The Exiled Queen (16 page)

From his expression, Raisa guessed that he disapproved of that custom.

“We attract many applicants from noble families. Many more than we can possibly accommodate. Some families see the military as a means of developing character or addressing certain physical inadequacies. Others see it as a way of disposing of n’er-do-well sons or less than promising daughters.”

Worn out as she was, Raisa’s temper began to smolder. “I assure you, Master Askell, sir, my parents did not send me here for any of those reasons,” she said stiffly.

Askell raised an eyebrow. “So it seems. You come without a letter of introduction from your parents, which is unusual. Perhaps you ran away to join the army, then. Perhaps you see this as a means of rebellion against them.”

“I did not run away to join the army, sir,” Raisa said. “I am here to seek an education that will prepare me to carry out my obligations to my family and the Fells.”

“We do have a letter of recommendation from our alumnus Edon Byrne.” Askell paused, as if expecting Raisa to comment, but she said nothing. “And your own commander has asked for certain accommodations for you. This raises immediate concerns. Most candidates wait until they are admitted to request special treatment. Do you really think Wien House is a good fit for you?”

“Master Askell, perhaps I—” Amon began, but the master shook his head.

“I asked Morley, Commander,” Askell said, without taking his eyes off Raisa. “I need to make sure that your presence here won’t be a distraction that adversely affects the education of the other cadets. We have a responsibility to them as well as to you. Our students are organized into cohesive units. Instances of favoritism work against that.”

Raisa looked straight at Askell. “I am curious, sir, about the accommodations Commander Byrne has requested on my behalf,” she said. “Since he did not choose to share them with me.”

For a long moment, Askell didn’t answer, as if Raisa’s response was not what he expected. The master stalked to the sideboard, grabbed up a teapot, and set it on the hearth to heat.

He turned and leaned against the mantel. “Commander Byrne has asked that all Fellsian cadets from his command—and you—be lodged together in Grindell Hall, when it is our policy to mix cadets from the different realms together in the dormitories as well as in class. It is also unusual to house first years like yourself with fourth years like the commander.

“Further, he has asked that a unique curriculum be tailored for you—one that crosses school boundaries to combine military science, rigorous physical training, geography, diplomacy, history, and finance. In fact, he has proposed a curriculum that would likely occupy you for all of your waking hours and many of your sleeping ones.”

“What?” Raisa said, making no effort to hide her surprise. “I had no idea, sir, that Commander Byrne had taken this degree of interest in planning my education.” She turned and stared at Amon, who did not meet her eyes. Seeing the spots of color on his cheeks, she realized what it had taken for him to spend his influence with Askell in trying to secure special treatment for her. It was not the way he operated.

She turned back to Askell. “However, hearing it, sir, I think it sounds perfect for me.”

“You are coming late to the academy,” Askell said. “The other cadets your age have been here for three years already. It would be a challenge for you to master the usual curriculum, let alone one so — demanding.”

“I am used to hard work, sir,” Raisa said, lifting her chin. “I’m not totally untutored. I fostered with the Spirit clans for three years in the Fells.”

“Did you, now?” the master said, his face displaying a flatlander’s disdain for the clans. “I fail to see how that applies to your admission to a military academy.”

Edon Byrne says I ride like a Demonai warrior, Raisa was tempted to say.

“If I may, that is the reason I proposed a somewhat different curriculum for Morley, sir,” Amon said. “As you know, much of the first three years here at the academy is physical training—horsemanship, wayfinding, tracking, survival skills. There is considerable overlap with what Morley learned in the upland camps. Morley has also been training hard for the past month in flatland weaponry. I think you’ll find that—”

“If it could be done in a month, we would be that much more efficient, now wouldn’t we, Commander Byrne?” Askell said, emptying a paper of tea into the teapot. Using a rag to protect his hand, he carried it over to his desk and set it on a battered trivet.

Finally, he sat down in his high-backed chair and looked at Raisa as one might a child who overreaches. Raisa had seen that look often, and it never failed to annoy her.

“Is it really your intention to be a soldier, Morley?” Askell asked. “Wouldn’t it make more sense for you to study the softer sciences? Healing, art, and philosophy are all important topics. That’s a more typical course of study for those of your station.”

“My station or my gender, sir?” Raisa said. “You’ve said Wien House is full of thanelings and dukes. I can think of only one way in which they are different from me.”

