe he fell down the steps. Now they’re getting their own back at you all, but Trist and I are the ones who are paying for it.’

‘You’re paying for it? How?’ Spink was incensed.

‘Our whole room reeks, that’s how! And Gord isn’t even here to clean it up, so we have to put up with it until he gets back. I don’t even want to go in there.’

‘You could clean it up for him.’

‘It’s his stuff. It’s his mess.’

‘You just made Natred’s and Kort’s bed up. Why is that different?’

Rory grinned good-naturedly, but still could not completely admit his hypocrisy. ‘Well, their stuff isn’t covered in piss, for one thing. And for another, I like them.’

‘And you don’t like Gord?’ I was surprised.

He looked at me in disbelief that I could be so stupid. ‘Not much.’ He sighed. ‘Look, Spink, I know he helps you a lot, and I guess you and Nevare both like him well enough. But you two don’t have to live with him. He smells awful when he comes in from marching, like bacon gone bad. And he’s always sweaty. And he’s noisy; his bed creaks under him at night, and he lies on his back and snores like a pig. He’s so damn big that every time he walks in the door, the room feels crowded. I’ve seen you two stand side by side and shave at the same basin when you have to hurry. Can’t do that with Gord. There’s no room. And he’s just, well, annoying. He’s always trying to be too friendly. He invites the things that happen to him with the way he calls attention to himself. Why does he have to be so huge? The first time I saw him nekkid, I just about got sick. He’s all pale and wobbly and … Well, it was Trist first said it, but I’ll admit I laughed. With the gut he has, we wonder if he even knows he has a cock. He prob’ly hasn’t seen it in a couple of years at least.’

Rory laughed at his own joke. Spink and I didn’t. A week ago, I would have, I realized. But now it seemed a personal affront, as if a rough joke about Gord were mockery of us as well. Why? Not because we were his friends; I still did not feel that great a personal attachment to him. It was because whoever had targeted him had attacked us as well, and somehow made the three of us into a single entity now. Like it or not, when they mocked Gord, it was mockery of us as well. I didn’t like it at all.

Rory threw up his hands at our silent stares and shrugged defensively. ‘Well, take it that way if you want to. It’s not personal, not with me. I like you fellers.’ He took a shallow breath as if daring himself to speak. He lowered his voice. ‘When I was leaving for the Academy, my father said, “Son, choose your friends well. Don’t let them choose you; you be the one who decides who your pals are. The needy and weak ones will always be the first to try to become close friends with those they perceive as strong. In the cavalla, a man needs strong allies who will stand back to back with him, not weaklings who shelter in his shadow.” When I first met you fellers, I knew you were strong, and that I could count on you at my back. And when I first met Gord, I knew that he didn’t have the stamina or strength to be a real officer. He’s a liability to those who befriend him. That’s why he’s always trying to be everyone’s buddy, and doing everyone favours; he knows he’ll need pals to protect him if he ever gets into a tough situation. You know that’s true.’

I put the last book back on my shelf and then stood silent, thinking over what Rory had said. By having Spink as a friend, I’d also chosen to be associated with Gord. And, by default, that cut me off from being friends with Trist. If I had not befriended both Spink and Gord, I could have been one of Trist’s companions. I liked Spink and instinctively knew that in many ways our values were more compatible than if I had followed Trist. Yet I also knew that Trist was more charismatic, more social, and more … I searched for a word, and nearly laughed aloud when I found it. Fashionable. Trist was making connections and winning friends among the older cadets, even those of old nobility blood. He’d eaten at the commander’s table, and even now, when Caulder scorned most of the new nobility, he still greeted Trist warmly. If I had been Trist’s friend, those connections and associations would have been open to me as well. But I had met Spink first, and at my father’s recommendation, had chosen him as a friend. Had my father been wrong?

Even as doubt and guilt for feeling that doubt assailed me, I realized that something was missing. ‘My rock’s gone!’

Rory and Spink looked at me as if I were slightly mad.

‘The rock I brought from home with me. I always kept it on that shelf. It was a, well, an important keepsake.’

