Oathblood (33 page)

Hesten opened his mouth to protest, then stared into Belton's eyes and looked properly abashed. Belton's eyes were opaque, and she couldn't read what was in them—but she had the suspicion that what she had said had struck forcibly home with him. Well, sooner or later he'd tell her; they all did. Kethry might be the more motherly in appearance, but somehow most of the youngsters, the boys especially, came to Tarma when they had fears that needed soothing or confessions to make. Perhaps it was simply because they assumed that she would never be shocked by anything they said.

“And,” she added, allowing her voice to soften with good humor, “if we can possibly do so, we intend to make sure we all have a good time while we're doing this. Now, I just delivered this particular little lecture for a reason. In a couple of days, you'll be going back to your families for winter holidays. If you really and truly don't want to learn what we have to teach, you have only to tell your parents, or us, and you won't have to come back here. I know this is a hard school—but we don't accept just anyone, and we don't want someone here who doesn't want to be here. If you're having trouble wrapping your mind around the idea of being trained like a common—or perhaps I should say,
un
common mercenary, I can understand that. But bear in mind that you are not here as a punishment from your parents; you're all here because they truly, deeply, profoundly care for your well-being.”

Hestin bit his lip. “But we aren't exactly being trained like mercenaries, are we?” he ventured. “I mean, we don't spend more than half our time drilling and all—”

Tarma nodded. “Right, exactly right. Your parents want a special education for you, which is why you spend half your time in classes with Jadrek which seem to have nothing to do with fighting. You'll need them, not only to mark you as gentlemen of the highest order, but to make you better-educated than any other boys of your rank. If you stay, you'll not only be trained in personal defense, but you'll eventually be trained in strategy, tactics, and command, with an eye to serving the King as commanding officers, should he need you.”

She didn't miss the sudden flash of interest in Hesten and Larsh's eyes.

“You'll also be well-rounded and well-educated noblemen, people whose opinions are sought after, and who are taken seriously. People who are given high office and great responsibility. And people who can take care, not only of themselves, but of those who depend on them, no matter what the situation.”

Now she had Belton's full and unwavering interest, and the hooded eyes had come alive.

“But before that happens, you have a lot of work ahead of you.” She paused, and smiled again. “You might be wondering why I'm giving you this speech now, instead of when you first came here. The reason is—now you've had a full season here, and you know what I mean by
work.
You've had the full experience, as Keth would say. So—are you ready for three to four more years of it? There's no shame in saying you aren't suited to this, not everyone is, and sometimes parents aren't very good at judging what their children are suited to. Hesten?”

“I'll be back,” the boy said shortly, but with more than enough determination and respect in his voice to please Tarma.

“Larsh?”

“Absolutely.” More anticipation than determination ; that was what she had expected. Larsh would have made a good mercenary; he fit in here as well as any boy she'd had.

“Belton?” she asked, turning to the third boy, and was a little surprised at the vehemence of his reply.

“If they couldn't afford to pay you, I'd work in the stable to stay here!” came the fervent answer, and she blinked a little at the passion in his voice.

:As you suspected, there's a tragedy in his background, mindsib; I can't get anything more specific than that. I suspect a beloved relative may have been the victim of a feud or something of the sort.:
Warrl seemed very interested. :If
he doesn't tell you about it before he leaves, he will when he returns. He has just decided to trust you completely.:

That corresponded with her feelings about the boy; that he had been holding something back until this moment, testing her and his other teachers, looking for—what? Some kind of flaw, she suspected. Whatever it was, only he knew, but she had no doubt she would find out.

“Now, back to work,” she decreed. “There's still plenty of time before supper, and you haven't even broken into a good sweat yet!”

 

Supper was the best time of the day, so far as Tarma was concerned. Her pupils and Keth's generally ate breakfast and luncheon separately, because the mage-students were on a slightly different schedule and menu. Her students needed a great deal more to eat than the mage-students, and after rising at dawn for a run and a session of strenuous physical exercise, began the day with absolutely enormous breakfasts, then restoked their furnaces with equally enormous luncheons and afternoon snacks. The scholars and mage-students required far less in the way of fuel, some had decided on a purely vegetarian regime for themselves, and in any case, over-f stomachs often got in the way of mental concentration.

But by the time Tarma's pupils cleaned up, the mage-students were also finished for the day, and everyone met together for supper and study or amusement afterward.

Altogether, there were ten pupils in Tarma's school, a round dozen in Keth‘s, and two that were pure scholars, being taught by Jadrek. One of those was Kira's twin Merili, the other a “charity student” from their own village, a young boy who lived to learn. Jadrek intended to recommend him as Rethwellan Archivist-in-training when he finished with the child, the current Archivist having no wife or children to follow him. Of Kethry's pupils, one was her own son Jadrek, though it was likely he'd employ his knowledge as a Shin'a‘in shaman rather than a White Winds mage—the shamans being the only Shin'a‘in permitted to use magic. Only Jadrie was in Tarma's group; the twins Lyan and Laryn were not particularly interested in fighting, and were learning only the basics every Shin'a‘in should know. Like Jadrie, they had decided early that they wanted the Clan and the Plains, but they were completely horse-mad. On their own initiative, during the summer that followed the spring that Jadrie had tamed
her
first horse, they had secretly picked a pair of two-year olds out of the Tale'sedrin herds and tamed them without any help at all. The Liha‘irden horse-herders had seen them at it, of course, but since they weren't doing anything wrong, they were allowed to carry out their plan. Tarma privately suspected that the herders were very proud of the audacious young twins, though if they'd begun to ruin the horses, they'd have been punished for their audacity.

