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At the double doors of my uncle’s study, his man rapped lightly, then opened the door for us and stood to one side as we entered the warmly lit room. There any doubts I’d had about my uncle’s welcome of us were dispersed. Not only were wine, cold meats, cheese and bread set out on a table to welcome us, but also tobacco for my father. My uncle, clad in an elaborate smoking jacket and silk lansin trousers, rose and came to greet my father with an embrace. Then he stood back from me, pipe in hand, and feigned amazement at how I had grown. He insisted that we sit down immediately to the late night repast he had had prepared for us, and I was glad to do so.
Their conversation flowed over my head as I ate. I was glad to be seen and not heard, for it afforded me the uninterrupted opportunity to enjoy the best food I’d faced in some days, and also to see my father and my uncle as I’d never witnessed them before. In the next hour I realized what had always escaped me, that my father and my uncle were close and that my Uncle Sefert not only rejoiced in my father’s elevation but had genuine affection for his younger sibling. I had been a child the few previous times I had seen them together, and on those occasions they spoke and behaved with the reserve appropriate to their stations. Perhaps it was the lateness of the hour or the casual setting, but tonight they spoke quickly, laughed heartily, and generally behaved more like two boys than two peers of the realm.
As if to make up for lost time, they discussed a dozen topics, from the health of my father’s crops and the product of my uncle’s vineyards to my uncle’s marriage plans for his daughter and my father’s selection of prospects for Yaril’s hand. My father spoke of my mother’s gardens, and that he wished to visit the flower market and take new dahlia tubers home with him, to replace the ones devoured by rodents earlier that summer. He talked about my mother’s pleasure in her garden and home, and how his daughters grew all too swiftly and would soon leave his protection. In contrast, my uncle spoke of his wife’s discontent and ambition with painful honesty, acknowledging that she was ill-pleased with my father’s elevation in status, as if somehow his rise had compromised my uncle’s position. ‘Daraleen has always been jealous of her position. She was a younger daughter in her family, and never thought to be wed to a first son. It is almost as if she fears that some of her honour will be taken from her if others rise to share the same footing. I have tried to reassure her, but alas, her mother seems to share her daughter’s apprehension. Her family behaves as if the new nobles sprang from common stock, but every one of the soldier sons King Troven elevated had a noble father. Nonetheless, my wife’s family shuns contact with the new nobles as upstarts and frauds. It is without foundation, but, there it is.’
My father commiserated with him on this, taking none of it personally, as if they spoke of a house with a cracking foundation or a field suddenly prone to root-rot. He did not condemn the woman, nor was there any discomfort in how frankly they discussed her jealousy. It was a flaw they both acknowledged, but did not allow to affect their relationship. Daraleen went to great pains to cultivate her friendship with the Queen. She put their daughters before her majesty at every opportunity, and hoped to see them invited to court for an extended stay. To that end my younger cousin, Epiny, had begun to study the occult, for spiritualists and séances and other such nonsense fascinated the Queen. My uncle was plainly displeased by this. ‘I have told her she is to regard it as studying pagan beliefs or plainsmen legends. At first, she seemed to share my opinions of it, but the longer she studies that claptrap, the more she babbles of it at table and the more validity she seems to give it. It troubles me, Keft. She is young, and unfortunately behaves even younger than her years but I think the sooner she is settled with a solid man, the better it will be for her. I know that Daraleen has high ambitions for her, and hopes to marry her above our station. Nightly she reminds me that if Epiny finds favour with the Queen and is invited to court, she will be seen by the finest young nobles of the realm. But I fear for my daughter, Keft. I think she would be better off studying the scriptures of the good god than researching crystal chimes and telling fortunes with silver pins.’
‘She does not sound so different from my own Yaril. It seems to me that Elisi, too, went through a flighty period at about that age. All she wanted to babble about was what she had dreamed the night before, and although she knows I don’t approve of the old holy days, she sulked for a week when I would not allow her to go to a friend’s Dark Evening ball. Give Epiny a year or so, brother, and I expect her father’s common sense will come back to her. Girls need those flights of fancy and time to indulge them, just as boys pass through a reckless time of measuring their courage by challenging themselves.’
