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

doctor’s words to me, hoping I did not betray him. From the corner of my eye, I saw him nodding, his lips pinched flat. When I spoke of him sending Caulder home, and the boy’s response, Colonel Stiet scowled, and his scowl became deeper when I spoke of my second encounter with the boy that night. I was careful as I recounted all that I had seen and heard when I found Tiber. I dared one glance at him. He stared straight ahead, his face expressionless. When I mentioned Cadet Ordo, a man at the table nodded slightly, but when I added Cadet Jaris, I saw Stiet start, as if surprised. So his name had not been included in this, I decided. I wished I could have seen Tiber’s face, but didn’t dare to look. I wondered if he had known his attackers, and if he did, if he had volunteered or kept to himself their names. I even included, as I finished my report, that Sergeant Rufet had said that Cadet Tiber was not a drinker. I hoped I was not bringing any trouble down on the sergeant by doing so, but felt it was the only way I could cast doubt on Tiber’s drunkenness. I had been meticulously careful to say only what I had observed and to make no mention of the conclusions I had known.

      When I was finished, Colonel Stiet let me stand some time in silence. Then he shuffled some papers before him and said sternly, ‘I will be sending your father a letter, Cadet Burvelle, about this incident. I will let him know that I think he should encourage you to be more forthcoming in the future if you witness something untoward on the Academy grounds. You may go.’

      There was only one possible response. ‘Yes, sir.’ But as I began my salute, a man at the table said, ‘A moment. Surely I can ask the boy a few questions if I wish?’

      ‘I am not sure that would be appropriate, Lord Tiber.’

      ‘Damn what is appropriate, sir. I’m after the truth here.’ The man stood suddenly and pointed a finger at me. ‘Cadet. Do you think my son was drunk? Did you see him arrive back at the campus in a carriage? Do you know of any reason why he’d be carrying his schoolbooks with him if he’d gone into Old Thares to get drunk? Did the manner of the other cadets make you think they wished you would leave, so they could finish what they had started?’ His voice rose on every question. I had heard of people ‘shaking in their boots’. I was doing it now. I think if the table had not been in the way, he would have advanced on me. I stood my ground but it was difficult.

      ‘Lord Tiber! I must ask you to sit down. Cadet Burvelle, you are dismissed. Return to your classes.’

      ‘Damn it, Stiet, my son’s career is on the line here! The rest of his life. I want the truth. All of it.’

      ‘Your son’s career is in no danger, Lord Tiber. If Burvelle had come forward immediately, I would never have considered dismissing him from the Academy. He is restored to the Academy and to his rank, and the incident will be expunged from his record. Does that satisfy you?’

      ‘No!’ the man roared. ‘Justice would satisfy me. Punishment for those who ambushed my boy and stole the journal of the abuses to New Noble cadets that he had been keeping. Cleaning out the corruption that you are allowing to spread through this institution would satisfy me.’

      ‘Cadet Burvelle, you are dismissed! You should not need to hear a command twice.’ The anger Colonel Stiet could not direct at Lord Tiber had found a target in me.

      ‘Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.’ I finally found my legs and walked from the room. As I went out the door, I heard the shouting continue. Even after I shut it, the sounds of the altercation followed me. I walked down the hall, around the corner and then stopped to lean briefly on the wall. Of course I should have gone immediately to the doctor with what I had seen. It seemed obvious to me now, but at the time, it had seemed all guesses and suspicions, with no real facts to base them on. Now I had earned myself a letter of complaint to my father, a note in my record, the reputation of a snitch among the Old Noble cadets and the reputation of a coward among the New Noble cadets. I was sure that was how Tiber and his father must see me; I had held back when I could have cleared his name, because I was afraid to oppose those who had beaten him. That was how it must look to them. That was how it looked to me, now. And Caulder would be sure to let all his New Noble friends know that I had named names when Tiber evidently had not. I trudged back to my classes and went through the rest of my day in a daze.

      In the days that followed, Spink, Gord, and I all seemed to share the shame of being a snitch, for often there were low catcalls when we walked somewhere, or spit-wads that seemed to come out of nowhere when we studied in the library. Once, studying alone, I left my book and paper on the library table while I sought a reference book. I came back to find my assignment torn to pieces, and filthy names scrawled across the pages of my text. It dragged my spirits down and I began to feel that I had made a sorry mess of my Academy years, one that would follow me for the rest of my career. While others were forming lifelong friendships, I had committed myself to having, it seemed, only two close friends. And one was someone that I didn’t even like all that much.

      I wrote nightly to my uncle, as he had requested, and received frequent missives in return. I was honest, as he had bade me be, and yet it made me feel that I whimpered. He constantly told me to stand firm with my comrades and know that we acted in the best interest of the Academy and the cavalla by reporting such misdeeds, but it was hard to believe his encouraging words. I felt that at any time, I might be the victim of a sneaking attack: a flung snowball, more ice than snow, and the destruction of my model in the drafting room, and once, a crude name scrawled across the back of one of my letters. Nothing further happened to our rooms, for Sergeant Rufet had tightened his watch upon his domain, but that was a small comfort. Still, I looked forward to my uncle’s daily note as if it were a lifeline to keep me connected to a world outside the Academy. I had written my father my own letter of explanation, and my uncle assured me that, he, too, had told my father what he knew of the incident. Nevertheless, I soon received a very cold letter from my father, reminding me of my duties to be honest and above reproach in all I did, lest I shame the family name. He said that we would discuss the matter in detail in the spring when I came home to witness my brother’s wedding. He also wrote that I should have consulted him rather than my uncle on these matters. My uncle was not, after all, a soldier and did not know how matters such as these were handled within the military. Yet, even so, he did not write exactly what I should have done, and I did not have the spirit to keep the discussion alive in a second letter to him. I let the matter drop.

      Spink, too, began to receive mail much more often than he had. I thought at first that the letters were from my uncle as well, but then I noticed that he never opened them in the bunkroom as the rest of us did our letters. Yet I only learned the truth the first time I encountered him in the library, reading a letter. As I sat down beside him at the study table, he hastily turned aside from me, sheltering the pages with his body.

      Some part of me must have suspected the truth before that, because I instantly found myself asking him, ‘And how is my cousin this week?’

      He laughed embarrassedly as he hastily folded the pages and slipped them inside his jacket. He was blushing as he admitted. ‘Lovely. Amazing. Intelligent. Enchanting.’

      ‘Strange!’ I interjected, and then lowered my voice. I glanced about the library. There was another cadet two tables away, intent on his own studies, but other than him, we were alone.

      I envied Spink for a moment; I had not heard from Carsina in two weeks. I knew she could only send me a letter when she visited my sister, but still I wondered if her interest in me was waning. In a shocking moment, my envy turned greener. Spink had met a girl, and on his own decided that he liked her. And she liked him in return. I thought of Carsina, and she suddenly seemed a sort of hand-me-down, a connection passed on to me born of my father’s alliance and my sister’s friendship. Did she like me? If we had met one another casually, would we have felt any attraction? How much, really, did I know of her? I suddenly recognized Epiny’s insidious influence on my thinking. Her ideas about choosing your own mate, modern as they might be, had nothing to do with my needs. I was sure my father had selected a good cavalla wife for me, one who would understand her duty to her mate amidst the hardships that we might have to face together. What would Epiny know about the characteristics of a stable husband? Would Spink find that strength in Epiny, if he did manage to win her? How would her séances and glass curtains and foolish ideas sustain her in a border