‘Your girl gave it to you?’ Rory asked, even as Spink suggested pragmatically, ‘Did you look under your bunk?’

I was on my knees, looking under every bed and in the corners of the room when I heard Gord return. He was greeted with an uproar of voices, some telling him what had befallen him even as others demanded that he immediately clean it up. I reached the door just in time to see peace and relaxation fade from his face to be replaced by his usual expression of resigned caution. It struck me for the first time how much he had changed since the first day of Academy. We all followed him to the door of his room, to gawk at his shock and dismay.

I think the others were disappointed at his reaction. He walked into the room, looked down at the ruined books, soiled clothing, and sodden bedding and made not a sound. He did not curse or stamp or whine. He only drew in a deep breath that swelled his back against the tightness of his coat. It reminded me of a beetle’s carapace as he lowered his head into his shoulders. ‘What a mess,’ he said finally. Then he hung up his greatcoat in his cupboard and set his weekend satchel on the floor beside it. There was a posy pinned to the lapel of his greatcoat, and I wondered if the girl he was promised had put it there. Could she love him, fat and unlovely as he was? Was that where he got the strength to go to the urine-soaked blankets and tug them off his books and notes? As he picked it up, the sodden blanket sprayed yellow drops on the floor. There was a collective chorus of groans of disgust and one or two chuckles of that horrified laughter that comes over men in bad situations.

I stepped forward. ‘Sergeant Rufet said to tell you that he would issue you clean bedding.’

Gord glanced up at me and for a moment the opacity in his eyes melted. I saw the pain this insult had dealt him. But his voice was flat when he spoke. ‘Thanks, Nevare. I guess that is where I’d better start then.’

‘I’ve got to get to my assignments. Spink and I didn’t get our work finished during our time away.’ I was making an excuse not to help him and I knew it. I left him and got my books and went to the study table. Spink came and joined me a while later. When I glanced up at him, he said, ‘There’s not much I can do in there. He’s made up his bed and dried off his books as best as he can.’ He opened his books. Without looking at me, he added, ‘All his drafting notes are ruined. He asked if I thought you’d let him copy yours onto clean paper, and I said you probably would.’

I nodded and bent my head back to my studies. A time later, I heard the swishing of a scrub brush at work.

That incident was a turning point in my first year at the Academy. After that, the division was so plain within our rooms that we might have been wearing different uniforms. Spink, Gord and I were seen as a unit, with Kort and Natred in a separate orbit around us. They spoke to us in our room in the evening, and never shunned us, but neither did they go with us to the library or spend free time with us. Kort and Natred seemed a self-sufficient duo, not needing any other alliance. Trist ruled the roost for the rest of them. Oron was probably closest to him, or gave every sign of wishing to be. He always sat beside Trist, nodding to his every word and laughing the loudest at his jests. Caleb and Rory followed the golden cadet without question. Sometimes, Rory came to our room to visit and talk, but not as often as he had. And when we sat at the study table or at the mess table, we sat divided by our loyalties.

We did not find out who had invaded our rooms, nor did I find my precious rock. It was strange for it to vanish, for there had been a small amount of money in a coat pocket, and that had not been taken. It became common knowledge that I had reported the incident to Sergeant Rufet. The day after we returned, I was called out of Drafting class. A third-year marched me silently to the Administration Building. I was immediately guided to an upstairs chamber. My escort tapped on the door, and then waved me in. Heart hammering, I entered the room. I saluted, and then stood silently. The room was panelled in dark wood, and the winter daylight from the tall, narrow windows did not seem to reach me. There was a long table, and six men seated around it. Cadet Lieutenant Tiber, bandaged and pale, was seated to one side in a straight-backed chair. His posture was very stiff, either from nervousness or the pain of his injuries. Beside him, standing at parade rest was Cadet Ordo. I recognized Colonel Stiet and Dr Amicas among the men seated at the long table. A figure moved near the windows, and I realized Caulder Stiet was there as well, observing. I directed my salute to the colonel. ‘Reporting as ordered, sir,’ I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Colonel Stiet did not mince words. ‘And if you had not waited to be ordered to report, things might have been made clear much sooner, Cadet. It will not look well on your records that you had to be summoned to speak here, rather than volunteering your information immediately after the incident.’