I was a bit surprised to think that fathers took so much thought over their daughters. Then, as I pondered it, it seemed that of course it must be so, and I wondered if some day Carsina and I would have daughters that we must safely shepherd into marriages. I wondered if I would ever sit with Rosse and discuss my children’s prospects. I was jolted from my thoughts when Uncle Sefert suddenly addressed me. ‘Nevare, you have a pensive look. What are you thinking?’
I spoke honestly, without giving thought to my words, saying, ‘I was hoping that some day Rosse and I will sit at table together and discuss our plans for our children with as much fondness and pleasure as you share with my father now.’
I had not intended to flatter either of them, and yet my father gave me the warmest smile I had ever seen on his face. ‘Such is my wish for you also, my son,’ he assured me. ‘When all is said and done, family is what counts for most in this world. I hope to see you have a distinguished career in the cavalla, just as I hope to see Rosse manage my lands well and to see your sisters well wed, and young Vanze honoured as a pious and learned man. Yet above all, I hope that in the years to come, you will remember one another fondly, and always do whatever you can for the honour and well being of your family.’
‘As surely my younger brother has done for our family over the years,’ my Uncle Sefert added, and was rewarded by the slight blush that suffused my father’s face at his elder brother’s praise.
I perceived my uncle then as a very different man from what I had previously supposed him. I decided that their free discussion in front of me marked, perhaps, their recognition that I was now a man and more worthy of confidences than I had been as a child. As if to confirm this, my uncle then asked me a number of polite questions about our journey and my preparation for the Academy and its rigours. At the news that I had brought Sirlofty, he smiled and nodded his approval, but cautioned, ‘Perhaps you should stable him with me until you reach the state in your training where they will allow you a personal mount. I have heard that the officer in charge of the young cadets has instituted a new practice of putting all of them on uniform horses to begin with, so that pace and stride and appearance are matched for each regiment.’
‘I had not heard of that,’ my father frowned.
‘It is quite recent,’ my Uncle Sefert assured him. ‘The news of it likely has not reached the eastern frontiers yet. Colonel Rebin has recently chosen to retire; some say his wife importuned him, others that the gout in his knees and feet has become so painful that he can scarce bestride a chair, let alone a horse. There are also less kind whispers that he somehow offended the King and found it wiser to leave the post before he was relieved of it. Whatever the cause, he has left the Academy and Colonel Stiet has taken it over.’
‘Colonel Stiet? I don’t believe I know him,’ my father observed stiffly. I was alarmed at how unsettled he seemed to be at this sudden news.
‘You would not. He isn’t a frontierman, or even cavalla, but I’ve heard he is a good military officer for all that. He had risen through the ranks here at home, by diligence and long years rather than field promotions. Yet the gossip is that he is more given to show than Colonel Rebin was, and his insistence on well matched horses, all of a colour, for each regiment is but the tip of it. My wife’s family knows the Stiets well. We have often dined together. He may not be a soldier’s soldier, but he will have the Academy’s best interests at heart.’
‘Well, I’m not opposed to a bit of spit and polish, I suppose. Attention to detail can save a man’s life in a ticklish situation.’ I could hear that my father was speaking for my benefit, and suspected he was trying to make the best of a bad situation.
‘He’s more than polishing uniform buttons and shining boots.’ My uncle paused. He stood up, paced a turn about the room, and then continued. ‘This is gossip, pure and simple, and yet I think I’ll pass it on. I have heard he favours the soldier sons of the established nobles over King Troven’s battle lords, as some call you.’
‘Is he unfair?’ My father asked the question bluntly, his voice going low with concern.
‘Strict. Strict, but not unfair, is more what I’ve heard. My wife is a close friend of his lady, and knows them well. There is talk that … well. How to put this? The cavalla is ultimately commanded by the King, of course, as is all our military. But some fear that too many battle lords’ sons rising to officer status will shift the military to, to a, well, to a loyalty to the King that might be unhealthy for the rest of the kingdom. The Council of Lords already saw its power diluted when the New Nobles were granted equal seats with them. It is much easier for the King to have his way there. And some say that if ever it came to, well, to an outright rebellion by one lord or another, the King might use the power of his army against the rebel lord. And that an army led by the sons of battle lords might be less dismayed by that than an army commanded by Old Nobles’ sons would be.’
