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

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СКАЧАТЬ drops from the branches above us dripped down on us. Looking at him, some memory of a memory teased at the corner of my awareness. He reminded me of something, or someone. Then Gord spoke again, and the half-recalled image fled my mind.

      ‘I think that the ones who taunt are the ones who should be pressured to change. I have no delusions about myself. In a physical fight, Trist would best me easily. And, having won it, he would then use that superiority to justify however he treated me afterwards. He is saying that my physical condition should determine how he treats me. And you think that because you have bested him in a physical struggle, you have proved something to him. But you haven’t. All you have done is shown that you agree with him, that the man who can physically defeat another is the man who should make the rules. I don’t agree with that. If I attempt to live by those rules, I will be beaten, and I do not intend to be beaten. So I will not be goaded into a physical confrontation with Trist or anyone else. I will win another way.’

      A silence fell among us. There was such a sharp contrast between the bravery of Gord’s words, and the fat boy leaning on a tree and puffing. I think Spink saw the same contradiction because he grudgingly pointed out, ‘We are military, Gord. What is a soldier about if not besting another man physically? It’s how we support our king and defend our country.’

      Gord pushed away from the tree. We followed him back to the path and resumed his slow pace. The wind was building and the first wild drops warned that another squall was on the way. I wanted to hurry but did not think that Gord could keep up with us. In the dormitory buildings nearby, lights were starting to go out. If we came in after lights-out, Sergeant Rufet would have a few choice questions for us. I didn’t want any more demerits to march off. I gritted my teeth and put it down to the cost of my friendship with Spink.

      ‘On the lowest, simplest level, the military and the cavalla are about physical might. I’ll concede that. But the King made my father a noble, and when my father made me, he made me a soldier son with the opportunity to serve as an officer. And that isn’t about physical strength, Spink. No officer could prevail if his troops turned on him. An officer leads by example and intelligence. I have the intelligence. I won’t set the example that I can be beaten physically and cowed that way. And I won’t let you set it on my behalf. If you fight Trist again, know that you are not fighting for me, but for yourself. You seek to salve your own bruised pride, that you have to accept help from someone who is fat. Somehow, you think that reflects badly on you, and that is why Trist can goad you to fight. But my battles belong to me, and I’ll fight them my own way. And I shall win.’

      A terrible silence fell then, and it seemed to bring on the rain that suddenly drenched us. I longed to sprint for shelter. Gord seemed to share my impulse for he clasped his belly more firmly, lowered his head to the storm and walked faster. I finally felt I could speak. ‘What did happen to you, Gord? Caulder said you were beaten.’

      Gord was puffing more heavily now, but he managed an answer. ‘Caulder can say whatever he likes to whoever he likes. I fell down the library steps. That is the truth.’

      Spink figured it out before I did. ‘Part of the truth, you mean, and that’s why you can hold to it. You hold the honour code above all else. When did you fall down the steps, Gord? When you ran from them, or after they had beaten you?’

      Gord stumped stolidly on. I looked over at Spink, blinking raindrops from my lashes. ‘He’s not going to answer you.’ I felt stupid for only now realizing what should have been obvious to me. By sticking to his story, Gord kept the battle on his territory. Those who had beaten him could not openly boast of it. Doubtless, their friends would know of it. But if Gord refused to admit that he had been beaten, if he refused to acknowledge a defeat from them, he took some of their triumph away.

      I walked more slowly, falling somewhat behind them as I pondered. In bemoaning the fact that both Spink and Trist seemed to have a natural leadership that I lacked, I had overlooked something. Trist based his ability to attract followers on his golden charisma. I had already seen its effect on young Caulder, with disastrous results. Spink was tough and stubborn and the son of a war hero. He gave and demanded great loyalty. Those of us who followed him were swayed by those things, but the more I thought about it, the more it seemed to me that he did not always look far enough ahead and reason out where his actions might lead. Tonight, I had admired that he had stood up to Trist, despite the differences in their sizes, and I had been impressed that he used unconventional tactics to bend the larger man to his will. But now I had to consider the far-reaching consequences of those actions. He and Trist, by taking their rivalry to blows, had put all the lads in our patrol into a compromising position. We had all witnessed an Academy rule being broken, and none of us had kept our honour vow to report it. It bothered me, even though I knew that I would have felt more truly disgraced if I had raced off to report the infraction.

      Only Gord had had the foresight to save himself from that. Even now, battered and facing a hellish day tomorrow, he forced his body to be subject to his intellect. I had considered him weak because of his girth. But in truth, now that I pondered it, he did not seem to indulge his appetite any more than the rest of us did. Perhaps he was simply born to be a portly man and always would be.

      And perhaps he was demonstrating a quiet leadership that I had not witnessed before. Even if his only follower was himself, I admired his foresight. Then, my mind suddenly transposed an idea that I’d assumed. I had thought that Gord had attached himself to Spink because of the small cadet’s leadership. But perhaps, in offering his help to Spink, Gord had been, not following him, but offering his leadership. So, then, if Spink followed Gord, and I followed Spink, was it not Gord whom I was actually accepting as my commander?

      We had almost reached the walkway to Carneston House when Caulder ran past us, headed back toward the infirmary. He paused, and spun, skipping backwards as he shouted at us, ‘Seems to be an unlucky night for New Nobles’ sons! I’m off to fetch the doctor again.’ Then he turned and ran off into the darkness.

      ‘I don’t like the sound of that,’ I said to Spink.

      ‘He came from the direction of the carriageway,’ Gord gasped. ‘We should go see who is hurt.’

      I shook my head. ‘You’re done in, Gord. Go up to bed. Spink, make sure he gets there while I go find out what Caulder was talking about.’

      I had expected Spink to argue with me, or for Gord to say he could get back to the dormitory alone. Instead, Gord nodded miserably, and Spink said, ‘If you don’t come back soon, I’ll come looking for you. Be careful.’

      That was a strange admonition to receive on the campus of the King’s Cavalla Academy. I wished I hadn’t said I’d go, but I couldn’t turn back now. I nodded to Spink and Gord and ran off toward the carriageway. The wind gusted and the rain slapped my face as I ran. I saw no one, and I was beginning to hope that Caulder had lied. I had actually turned back and was hurrying home to Carneston House when I heard someone groan. I stopped and looked back. In the shadows of the trees by the carriageway, something moved. I ran back to find a man lying prone on the wet earth. He was wearing a dark cloak, and the deep shadows of the trees had hidden him from me. I was surprised Caulder had found him.

      ‘Are you hurt?’ I asked him stupidly as I knelt down by his side. Then the reek of raw spirits hit me. ‘Or just drunk?’ I amended my question. My disapproval must have been in my voice. Cadets were forbidden to drink on campus, and surely no instructor would be falling down drunk on the grounds.

      ‘Not drunk,’ he said in a faint hoarse whisper. The voice was familiar. I leaned closer, trying to make out his features. Mud and blood caked them, but I recognized Cadet Lieutenant Tiber, who had rescued me from humiliation during initiation. I decided not to argue with him about being drunk.

      ‘But you’re hurt. Lie still. СКАЧАТЬ