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Jace awoke the next morning both jubilant and disbelieving, could it be true that he was no longer alone in the world? That the future lay wide open and bright before him? He smiled joyously and flew through his morning routine with a zest that defied the meager amount of sleep he had had the previous night and very nearly danced his way down the hall to breakfast. He felt a prisoner long held in darkness and chains, just now released into freedom and sunshine, for he was no longer the friendless boy enclosed by grim walls of stone and worse, fenced out of all human society and companionship by hearts far more hard and grim than the ramparts of that forsaken keep. He was far from whole, but last night there had come a breaking, and with it, the healing might now begin. He smiled like joy itself as he skipped into the dining hall, nearly trampling Adan in his exuberance. The older boy shook his head and smiled at what was by now a familiar ritual, but then his eyes narrowed and he studied Jace with an uncomfortable intensity, for there was something odd about the lad this morning.
At last he said, “you are very nearly glowing, my friend, what has passed in the night to elicit such joy?”
Jace’s smile nearly split his face asunder, for he could not wait to broadcast his joy to the world. As they sat down to eat, he began his tale, little noticing his fast cooling eggs as they congealed into something quite inedible, but so too did his audience grow with each passing word and many a plate was ignored or forgotten that morning, as half the student body listened in wonder to the tale that was told. When he finished, a great whoop of joy escaped each astonished throat, echoing the unexpressed wonder in his own heart. Only then did they notice the time, and as one, they vanished hastily to their forgotten classes lest they all be late.
Breathing hard, but just in time, Jace raced into the weapons practice yard for his first day in the intermediate sword class. The old swordmaster eyed him gravely but could not hide the slight smile that lifted one side of his mouth, the other was permanently frozen in a dour expression thanks to a great scar that ran from temple to jaw, many were the stories told of how he had won it, but none knew the true tale, for no one had yet been bold enough to ask. The man nodded to the latecomer gravely, motioned for him to take up a practice sword, and join the others that were impatiently waiting for the lesson to begin. The older students eyed the newcomer with incredulity, wondering how this mere boy qualified to stand among them, but Adan smiled knowingly and gave his friend an encouraging wink. They paired off, set themselves, and began to spar.
Jace was at first overwhelmed, having only ever faced the grizzled old guardsman in feigned combat, his current opponent was far younger, quicker, and felt it his duty to teach this upstart boy his place, but years of practice and a natural talent quickly overcame his hesitation and it was the older lad who learned a lesson that day: that age or lack thereof did not necessarily signify one’s level of experience or skill. The swordmaster watched stonily, a strange light in his eyes. He called a break, allowed the boys to catch their breath, and switched up the pairs for another round. So it was that Jace bested every lad in the class that day, save Adan, whom he fought to a standstill, but he could not say of a certain that he did not go easy upon him for the sake of their friendship.
The swordmaster was far from pleased. He dismissed the other lads that they might clean up before their next class, but Jace he held after for a private dressing down. The boy was rather dismayed, feeling the man should be impressed by his demonstration of skill that day, but it was not in this that he was disappointed, rather he rounded on the boy and said, “what were you thinking in that last round lad?”
Jace frowned, “I do not know what you mean, sir? I did the best I could.”
The man shook his head adamantly, “that you did not, perhaps you thought you did, but you went easy on the lad, is he a friend of yours?” Jace frowned thoughtfully but nodded his assent. The man smiled in grim satisfaction, continuing in a less exasperated tone, “you must learn to employ your skills to their fullest but also learn when quarter must be given. You must overcome your natural tendency to go easy on those with whom you are close, and rather consciously decide how hard to press your foe, or friend, whatever the case may be. There may come a day lad, when you are forced to cross swords with him whom you love best in the world and on that day you must be able to control yourself, to press yourself hard, else all will be lost. It is a great responsibility, but it is the cost of bearing and using such a weapon. Can you do it?”
The boy gulped, his eyes wide, and nodded adamantly, determined not to disappoint this gruff old man. That half smile flashed briefly across his countenance, but Jace was certain of what he had seen, and knew Briane would not be pleased to know that he could now read the stony swordmaster at least as well as she, which brought a silly grin to his own face, which was rather out of place at such a moment. The swordmaster barked, “off with you now before you are late, again.” The grin vanished, the boy bowed his farewell, and flew like a fox before the hounds.
His reassignment to a different sword class meant his entire schedule had to be switched around, which meant he now shared only half his classes with Briane, rather than the majority of them. He had not seen her since the previous night, for she had not come to breakfast, but he hoped to see her during their introductory philosophy class. He crept in at the last moment and took a seat far to the back, Briane sat near the front and flashed him a mischievous grin as he slunk in and then returned her attention to their teacher, who watched his last student enter with a long suffering smile before beginning the lesson. Chagrin briefly colored Jace’s cheeks, but soon enough he was lost in the topic and his heart leapt eagerly as the lesson progressed, for never had his mind tried to wrap itself around such concepts and ideas; suddenly a whole new universe of thought had opened itself to him, like a rose breaking forth into full bloom as the sun’s first rays fall upon it, though he did find it mildly annoying that such an astute man must ever weave the Master and his doings into what should be a purely factual presentation. He smiled wryly and supposed it was a foible he must tolerate if he were study under such fanatics who mistook myth for very truth.
After class, Briane joined him in the hall with a warm smile, said she, “well brother,” she shook her head at the strangeness of speaking it aloud for the first time and smiled the more, “I heard of your exploits in the weapons yard this morning, why did you not tell me you were so skilled a swordsman?”