“There are women in Wien House,” Askell said stiffly. “Surely, Commander Byrne has told you as much.”

“There are women, aye,” Raisa said, her voice quivering with anger. “And they’re all from the north, and likely the daughters of soldiers, right? No gently raised ladies?”

Askell looked at her for a long moment, then shook his head. “No gently raised ladies,” he admitted. So at least he was honest.

Raisa stood, her fists clenched at her sides. “To answer your question, no, sir, I don’t mean to be a soldier. But kings, dukes, and lords have been sending their heirs to Wien House for more than a thousand years—not to make them soldiers, but to make them better leaders.

“I’ve been stuffed full of philosophy and art and the softer sciences, as you call them. If I could stitch or sing or recite my way out of a crisis, I’d be well prepared. I came here because this is said to be the best place to get an education in the Seven Realms. I came here to fill in the gaps in my education, to prepare for the times I’ll be making decisions all by myself, when knowledge of leadership, engineering, and military science may make the difference between success and failure.”

Raisa glanced at Amon, who sat motionless, save his gray eyes flicking from her to Askell and back again. “What Commander Byrne has proposed sounds like just what I need. But I’ll train as a simple soldier if that’s what I have to do to get an education. I’ll live wherever you assign me. I ask no accommodations from you. If I fail, I fail. But maybe I’ll learn something in the meantime. Sir.”

Raisa bowed to the master, saluting him as Amon had done. “Thank you for your time, sir. I’ll leave you to discuss this with Commander Byrne.” She backed from the room, knowing she’d probably ruined any chance she had of staying at Wien House.

Furious tears stung her eyes as she banged down the stairs. She paused on the second-floor landing to collect herself before descending the rest of the way. When had admission to Wien House become so important? Two months ago she’d had no plans to come to Oden’s Ford at all. Was this just a childish desire for anything denied her? Was this something she hadn’t wanted until Askell resisted?

Then again, two months ago she hadn’t known of Gavan Bayar’s treacherous plans to subvert the N´æming and seize power by marrying his son to the future queen of the Fells. She needed to return well armed for the battles that lay ahead.

That Amon Byrne had turned into a truly devious person. When had he hatched this new scheme for her education, and when had he planned to tell her about it? It was arrogant on his part, yet she couldn’t help being touched by it.

What would she do if Askell refused to admit her? She didn’t have much choice. She needed to stay within the sanctuary of Oden’s Ford. But if she crossed the river to the Temple School, it would be that much more likely she’d be seen by Micah Bayar or his friends. Plus, she would lose the protection of the Gray Wolves.

Raisa asked the clark on the first floor how to get to Grindell Hall. Surely they’d let her sleep there one night, even if they booted her out the next day.

By the time she reached the dormitory, the rest of the Gray Wolves had eaten. They’d brought plates back for Raisa and Amon, but Raisa had lost her appetite. She huddled in an overstuffed chair next to the cold hearth in the common room long after the others had gone to bed, nursing a cup of tea and waiting for Amon to return.

Finally, she heard his familiar footstep. He paused in the doorway, a tall silhouette, looking in at her. “I thought you’d be in bed,” he said.

“What did Askell say?” Raisa demanded.

Amon came forward into the light and knelt next to her chair. He closed his rough hand over hers, and that strange, wild energy flowed between them. Time seemed to telescope, and it seemed she could look ahead, this same scene repeating itself long into the distance, a future that would find them growing older together.

A prophesy? Raisa’s skin prickled, and her heart accelerated. What did it mean?

“What is it about you?” Amon whispered, a bemused look on his face. “Have I told you lately that you are amazing, Your Highness?”

“Not lately,” Raisa replied, swallowing hard. “Or ever.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my idea,” Amon said. “I figured Master Askell would flat out say no, and I didn’t want you to be disappointed. I thought you might be more willing to go to the Temple School if you didn’t know I’d come up with an alternative.”

“What did Askell say?” Raisa repeated.

“Dimitri was right. You are a witch-talker,” Amon said, shaking his head. “Master Askell has approved your curriculum and your housing. You start day after tomorrow.”

THE

ROAD WEST

Han was glad to leave the capital of Ardenscourt behind him. The West Road ran straight as a taut bowstring across the plains between Ardenscourt and the Tamron River. They made good time, since there were no mountains to work around, only the occasional river or stream to navigate. But in some places the bridges had been destroyed, and they had to travel far up or downstream to find a crossing place. Often makeshift ferries served travelers along the east-west road.

