by Robin Hobb
I sat down for a moment to catch my breath. Even putting four men on each end of the line to anchor it and using the long board as a balancing pole, we hadn’t been able to get Spink across. That was ignoring the problem of Gord’s massive weight, and the larger problem that as soon as a man had crossed, he could no longer act as an anchorman on the home bank.
I glanced at Maw. He was bundled on his bench, reading his book and smoking. He had given up even watching us. I was tired, cold, and muddy, but the frustration was the worst. I did not think Maw would give us a task with no solution. I tried to think back over all our constructions in his class, trying to come up with something that would be a clue to the solution.
“We’re running out of time!” Trist announced.
“Does anyone have any ideas?” Spink begged. I heard him throwing it open to anyone to take the command from me and save our patrol. That felt like a knife in my back. I lifted my eyes to stare at him. And there, twirling down from the sky above, shed from some unseen bird that had flown overhead, was a perfect black wing plume. It spun as it came down, shaft first, and neatly twisted itself into some soft snow to stand upright. It stirred slightly in the chill wind.
The memory crashed back into me. I stood with Dewara at the edge of the abyss. What had anchored those flimsy magical bridges? Only feathers driven into the sand, and twists of spiderweb. I had wood for stakes, a mallet for pounding them in, and stout rope. I could anchor my bridge to the earth itself. There might be just enough rope to do that. I slogged across the creek one more time to whisper my plan to my fellows. If it succeeded, I wanted the success to be ours.
We worked feverishly, cutting our stakes and sharpening them, pounding them into the earth and securing our lines. Our limited supply of tools meant that I had to wade across several more times, ferrying tools back and forth. We ended up with two parallel lines that barely spanned the divide. We had untwisted our short piece of remaining rope into the twine and used it to fasten the crosspieces we had cut from our remaining lumber. We kept one fairly long piece as a balancing pole. I stood back and looked at our “bridge” and wondered if even a rabbit could cross it safely. We had barely finished it when Captain Maw stood, took out his pocket watch, looked at it, and shook his head. “Five minutes, gentlemen!” he announced to us. There were shouts of dismay and frustration from the other patrols.
“Go for it, Nevare. Take a chance,” Trist urged me in a whisper. “If no one else crosses and we do, it may be a clear enough victory to save us all from culling.”
I tried to look as if I hadn’t heard him. I made my voice as strong as I could and announced, “Sir, we are ready to cross!”
“Are you?” He looked at me oddly, and again I had the impression that he wanted to laugh out loud. “Well, I’ve been waiting for this. Nevare’s Patrol, cross!” He barked it out as an order.
Spink, Oron, and I waded across the creek one final time. We did not want to stress our creation any more than we must. I suspected we would only be able to use it once before it gave way. I only hoped the good god would favor us enough to make it last that long. To that end, I lined up my men by size. Spink would go first and Gord last. I saw the decision register in Gord’s eyes, but as always, he said nothing about it.
Spink went across lightly, almost dancing from board to board. When he reached the opposite side, he sent the balance pole back to us as if it were a javelin. Oron crossed next. He was less graceful and slower. As Caleb crossed, one of our crosspieces came loose and fell to the muck below. We lost two more when Nate went across. Kort crossed without incident. When it came my turn, I waved the others to go ahead. I had decided that I would go last. My father had often told me that an officer can delegate authority but not responsibility. If my bridge gave way, this might be my only experience of being an officer. I’d do it right.
And thus I stood on the home bank, my feet planted on top of the ropes to give them extra anchorage, and told Gord, “Go ahead. It’s held so far. We have to trust our work.”
He nodded gravely to me. Beads of sweat already stood out on his brow. He took the balancing pole and stepped out onto the bridge.
I should have sent him across first, I thought to myself, when our construction was strongest and all the steps were in place. The other patrols had given up any effort to finish their constructions and had come to gape at Gord’s crossing. There were muffled snickers as he started out, for the ropes creaked and stretched under his feet. The bridge sagged sharply as he ventured further from the bank, and two of the crosspieces snapped off and flew as if flung from a slingshot.
