“We are not permitted to speak of it to anyone.”
Aedan was not put off and persisted, in spite of Dun’s warning. “We were told that you are being trained as Queen’s envoys, but from what I can see, it looks like that just means some kind of travelling nurse. Why so much secrecy around nursing?”
“I thought young marshals were expected to be more observant than that.”
Aedan looked up. He had been considering her as a kind of little sister trailing and looking up at him with barely concealed awe. Suddenly it felt as if he was the one trailing and being smiled down on. What did she mean by being observant? He thought back over the conversation, the bandaging, and remembered now that he had noticed something incongruent with the idea of nursing – two of Liru’s knuckles had slight callouses. He was sure there would be more on her elbows.
“How long did you wear the bandages?” he asked.
“That’s better,” she replied with just a hint of a smile. “You have restored my confidence in you. But not a word to anyone. Promise?”
“I promise. I’ll only tell all the boys in my dorm.” He grinned.
“Not if you want the antidote to the poison I worked into your salve.”
Aedan laughed, but there was no hint of humour in her face as she rose and left the class with the other girls. He felt a twinge of discomfort as he began to wonder if it really had been a joke. Then he began to wonder exactly what sort of doctor her father had been. The girl certainly was a riddle herself. He was beginning to suspect that behind her soft voice, soft dark hair, and soft puppy eyes was a mind as sharp as pike teeth. He redoubled his resolution to say nothing.
Hadley, due to circumstances, had been unable to keep his vow of silence and, after being compelled to speak to the first girl, had abandoned the whole thing and mingled with several after the class.
The second session with Dun introduced them to the first level of body armour. Pads made of reeds stitched against leather and backed by straw-filled pouches were strapped to limbs and torso. They provided a fair degree of protection, though a heavy blow would still lay the recipient flat. It enabled the young apprentices to work through the moves learned earlier at greater speed, without having to worry about injuries.
“Faster, Hadley!” Dun yelled. “You have the grace of a dancer, but that won’t make up for sluggishness. Yes, better. Follow through, Bede. You must reach past the target or the blow will feel like a butterfly’s landing. Step closer before you swing. No! Hang it all, no! Not like you’re floating in water. Step as fast as you can – feet apart and on the diagonal, weight on toes, then step like you’re getting out of the way of a falling rock. Yes, that’s it. Hands up, Lorrimer. Once you have engaged, the deception is over, no use dangling your arms as if you’re deciding whether or not to fight. You too, Aedan. Protect yourself. No, Cayde, a palm punch is not a tap. Remember, thrust from the floor through your body and slam your palm into your opponent like a spear. Vayle, didn’t I warn you that knuckles don’t last. No, you can repair yourself later. Let’s see you swallow the pain and improvise. Oh, are you alright there? Hold! No more elbows to the face until you have helms. Try to restrain yourselves until next week. Alright, carry on …”
Despite the bruises and exhaustion, there was a glimmer of enjoyment on the sweat-and-straw-caked faces. Some things had begun to fall into place.
On the way back from the dinner hall, Aedan felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see Malik indicating with his head that he should step into a little study cove. He was curious to know what this was all about, so he obliged.
“What is it?” he asked.
Malik looked at him, pale, colourless eyes made more vivid by their hawk-like hoods of steeply angled, dark eyebrows. He said nothing until the noise of footsteps had dwindled. Cayde stood at the opening to the passage and turned towards them, nodding as he crossed his arms.
Aedan began to feel uncomfortable. “Well?” he asked.
“I don’t need to be reminded that I called you here, North-boy.” Aedan felt his skin frosting in Malik’s breath. “My purpose is to inform you that your life may be in danger,” Malik said without emotion.
“Who would –”
“The boy you displaced by cheating.”
“I broke no rule! Osric himself said so.”
“I don’t take kindly to being interrupted, especially not with information that I already have. If I made the selections then obviously I beat you in the elimination so I would have been there to hear your pet general interfering. But as I was saying, the boy who was cheated from his place has friends that would like to see him put into marshals’ training where he belongs. They are not afraid to be violent.”
“The selections are over. Even if I withdrew, nobody could get in.”
“Maybe for the likes of you. But there are ways when you know important people. There are also ways of seeing that you get maimed. Perhaps even crippled for life.”
“Seeing me … What do you mean? Are you trying to –”
“I won’t pretend that I like you, but it’s not me you need to worry about. I am trying to prevent an injury. Face it – you have some skills, but you will never be a marshal. What foreign monarch would want a face like yours in his courts? You belong in the barracks, and maybe you could go far there – I could even get someone to put in a good word for you – but this isn’t where you belong. Didn’t you notice that the only girl who wanted anything to do with you was the one we all avoided – and for a good reason. Those Mardrae are foul. Trust them and you’re always sorry.”
“She’s not like that –”
“You are interrupting me again, North-boy. My partner at the field surgery class was quite open about how revolted the rest of the girls are by your shiny scalp and half ear. I don’t enjoy saying this – it’s not like you asked to be turned into a monster – but you do need to hear the truth from someone who won’t try pretty it. I’m not a biased friend. I’m just putting it out the way it is.”