He had not asked me a question, so I could not venture a reply. My mouth was suddenly dry, and my heart hammered so loud I could hear it in my ears. Cowardly. Here I was, facing no more than a room full of men, and I feared I might faint from terror. I took a deep breath and steadied myself.

‘Well?’ the colonel demanded of me, so suddenly that I jumped.

‘Sir?’

Stiet took in a deep breath through his nose. ‘Your uncle, Lord Burvelle of the West, had to come to me personally to divulge to me that you had not reported all you saw on the night Cadet Lieutenant Tiber was injured. You are now here to tell us, completely and in your own words, exactly what you witnessed. Proceed.’

I took a deep breath and wished desperately for water. ‘I was returning to my dormitory, Carneston House, from the infirmary, when I saw Caulder Stiet running toward us—’

‘Stop there, Cadet! I think we all need to know why you were out of your dormitory at such an hour and wandering around the campus.’ Stiet’s voice was severe, as if I had tried to conceal some wrongdoing.

‘Yes, sir,’ I replied mildly. I began again. ‘Caulder Stiet came to Carneston House to summon Cadet Kester and myself to the infirmary, to help Cadet Lading home.’

I paused, to see if this was a good starting place. The colonel nodded at me irritably, and I spoke on. I tried to tell my story simply, but without subtracting anything. I spoke of the doctor’s words to me, hoping I did not betray him. From the corner of my eye, I saw him nodding, his lips pinched flat. When I spoke of him sending Caulder home, and the boy’s response, Colonel Stiet scowled, and his scowl became deeper when I spoke of my second encounter with the boy that night. I was careful as I recounted all that I had seen and heard when I found Tiber. I dared one glance at him. He stared straight ahead, his face expressionless. When I mentioned Cadet Ordo, a man at the table nodded slightly, but when I added Cadet Jaris, I saw Stiet start, as if surprised. So his name had not been included in this, I decided. I wished I could have seen Tiber’s face, but didn’t dare to look. I wondered if he had known his attackers, and if he did, if he had volunteered or kept to himself their names. I even included, as I finished my report, that Sergeant Rufet had said that Cadet Tiber was not a drinker. I hoped I was not bringing any trouble down on the sergeant by doing so, but felt it was the only way I could cast doubt on Tiber’s drunkenness. I had been meticulously careful to say only what I had observed and to make no mention of the conclusions I had known.

When I was finished, Colonel Stiet let me stand some time in silence. Then he shuffled some papers before him and said sternly, ‘I will be sending your father a letter, Cadet Burvelle, about this incident. I will let him know that I think he should encourage you to be more forthcoming in the future if you witness something untoward on the Academy grounds. You may go.’

There was only one possible response. ‘Yes, sir.’ But as I began my salute, a man at the table said, ‘A moment. Surely I can ask the boy a few questions if I wish?’

‘I am not sure that would be appropriate, Lord Tiber.’

‘Damn what is appropriate, sir. I’m after the truth here.’ The man stood suddenly and pointed a finger at me. ‘Cadet. Do you think my son was drunk? Did you see him arrive back at the campus in a carriage? Do you know of any reason why he’d be carrying his schoolbooks with him if he’d gone into Old Thares to get drunk? Did the manner of the other cadets make you think they wished you would leave, so they could finish what they had started?’ His voice rose on every question. I had heard of people ‘shaking in their boots’. I was doing it now. I think if the table had not been in the way, he would have advanced on me. I stood my ground but it was difficult.

‘Lord Tiber! I must ask you to sit down. Cadet Burvelle, you are dismissed. Return to your classes.’

‘Damn it, Stiet, my son’s career is on the line here! The rest of his life. I want the truth. All of it.’

‘Your son’s career is in no danger, Lord Tiber. If Burvelle had come forward immediately, I would never have considered dismissing him from the Academy. He is restored to the Academy and to his rank, and the incident will be expunged from his record. Does that satisfy you?’

