The Complete Soldier Son Trilogy: Shaman’s Crossing, Forest Mage, Renegade’s Magic

NINETEEN

Intervention

There were only three days left until the section test and the culling that would follow. As Gord had predicted, we were not the only first-years to have heard the rumours. Perhaps they had been deliberately sown, perhaps not. All I knew was that the campus was suddenly a far more sombre place. There was no talking or jesting in the meal lines any more, and conversation at table now consisted of discussing our studies and what might or might not be on any of the examinations.

All of us studied harder, but some of us had our own particular demons to wrestle. Rory’s was Varnian grammar. Natred and Kort worked endlessly on drafting. Mine was Captain Infal’s Military History class. He’d spent the last two weeks on sea battles from King Jurew’s War. I failed to see how sea tactics and strategy applied to cavalry officers, and had a hard time keeping the names of the various captains and the military capabilities of their various ships fixed in my head. Now I re-read my notes, desperately trying to memorize every stage of each battle. I was furious with the instructor, certain that I’d never use any of this knowledge that I so painfully pounded into my memory.

And Spink struggled with his maths. It was awful to watch him. There was a safety lamp that was kept burning in the stairwell at all times, even after lights-out. In the ferocity of his drive to find more hours to study, Spink would furtively creep out on the landing with a chair, and stand on top of it to bring his book close enough to the dim lantern to continue studying the equations and how they were manipulated. In the mornings, he rose with bloodshot eyes and a sagging face to begin the day.

Spink’s efforts did not escape notice by Trist. He only spoke of it once to him, and he sounded almost kind when he did. ‘We all see how hard you’re trying, Spink. And we, well, whatever you have to do to get a good score, we’ll know that you’re doing it as much for us as for yourself.’

Spink lifted his head to stare at Trist and said quietly, ‘I don’t cheat. Not for anyone.’ Then he had turned his gaze back to his books. He had not looked up again after that, not even when Trist shoved his chair back from the table and stamped out of the room.

If the culling had been all that we had to worry about, that would have been enough. But for Spink and me there were other concerns. The day after Spink was put on probation, there was no letter from my uncle. I had written to him of Spink’s situation, and posted the letter that same day. The first missed letter worried me, but I persuaded myself that he just needed time to think. The second day with no response conveyed a chill message to me; he blamed me for bringing Spink into his home. What would he write to my father about it? I tried to put a brave face on it for Spink, saying that perhaps his letter to me was delayed, or that he had not yet received mine that explained everything. Spink didn’t believe it any more than I did. It was not reassuring when that evening, just when I most wanted to study for the exams I’d face the next day, I was summoned to the commander’s office.

I hurried across the winter-dimmed campus, dread a cold weight in my belly. It had snowed the night before, but the day had melted the snow to slush. Now it was hardening into uneven ice on the pathways. I slipped several times, trying to hurry. When I finally reached the stone steps of the Administration Building, I forced myself to ascend them carefully. My uncle’s carriage and man awaited outside the building. Anticipation warred with dread as I went up the steps. At least, I would soon know where I stood.

Caulder admitted me and walked me silently to the door of his father’s office. He met my gaze with a smirk that I hated. I did not thank him for opening the door for me. I did notice that when it closed it did not latch behind me. I walked forward, saluted and then waited, ever mindful that Caulder’s ear was most likely pressed to the door crack.

Colonel Stiet sat behind his desk. Uncle Sefert sat in a comfortable chair to one side of it, looking anything but comfortable. Colonel Stiet spoke to me. ‘Your uncle is concerned that you have not written to him lately. Have you anything to say for yourself, Cadet Burvelle?’ Clearly Colonel Stiet regarded this as a trivial and annoying complaint. I could almost hear him thinking of his home and lady waiting for him. I kept my eyes on him as I replied.

‘I have written and posted letters to my uncle daily, sir. I, too, have been concerned that he has not written to me for several days.’

I saw my uncle sit up straighter in his chair, but he did not speak. Colonel Stiet pursed his lips. ‘Well. It seems to me that we then have the answer to our little puzzle. Something has interrupted the post. Letters have gone missing. Certainly this should not cause any of us much distress, however. I do not feel it has been worth this “emergency” meeting tonight at the end of a long and arduous day.’

I could not think of a reply but my uncle answered for us.

‘Ordinarily, it would not,’ my uncle replied. ‘Save that I have had some concerns about young Nevare of late. And thus I made him promise to write to me daily. When he appeared to be ignoring that request, I naturally felt concern.’

‘Naturally,’ Colonel Stiet agreed, but his voice was flat with scepticism. ‘And now that you are reassured that all is well with him, I trust we can put this incident behind us.’

‘Certainly,’ my uncle agreed. ‘So long as Nevare continues to write to me daily. I shall have one of my men deliver my messages and pick up his to me, to be sure that the post does not fail us again. I have promised my brother, Nevare’s father, that I would watch over him as closely as I would my own soldier son. I intend to keep that promise.’