The evidence of the ongoing war surrounded them—burnedout farmhouses, salvos of foot soldiers on the march, massive keeps locked up tight with battle flags flying, large encampments of soldiers. Repeatedly, Han’s party left the right of way, hiding themselves in the trees to avoid mounted patrols flying the myriad colors of the warring thanes.

They came upon battlefields, sometimes dislodging crows and carrion birds from the decomposing bodies. The scavengers circled overhead, complaining rudely, then settled again as soon as they passed. Several times they passed gibbets bearing the stinking fruit of recent executions.

It’s a good season for crows, Han thought. There was no way they’d be in time for the opening day of classes, delayed as they were by their late start and many detours.

Cat wasn’t happy on horseback. The horse Jemson had lent her was an ill-favored, lazy beast, nearly as bad-tempered as Ragger. Cat clung to his back like a sticker burr, totally uncomfortable, impossible to dislodge. Things went better once Han convinced her to switch to the spare pony. They used Cat’s horse for baggage.

Cat’s superior street skills did little good in the countryside, which made her sullen and briary. She wasn’t used to being second best at anything.

Han and Dancer traded off teaching Cat woodcraft, such as tracking and bow hunting. She had quick, accurate reflexes, and she’d always been good with blades of all kinds. When their hunting was successful, she quickly learned to skin and dress the carcasses.

She seemed subdued, very different from the Cat Han remembered from the Raggers. In the past, it was Cat’s pride and obstinacy that got her into trouble. Now she seemed snappish, like a dog that’s been kicked too many times.

She displayed a persistent prejudice against Dancer for the crime of being clan. It seemed ironic, Cat being from the Southern Islands, that she’d soaked up Vale attitudes. Sometimes people that get beat on just want to beat on someone else.

They continued to travel by night. As dawn approached, they’d find a sheltered place to lay up for the day. Han and Cat would set out a few snares, while Dancer built a fire and set up camp. They’d eat, catch a few hours sleep, then prop up and pull out their books.

Dancer switched off between his Demonai flashcraft book and the book of charms. Han committed charms to memory, then struggled to make his amulet do what he wanted. Sometimes he succeeded, sometimes he failed, but at least there were no more aggressive spurts of power or bizarre, self-destructive behavior.

He’d just as soon get that out of his system out here in the middle of nowhere.

As long as they stuck with reading, Cat would stay. Sometimes she brought out her basilka and played—sweet, melancholy tunes that could bring a person to tears, even if you didn’t know the words. Dancer would often leave off reading and lean forward, wrapping his arms around his knees, eyes closed, just listening.

But if they started practicing charms, Cat would stalk out of camp and stay away for hours. She made it plain that she wanted nothing to do with magic.

Dancer still disliked the substitute amulet, though he continued to load it with power. “This doesn’t feel right,” he said, poking at it. “It’s like there’s something coming between me and the amulet — something that doesn’t belong.”

Han shrugged. “Maybe they’re all like that,” he suggested. He hesitated, then pressed his fingers against the Waterlow piece. “Sometimes it seems like this one has knowledge and power embedded in it already. I thought maybe it was because of — because of who I am. Or because of who owned it before.”

Dancer frowned. “You think it’s cursed? Or you think you’re cursed?”

“Maybe both,” Han muttered. What if it was true—what Elena had told his mother? What if he was cursed because the blood of the Demon King ran in his veins? His family fortunes had certainly fallen over the past thousand years—from king of the Seven Realms to starveling street thief.

“Why? Who owned it before?”

Startled, Han looked over to where Cat sat cradling her basilka. He’d forgotten she was there.

Han didn’t want to lie to Cat, but he also didn’t want to spook her any more than she was already by telling her he was using the Demon King’s old amulet.

“Well,” he said, “it used to belong to Lord Bayar. The High Wizard.”

Cat blinked at him. Then stood, setting aside her basilka. “It seems like it brought you a whole lot of trouble,” she said. “Maybe you should give it back.” She turned and disappeared into the woods.

Han and Dancer stared after her.

“Well,” Dancer said, “for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re cursed. If I did, I’d stay away from you.” He tilted his head, gazing at Han’s amulet. “As for the flashpiece, it’s more likely it’s because the thing’s extremely powerful, and you don’t know what you’re doing. At least wait until you get a little training before you decide.”