“Nothing improves pork like hanging it for a few days!” someone gibed, and I saw Gord’s ears go scarlet.
“Keep your mind on your task!” I barked at him. He gave a slight nod. He went three more steps, four, five…On the opposite bank, our entire patrol was trying to stand on the end lines to help anchor them. I could feel the lines straining under my feet. Gord stepped wide over one gap in the footboards, made it to the next one, and then suddenly it turned under his weight. He fell badly, sprawling across the ropes and then tipping off to land face-first in the muck. He gave a muffled cry as he hit, and I knew a jolt of fear that he had broken his back. That pang was as sharp as my knowledge that we had failed. Failed. We’d be culled. I knew it as clearly as I knew my own name. And so I fulfilled my final task in my very brief career as an officer. I scrabbled down the muddy bank again and waded out into the slime to see if my trooper was injured.
When I reached Gord’s side, he had already managed to sit up. Mud and frost were sliding down his face. He tried to wipe it off but only smeared it more. He was groaning, but in response to my query, said he didn’t think anything was broken. I helped him stand and glanced up at Captain Maw. The man was still standing on the bank, looking down at us. As I watched him, he again glanced at the pocket watch he held flat in his palm. And suddenly I grasped it.
“Get up the bank!” I shouted at him. Gord looked at me as if I were mad. He tried to turn around and go back to our home bank. I grabbed the back of his jacket and pulled at him. “No. Get up there. We have to cross. We have to get our patrol across the creek. That was the objective. Not to build a bridge. To cross the creek!”
I’d spoken my revelation aloud. Suddenly all the other patrols saw it as clearly as I had. They hesitated, still, for the filthy and cold water was a daunting barrier. As they did, Gord started his heavy scramble up the bank. Clumps of grass came loose in his hands, and he pulled out the roots that he grabbed. He slid back toward me. Then Spink and Rory reached their hands down to clutch at his wrists. I planted my shoulder in his ample backside and shoved as they heaved at him. His feet slid in the mud, but he moved up, and then as the other cadets in my patrol seized his arms and pulled, he moved up the bank. I heard one of the shoulder seams of his uniform give and the pop of a button. Then my other troops had him. I stopped my shoving and scrabbled up beside him. We both reached the top of the opposite bank just as Maw held up his watch and called out, “Time! Stand where you are, Cadets.”
And we did, panting and bedraggled. “We’re the only ones,” Nate whispered. I moved only my eyes to confirm that what he said was so. We were the only patrol to have reached the opposite bank. The remains of our bridge hung in woeful tatters, but I had gotten my patrol across. I waited to hear what Maw would say to us. I needed to hear that we had done well.
“Cadets. Gather up your gear and tools, and return them to the supply room. Put the lumber near the kindling supply for the sciences building. After that, you are dismissed for the day. I hope you enjoy your Dark Evening holiday.”
We looked at one another, trying to decide what his words meant. The patrol of Skeltzin Hall first-years looked devastated. The two old noble patrols looked apprehensive. Had they failed? As he walked away, Maw called over his shoulder, “Marks for this exercise will be posted on my door in three days. Cadet Burvelle, see me in my office. After you have cleaned yourself up, of co
urse.”
And so my triumph was very brief. The other patrols had an easier time of gathering up their materials than we did. The bridge that had proven so frail for crossing was quite tenacious when we tried to take it down. I said little as I did most of the work of dismantling it. It was cold and dirty work, and a thankless task. I had to climb down into the ravine to get the stepping boards that had fallen. When I climbed back up, I found that only Gord was waiting for me, a coil of muddy rope slung over his shoulder. The others had already taken their share of the mess and carried it off. I pushed down a rueful smile; my “command” had not even waited to be dismissed by me.