An awkward silence fell as my uncle seemed to run out of words rather than stopped speaking. My father asked him, somewhat stiffly, ‘Is there, in fact, any danger of such a rebellion? Do you think any of the old lords might rise against our king?’
My uncle had been standing near the fire. He crossed to a chair and sat down in it heavily. ‘There is talk, but I think it will never go beyond talk. Some say he favours his new nobles too much. His push to the east benefits them, and fills the King’s coffers, but does nothing for noble families who lost their most profitable holdings when the coastal stretch was ceded to Landsing. Some say that we have recovered from our long war with Landsing, and that now, with a determined military, we could defeat them, and take back what is rightfully ours.’
My father was silent for a long time. Then he said quietly, ‘I do not think such decisions are for the lords, but for the King, whom the good god put over us. I mourn as much as any Gernian, soldier or lord, for the lost coastal provinces. King Troven did not relish doing what he must to gain an end to that long war. Have they forgotten all we endured, that long last decade of war? Do they forget that once we feared to lose not just the coastal provinces, but all the lands along the Soudana as well? King Troven did not do so badly for his old nobles. He did better than his father had done, beggaring us with a war we long knew we could not win. But, come. Enough of chewing on old bones. Tell me more about Colonel Stiet?’
My uncle considered before he spoke. ‘He is the soldier son of an old nobility family. Politically, his heart lies with the Old Nobles in this divide. Some of them say that we have far too many New Nobles’ sons attending the Academy now. In the last two crops of first-year cadets, the New Noble sons have outnumbered the old. This year, the ratio is even more skewed. You battle lords seem a vigorous lot when it comes to fathering sons.’ He smiled at my father as he said it. I held very still. I wondered if it pained my uncle that his younger brother had fathered three sons to his one.
My father put my uncle’s unspoken warning into words. ‘You think that Stiet’s family and friends may urge him to balance that ratio.’
‘I do not know. I think pressure will be applied. I do not know Stiet well enough to say if he will give way to it. He is new to his post. He has promised to hold all the cadets to a high standard. He may hold that standard more tautly with the soldier sons of battle lords than he does with those of the old guard.’
My father gave me a sideways glance, and then nodded to himself. ‘Nevare can bear that sort of scrutiny, never fear.’
I felt pride that my father had such confidence in me, and tried not to let anxiety find any lodging within me. They moved from the table to their comfortable chairs by the hearth. It was early in the season for a fire, and yet after our long journey and damp wagon ride, the warmth felt good to me. I was honoured to sit with them while they smoked and talked, and tried to pay attention to the conversation even if I knew it was not my place to join in. Several times my uncle addressed me directly to include me in their conversation. From family matters they passed to general discussion of the political climate. Landsing had been quiescent of late, even negotiating favourable trade exchanges and allowing our king generous passage to Defford, one of their best seaports. Uncle Sefert felt that Landsing encouraged our eastward expansion, for it kept our military busy and our king’s acquisitive eyes away from them. My father did not think King Troven was overly greedy, only that he saw the benefits of having a generous border of territory that he controlled around our populated areas. Besides, all knew he had brought civilization, trade and other benefits to the plainsfolk. Like as not, even the Specks would eventually be better off thanks to our assimilation of the Wilds. They made no use of the forests, farmed no lands, and harvested no timber. Let them learn from Gernian example how to use those resources wisely and surely all would benefit.
My uncle countered with one of the ‘noble savage’ sentiments that had been so popular of late, more, I slowly realized, to nettle my father than because he believed such nonsense. I think he was surprised when my father expressed an affection for natural people, such as the plainsmen and even the Specks, but pointed out that unless civilization reached out to embrace and uplift them, they would likely be trampled beneath its ongoing eastward march. My father’s view was that it was better we reach and change them sooner rather than later, so that they might have a chance to emulate us rather than fall victim, in ignorance, to the civilized vices that natural people were so vulnerable to.
