The Complete Soldier Son Trilogy: Shaman’s Crossing, Forest Mage, Renegade’s Magic. Robin Hobb

last two weeks on sea battles from King Jurew’s War. I failed to see how sea tactics and strategy applied to cavalry officers, and had a hard time keeping the names of the various captains and the military capabilities of their various ships fixed in my head. Now I re-read my notes, desperately trying to memorize every stage of each battle. I was furious with the instructor, certain that I’d never use any of this knowledge that I so painfully pounded into my memory.

      And Spink struggled with his maths. It was awful to watch him. There was a safety lamp that was kept burning in the stairwell at all times, even after lights-out. In the ferocity of his drive to find more hours to study, Spink would furtively creep out on the landing with a chair, and stand on top of it to bring his book close enough to the dim lantern to continue studying the equations and how they were manipulated. In the mornings, he rose with bloodshot eyes and a sagging face to begin the day.

      Spink’s efforts did not escape notice by Trist. He only spoke of it once to him, and he sounded almost kind when he did. ‘We all see how hard you’re trying, Spink. And we, well, whatever you have to do to get a good score, we’ll know that you’re doing it as much for us as for yourself.’

      Spink lifted his head to stare at Trist and said quietly, ‘I don’t cheat. Not for anyone.’ Then he had turned his gaze back to his books. He had not looked up again after that, not even when Trist shoved his chair back from the table and stamped out of the room.

      If the culling had been all that we had to worry about, that would have been enough. But for Spink and me there were other concerns. The day after Spink was put on probation, there was no letter from my uncle. I had written to him of Spink’s situation, and posted the letter that same day. The first missed letter worried me, but I persuaded myself that he just needed time to think. The second day with no response conveyed a chill message to me; he blamed me for bringing Spink into his home. What would he write to my father about it? I tried to put a brave face on it for Spink, saying that perhaps his letter to me was delayed, or that he had not yet received mine that explained everything. Spink didn’t believe it any more than I did. It was not reassuring when that evening, just when I most wanted to study for the exams I’d face the next day, I was summoned to the commander’s office.

      I hurried across the winter-dimmed campus, dread a cold weight in my belly. It had snowed the night before, but the day had melted the snow to slush. Now it was hardening into uneven ice on the pathways. I slipped several times, trying to hurry. When I finally reached the stone steps of the Administration Building, I forced myself to ascend them carefully. My uncle’s carriage and man awaited outside the building. Anticipation warred with dread as I went up the steps. At least, I would soon know where I stood.

      Caulder admitted me and walked me silently to the door of his father’s office. He met my gaze with a smirk that I hated. I did not thank him for opening the door for me. I did notice that when it closed it did not latch behind me. I walked forward, saluted and then waited, ever mindful that Caulder’s ear was most likely pressed to the door crack.

      Colonel Stiet sat behind his desk. Uncle Sefert sat in a comfortable chair to one side of it, looking anything but comfortable. Colonel Stiet spoke to me. ‘Your uncle is concerned that you have not written to him lately. Have you anything to say for yourself, Cadet Burvelle?’ Clearly Colonel Stiet regarded this as a trivial and annoying complaint. I could almost hear him thinking of his home and lady waiting for him. I kept my eyes on him as I replied.

      ‘I have written and posted letters to my uncle daily, sir. I, too, have been concerned that he has not written to me for several days.’

      I saw my uncle sit up straighter in his chair, but he did not speak. Colonel Stiet pursed his lips. ‘Well. It seems to me that we then have the answer to our little puzzle. Something has interrupted the post. Letters have gone missing. Certainly this should not cause any of us much distress, however. I do not feel it has been worth this “emergency” meeting tonight at the end of a long and arduous day.’

      I could not think of a reply but my uncle answered for us.

      ‘Ordinarily, it would not,’ my uncle replied. ‘Save that I have had some concerns about young Nevare of late. And thus I made him promise to write to me daily. When he appeared to be ignoring that request, I naturally felt concern.’

      ‘Naturally,’ Colonel Stiet agreed, but his voice was flat with scepticism. ‘And now that you are reassured that all is well with him, I trust we can put this incident behind us.’

      ‘Certainly,’ my uncle agreed. ‘So long as Nevare continues to write to me daily. I shall have one of my men deliver my messages and pick up his to me, to be sure that the post does not fail us again. I have promised my brother, Nevare’s father, that I would watch over him as closely as I would my own soldier son. I intend to keep that promise.’

      ‘As a man of honour, certainly you must.’ The words were correct, but there was still that odd flatness to his voice. The colonel looked at me as if he just realized I was there. ‘Dismissed, Cadet. Lord Burvelle, would you care to join me at my home for a glass of wine before you depart?’

      I had already turned to go when my uncle spoke. ‘Actually, Colonel, I fear I should be getting back to the city. Things are a bit unsettled at my home of late. I shall walk Nevare back to his dormitory, I think, before I leave.’

      The colonel was silent for a few moments. Then, ‘The walks are icy tonight, Lord Burvelle. I strongly recommend against this.’

      ‘Thank you for your concern, Colonel Stiet.’

      And my uncle left it there, neither saying he would take the colonel’s advice nor that he would ignore it. It left the colonel little more to say except ‘good night’. And that he did, and my uncle returned it to him. Then he joined me as I opened the door for him. As I had suspected, Caulder was lingering in the foyer. I walked immediately to the outer door, but my uncle greeted him kindly and asked him how he had been of late. Caulder responded with faultless courtesy, and a smiling familiarity with my uncle that roused an unreasoning fury in me. I suppose I felt as if Caulder were somehow claiming my uncle. I deliberately held the door open for my uncle, admitting the cold wind into Colonel Stiet’s foyer while they chatted. When my uncle finally bid Caulder good night and preceded me out the door, I was glad to let it close on the building and all it contained.

      I think my uncle sensed my upset, for he followed me carefully down the icy steps and then paused to wrap his scarf more closely around his neck. ‘My wife’s family has close ties with Lord Stiet. That is how we know his brother, Colonel Stiet, and Caulder of course. They have been guests in my home.’ He paused as if to let me reply, but I could think of nothing to say. ‘The wind has a bite in it tonight,’ he observed. ‘Shall we sit in my carriage and talk for a bit?’

      ‘I should like that, sir,’ I said, but then added, ‘If you do not think it would be too hard on your coachman.’

      He cocked his head at me. ‘A good point, young Nevare. You show your father’s concern for folk of lesser station. It is what made him such an excellent officer, and so beloved of his troops. Gaser!’ He raised his voice to call to the man. ‘I’m going to walk Nevare back to his dormitory. If you get too chilled, you may sit inside the carriage.’

      ‘Thanky, sir,’ the man replied, gratitude in his voice. As we walked away, I felt warmed, not just by my uncle’s praise, but that he had acted on my concern for his coachman. My uncle took my arm as we walked.

      ‘Well, Nevare, if you had to guess, where do you think our letters have gone astray?’

      ‘I’m sure I’ve no idea, sir.’

      ‘Oh, lad, you don’t need to dissemble with me. I suspect that if I went to my wife’s little writing desk and broke the silly lock on it, I’d find them all neatly stacked there. I don’t think even Daraleen would have the gall to destroy them completely. No doubt she will say it was an oversight of some sort. It would not be the first time she had tampered in my affairs.’ He sighed. ‘So. Why don’t we cut to the heart of it, and you tell me what you think made her do it.’

      His easy acceptance