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

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      ‘Good boots, too,’ the other observed. ‘About face, Cadet. Yes, all seems in order from the back, too. All in all, a well-turned-out cadet. My compliments, Cadet.’

      ‘Thank you, sir.’

      The first spoke again, and I suddenly perceived that this was a well-rehearsed routine for them. ‘But we cannot be sure that he is truly well-turned-out. A book may have a fine cover, but soiled pages within. Cadet, are you wearing regulation undergarments?’

      ‘Sir, I do not understand.’ But I did, and my heart was sinking.

      ‘Off with your coat and trousers and boots, Cadet. We cannot have you out of uniform even when you are out of uniform.’

      I had no choice but to obey. There, on the path, I took off my jacket, untied my boots and set them aside, and then stepped out of my trousers as well. I folded them neatly and set them to one side and came back to attention.

      ‘Oh, and your shirt, too, Cadet. Didn’t I mention his shirt, too, Miles?’

      ‘I thought certainly you had. An extra demerit for you, Cadet, for not obeying promptly. Shirt off, sir.’

      I hoped an instructor might venture by and put an end to their pleasure in tormenting me, but I had no luck there. By a series of commands, they reduced me to my underwear. I stood barefoot on the cold gravel, trying to maintain a pose of attention without shivering, and blessed my good fortune that my smallclothes were new and free from holes. Rory would not have been so fortunate. They had added three more demerits to my original one, and now charitably suggested that I could immediately work them off by marching round them in a circle, singing my House song at the top of my lungs. Again, there was no help for it. Within, I seethed, but outwardly I kept a good-natured air of tolerance for this silliness as I began my circuit. The cold gravel bit into my bare feet, every inch of my skin was up in gooseflesh and I had two tests that I desperately needed to study for. Instead, I marched around them, singing the Carneston House loyalty song at the top of my lungs as they exhorted me to ‘Get your knees up,’ ‘March faster,’ and ‘Sing louder, Cadet. Are you ashamed of your good house?’

      They were standing in the centre of my orbit, enjoying my discomfort and embarrassment when another cadet came hurrying along the pathway. The stripes on his sleeve proclaimed he was a fourth-year, and I braced myself for him to heap some new ignominy upon me. Instead, as he approached, I saw the faces of the two cadets who had been afflicting me darken into antipathy. He came abreast of us, and I was forced to halt my silly circuit, come to attention and salute the newcomer. But his attention was not fixed on me but on my tormentors.

      ‘I’ll trouble you for a salute, gentlemen,’ he said coldly to them, and I heard the frontier in the way he stretched his words and softened the ends.

      They came grudgingly to attention and saluted him. He left them standing that way and turned to me. There were not many fourth-year cadets at the Academy. Those who stayed on for that extra year did so by invitation only, due to academic excellence and potential that could not be fully developed in a field situation. Technically, he had already graduated from the Academy and achieved a lieutenant’s rank, though he would wear the uniform of a cadet until the end of his schooling. I noticed the gear emblem on his collar, the sign of the Engineers Regiment. That was where he would be bound upon his completion of this extra year, and he’d probably wear a captain’s insignia soon after he got there. He looked me up and down and demanded my name.

      ‘Cadet Nevare Burvelle, sir.’

      He nodded to himself. ‘Of course. I’ve heard of your da. Put on your uniform, Cadet, and be about your business.’

      Honesty demanded that I tell him, ‘I’ve three more demerits to march off yet, sir.’

      ‘No, you don’t, Cadet. I’ve cancelled them, and any other silly waste of time these two were imposing on you. Stupidity.’

      ‘It was just a bit of fun, sir.’ The words were marginally respectful. The tone was not. The engineer glared at the third-year who had spoken.

      ‘And you only wring your “bit of fun” out of New Nobles’ sons, I’ve noticed. Why don’t you go pick on your own, Cadet Ordo?’

      ‘We’re third-years, sir. We have authority over all first-year cadets.’

      ‘No one spoke to you, Cadet Jaris. Keep silent.’ He turned away from them and looked at me. I was tying my bootlaces as fast as I could. The tormentors were eyeing me with cold hatred that I had witnessed their humiliation. I wanted to be away from them as swiftly as I could. ‘Cadet Burvelle, are you dressed yet?’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      ‘Then I order you to go directly to your dormitory and commence your studies.’ He glanced at the two still standing at attention. ‘If you are stopped again by either of these two cadets, you are to respectfully inform them that you are already on an errand for Cadet Lieutenant Tiber. That’s me. Then you are to continue about your business. Is that clear, Cadet? Your command from me is that you are not to waste your time by participating in this foolish “initiation”.’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      He turned back to his captives. ‘And you two, are you clear that you are not to haze Cadet Burvelle?’

      ‘We are permitted, until the sixth week, to initiate the first-years.’ A moment passed, then, ‘Sir.’

      ‘Are you? Well, I am permitted, for this entire year, to issue commands as I see fit to third-years. And my command is that you are no longer to participate in the “initiation” of any New Nobles’ sons. Are you clear on that, Cadets?’

      ‘Yes, sir,’ was the sulky response.

      ‘Cadet Burvelle, you are released to follow my orders. Dismissed.’

      As I walked away and left them there, Lieutenant Tiber kept the other two cadets at attention. I was grateful that my torment was over, but feared also that his actions would make me a target of the third-year cadets.

      His intervention and subsequent comments had given me much to think over, but it was late that night before I found a chance to talk to Rory. It was after lights-out, and technically against the rules, but our patrol was already making its own adaptations of the rules for our floor. Our proctor, as was his custom, had extinguished the light precisely on time, ignoring those of us who were still at minor tasks. He left us to bumble our way to bed in the dark. Instead, we congregated on the floor of the study room by the dying embers on our hearth. Speaking in a hushed voice, I recounted my mishap and also my rescue by Lieutenant Tiber. After they’d finished snickering at my embarrassment, I asked Rory, ‘Did your cousin ever tell you anything about hostility between the New Nobles’ and Old Nobles’ sons?’

      In the shadows, he lifted one shoulder carelessly. ‘He din’t need to tell me much, Nevare. Course it would be toughest between Old Nobles and first-years that are New Nobles’ sons. They’re at the top of the top here, and we’re at the bottom of the bottom. Not only first-years, but New Nobles’ sons, too.’

      ‘But why does that put us at the bottom of the bottom?’ Spink asked earnestly.

      Rory lifted his open hands, lost for words, ‘Just because we are, I guess. ’Cause it’s always been that way. Old Nobles’ sons know the ropes and they’re going to know each other from balls and dinners СКАЧАТЬ