It was late and despite my interest in the conversation, I was battling my heavy eyelids before my father and uncle had finished catching up with one another. My uncle did not summon his man, but carried a branch of candles himself and showed us up to our adjoining bedchambers, where he bid us goodnight. Our trunks were already there, and in my chamber, my nightshirt was already set out across the opened bed. I was glad to disrobe and hang my garments on a chair, pull on my nightshirt and then burrow into the soft bed. The linens smelled of sweet washing herbs, and I settled into them, certain of a deep and restful sleep.
I was leaning over to blow out my candle when there was a soft tap-tap, simultaneous with my bedchamber door opening. I expected perhaps a servant, but certainly not a maid in her night robe and mobcap peeking in at me. ‘Are you awake?’ she asked me eagerly.
‘So it would appear!’ I replied uncomfortably.
A smile spread over her face. ‘Oh, good! They kept you so long, I thought you would never get to your bed.’ With that she bounced into my bedchamber, shut the door behind her and sat down on the foot of my bed. She curled her legs up under her and then demanded, ‘Did you bring me anything?’
‘Should I have?’ I was completely taken aback by her peculiar behaviour and had no idea what to expect next from her. I had heard tales of how forward maid servants were in a big city, but I had never expected to encounter such brazen behaviour in my uncle’s house. She looked young to be a maidservant, but in her night robe and with her hair bundled up in a cap, it was difficult to guess her age. I wasn’t accustomed to seeing women in such garb.
She gave a small sigh of disappointment and shook her head at me. ‘Probably not. Aunt Selethe sends us little presents from time to time, so I hoped perhaps you had brought one with you. But if you haven’t, I shan’t be offended.’
‘Oh. Are you Epiny Burvelle, my cousin?’ Suddenly this midnight encounter had become even stranger.
She looked at me for a moment in shock. ‘Well, who else did you think I might be?’
‘I’m sure I had no idea!’
She stared at me a moment longer, perplexed, and then her mouth formed a scandalized ‘O’. She leaned closer to me and spoke in a whisper, as if she feared to be overheard. ‘You thought I was a wanton maid, come to warm your bed, and demanding your largesse in advance. Oh, Nevare, how depraved young men from the east must be, to expect such things.’
‘I did not!’ I denied hotly.
She sat back. ‘Oh, don’t lie. You did so. But forget that. Now that you know that I’m your cousin Epiny, answer my first question. Did you bring me a present?’ She was eager and tactless as a child.
‘No. Well, not exactly. My mother sent presents for you and your mother and sister. But I don’t have them. My father does.’
‘Oh.’ She sighed. ‘Then I suppose I shall have to wait until morning before I get it. So, tell me. Did you have a good journey coming here?’
‘It was good, but wearying.’ I tried not to say the words too pointedly. I was very tired and this bizarre re-introduction to my cousin was straining my courtesy. She didn’t notice.
‘Did you get to ride on a jankship?’
‘Yes. Yes, we did.’
‘Oh!’ She all but collapsed with jealousy. ‘I never have. My father says they are frivolous and dangerous and a hazard to sane navigation on the river. Last week, one collided with a coal barge. Six people were lost and all the coal was spilled in the river. He says they should be outlawed, and their reckless captains clapped in irons.’
‘Really.’ I made my voice flat with disinterest. I felt that her comment criticized my father and me for arriving by jankship. ‘I am really very tired, cousin Epiny.’
‘Are you? Then I suppose I should let you go to sleep. You’re a bit disappointing, cousin Nevare. I thought a boy-cousin would have far more endurance than you seem to. And I thought someone from the east would have interesting things to tell.’ She clambered off my bed.
‘Perhaps I do, when I’m not so tired,’ I said sharply.
‘I doubt it,’ she said sincerely. ‘You look very ordinary. And you sound as dull as my brother Hotorn. He is very concerned with his dignity, and I think that prevents him from having an interesting life. If I were a boy, and permitted to have an interesting life, I would have no dignity at all.’
‘You don’t seem to be overly burdened with it as a girl,’ I pointed out to her.
