LITMIR.BIZ

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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.’

      Sergeant Rufet’s gaze slid past the boy to meet my eyes. ‘Are you a mute, Cadet?’ he asked me in a falsely kind voice.

      I stood straighter. ‘No, Sergeant, I am not.’

      ‘Then I suggest that you report in for yourself, Cadet. Unless you plan to keep your little friend at your side for your entire Academy career.’

      A flush heated my cheeks. ‘Cadet Nevare Burvelle reporting, Sergeant Rufet.’

      ‘Very good. Now, let me see where I’ve got you bedding down.’ His blunt fingers travelled down the list before him. I noticed then that his right hand had only half a thumb. ‘Ah. Yes. I believe your trunk was already delivered.’ He lifted his eyes from his sheaf of paper. ‘And it’s taking up more than your share of space in the quarters you’ll be sharing. Fourth floor. First door to the left. Your trunk is at the foot of the bed assigned to you. See that you move your necessary possessions to your allocated space, and then place the trunk and all unnecessary items in the lowerground storage area. Pick up your bedding from the quartermaster after that, and make your space tidy. Meals commence five minutes after the bell sounds and are served in the mess. You will march there with your patrol. Be on time, attired properly and in your place, or go without a meal. Any questions?’

      ‘Where do I find the quartermaster, Sergeant Rufet?’

      ‘Down that hall, second door on the right.’

      At my side, young Caulder fidgeted restlessly, impatient at being ignored. I wondered if the sergeant disliked the boy or if his rudeness was simply part of his nature. ‘Any other questions?’ the sergeant barked at me, and I realized I had not responded to him.

      ‘No, Sergeant. Thank you.’

      ‘You’re dismissed then.’ He lowered his eyes back to his papers.

      ‘Am I dismissed, also?’ Caulder asked. His tone was snide, as if he wished to provoke a response from the sergeant.

      ‘As you’re not a cadet here, I can neither dismiss you nor detain you.’ The sergeant didn’t even look up from his work. He reached for a pen and made a notation. I realized I was still standing there, watching them, and turned smartly on my heel and left.

      I went lightly up the flights of gleaming wood steps, past the open parlours on the second and third landings to the fourth and highest floor and emerged into an austere room, well lit by tall windows, furnished with a fireplace and several long tables lined with straight-backed chairs. The study area, I decided. I crossed to the windows and looked out at the view, charmed to be at such a height. Paths radiated from the central dormitories through the landscaped grounds to the various classroom buildings, the stables, paddocks and the drill ground. Beyond the drill grounds I glimpsed the targets of a musket range, and beyond them, the brushy banks of the river. From the opposite window, I could see the Academy chapel with its tall belltower, the whitewashed infirmary building a bit further on, and finally the wall of the Academy grounds and the outskirts of Old Thares beyond it. A haze hung over the city. It seemed a magnificent view to me. Later I would discover that these rooms were deemed the least desirable in Carneston House. They were stifling in summer and chill in the winter, not to mention the endless tedium of running up and down the steps several times every day. Upper floor residents were invariably at the end of the dinner line. But for now, my provincial soul was delighted with my lofty new quarters.

      After I had gazed my fill and oriented myself, I went to the first door to the left of the staircase. It was ajar, but nonetheless I tapped before entering. No one replied, but when I opened the door I saw a tall, slender boy with very black hair reclining on his bed and regarding me with some amusement. Another youth, his blond hair cropped as short as my own, gazed at me over the top of a book.

      ‘Nice manners!’ the latter observed, in a way that might have been a jibe. But in the next instant, he had bounded to his feet and advanced, holding out a large hand to me. The book he had been reading dangled in his free hand, his finger holding his place. ‘I’m Natred Verlaney. Glad to see the rest of our roommates are finally arriving. I’ve been here three days already. Father said it’s always better to arrive early for a formation than to be last to fall in.’

      ‘Nevare Burvelle,’ I greeted him, shaking his hand. His fingers engulfed my own and he stood half a head taller than I. His companion also stood, waiting his turn to offer his hand. His eyes were as black as his hair, his skin coarse and swarthy. ‘I’m glad to be here. And my father, too, thought it better we arrive a day or two early than late.’

      ‘Well, of course. Kort’s father told him the same. What do you expect? The soldier sons of soldier sons are soldiers before they are sons.’

      It was an old saying, but it still made me grin. Alone, in a strange

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