It was too soon to tell what the latest baby, Jendar, was going to turn out to be like—Tarma's only clue was that he stuck by his mother's side during every lesson, and only toddled off when she turned her hands to anything other than magic.

But with twenty-seven children of various ages crowded around the supper table, the evening meal was a noisy and amusing affair. No rules of silence were invoked, and the children were allowed to talk about anything they pleased and for this one meal, eat or not eat whatever they liked. At the beginning of each season, there were always a few bellyaches when students stuffed themselves with sweets—one surfeit usually cured them of further foolishness, especially when the next day brought no sympathy, and no break from lessons. The only iron-clad rule was that there were to be no food fights. Tarma and Kethry had both gone without often enough that the idea of wasted food was intolerable. The one and only time that rule had been challenged, Kethry's combined solution and punishment had been swift and effective. The next day, she had scryed out a group of hungry shepherd-children in the hills. When everyone gathered for breakfast, and the savory meal was laid out on the sideboard—when mouths were watering and appetites roused—she transported every bit of that hot, tantalizing meal to those children, and presented the school with what the children would have eaten. Stale, hard bread and cheese rinds came as quite a shock to pampered children of noble houses. She did the same at lunch. At dinner, she made it very clear that she was prepared to continue sending their food “to children who appreciated it” if there was
ever
a repetition of the incident. The story had been passed to every new student since then, by word of mouth, and Tarma had no doubt that it had grown in the telling. It certainly guaranteed that there were
no
food fights again.

She noticed the three older boys had unbent and were treating Jadrie and Kira more as their equals than usual. This meant, of course, that instead of being ignored, the girls came in for teasing and surreptitious prodding and poking. For a while, they seemed to enjoy it, but when the sweet was served, they were clearly beginning to lose their tempers. She debated interfering, but Merili beat her to it.

“Weren't there supposed to be some gentlemen at this table, besides our teachers?” she asked Tarma pointedly, after a quick flash of a frown at Larsh.

“I thought so, but I haven't seen any,” Tarma replied, hiding her amusement.

“That's too bad,” Merili said with a dignity that was so funny Tarma nearly spoiled everything for her by laughing. “If there had been
gentlemen
here, I was going to ask them to come riding with me after dinner.” She sighed and looked only at Tarma. “Well, if any
gentlemen
appear, the invitation will still be there.”

The three older boys secretly worshipped their “Little Princess,” and that put a stop to the tormenting. All through dessert, they remained on their best behavior, much to the relief of the other two girls. None of them wanted to fall under the Royal Disfavor, for Merili was as good-natured as she was pretty, and never minded helping when one of Jadrek's lessons proved difficult to conquer, or when something needed mending or embellishing.

As usual, the children inhaled their sweets; before many moments had passed, they had all scattered to the four winds to ride, continue last night's work on a pair of snow forts, or run off the last of their energy in games, until a candlemark before bathtime, when they would be herded to the library for study. That left the adults alone except for the baby, and they looked at each other, heaved a sigh of relief, and laughed.

“Does it get noisier every year, or is it my imagination?” Jadrek asked, prying Jendar's chubby fingers off the handle of a knife, and giving the boy his heavy silver bracelet to play with instead.

“Of course it gets noisier every year; there are more children every year,” Ikan Dryvale replied, wriggling his finger in his ear as if to clear his hearing. “Even if you didn't take more students, Kethry would be providing the increase herself!”

“Oh, come now!” Kethry laughed. “You make me sound like a brood-hen!”

“I overheard you delivering the Lecture to the boys, Tarma,” Justin interjected. “How did they take it?”

“We'll have them all back after Midwinter,” she was able to tell him, with great satisfaction. “We'll still have to pound sense into their heads, but we aren't going to be the enemy anymore.”

“Oh, really?” Ikan's eyebrows arched. “I wasn't all that sure of young Hesten. There's a strong streak of rebellion in that one.”

“There always is in the smart ones,” Justin pointed out, refilling his cup. “It was Belton I wasn't certain of. He hasn't completely trusted us since the day he arrived.”

“Warrl says he does now,” Tarma replied. Justin glanced over to the fireside, where Warrl was finishing his own dinner, and the kyree looked up and nodded in confirmation.

“Well, that's a relief,” was all Justin said, and the conversation turned to other topics and other students.

As the servants finished clearing the table, leaving only the pitchers of drink, Tarma sat back in her chair at the foot of the table and pondered her “family” with a feeling of complete contentment.

Justin looked far more prosperous than he had in the old days; there were threads of gray in his blond hair, and his face was craggier, but other than that he carried his age lightly. That might have been due to Estrel, his wife, who sat beside him—their baby Kethren was in the nursery asleep, where Jendar would be shortly. Estrel looked like what she was, a fresh-faced young shepherdess of a mere seventeen. What didn't show on the surface was a vast knowledge of herb-healing and midwifery, a very shrewd and clever mind, and an utter devotion to Justin. She first saw Justin at the school, where she and the other village younglings were taking short lessons in reading, writing, and figuring from Jadrek, who gave those lessons gratis. She had also been apprenticed to the village midwife, and had naturally come into close contact with Kethry.

Estrel had fallen in love with Justin immediately, and set about winning him for herself with a determination that surmounted each and every obstacle in her path. She fit in very well here, and was in charge of the nursery when Kethry was busy with her own students.

Justin and Estrel sat in the middle of the table on Tarma's right. Ikan sat across from them on the left. His amber hair betrayed no gray yet, and if someone didn't know what to look for, he could be mistaken for a plowman. He still had utterly innocent blue eyes, and the face of a country-bred dolt straight out of the fields. That might have been why the younger boys responded better to him than to Justin; he didn't look nearly as intimidating. He had yet to settle down, distributing his favors to as many women as cared to fling themselves at him—and plenty did.