‘Well, yes, I’ve discarded it as being useless to me as a girl, also. But that doesn’t mean I can have an interesting life. Although, I do aspire to one. I do. Good night, Nevare.’ She leaned closer as if she would kiss me on the cheek, but stopped short, staring at the side of my head. ‘Whatever did you do to your ear?’
‘A plains warrior cut it with his swanneck. A swanneck is a long, curving blade.’ I was glad to say it. Her remark that I was ordinary had stung me sharply.
‘I know what a swanneck is, cousin.’ She sounded very patronizing as she paused with her hand on the doorknob. ‘And you are my dear cousin, and I will love you no matter how boring you are. So you needn’t make up wild tales about savage plainsmen. You probably think you can easily deceive a city girl like me, but I know such stories are rubbish. I have read a great deal about the plainsmen, and I know they are a natural and gentle folk who lived in complete harmony with nature. Unlike us.’ She gave yet another sigh. ‘Don’t tell lies to make yourself seem important, Nevare. That is such a wearying trait in a man. I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘He cut my ear twice. I had to have it stitched!’ I tried to tell her, but she shushed me furiously as the door closed behind her. Before her visit, I had been wearily relaxed and ready for sleep. Now, despite my fatigue, I could not drift off, even after I blew out my candle. I lay in the big soft bed and listened to the rain hitting the window glass and wondered if I were ordinary and boring. Eventually I decided that Epiny was too eccentric to know what ordinary was, and thus I was able to fall asleep.
Only my youth, I am sure, made me jolt awake at the chambermaid’s timid tap at my door early the next morning. Unthinking, I bade her come in, and then stayed where I was, blushing beneath my covers, as she fetched warm wash water and then bundled away my travelling clothes for freshening and brushing. I was greatly unaccustomed to being cared for in such a way, and even after she had left, it took me some little time before I dared venture from my bed, lest she return unannounced. When I did, I washed and dressed hastily. Habit made me tidy my room, and then I wondered if the maid would think me odd and rustic that I had spread up my bedding myself. Then I became irritated with myself that I would worry so much about what a maid might think of me. Having pushed that concern from my mind, I began to consider nervously all that my uncle had said of the Academy the night before. Had I had any more time by myself, it is likely I would have worked myself into a fine lather, but luckily for me, another knock at my door summoned me to an early breakfast with my uncle and father.
Both were up, shaved, and neatly attired for the day despite our late night. I had expected to see my aunt and cousins at table, but there were no extra settings and my uncle made no mention of them. We were served a hearty breakfast of kippers and a mixed grill, with tea and toast. Sleep had revived my appetite, until my uncle observed, ‘Eat well, Nevare, for I’ve heard that a young man’s first meal at the Academy is a hurried one. I doubt that your noon meal will please you as well as this breakfast does.’
At his words, my appetite fled, and I asked my father, ‘Am I to go directly to the Academy today, then, Father?’
‘We think it best that you do. Your uncle has agreed to keep Sirlofty here until such time as you are allowed to have your own mount. We’ll make one stop for a boot fitting with a cobbler Sefert recommends, and then I’ll escort you to the Academy. You’ll be a day ahead of most of the others. Perhaps it will give you a chance to settle in before your classmates arrive.’
And so it was done. Breakfast was scarcely finished before a footman came to announce that my trunks had been loaded onto my uncle’s carriage. My uncle bid me farewell at the door and advised my father that there was to be an excellent venison roast with wild plum sauce for dinner.
We were walking to the carriage when Epiny suddenly hastened down the steps after us. She was still in a nightgown with a robe flung over it, but now her curling brown hair was loose about her shoulders. By daylight, I estimated her to be only a few years younger than me. Yet she seemed childish when she cried out, ‘Nevare, Nevare, you cannot leave when you have not even said farewell!’
‘Epiny! You are much too old to be running about in your nightclothes!’ my uncle rebuked her, but there was suppressed mirth in his voice, and from it I suspected that she was her father’s favourite.