‘As a man of honour, certainly you must.’ The words were correct, but there was still that odd flatness to his voice. The colonel looked at me as if he just realized I was there. ‘Dismissed, Cadet. Lord Burvelle, would you care to join me at my home for a glass of wine before you depart?’

I had already turned to go when my uncle spoke. ‘Actually, Colonel, I fear I should be getting back to the city. Things are a bit unsettled at my home of late. I shall walk Nevare back to his dormitory, I think, before I leave.’

The colonel was silent for a few moments. Then, ‘The walks are icy tonight, Lord Burvelle. I strongly recommend against this.’

‘Thank you for your concern, Colonel Stiet.’

And my uncle left it there, neither saying he would take the colonel’s advice nor that he would ignore it. It left the colonel little more to say except ‘good night’. And that he did, and my uncle returned it to him. Then he joined me as I opened the door for him. As I had suspected, Caulder was lingering in the foyer. I walked immediately to the outer door, but my uncle greeted him kindly and asked him how he had been of late. Caulder responded with faultless courtesy, and a smiling familiarity with my uncle that roused an unreasoning fury in me. I suppose I felt as if Caulder were somehow claiming my uncle. I deliberately held the door open for my uncle, admitting the cold wind into Colonel Stiet’s foyer while they chatted. When my uncle finally bid Caulder good night and preceded me out the door, I was glad to let it close on the building and all it contained.

I think my uncle sensed my upset, for he followed me carefully down the icy steps and then paused to wrap his scarf more closely around his neck. ‘My wife’s family has close ties with Lord Stiet. That is how we know his brother, Colonel Stiet, and Caulder of course. They have been guests in my home.’ He paused as if to let me reply, but I could think of nothing to say. ‘The wind has a bite in it tonight,’ he observed. ‘Shall we sit in my carriage and talk for a bit?’

‘I should like that, sir,’ I said, but then added, ‘If you do not think it would be too hard on your coachman.’

He cocked his head at me. ‘A good point, young Nevare. You show your father’s concern for folk of lesser station. It is what made him such an excellent officer, and so beloved of his troops. Gaser!’ He raised his voice to call to the man. ‘I’m going to walk Nevare back to his dormitory. If you get too chilled, you may sit inside the carriage.’

‘Thanky, sir,’ the man replied, gratitude in his voice. As we walked away, I felt warmed, not just by my uncle’s praise, but that he had acted on my concern for his coachman. My uncle took my arm as we walked.

‘Well, Nevare, if you had to guess, where do you think our letters have gone astray?’

‘I’m sure I’ve no idea, sir.’

‘Oh, lad, you don’t need to dissemble with me. I suspect that if I went to my wife’s little writing desk and broke the silly lock on it, I’d find them all neatly stacked there. I don’t think even Daraleen would have the gall to destroy them completely. No doubt she will say it was an oversight of some sort. It would not be the first time she had tampered in my affairs.’ He sighed. ‘So. Why don’t we cut to the heart of it, and you tell me what you think made her do it.’

His easy acceptance of his wife’s fault should have made it easier for me to speak. Instead, it only seemed harder. I suddenly wished that I had been forthright with him from the beginning, and told him not only about the séances but also that Epiny was writing to Spink. To tell it now made me feel I had been a party to his daughter’s deception, as indeed I had. He listened in silence as I told the tale, passing lightly over Epiny’s efforts at being a medium and dwelling charitably on how impressed Spink had been with her. My uncle lifted his brows in surprise when I told him that Spink’s mother and elder brother would surely write to him any day now to ask permission for Spink to court Epiny. It was only surprising that he had not already received their letter.

‘Perhaps I did,’ he said when I paused. ‘Perhaps it is in my wife’s secretary, with our correspondence. Perhaps it is what triggered this whole incident. Let me be blunt with you, Nevare. Marrying the soldier son of a New Noble and living hundreds of miles away from Old Thares and the court is not what my wife has in mind for her elder daughter. She takes Epiny into situations that I think ill-advised, to try to advance her socially. This séance nonsense, for instance … if only the girl were not so childish. Other girls her age are already young women, formally presented to the court and already spoken for. But Epiny …’ He sighed and shook his head. In the darkness, I caught his rueful smile. ‘Well, you have seen how she is still a little girl in all the important ways. I tell myself that, in her own good time, she will grow up. Some flowers bloom later than others and some say their fragrance is sweetest. We shall see. I have forbidden Daraleen from rushing Epiny into womanhood. Childhood is too brief and precious a thing to waste.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I thought that my lady wife had come round to my way of thinking when she suggested that Epiny be sent off for some time with other girls her age. Epiny objected, with one of her harangues about being trained to be an ornament for a rich man’s mansion.’ He glanced at me and his smile was small and a bit bitter. ‘I suppose I should have guessed that she was already imagining herself dominating a poor officer’s quarters instead.’

