LITMIR.BIZ

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the same opportunities. His words were welcoming and assuring, and yet somehow they increased my awareness that some here might see the New Nobles’ sons as uncouth upstarts and pretenders.

      After Stiet had spoken to all the assembled first-years, the senior cadet commander addressed us. He had plainly memorized his speech of welcome and his list of cautions and warnings. The grumbling of my belly distracted me from his words. By the time the commander of the Carneston Riders spoke to us, it was difficult to stay focused. His name was Cadet Captain Jeffers. He and his staff of third-year cadets lived on the lower floor of Carneston House and were ever ready to attend to both our needs and our discipline. He discoursed far too long on the rules of Carneston House and its proud history. I tried not to roll my eyes at that. I had more ‘history’ than the Academy did; it had been founded less than ten years ago! But each cadet captain appeared to be delivering the same sort of lecture to his standing troops. Even Colonel Stiet looked bored and impatient to be gone. When they finally finished, we continued to stand until Stiet and the senior officers had departed. By the time our captain commanded that we should march off to our breakfasts, I was famished and aching from standing still for so long.

      They fed us well; I’ll give them that. The dining hall was more crowded this first official day of term. The routine of our meal was the same as yesterday’s, with Dent reminding us yet again of our basic manners before allowing us to fall on to the porridge, bacon, boiled beans, fried bread and coffee. After we had finished eating and given thanks for our food, he briefed us on the rest of our day. All first-year patrols followed the same schedule. He cautioned us that there would be no easing of standards for those of us who were the soldier sons of New Nobles. We would be expected to live up to the gentlemanly example of those who were the offspring of old nobility, and he advised us that we could learn much simply by emulating their behaviour.

      I think we might have muttered amongst ourselves at this if muttering had been permitted at the table. Instead, he quick-marched us back to Carneston House to get our texts and other supplies and then herded us to our first class before hastening off to his own. Military History shared a long, low brick building with Languages and Communication. We filed into the classroom and took our seats, straight-backed chairs arranged along long tables. Rory was to one side of me and Spink was on the other. Gord walked slowly past us, looking as if he wished to sit by us, but the row was full and he went to the next row along with Natred and Trist. Spink spoke quietly. ‘It can’t be easy for Dent to have to herd us around and then rush off to his own classes.’

      ‘Don’t expect me to feel sorry for that little popinjay,’ Rory growled and then we all jumped in our seats as our instructor shouted, ‘Stand up! Don’t you know you’re to stand when your instructor or any superior officer enters the room? On your feet, this instant!’

      Captain Infal was our Military History teacher. He kept us standing while he quickly listed the daily work for the class. He spoke in a clear, precise voice that carried, as if he were accustomed to addressing people in the open air rather than within a classroom. We were to keep silent and sit straight, take notes as he lectured, and read twenty-five pages of the text every night. There would be daily quizzes and weekly tests. Three consecutive scores of less than seventy-five percent on the tests would result in mandatory study halls. Five consecutive scores of less than seventy-five percent on the quizzes would be grounds for Academy probation. The patrol of a man on probation was expected to assist him in raising his scores by diligent studying. Absence from class would be excused only with a note from the Academy Infirmary. A trooper was useless if he did not have robust health. Here he glared at Gord and then shifted his disapproval to a young man who was coughing in the second row. Three medical absences were grounds for Academy probation. There would be no talking amongst students. Cadets were not allowed to either borrow or lend supplies during the class hour. ‘Be seated now, silently, no scraping of chairs, and pay attention.’

      And with that, he launched into his first lecture. I barely had time to take out pencil and paper. He gave us no opportunity to ask questions, but lectured continuously for the next hour and a half. From time to time, he noted dates or the correct spellings of names and places in a large, flowing hand on the chalkboard behind him. I took notes frantically, trying not to be distracted by my sympathy for Rory, who did not have a pencil but sat with blank paper before him. Beside me, Spink scratched along steadily. At the end of class, the captain again ordered us peremptorily to our feet and then departed without a backward glance.

      ‘Can I …?’ Rory began desperately, and before he could finish, Spink replied, ‘You can copy mine tonight. Do you need a pencil for your next class?’

      It impressed me that he among us who seemed to have the least material goods shared what he had so readily.

      We had no time for further talk. A red-sash I didn’t know was standing in the door of the classroom, bellowing at us to fall in outside immediately and stop wasting his precious time. We obeyed with alacrity, and he marched us off with no more ado. Halfway to the maths building, he dropped back, to march beside Gord and harangue him to keep in step, stretch his legs and try, for the good god’s sake, try to look like a cadet and not a sack of potatoes bumping in a market bag. He told Gord to count the cadence for us, and then shouted at him to raise his voice and be heard like a man when the plump cadet could scarcely get his words out for shortness of breath. I am ashamed to say that I felt a sneaking relief that Gord was there to hold the corporal’s attention so that his sniping was not aimed at me.

      Maths and science classes were held in an old building that resembled Carneston House in that it seemed to have once been a warehouse, too. Built of irregular stones, it crouched along a riverbank. Several docks with small boats moored to them ventured into the river’s sluggish flow. We were marched to the shore side of the building, and directed to a classroom on the second floor. A mouldy smell greeted us as we entered the dank building. We clattered up the steps, only to discover that we were already late.

      ‘Come in, sit down, and shut up!’ ordered Captain Rusk, a round bald man scarcely as tall as my shoulder. Before we latecomers were even seated, he had turned his back on us and was once more scratching numbers onto the board. ‘Work it through, raise your hand when you think you have an answer. The first five with an answer will be invited to come to the board to show their work.’

      Our patrol hastily found some seats, and I quickly copied down the equations he had written on the board. It seemed a fairly straightforward problem, though Spink was scowling over it. I had the answer quickly enough, but continued to scratch with my pencil on my paper, unwilling to be called to the board. Gord was the third cadet to raise his hand. Captain Rusk called him down along with four others. As they worked their proofs on the board and presented their answers, the captain wrote a page number on the board and announced, ‘All those who did not raise their hands with an answer are responsible for completing the following remedial exercises by tomorrow. The practice should sharpen your calculation skills. Very well, now, let us see how your fellows did at the board.’

      I sat in my seat, a cold rock of disappointment in my belly, reflecting on how my simple act of cowardice had already repaid me as I deserved. Four of the five cadets at the board got the correct answer. Kort was one of them. I didn’t know the fellow who made a simple addition error in the final step. Gord’s proof was the best, simple and elegant, written in a firm, clear hand, and taking an alternate route to the answer that eliminated two steps of calculation. Captain Rusk worked his way across, using his pointer to demonstrate the progression to a correct answer, pointing out the one fellow’s error and chastising another for his sloppy handwriting and uneven columns. When he got to Gord’s work, he paused. Then, he tapped the pointer once on the board and said, ‘Excellent.’ That was all. He moved immediately to the next cadet, and Gord, dismissed, went back to his seat beaming.

      I noticed that Spink’s hands had balled into fists on the edge of the desk. I glanced over at his face. He was pale. I looked down at the page before him, where he had attempted to solve the first problem. His small neat figures filled half of it, but had carried him no closer to a solution. His hands suddenly spread flat over his paper, and when I glanced up at him, his face had turned red. I didn’t meet his eyes; it only would have embarrassed him more. It would be better if I pretended not to know that he had no grasp at all of

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