‘No!’ the man roared. ‘Justice would satisfy me. Punishment for those who ambushed my boy and stole the journal of the abuses to New Noble cadets that he had been keeping. Cleaning out the corruption that you are allowing to spread through this institution would satisfy me.’

‘Cadet Burvelle, you are dismissed! You should not need to hear a command twice.’ The anger Colonel Stiet could not direct at Lord Tiber had found a target in me.

‘Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.’ I finally found my legs and walked from the room. As I went out the door, I heard the shouting continue. Even after I shut it, the sounds of the altercation followed me. I walked down the hall, around the corner and then stopped to lean briefly on the wall. Of course I should have gone immediately to the doctor with what I had seen. It seemed obvious to me now, but at the time, it had seemed all guesses and suspicions, with no real facts to base them on. Now I had earned myself a letter of complaint to my father, a note in my record, the reputation of a snitch among the Old Noble cadets and the reputation of a coward among the New Noble cadets. I was sure that was how Tiber and his father must see me; I had held back when I could have cleared his name, because I was afraid to oppose those who had beaten him. That was how it must look to them. That was how it looked to me, now. And Caulder would be sure to let all his New Noble friends know that I had named names when Tiber evidently had not. I trudged back to my classes and went through the rest of my day in a daze.

In the days that followed, Spink, Gord, and I all seemed to share the shame of being a snitch, for often there were low catcalls when we walked somewhere, or spit-wads that seemed to come out of nowhere when we studied in the library. Once, studying alone, I left my book and paper on the library table while I sought a reference book. I came back to find my assignment torn to pieces, and filthy names scrawled across the pages of my text. It dragged my spirits down and I began to feel that I had made a sorry mess of my Academy years, one that would follow me for the rest of my career. While others were forming lifelong friendships, I had committed myself to having, it seemed, only two close friends. And one was someone that I didn’t even like all that much.

I wrote nightly to my uncle, as he had requested, and received frequent missives in return. I was honest, as he had bade me be, and yet it made me feel that I whimpered. He constantly told me to stand firm with my comrades and know that we acted in the best interest of the Academy and the cavalla by reporting such misdeeds, but it was hard to believe his encouraging words. I felt that at any time, I might be the victim of a sneaking attack: a flung snowball, more ice than snow, and the destruction of my model in the drafting room, and once, a crude name scrawled across the back of one of my letters. Nothing further happened to our rooms, for Sergeant Rufet had tightened his watch upon his domain, but that was a small comfort. Still, I looked forward to my uncle’s daily note as if it were a lifeline to keep me connected to a world outside the Academy. I had written my father my own letter of explanation, and my uncle assured me that, he, too, had told my father what he knew of the incident. Nevertheless, I soon received a very cold letter from my father, reminding me of my duties to be honest and above reproach in all I did, lest I shame the family name. He said that we would discuss the matter in detail in the spring when I came home to witness my brother’s wedding. He also wrote that I should have consulted him rather than my uncle on these matters. My uncle was not, after all, a soldier and did not know how matters such as these were handled within the military. Yet, even so, he did not write exactly what I should have done, and I did not have the spirit to keep the discussion alive in a second letter to him. I let the matter drop.

Spink, too, began to receive mail much more often than he had. I thought at first that the letters were from my uncle as well, but then I noticed that he never opened them in the bunkroom as the rest of us did our letters. Yet I only learned the truth the first time I encountered him in the library, reading a letter. As I sat down beside him at the study table, he hastily turned aside from me, sheltering the pages with his body.

Some part of me must have suspected the truth before that, because I instantly found myself asking him, ‘And how is my cousin this week?’

He laughed embarrassedly as he hastily folded the pages and slipped them inside his jacket. He was blushing as he admitted. ‘Lovely. Amazing. Intelligent. Enchanting.’

‘Strange!’ I interjected, and then lowered my voice. I glanced about the library. There was another cadet two tables away, intent on his own studies, but other than him, we were alone.