‘But I must bid my cousin good luck, Father! Oh, I told you I should have stayed up last night. I knew it! Now we’ve had no time at all to talk, and I had so looked forward to doing a reading for him, to foretell his success or failure at the Academy.’ She stepped back from me, lifting her hands to frame my face as if she were planning to paint my portrait. She narrowed her eyes to slits and said in a hushed voice, ‘Perhaps I misjudged you? How could I have thought you ordinary? Such an aura. Such a magnificent aura, twice what I’ve seen on any other man. It burns red with a man’s vigour close to your skin, but a second corona of green says you are nature’s child, and a loving son to her—’
‘And that sort of nonsense is exactly why you were not allowed to stay up to greet him! Bid him the good god’s blessing, Epiny, and then he must be on his way. Nevare cannot let a silly little girl and her play-pretend nattering delay him on an important day like this.’ True impatience and perhaps a bit of embarrassment had crept into her father’s voice. I stood still as she pattered up to me, her little slippers peeping from beneath her robe. She stood on tiptoes to kiss me on the cheek and bid me god speed. ‘Come to dinner soon! I regularly die of boredom here!’ she whispered hastily, and then she let me go.
‘Blessings of the good god be on you, cousin,’ I managed to say, and bowed again to my uncle before climbing into the carriage. Epiny stood on the steps, holding her father’s hand and waving to us as the footman held the carriage door open for us. I scarcely knew what to think of her, but decided my uncle was correct to be concerned. No wonder the young woman on the jankboat had seemed so amused to find Epiny was my cousin. I felt a belated blush over that.
My uncle’s carriage was a much grander transport than the wagon that had carried us the night before. His crest, the ‘old crest’ of my family, gleamed on the polished wood door. There was a driver, attired in my uncle’s colours of maroon and grey, and a fine team of grey geldings with maroon touches on their harness and headstalls. My father and I climbed into the carriage while a footman held the door for us. We climbed in and took our seats on the plush grey upholstery. There were little burgundy cushions with soft charcoal tassels in each corner of the seat and window curtains to match. I had never been inside a conveyance so fine, and despite the fact that only my father accompanied me, I sat up very straight.
The driver cracked his whip to start the team, which made me leap in my seat. My father allowed himself a small smile and I found myself grinning back. ‘Don’t be so tense, son,’ he counselled me gently as we set off. ‘Show the alertness of a fine spirit, but do not make Colonel Stiet think the Burvelle family has sent him a Nervous Nellie.’
‘Yes, sir,’ I replied, and forced myself to sit back on the seat. The carriage rolled thunderously over the cobbled streets of Old Thares. At any other time, I would have been fascinated at the sights outside the window, but today they could scarcely hold my attention. We first passed other fine houses with manicured grounds, not very different from my uncle’s domain. Beyond the well-kept walls and gates, I had glimpses of tall oaks and fine lawns, pathways and statuary. Then we wound down into the merchants’ districts, and trees and open space were left behind. Commercial establishments stood wall to wall, with residential quarters above them. We stopped at the cobbler whom my uncle had recommended. He made swift work of measuring my feet and promised my new boots would be delivered to my rooms at the Academy within a fortnight.
Then we were on our way again. It was now full morning and more people were astir. Wagons of merchandise and hurrying apprentices crowded the streets, slowing the passage of our carriage. In one busy street, a clanging bell warned us of a streetcar drawn by a stout team of horses. Women in hats with extravagant feathers and men in their morning coats gazed from its open windows as they enjoyed the leisurely ride to their day’s errands. Prosperity ruled in this part of town, and I suspected that many of the folk I saw strolling the street did so only to show they had fine clothes and the leisure to display them.
Gradually we left the heart of the town behind. The streets grew narrower and the shops smaller. Slowly the houses changed, becoming first unkempt and then decrepit. The coachman shook the reins and we went more swiftly through noisome streets past cheap taverns and houses where painted sluts lounged in the open windows. I saw a blind boy singing loudly on a corner, his begging pan at his feet. On another corner, an itinerant priest preached loudly, exhorting the straying souls of these slums to turn their minds and heart to the next world. The coach passed them and his voice faded behind us. Somewhere, a bell tolled, and then another took up the solemn telling of the morning-prayer hour. My father and I bowed our heads silently.