Gord and I spoke little as we walked back to Carneston House. As we drew closer to the steps, he said, “I’m going home for the Dark Evening holiday. My uncle’s family is going out to our hunting lodge near Lake Foror. It’s frozen by now, and there will be skating.”
“I hope you have a good time,” I said without interest. I wondered if I should have accepted my uncle’s invitation, then decided that a holiday with Epiny and my wrathful aunt might be more stressful than one spent alone. I now felt little inclination to go into town with the other cadets. I felt I’d failed them.
“I could take your uniform with me. We have servants, you know. They do quite a good job at cleaning things.”
He didn’t look at me as he made this offer, and for a moment I didn’t know what to reply. He took my silence for surliness, I think, for he then said, “I want to apologize, Nevare. I broke the bridge with my damnable weight. But for me, we would have crossed in good order.”
My jaw dropped and I stared at him. It had never occurred to me to blame anyone but myself for what had happened. I said so. “I thought the bridge would work for us. After most of the patrol was across, I realized I should have sent you first, when it was most intact. But at the time, it seemed more important to me to get the most men across first.”
“And in a battle or patrol situation, you would have been right. You’ve a good instinct for command, Nevare.”
“Thank you,” I said awkwardly. And then, even more awkwardly, I asked him, “Is that why you suggested me for leader today?”
He met my eyes and his face was full of guilt. He blushed suddenly, his cheeks turning a hot red, and then said, “No. I’d no idea that you could pull it off. I…was following an order, Nevare. From Maw. I had no idea what was coming today, but last week, as we were leaving the classroom, he pulled me aside and said, ‘A time will come when I tell you to divide in groups and choose a leader. When that time comes, you are to suggest Cadet Nevare Burvelle. Do that, and I’ll overlook the hash you made of today’s assignment. Fail to do that, and take a failing mark for today.’ I, well, I didn’t know what else to say except, ‘Yes, sir.’ And today, when he told the patrols to select leaders, he looked right at me. So I suggested you.”
“I don’t get it,” I said quietly. What Gord had told me was terribly upsetting but I couldn’t quite understand why. “I don’t know why he wanted you to do that. Did he think I’d be a failure, as I was, and that he could cull us all? Don’t look so horrified, Gord. You had to do it. He gave you an order. But I wish…” I halted my own words, not sure what I wished. I was suddenly certain that neither Trist nor Spink would have seen the answer to Maw’s riddle. If, indeed, it had been a riddle. I shook my head. “I was so certain that I’d deduced what today’s test was all about. That the objective was to get the patrol across the ditch, not to build a bridge.”
“I think you were right. As soon as you said it, I was sure you were right. It made so much sense to me; if we had come across an obstacle like that on a real patrol, would we stop and build a bridge or just find a way across it?”
“We’d just cross,” I said absently. I suddenly knew what was upsetting me. I’d wanted at least one of my friends to see me as a true leader. Even Gord. I wondered suddenly if Trist had also received an order from Maw. Was that why he had given way to me so easily? I felt as if my guts had fallen to the bottom of my belly. Heavyhearted. Was that what that word had always meant? None of my friends had ever looked at me and seen the potential for command. Because they all knew it just wasn’t there.
We walked the rest of the way in silence. I changed into my spare uniform and decided to accept Gord’s offer of taking my other one home to have it cleaned. My bleakness was at odds with the rest of my fellows. Despite the culling still hanging over us, they seemed to have set aside their uncertainties. They were dressing for an evening out in Old Thares and excitedly discussing their plans for Dark Evening. There was to be a night market in the Grand Square, with all sorts of things for sale, at the very best prices. On the adjacent green, a circus with a sideshow had set up its tents and booths. There were acrobats and tumblers, jugglers, wild animal tamers, and all manner of freaks in the sideshow. Everyone was putting on his best clothing and counting up his spending money. I felt like a stranger among them as I left Carneston House and started back toward Maw’s office. No one seemed to notice me leaving or wonder why I’d been summoned.