Aedan looked back in silence, confused, reeling. He would have known what to do with bare threats, but this had knocked him completely off balance.
“Consider it,” Malik continued. “If you remain here you will have enemies for life, powerful enemies, justly angry that you cheated your way past them. And what’s it all for? A false dream. The fact is that you are standing where someone else would do a whole lot better.” Malik pushed a final stare into Aedan’s face and walked away.
Aedan lingered to sort out his thoughts, making himself late enough to provoke a tongue-lashing by Dun. Sleep did not come quickly and it did not soothe his doubts. The next day he felt worse. He decided to put the matter before someone who could give him perspective, and if Malik was right, then he would be faced with an awful decision …
Giddard leaned back on his desk and listened patiently while Aedan offloaded.
“It’s not the threat that I’m worried about,” he said after presenting the situation as Malik had put it. “I expect marshals will always be threatened. What I’m worried about is that I don’t belong here and I’m in someone else’s position. Did I really make it in, or am I here because I got nudged through or something?”
The wizened master pursed his craggy lips as he gathered his thoughts. “Osric,” he said, “would probably have defended anyone he saw being injured by an abuse of rules. He has a personal hatred for that sort of thing. As to nudging, no, there was no nudging or charity involved in your placement here. Osric was not even present for the second stage of eliminations or the final selections. There was some division in your case, but it was decided solely on merit. Master Skeet made it plain – quite forcefully I might add – that he had never encountered such mature strategic reasoning in anyone your age. I don’t mind telling you that your temper was considered a problem” – Aedan felt his face colour with embarrassment, or was it a faint glow of anger? – “while your unusual perspective on situations was thought by the majority to hold great value.
You look at things in a unique way, unlike anyone I’ve ever taught. That is very valuable here.”
This, Aedan found surprising. He had never really thought of it as something good, just something that made him different – often to the annoyance of others. He never tried to take strange angles when considering a matter; he simply didn’t know how to think any other way.
Giddard continued, “I hope I am not breaching a confidence when I say that you have a strong supporter here with the authority to overrule any of the masters or even Osric. This patron sees in you a potential he sees in none of the others. Malik is exaggerating the effect of a scar on a diplomat. The more war-like monarchs might even consider it favourable. It might result in fewer swooning ladies at court, but I would not consider this an obstacle to your duties. Don’t be concerned that you are a dragging anchor to this institution. This is exactly where you belong and I’ll have words with anyone who plants other ideas in your head.”
Aedan’s relief was visible. He had come here unsure if he belonged in the academy, but Giddard had set things in perspective. And given him something to ponder. Who could this patron be? Surely not Culver. There had been no warmth or support there.
“Thank you,” he said. “But can I ask that you rather let me speak to Malik?”
“Certainly. I’m glad you want it so. As a marshal you will often have no one but yourself to back you up.”
He caught up with Malik while walking across the courtyard of the medical buildings and summarised his discussion with Giddard. Malik listened with a pained expression, blending pity with contempt. When he finally spoke, it was as a disappointed older brother.
“Listen to the people around you,” he said. “Don’t you notice the stares? Don’t you hear the whispers? Don’t you understand what they mean? Do you think Giddard with his face of wrinkled cowhide actually understands any of this? Of course he would try to make that thing on the side of your face seem like it doesn’t matter. Become a soldier, Aedan. As a soldier, the helmet will hide the damage and put you on an equal footing.”
Aedan felt his confidence slipping again. He did not like Malik, and he suspected there was some darker motive behind this, but he was struggling against the cold logic in the boy’s words.
Liru stepped up to them. Neither of the boys had noticed her approach. She addressed Malik in a voice as clear and even as if she were asking directions.
“You know little of the southern cultures if you think yourself better off. You have obviously never heard the saying, ‘skin pale as sickness and eyes weak as rainwater.’ This is a very common saying. It describes such as you. In the south, scars are carried with honour. They speak of strength to those who bother to think on it.”
“What do I care of such barbaric ideas?” Malik snarled.
“Do you mean that? You are a student of these cultures. Does this hope to achieve ignorance extend to other areas of your studies?”
Malik’s lip twitched. He glared with cold fury before turning to Aedan and saying, “Stay at this academy and you will regret it! This I promise you.”
Aedan’s brows rose. Suddenly Malik did not seem so impartial – it was clear now that his involvement was deeply personal. Anger had lunged forward and caused a tear in the curtain, and it was no mild anger that lurked back there. He walked away fast enough to require Cayde to jog at his elbow.
Aedan turned to Liru. “I worry that you made an enemy,” he said.
“My father told me I could not be a true friend without sharing some of my friend’s enemies.”
“You would want to be my friend at a price like this?”
“Yes. You are kind and I have not always known kindness here. There are many tongues that have injured me in this place, but yours I do not fear.”
“Do I need to fear your poison?” he asked, holding up his bandage.
“My father also said he pitied my friends for the poisonous wit they would have to survive.” She offered no smile, simply turned and walked into the class.
Aedan laughed to himself and followed.