Jace smiled like a rogue, “but my dear sister, you never asked, and I would never think of insulting one of your cunning by blatantly telling you something that you should be able to discern simply by spending a moment in my company.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed, “you didn’t know the extent of your own skill. Why did you not just say so in the first place? There is no sense dissembling to, quote, ‘one of my cunning.’”
He laughed, “you have me there little sister.”
She glared at him, “and how am I your little sister? We do not know which of us was born first and we are of a height.”
He returned her smug smile from the previous evening but said nothing in reply, leaving her to wonder what it was he knew or wanted her to think he did.
After dinner that evening, Adan, Briane, and some of their varied friends and acquaintances gathered around Jace with curiosity, pride, and wonder in their eyes, as if he were the hero of some great tale that was only begun. He had already proved himself a man of skill and intelligence during his brief stay in Astoria; the miraculous appearance of a mother and sister added the necessary bit of romance to the saga, this along with his difficult and mysterious past were irresistible to these lovers of epic tales, now all that remained was a romantic interlude to make it a proper story. While Jace’s admirers and well-wishers gathered in one corner of the dining hall, another group of students assembled on the far side, composed mostly of those older students he had bested with the sword that day and those who sympathized with them.
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Though the Brethren did not encourage rivalry amongst their pupils, being human and young, it was inevitable that such feelings would arise from time to time, especially surrounding one so young, yet so talented. So it was that a legend was born, or as much of a legend as one can be without having accomplished something significant in life. There was no arguing the fact that the boy was very likeable, quite skilled, and great fun to be around. The other students fell firmly into one of two camps: they either loved or loathed him; there was no middle ground. Those his own age and younger or who took the time to actually get to know him, found much to admire while those who were older, jealous, or felt themselves humiliated or wronged, loathed the very thought of him.
He excelled in everything he turned his hand or mind to, being an excellent student as well as a natural athlete and warrior. He quickly outpaced his classmates in the beginner lessons and soon found himself placed in the intermediate and even the advanced classes with students several years older than himself, which only increased the abhorrence felt by his detractors and the near adoration of his supporters. Jace was so used to indifference or even open hostility from those nearest to him that he easily ignored his critics while growing ever closer to his friends and newfound family. So it was that he truly began to flourish, having found his place and his purpose, or so he thought, for there was nothing he could not do and those that said otherwise were only deceiving themselves.
There was only one thing he could not understand, one blotch upon an otherwise perfect existence and bright future: he could not reconcile himself to the existence of the Master or rather his need for such a concept, yet the supposedly wise folk that lectured him daily upon any number of topics seemed to take His existence as a matter of course and found absurd ways to interconnect it with everything they said or did. How could such learned individuals not see their own folly and be so oblivious to their own blindness?
One night he cornered Adan in the dining hall after supper, said he, “we need to talk.”
Adan quietly studied his friend and knew the moment of decision had finally come. He had watched Jace struggle, fight, and mull over the issue since his arrival in Astoria. He nodded somberly and said, “let us retreat to your room where we may speak at length and undisturbed.” Jace nodded and led the way out of the dining hall and back to his room.
Once they were comfortably ensconced in the little room, Jace began, “you know how I have struggled for weeks with reconciling the concept of the Master with what is otherwise a wise and rational folk. How can they believe as they do yet seem so wise and learned?” He frowned, “you have never told me of your convictions in this matter.”
Adan could not help but smile, said he, “you have never asked, and struggling as you are, I did not think you would appreciate me foisting my own thoughts upon you unasked.”
Jace nodded, his mouth twisted in a wry expression, “I am grateful for that, but the time has come and I now ask that you tell me truly, how it is you can accept all the words of our teachers as truth or how you accept part as truth and discard the rest as folly.”
Adan studied his companion silently for some moments, trying to gage his reaction of the revelation he was about to make, hoping it would not destroy their friendship, said he, “I find no incongruity in their words or beliefs, rather I do not see how such a wondrous world could arise without Someone to give it form and function, nor can I see how such concepts as love, joy, beauty, and purpose have any place in a world that is the result of accident or happenstance.”
Jace sighed deeply, inhaled slowly, then looked his friend in the eyes, saying, “you are no fool, my friend, so I must respect your opinion even if I cannot hold it as my own.” He glanced down nervously at his hands, which gripped his trousers in unconscious dread, hesitatingly he looked up and asked, “do you intend to go through with it then?”
Adan’s eyes narrowed, “go through with what?
Jace clarified in growing apprehension, “to join them, the Brethren, I mean.”
Adan nodded, leant back in his chair, evenly met his companion’s worried gaze, and said quietly, “I do.”
Jace sighed heavily, as if hearing dreadful news about which he could do nothing, then said resignedly, “I will miss you.”
Adan barked a laugh, “it will be a few months yet before I am old enough, and anyway, it is not like I am going to die when I take my Oath.”
Jace shook his head, “you don’t understand, do you?” He locked gazes uneasily with his confounded companion, said he, “when you become one of them, you cease to belong to the world in which the rest of us dwell. You enter a world of myth and magic, in which rational minds can have no part. I wish you well of it, my friend, but I cannot be happy in your decision.”
Adan grinned in spite of himself, “then at least be happy for me, for it is what I want with all my heart.”
Jace smiled sadly, accepting his friend’s heartfelt words, nodding he said, “very well, I shall rejoice in your contentment and try and be so myself.” He sighed again and with a wan smile said, “come, the night wastes, let us make all we can of the time that remains to us.” Adan shook his head ruefully, wondering why Jace kept speaking as if joining the Brethren was akin to committing suicide, but he faithfully followed his friend back to the dining hall to see what their comrades were up to.
The Sampler Platter: A Little Bit of Everything Page 38