I envied Spink for a moment; I had not heard from Carsina in two weeks. I knew she could only send me a letter when she visited my sister, but still I wondered if her interest in me was waning. In a shocking moment, my envy turned greener. Spink had met a girl, and on his own decided that he liked her. And she liked him in return. I thought of Carsina, and she suddenly seemed a sort of hand-me-down, a connection passed on to me born of my father’s alliance and my sister’s friendship. Did she like me? If we had met one another casually, would we have felt any attraction? How much, really, did I know of her? I suddenly recognized Epiny’s insidious influence on my thinking. Her ideas about choosing your own mate, modern as they might be, had nothing to do with my needs. I was sure my father had selected a good cavalla wife for me, one who would understand her duty to her mate amidst the hardships that we might have to face together. What would Epiny know about the characteristics of a stable husband? Would Spink find that strength in Epiny, if he did manage to win her? How would her séances and glass curtains and foolish ideas sustain her in a border home with her husband often away on patrol? With that thought, I pushed my envy aside and said to Spink, ‘I’ve been wanting to talk to you about Epiny. I think I should speak to my uncle about her interest in séances and spirits and her experiments. For Epiny’s own sake, he should know what his daughter is meddling in, before she harms her reputation. What do you think?’

Spink shook his head at me. ‘It would only incite a battle between them, to no good end, I think. Your cousin is a strong-willed woman, Nevare. I don’t think she is “meddling” in anything. She has touched something that frightens her, and yet she does not retreat from it. She has written to me of how terrifying both experiences were. But instead of fleeing, she girds herself against it and plunges into battle again, to find out what it is. And do you know why she is now so intent on it?’

I shrugged. ‘Is it one of the “paths to power” she spoke about? A way to gain unnatural influence over others?’

Spink looked as insulted as if she were his own cousin. Little sparks of anger danced in his eyes, as he said, ‘No, you moron! She says it is because she fears for you. She… She says—’ He unfolded the letter and began to quote from it. ‘“I do not know with whom he battles for control of his soul, but I will not leave him to face her alone.” Those are her very words. And she sends me a long list of books she is trying to find, ones that she does not have easy access to. She asks that I look within the Academy library for them. Most have to do with anthropological studies of the plainspeople and discourses on their religions and beliefs. She is convinced that a plainswoman has cast some sort of spell over you or cursed you and seeks to bend you to her will with her magic.’ He stopped and swallowed, then looked at me from the corner of his eyes, as if reluctant to admit he’d been playing a silly game. ‘She says … she writes that a part of your aura has been captured, and walks in another world. That possibly you do not even realize that you no longer belong completely to yourself, but are partially controlled by this, this “other spiritual entity”. That’s what she calls it.’

‘That’s rubbish!’ I said hotly, in both embarrassment and sudden fear. Then I realized that the other cadet was staring at us in annoyance, his work neglected before him. I lowered my voice to a whisper. ‘Epiny is just playing a game, Spink, to make herself fascinating to you. It’s all pretend, every bit of it. And I would be remiss in my duty as a cousin if I did not speak to my uncle about it. She is still just a child, and my aunt should not be exposing her to such things. The awkward part, for me, is that it’s really my aunt’s fault that she has been allowed to pursue such nonsense.’

‘I cannot stop you from writing to your uncle about it,’ Spink said quietly. ‘Just as I can only ask you that you do not tell him that Epiny is sending me letters. If it makes you feel any better, I will admit that as of yet, we have not found any way for me to send responses to her. I’ve never written back to her. You know that my intentions toward her are entirely honourable. I’ve already written to both my mother and my brother to ask them to approach your uncle on my behalf.’

I was speechless for a moment. I could only imagine the courage it must have taken for him to approach his older brother with his desire to choose his own wife. Then all I could say, quite heartily, was, ‘You know I am on your side in this, Spink. I will speak well of you at every opportunity. Though I still think you could do better for yourself!’

He grinned even as he narrowed his eyes and warned me, ‘Now, speak no ill of my future lady, cousin, or we shall have to take it to the duelling grounds!’