By the afternoon session with Dun, Aedan was feeling better. Some of what Malik had said was truth, he couldn’t deny it; some was exaggeration, he was beginning to recognise that now; and some had been collected from the south side of a horse.
He would carry this burn scar through life and it was time to start accepting it. There were, doubtless, people who would see it as Malik did, but then, should he really care what people like Malik thought?
That was how the reasoning went, but later when the lights were out, the images returned to mock and haunt – images that Malik had spawned – frowns of disgust, shaking heads, hands clamped to laughing mouths and the ever curious stares. They danced before Aedan’s eyes though he squeezed them shut and crushed them with his fists.
“Why? Why? Why must I be such a … such a freak?” he silently screamed into the darkness. “Why can’t I just be like everyone else?” He pounded the mattress, pulled at his hair and tore the skin until exhaustion left him in a hollow silence that finally, mercifully, became sleep.
“In two weeks we will hold the first challenge, and it will go poorly with anyone who fails.”
Dun’s words brought immediate silence to the dining hall.
“These challenges will take place regularly. Every challenge is different and always a surprise, so I’ll tell you nothing except that anything you have covered in your classes may be of use, and that you would do well to get some good rest before the day.”
Aedan stopped chewing, even forgot to swallow. He was still too weak for any kind of physical test.
The next day – the last day of the week – was theirs to do with as they pleased, as long as they remained within the academy. Aedan spent it worrying.
Three months would pass before they would be allowed out. The academy, however, was large enough and peopled enough to provide distraction. But with the panic surrounding this challenge, there was no thought spared for anything outside their training.
Following two weeks of dread and preparation, classes were suspended for a day, and the boys began a series of tests.
First was Skeet who had them critique a flawed attack plan using maps and logistical data. Aedan impressed the stern master again by picking up on a detail nobody else had considered – the direction of the small stream that had its source in the enemy camp. It rendered the entire siege useless no matter what was done with troops and catapults, because the besieged force could simply dam up the stream at its source or use filth and rotting carcasses to defile the water as it left their camp, defeating the attackers by thirst or disease.
For the other tests, they had to exchange basic greetings and obtain directions in Orunean, mark the points of the compass using sun and stars, and apply their knowledge of law and foreign relations to a complex case involving an important trade dispute – in which Peashot got in trouble when he recommended Skeet’s battle plan.
After completing the theory aspects, they were sent to Dun. Several older marshal apprentices, kitted out in pads, waited in the training hall, tensing their fists and looking hostile. Dun called the first-years out one at a time to face an older boy and demonstrate his unarmed combat skills. Aedan stood at the back of the line. He was relieved to see that none fared too well. Peashot, like most of them, abandoned technique in the excitement and brawled like a tomcat. Dun yelled and called them all an embarrassment to his training, then demanded basic sequences that he could evaluate.
At last it was Aedan’s turn. He had hoped that those who were finished would leave, but the crowd remained. He could not be shown to be the weakest, anything but the weakest, especially with Malik’s group looking at him like he was something that needed to be cleaned off the floor. He walked to the middle of the hall, a hall full of eyes and whispers. His desperation was rising. It scrambled everything in his thoughts, even Dun’s last instruction.
When the signal was given, he charged at his opponent, unleashing a wild
flurry of swinging punches, airy kicks and skidding contacts. A shove from the older boy tipped him backwards while his legs were going forward and he landed with a smack. There he lay, staring up at the ceiling and gaping, cod-like, for air that wouldn’t come.
The laughter was worse than Dun’s shouts. Aedan didn’t want to know what the master wrote down, and he vowed to himself that no matter how desperate, he would never again fight without thinking.
The winning dorm – Malik’s – was rewarded with an apple pastry which was presented to them after dinner. The other boys retired, Peashot seeming to take forever. Aedan was partway down the passage when exclamations of dismay floated after him. He looked back to see Peashot wearing a deeply satisfied expression.
“You know what’s happening in there?” Aedan asked.
Peashot shrugged, but Aedan held the stare.
“Maybe,” said Peashot at last. “Maybe the dustpan could have got emptied into the mix. Would have been difficult to spot the chunks of charcoal and sand between all those little raisins. But I’m just guessing.”
This was too good to keep. Aedan told the dorm of Peashot’s “suspicion” as soon as they got back. The laughter continued for a long time and the little fiery-haired boy received a good deal of congratulation. Nobody was going to tongue-wag on him.
And in that moment Aedan realised something. For the first time since leaving the Mistyvales, he had found real friends – and understood how much they meant. They had not swept his troubles away nor he theirs, but somehow it was easier on those heavy days to stand under the load when standing shoulder to shoulder. He found their company often helped him to see bright rifts in leaden skies. On other days the clouds would melt under a cheerful sun, and the cheer was multiplied a hundredfold when shared.
Previously, he had considered himself a loner because he was comfortable on his own out in the forests. But even in the north, he had secretly enjoyed turning his steps back home after a solitary day. When friends and family had been taken from him, he had felt like the man who says he prefers winter until his coat and shelter are lost.
Dawn of Wonder (The Wakening Book 1) Page 27