The sun had gone down behind the distant hills, its meager warmth fleeing with the night’s arrival. The campus was a landscape of gray snow and black trees. The irregularly spaced pole lanterns made pools of feeble light; I felt I was traveling from island to island, and suddenly it reminded me of my journey from column top to column top in the dream where I had first met the tree woman. Such a thought on Dark Evening was enough to send a chill up anyone’s spine, and I shivered.
Maw was in his office adjacent to the classroom, waiting for me. The door stood ajar. I tapped and waited until he told me to come in. I entered, saluted, and remained standing and silent until he waved me into a seat. The office was as chill as the rest of the building, but Maw appeared comfortable. He set aside some papers stacked on his desk and looked up with both a sigh and a smile. “Well. Cadet Burvelle, you look a bit cleaner than when I last saw you.”
I couldn’t find a smile to match his. I felt a sense of foreboding. “Yes, sir,” was all I said. He glanced at me, and then looked back at the papers on his desk. He tapped them a bit more into alignment and then said, “Do you remember our little talk earlier this year?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Has the idea gained any appeal for you?”
“I can’t say that it has, sir.”
He wet his lips and sighed yet again. Suddenly he leaned back in his chair and met my gaze squarely. I felt as if he had dropped a curtain between us as he said, “A man faces many difficult tasks in his life, Burvelle. And when he is given charge of promising young men, and he knows that the decisions and choices he makes can affect their futures, their entire lives, well, those are the hardest choices of all. I’m sure you know from rumor that a culling is on the horizon. The cadets always know these things. I don’t know why we pretend they are secret or a surprise.”
I made no response, and after a moment he went on. “The military has changed, Burvelle. It had to. Your own father was instrumental in the first part of the change, when he supported the founding of this Academy. An academy such as this, as a foundation for becoming an officer, says that education may be more important than bloodlines. That was a very unpopular idea, you must know. We were badly beaten in our war with Landsing. Badly. We had clung to our traditions too firmly; we deployed our men, ships, and cavalla as if we were still fighting with swords and spears and catapults. Soldier sons were born soldiers, we said; we thought the idea that they must be taught to fight a foolish one. And, of course, the soldier sons of nobles were born officers, with no need of instruction in that task. In those days, all commissions were bought or inherited. The education we gave our officers was intended more to form an attitude than to instruct in strategy. Six months of polishing and off we sent our young lieutenants. The War College! Was ever an institution so poorly named? It should have been called the Gentlemen’s Club. Knowing how to critique a wine or play a good hand of cards was considered more important than kn
owing how to deploy a regiment across different types of terrain. So we educate you now, and we send you forth. And we see the sons of new nobles promoted over their better-bred cousins. We see common soldiers rising up through the ranks and assuming command over nobly born soldier sons. General Brodg, named commander in the east, is the son of a common soldier. It goes against the grain, Burvelle. It rasps the sensibilities.”
I was shocked at what he was saying to me. Nevertheless, I nodded once, wondering where this was leading.
“So we have changed,” he said, and sat back in his chair with a sigh. “And it has brought us success, at least against the Plainsmen. It remains to be seen how well we would do against the Landsingers, if we were ever allowed to try. Some think we should. Some think the king wastes his time in looking east at the barren lands, and building a road that leads only to impassable mountains. Some think we should turn around and bring our forces against the Landsingers, and take back our coastal regions and our seaports.”
I was silent. He prodded me. “What do you think, Cadet Burvelle?”
“I don’t think it is my place to disagree with my king, sir. The road will go to the mountains, and eventually through them to the sea beyond.”
He nodded slowly, his mouth pursed in a sour smile. “Spoken like a true new noble’s son, Cadet. That road, that possible port, that theoretical trade, all taken together, could well enrich your family beyond your father’s wildest dreams. But what of the old nobles, who lost important holdings when King Troven’s father surrendered and ceded their coastal holdings to the Landsingers? What of the old nobles who live in genteel poverty now, deprived of the taxes that used to fund their families? Do you ever think of them?”