Finally we turned onto the river road. It was wider and better kept, and yet there again we were forced to go more slowly, for traffic of every kind flowed into it. I saw wagons full of logs freshly unloaded from the waterfront, and loads of newly cut timber. A traveller’s wagon and a string of nags for sale fell in behind our carriage. In our turn, we followed a coal-man’s cart.
‘Have we far to go, Father?’ I asked when it seemed that several days had passed in the space of one morning.
‘It’s a good drive. When they decided to build a separate school for the Academy of Cavalla, they looked for a location that offered space for horsemanship drills, as well as ready access to pasturage and water. That placed the Academy somewhat outside of Old Thares. But that, too, we considered an advantage. You young men will focus more on your studies if you are well away from the distractions and vices of the city.’
It seemed a rebuke that he felt I must be kept away from such temptations in order to stand strong against them, and I said as much.
My father smiled gently and shook his head. ‘I fear more for your companions than I do for you, Nevare. For I do not know what strength of character they bring with them, nor how they have been taught at home. But this I do know of men, both young and old. When they are in groups, they are likelier to sink to the lowest acceptable behaviour rather than rise to the highest possible standards. And this is especially true if there is no strong leader holding his men firmly accountable for their behaviour. You will be living among your peers, and it will become easy for you to believe that your ethics are, perhaps, provincial or outdated if the young men around you are dissolute or self-indulgent. So, I caution you, beware of those who mock goodness and self-discipline. Be wise in choosing your friends. Above all, be true to what you have been taught and to the honour of your family.’
And those were the words on his lips as our carriage left the main road and turned up the long tree-lined drive that led to the arched entry of the King’s Cavalla Academy.
NINE (#ulink_6f11a772-bd20-5bf0-a520-30b8d23e6332)
The Academy (#ulink_6f11a772-bd20-5bf0-a520-30b8d23e6332)
My father left me too soon in that place.
The memories of that first day whirl and mingle in my mind now, for so many things happened so quickly. At the end of the long gravelled drive, we passed under a stone arch that bore the inscription King’s Cavalla Academy. Marble sculptures of mounted knights flanked the entrance. A tall wall of worked stone surrounded the property, and within it, groundskeepers were at work everywhere with rakes and barrows and pruning hooks to prepare for the new term. Lush green lawns were studded with old oaks and bounded by tall laurel hedges. We stopped before the Administration Building, which was made of red brick and was several storeys high with a white portico. Well-tended footpaths led away from it across grassy swards to classroom buildings and dormitories. To the east of the residence halls, I saw a stable and several paddocks, and beyond that, an exercise arena.
I had only a moment to look about and get my bearings, for our driver had climbed down and opened the door for us. I followed my father out of the carriage and he instructed the driver to wait, then led me up the steps of the imposing central building. Before we had reached the top of the stairs, the door swung open and a lad emerged smiling and greeted us. He could not have been more than ten years old, yet his head was cropped in a military style and he was attired in clothing that mimicked a cavalla uniform. He bowed to my father and asked in a clear voice if he could be of service.
‘Perhaps you can, young man. I have brought my son, Nevare Burvelle, to enter him into the Academy.’
The lad bowed again. ‘Thank you, sir, I shall be glad to assist you. Allow me to escort you to Colonel Stiet’s office. May I arrange for your son’s possessions to be taken to his dormitory for him?’
‘You may.’ My father was clearly impressed with the boy’s manners and self-possession, as was I. He held the door for us to pass before him, and then quickly came to show us the way to the colonel’s office. The vestibule of the building was panelled in dark wood, its floor covered with thick grey Antoleran tiles. Our boots rang on their gleaming surface. The boy led us through an arch to an adjutant at a desk in the colonel’s anteroom. He nodded us through at the sight of the boy. The lad paused at his desk and asked, ‘Please look up “Burvelle, Nevare” and arrange to have his trunk taken to his dormitory. His carriage is outside.’ Then the lad advanced to the next door, knocked firmly on the mahogany panel, waited for a response, and then entered to announce us. When the colonel replied that he would see us immediately, the boy came back to usher us into the room, bowed again, and told my father that with his leave he would now go to ascertain that the young man’s trunk was correctly delivered.