I laughed aloud at that, and then stifled my laugh as I saw Caulder emerge from between two rows of shelved books. He did not glance at us and walked quickly out of the library. Only my abrupt silence and stare alerted Spink to his presence. ‘Do you think he overheard us?’ he asked me worriedly.

‘I doubt it,’ I replied. ‘If he had, it would be very unlike Caulder simply to walk away. He’d have to say something.’

‘I’ve heard his father has told him he isn’t to have anything to do with the Carneston House first-years.’

‘Really. Now that would be the greatest kindness Stiet has done us this year.’

We both laughed at that, and earned ourselves a glare and a ‘sshhh’ from the cadet at the next table.

Our studies only became more demanding as the year progressed. The grind of drill, classes, dull meals, and long assignments completed by lantern light carried us into the dim corridor of winter. Winter seemed harsher here in the city than it ever had out on the good, clean plains. The smoke of thousands of stoves filled the winter air. When snow did fall, it was soon speckled with soot. The melting water could not find the drains fast enough; the lawns of the Academy were sodden and the pathways became shallow canals that we splashed through as we marched. Winter seemed to wage a battle against the city, blanketing us with fresh snow and cold freezes, and then the next day giving way to wet fogs and slush underfoot. The snow that fell on the paths and streets of the Academy were soon trampled to a dirty sorbet of ice and mud. The trees stood stark on the lawns, their wet black branches imploring the skies to lighten. We rose before it was light, slopped through the slush to assembly, and then slogged through our classes. Grease our boots as we might, our feet were always wet, and in between inspections, damp socks festooned our rooms like holiday swags. Coughing and sneezing became commonplace, so that on the mornings when I woke with a clear head, I felt blessed. It seemed that our troop no sooner recovered from one sniffling onslaught than the next came along to lay us low. Sickness had to be extreme before we were either excused from classes or permitted into the infirmary, so most of us dragged through the days of illness as best we could.

Even so, all those miseries would have been bearable, for they fell on all of us alike, first-years, upper classmen, officers, and even our instructors. But shortly after Spink and I returned from our days away from the Academy, our fellow New Noble first-years and we became the targets of a different sort of misery.

There had always been differences in how the ‘New Noble’ first-years were treated compared to the sons of the older families. We had joked about being given the poorest housing choices, endured Corporal Dent making us eat later than our fellows, and hunched our shoulders to the fact that we received a rougher initiation than that inflicted on first-years of old nobility. Our instructors had seemed aloof from it, for the most part. Occasionally they remonstrated with us to uphold the dignity of the Academy despite being new to its traditions. It made us bitterly amused, for no son of any Old Noble could say that his father had ever attended any sort of military academy, yet many of our fathers had graduated from the old War College. The traditions of a military upbringing were in our bones, while our Old Noble fellows learned them only now.

Our classes had been scrupulously segregated for the first third of the year. We always sat in our patrols. New Nobles’ sons did not fraternize with the sons of Old Nobles, despite sometimes sharing the same classrooms. Now our instructors began, not to mingle us, but to make us compete against one another. With increasing frequency, our test scores were listed by patrol and were posted side by side outside the classroom doors, where all could see that the New Noble patrols consistently lagged behind the old nobility first-years in academics. The exceptions were Drafting and Engineering, in which we often excelled them, and in drill and on horseback in which they could not best us.

As our instructors began to encourage the rivalry between the two groups, I saw healthy competition take on a darker character. One afternoon we raced into the stables, sure that we would triumph over our rivals in an equestrian drill exercise, only to discover that someone had crept in and smeared dung stripes down the sides and flanks of our mounts and filled their tails with burrs. The hasty grooming we had time for was inadequate, and left our horses looking ill-kempt. We were marked down for that, and though we won for precision, we lost for overall appearance, and thus the cup and the half-day of liberty went to the old nobility troop.

We muttered at the unfairness of it. Then several of the scale models that belonged to Bringham House old nobility first-years were ruined immediately before a judging, leaving Carneston House the winners. Foul play was suspected, and I found it hard to take joy in the victory. My construction of a suspension bridge had been, I felt, so superior that we would have been assured the win without the sabotage. It was very difficult to write my letter to my uncle that night, for I felt that I had to be honest in stating my suspicions of my own fellows.

