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I hadn’t. I suppose that showed in my face, for Maw nodded to himself. Then he spoke very carefully. “We here at the Academy see that a balance must be kept. The king is the king, of course. The military answers to him. But it is commanded by the sons of his new and old nobles. There are only a certain number of vacancies to be filled every year. Too many old nobles’ sons, and the army will sway one way. Too many new nobles’ sons, and it may sway another. We here at the Academy do not attempt to influence politics by our actions. Rather, we strive to keep the military in a neutral balance. I promise you this is true.”

I spoke slowly, knowing my words were not respectful, knowing I could be expelled from the Academy for them. I knew, also that it didn’t matter. “And that is why you will cull one patrol of new nobles’ sons. To be sure that this year’s class will not outnumber the old nobles’ sons.”

He nodded slowly. “You have a mind for putting things together, Nevare. Just as you did today. That was why I made my suggestion to you earlier this year.”

“And you will cull my patrol rather than the new nobles from Skeltzin Hall.”

He nodded once, slowly.

“Why? Why us and not them?”

He leaned back in his chair, one fist resting on his chin and took a breath through his nose. Finally, he spoke. “Because that was what we decided at the beginning of the year. When Colonel Stiet took over the Academy, he put the decision in the hands of the advisory board. Quietly, of course. It’s always done quietly. Look at your patrol, and you can see the criteria. Some are the sons of new nobles who have no power at all. Others are the sons of new nobles who seem to be gaining too much power. You, I’m afraid, were a special request. A favour between old friends.”

“My aunt, Lady Burvelle requested it of Colonel Stiet. Didn’t she?”

He raised his eyebrows. “You do put things together, don’t you, Burvelle? I saw that in you. That’s why I tried to divert you from the Academy, early in the year.”

My ears were buzzing in shock at all of it. “It isn’t fair, sir. Because I did put things together. And I did get my patrol across the creek. And if an old nobles’ sons patrol had crossed as we did, you would have announced that they had deduced the correct answer, that the objective was to cross the creek, not build a bridge.”

“That’s true,” he said, and there was no apology in his voice. “I wish I could have congratulated you in front of your fellows. But I could not. So I called you here, privately, to let you know. You were right. And you did well. The manner in which you achieved it showed that you will never be a typical line officer, however. That is why I still believe that as a scout, you would excel. And that is why, regardless of what marks are posted a few days hence, I will still recommend you for that position.”

“But I won’t continue here at the Academy, will I? Nor will Spink or Trist or Gord or Kort or any of the others. Will they? You will recommend me, and I suppose I should thank you for that. My father’s shame and disappointment will not be complete. I’ll nominally have an officer’s rank. But what of those others? What of them?”

He looked past me now when he spoke and his voice was stiff. “I’ve done what I can, boy. Some will come up the old way. Their families will simply purchase commissions for them rather than seeing them earn them here. Trist, I am sure, will become an officer. Gord’s family certainly has the wealth to place him well.”

“Spink’s family doesn’t. What becomes of him?”

Captain Maw cleared his throat. “I suspect he will be a Ranker. He’ll enlist as a common soldier, for he will remain a soldier son. And on the basis of his talents, he will rise. Or not. The military has always provided those alternate paths for men of talent and determination. Not all officers are born of nobility. Some come up through the ranks.”

“At the cost of years of their lives. Sir.”

“That’s true. That has always been true.”

I sat there, no longer liking a man whom I had admired for most of the term. A private congratulation on working out his puzzle, and a recommendation to a scout’s was all he was offering me. I’d be a leader without troops, an officer who rode alone. I thought of Scout Vaxton and his rough manners and worn uniform. I thought of how my father had invited him to our table, but kept my mother and sisters away from his company. That was my fate. It was already determined that that was the best I could do. I could not force them to keep me at the Academy. I had done my best, and passed every test they had given me. Yet I would still be discarded, because the tight ranks of the Old Nobility feared that the king was becoming too strong.

I dared a question. “And if I go out now and tell what I know?”

He looked at me sadly. “Now you sound like Tiber.” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t be believed, Burvelle. It would sound pitiful, as if you tried to make excuse for your own failure. Go quietly, son. There are worse things than being culled. You’re leaving with an honourable discharge. You don’t have to go home with your tail between you legs. You could leave here with a posting to one of the citadels in the east.” He suddenly leaned toward me and tried for a smile. “Think on it for a night. Come back to me tomorrow morning, and tell me that you’ve decided you do want to be a scout. I’ll see that your transfer papers are written up that way. There will be no mention of a culling on them.”

He waited for me to reply. I could have thanked him. I could have said I needed time to think. Instead, I said nothing at all.

Captain Maw spoke very softly. “You are dismissed, Cadet Burvelle.”

I heard it as my sentence. I rose without acknowledging his words and walked out of his office, out of the engineering building and into the cold of Dark Evening. Tonight, in Old Thares, people, caroused and celebrated the longest night of the year. Tomorrow, they would breakfast together and exchange good wishes for the first lengthening day of the year. Before the week was out, Sirlofty and I would be on our way back to my family home. All the years my father had prepared me had been for nothing. The golden future he had promised me was dross. I thought of Carsina and tears pricked my eyes. She would not be mine. Her father would never give her to a cavalla scout. I suddenly knew I would die childless, that the soldier son journals I sent home to my brother’s house would be a story that dribbled away with no ending at all.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Carnival

Carneston House was deserted. An unhappy cadet corporal sat in Sergeant Rufet’s chair behind his desk. Surely that was a punishment duty. I surmised he had been given the night shift so that even our dour sergeant could partake of the pleasures of Dark Evening. He gave me a dispirited stare as I trudged past him. I could not find the energy to hurry up the steps. All around me, the dormitory was unnaturally quiet.

Upstairs, my bunkroom showed all the signs of a hasty departure. No one had waited for me. They’d all racketed off together for a wild night of town freedom without even a thought for Nevare Burvelle. I suspected that all the hire carriages would be gone from the cabstand. Even if I’d wanted to go, it was too late now. But I was hungry. I decided I’d leave the Academy grounds and walk to a nearby public house for a beer and sup. Then I’d simply come back to the dormitory and go to sleep. If I could.

I took my greatcoat from its hook, and as I thrust my arms down the sleeves, a folded bit of notepaper fell out. I picked it up from the floor. My name was on the outside of it, in Spink’s handwriting, blotted as if he’d done it hurriedly. I unfolded it and stared at the horrible words that sealed my fate. “I’ve gone to meet Epiny. It was none of my doing, Nevare. She sent me a note by messenger, saying she would find me on the green by the Great Square so we could celebrate Dark Evening together. I know I’m a fool to go to her; it will seal your aunt’s opinion of me. But I dare not leave her alone there amongst the types of men that will be roving the streets tonight.” The note was signed with a sloping ‘S’.