‘You may, and my thanks to you,’ my father told him gravely. As he hurried out of the door, Colonel Stiet rose to come around his desk and greet us. His family resemblance to the lad was unmistakable, and my father marked it as well. ‘There goes a youngster that any father could be proud of,’ my father observed.
Stiet replied coolly, ‘He does well enough. Time will be the proof. Good blood and early training; those are my criteria for choosing young men of potential. I’m very pleased to meet you, Lord Keft Burvelle.’
‘And I to meet you, Colonel Stiet. May I introduce my son, Nevare Burvelle?’
I stepped forward and gravely shook hands with the colonel, meeting his gaze as I had been taught. His grasp was warm and dry, but somehow unwelcoming. ‘How do you do, sir?’ I said. He made no reply. I released his hand, bowed slightly and stepped back, feeling uncertain. He spoke to my father.
‘When young Caulder returns, I’ll have him show your son to his dormitory. Sometimes I offer a brief tour of our Academy to the parents of new students, but surely with your history of association with our institution, that would be redundant.’
Something in his tone made me wary. I could not be sure if he was rendering my father an insult or a compliment. I was sure my father was aware of it as well, but he smiled affably and said firmly, ‘Redundant or not, Colonel Stiet, I am sure I would enjoy a tour, if only to see how our Academy prospers under your hand. Lord Sefert Burvelle, my brother, has spoken to me of some of the changes you’ve wrought. I’m sure I’d enjoy seeing them for myself.’
‘Has he?’ Colonel Stiet cocked his head. ‘How strange that he would take an interest in my institution, when he has no soldier son of his own. Still. If you are sure you have the time …?’
‘I will always have the time when our cavalla is concerned.’
‘And where your son is concerned, I suppose.’ Colonel Stiet smiled narrowly.
My father’s expression was calmly affable. ‘As from today my son is a member of the King’s Cavalla, I trust that if I concern myself with the best interest of the cavalla, the cavalla will, as it always has, look after its own.’
There was a moment of silence. ‘Indeed,’ said Colonel Stiet, and that was not the affirmation of fellowship that I had hoped for, nor did I think his lukewarm response pleased my father.
Caulder Stiet re-entered the room quietly, to stand at parade rest behind his father’s shoulder. He had not made a sound, and yet Colonel Stiet seemed immediately aware of him. He spoke to his son without looking toward him. ‘Show Cadet Burvelle to his quarters. Let my secretary know that I will be occupied for a short time, showing Lord Burvelle about the Academy grounds.’
‘Sir,’ the boy agreed, and then turned to me and with a gesture invited me to precede him from the room. Outside Colonel Stiet’s office, we paused while Caulder passed on the colonel’s message to the young lieutenant there. The young man acknowledged it with a brusque nod and continued opening and sorting a large stack of envelopes on his desk. I wondered briefly if it bothered him that his commands were passed on to him by a mere boy.
I followed young Caulder as he led me out of the Administration Building and across the grounds of the Academy. We kept meticulously to the well-groomed footpaths. The boy was silent and walked swiftly, but my longer legs easily kept up with his. He glanced back at me once, but the sunny friendliness had left his face. He was all business now.
He marched us swiftly to cadet housing. There were several dormitory houses, all fronting on a central parade ground. Two were of new red brick with many windows. The other three were older buildings of grey stone, and had obviously been adapted to function as dormitories. Caulder led me to one of the older structures. Noting the davits and freight hooks still attached to the upper storey, I guessed that they had begun their existence as warehouses. I followed him up the worn steps.
A wide door admitted us into the foyer. Battle trophies and war flags decorated the panelled walls. In the centre of the room, a grey-haired sergeant in cavalla uniform sat behind a polished desk. Before him was a spotless blotter, inkpot and pen stand, and a sheaf of paper. Behind him, a wide staircase led to the upper reaches of the building. The sergeant regarded us steadily as Caulder approached him. There was no warmth in his grey eyes; rather he reminded me of a weary shepherd dog given yet another task.
‘Cadet Nevare Burvelle for you, Sergeant Rufet. He’s a New Noble’s soldier son. He is to be billeted on the fourth floor.’