At about that time, I had a final encounter with Cadet Lieutenant Tiber. Rumours about him had died down at the Academy. I had heard little about him and seen even less. Thus I was a bit surprised to encounter him one evening as I returned from the library to Carneston House. We were both bundled in our greatcoats as we approached one another in the semi-darkness. He walked with a marked lurch to his gait now, probably as the result of his still healing injuries. His head was down, his eyes on the snowy path before him. I was tempted to pretend I didn’t recognize him and simply hurry past. Instead, as was right, I stepped to the side of the path and snapped a salute to him. He returned my salute in passing, and kept going. An instant later, he rounded on his heel and came back to me. ‘Cadet Nevare Burvelle. Is that correct?’

‘Yes, sir. That’s my name.’

Then he let a silence fall. I listened to the wind and felt dread build within me. Then he said, ‘Thank you for coming forward with those names. I didn’t know who jumped me. When Ordo claimed to have seen me drunk and staggering, I suspected, of course. But your saying Jaris’ name aloud was what made it certain for me.’

‘I should have come forward sooner, sir.’

He cocked his head at me. ‘And why didn’t you, Nevare Burvelle? That is something I’ve been wanting to ask you.’

‘I wasn’t sure … if it was honourable. To speak suspicions without having any facts. And …’ I quickly forced the truth past my lips. ‘I was afraid they’d take revenge on me.’

He nodded, unsurprised. Nothing in his face condemned me. ‘And did they?’

‘In small ways. Nothing I can’t endure.’

He nodded again, and gave me a small, cold smile. ‘Thank you for facing up to your fear and coming forward. Don’t think yourself a coward. You could have never mentioned it to your uncle, or when the time came, lied and said you’d seen nothing. I wish I could tell you that you’d be rewarded for it. You won’t. Remember, you were right to be cautious of them. Don’t underestimate them. I did. And now I limp. Don’t forget what we’ve learned.’

He spoke to me as if I were his friend. His words made me brave. ‘I trust you are recovering well and that your studies go well?’

His smile grew stiffer. ‘I’ve recovered as much as I’m likely to. And my studies have come to an end, Cadet Burvelle. I’ve received my first posting. I’m off to Gettys. As a scout.’

It was a bad post and a worse assignment. We stood facing one another in the cold. There was no polite congratulation I could offer. ‘It’s a punishment, isn’t it?’ I finally asked hopelessly.

‘It is and it isn’t. They need me there. The building of the King’s Road has come to a virtual halt there and I’m to move among the Specks in their forest and find out why. Ostensibly, I’m well suited for the task. Good at languages, good at engineering. I should be able to scout out the best route for the road and make friends with the wild people. Maybe I’ll find why we can’t seem to make any forward progress. Everyone gets something they want out of it. I get work I like and I’m good at. The administration gets me out of the way and in a position where I can never hope to rise to any appreciable rank.’

I found I was nodding to his words. They made sense. Reluctantly, I told him, ‘Earlier this year, Captain Maw said I’d make a good scout.’

‘Did he? Then I expect you will. He said the same thing to me when I was a first-year.’

‘But I don’t want to be a scout!’ The words burst from me. I was horrified at his prophecy.

‘I doubt that anyone does, Nevare. When the time comes, try to recognize that Maw means well by intervening in that way. He’d rather see promising cadets serve in some capacity of worth, rather than being culled or sent to useless posts to count blankets or buy mutton for the troops. It’s his way of saying you’re worth something, even if you are a battle lord’s son.’

The silence that followed his words hung between us. Finally, he broke it, saying, ‘Wish me luck, Burvelle.’

‘Good luck, Lieutenant Tiber.’

‘Scout Tiber, Burvelle. Scout Tiber. I’d best get used to it.’ He saluted me and I returned it. Then he walked away from me into the cold and the dark. I stood still, shivering, and wondered if I was doomed to follow in his footsteps.