I walked on with him, arm in arm, and my tongue felt thick with ashes. Epiny deceived her father, and by my silence, I contributed to it. Yet what was I to say? That when she was alone with Spink and me, she behaved not only as a young woman, but also as something of a coquette? I kept my silence and my guilt.

‘So, I can see how your friend’s infatuation with her and his prompting of his family to seek permission to court would have been upsetting to Lady Burvelle. She has not even had a time to display her precious treasure at court, and some New Noble upstart is trying to claim her and carry her off to a life on the wild frontier!’ My uncle almost made a joke of it. He sounded amused, but regretful that it had happened.

I took a breath and plunged in. ‘Spink is very taken with my cousin, Uncle. That is true. But he has not written to her. The correspondence has been one-sided. It is true that he asked his mother and brother to speak for him, but surely, that is what any honourable man would do; first, to attempt to secure permission before he began any courtship of the girl.’

I thought I had carefully led him up to seeing the truth of it: that Epiny only pretended to be childish. But he would not drink of that idea. Instead, he said, ‘Well, at least my little girl has had her first childish infatuation. Surely I can take that as a sign of her growing up. And she chose a handsome soldier lad in a bright uniform with shiny buttons. I suppose I should have expected it. But I had no sisters, you know. Your father and I and our two younger brothers were like a den of bear cubs growing up. My mother despaired of ever teaching us anything about young women and how they should be treated. Epiny and Purissa are delightful but mysterious to me. They play at dolls and tea parties… it is an enchanting thing to watch, but how, I ask you, can that consume hours of their time? But doubtless you think me indulgent. I suspect your own father takes a firmer line with his offspring.’

‘He does, sir, in some ways. And in others, he is indulgent. Once, when Elisi asked him to bring her back blue hair ribbons from his trip to the city, he brought her, not two, but twenty, in every shade of blue that the millinery had offered him. I do not think it a fault for fathers to dote on their daughters.’

We had drawn near to my dormitory. We halted on the walk. The tips of my ears and my nose stung with cold, but I sensed my uncle had not said all he wished to say.

‘Let me change the subject, Nevare. Your letters were very detailed, and I assure you that your keen observation of how cadets are treated here will benefit those who follow you. But bring me up to date on yourself. How have you fared over the last week?’

‘Oh, it has been nothing out of the usual, I suppose. The last few days have been a bit frantic. We’ve heard there is to be a culling, not by student but by patrol, based on our upcoming exams. It has all of us a bit worried, for there is not a cadet here who does not have a weakness of some kind. A failure by any of us could bring all of us down.’

‘A what? A culling? Explain this to me, please.’

And so I did, as best I could, adding several times that it was only a rumour, but one spread by Caulder himself. My uncle’s expression only grew darker as I explained it to him. At last he spoke. ‘I, myself, think this is a useless and destructive way to “cull” weak cadets from the ranks. That the good and solid should perish with the lazy and the weak simply because of how your rooms were initially assigned seems but random cruelty to me! I know two members of the Academy board. I will use what authority I have to persuade them to look into this. As I have no soldier son in attendance, they may wonder why I take such an interest. Worse, I fear they may see that I am trying to advance the cause of the battle lords’ sons over their own soldier sons. At the best of times, the board does not move swiftly. Any action they take may be too late to save you this time. All you can do is study, pray and, of course, encourage your fellows to do the same. At least you’ve a holiday to look forward to when exams are done. You’ll have a few days of leisure over the Dark Evening observances. Shall I come and fetch you to my house for them?’

I squirmed a bit. I enjoyed visiting my uncle, but I’d been looking forward to an opportunity to see Old Thares in holiday guise with my fellows. After a moment, I admitted that to my uncle, who laughed genially and said, ‘Of course! How could I be so forgetful of what it is like to be a young man? Enjoy your time, then, but be cautious as well. Pickpockets and worse will be out and about on Dark Evening.’

I hesitated, dared myself and then blurted out, ‘Is it true, what the lads have been telling me about women and Dark Evening?’

That made him burst out with a ringing laugh that turned the head of the night watchman on his early round. A blush warmed my wind-chilled face. I was certain my schoolmates had played a prank on me. When my uncle could speak, he replied heartily, ‘It’s true and it’s untrue, as most holiday traditions are. At one time, generations ago, the Long Night had several pagan rituals attached to it, and women who served the old gods as priestesses were said to seek out the favour of any man they wished. There was some old legend … what was it? That on that night of the year, they were the goddesses incarnate and thus not bound by the rules that bind mortals from day to day. We all serve the good god now, and a day does not pass that I do not thank him that we are freed from ritual sacrifice and scar oaths and sacrificial floggings. Those were bad days, and if you go far enough back in our family history and read the soldiers’ logs, you will see that even then, the common men regarded those practices as a burden and a scourge. Some, however, will make out those to be “the good old days” and speak of freedom and the power of the old gods. I think they are fools. Licentiousness and drunkenness and whoring and public floggings were the order of the day. But, I’m lecturing you, when all you want is a simple answer.’