The note inside was on rich and heavy paper, marred only by Caulder’s childish handwriting. “Please come to visit me at your earliest convenience. I have something for you.”
I tossed it down upon my bedding. “The only thing that I could possibly want from him is an apology, and I very much doubt that I shall get it.”
“I should have thought you would have said you wished him to tell his father the truth. If only Caulder would tell the truth, his father might still rescind your dishonourable discharge.”
I looked at her speechlessly. To hear those two words spoken aloud were akin to having them branded into me. That she knew and had spoken it aloud made the reality freshly horrible to me. When my shocked silence grew long, she confided calmly, “Well, I found the paper when I hung up your uniform jacket. Someone had to see to your things; some of the nurses they brought in to the infirmary during the worst of the crisis were thieves and worse. They stole anything they could carry off, including the blankets that covered the dead. It was horrible. So I gathered up your things to keep them safe and—”
“And naturally you went through my pockets.” I was offended.
“Yes. Naturally,” she retorted. “So that if there was anything of value, I could be sure to keep it safe. The only thing I found was that horrid discharge paper. So I burned it, of course.”
“You burned my discharge papers!”
“Of course.” She was so calm.
“Why?”
She shrugged one shoulder and did not meet my gaze. Then she turned back, looked me in the eye and said flatly, “I’m not a fool. I knew Colonel Stiet was very ill. I saw that those papers were dated the same day that the plague broke out. I judged that in the midst of all that, there was a chance he hadn’t recorded his tantrum anywhere else. And if he died, and there was no record of it, then I saw no reason for you to be burdened with it. So I burned it. No one else saw me do it. And as Spink had not mentioned it to me, I judged you had not told anyone else about it, either.”
She sat back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. She looked pleased with herself. Then she gave a little sigh. “Unfortunately, he didn’t die. But we can hope that with all else that has happened, he won’t have time to trouble you.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I said at last.
“Then say nothing!” she advised me insistently. “Nothing at all. When you are well, go back to the Academy. Resume your life as if it had never happened. I really doubt that Stiet will take time to impart details like that to his successor. Ignore it. And if anyone is stupid and vicious enough to attempt to send you away from the Academy, you should fight it. Tooth and claw.”
I scarcely heard it. I was still mulling over what she had suggested. “Just ignore it? That seems… dishonest.”
“No, you dolt. Dishonest is a spoiled child lying about you and having you dishonourably discharged from the Academy.” She stood suddenly and then shocked me by leaning down to kiss me on the brow. “That is quite enough for one day. Think about what I’ve said, and then sleep on it. And for once, do what is sensible.”
She did not give me a chance to agree with her. She walked to the window, drew the curtains to put the room into darkness, and left me there. I didn’t sleep. I thought it over. I calculated my odds like a gambler. Sergeant Rufet had known, but he was dead. The doctor knew, but as he had not mentioned it, perhaps he had forgotten my words to him. Colonel Stiet knew, of course, as did Caulder. But would they linger at the Academy or would they swiftly depart and allow Colonel Rebin to move into the living quarters? I tempted myself with the notion that perhaps the colonel had been too distracted to note my discharge down into the daily log of the Academy. Perhaps with all that had happened, he would forget the incident of his son’s drunkenness.
Or perhaps not. I decided sternly that it was a foolish thing to hope for. I also decided I would be equally foolish not to attempt to ignore the discharge. What more, after all, could Colonel Stiet do to me than what he had already done? And so as the days passed and I grew stronger, I kept Epiny’s counsel and did not speak of the discharge to anyone.
Perhaps the slim hope I felt speeded my recovery. A day came when I could rise from my bed without assistance. The doctor began to allow me regular food instead of the bland soups I’d been subsisting on. My appetite returned with a vengeance, and to my nurse’s delight, I ate heartily every meal and put on flesh. I had lost muscle during my wasting illness, and of course that would have to be rebuilt by strenuous exercise. I was not yet up to it, but after another week had passed, I was able not only to stroll through my uncle’s gardens with Purissa but also to ride sedately with Epiny in the park. I did not even much mind that she assigned me her docile mare and rode Sirlofty.
My uncle’s home was not a happy place in those days. I did not take my meals with the family, but ate alone in my rooms, glad that I had the excuse of my continuing convalescence. My uncle said little of the misery that Epiny had caused her family, but she spoke of it frankly with me, and at greater length than I enjoyed. I was sorry to have been the indirect cause of my uncle’s tribulations, and yet in a quiet corner of my soul, I rejoiced that at least Spink would have the joy of a wife who doted on him. I feared his life would offer him little else in the way of consolation.
The wedding was small and so subdued as to feel almost dreary. Spink’s older brother had made the journey to witness the ceremony, and also, as Epiny so crudely put it, “to pay for the bride”. I am sure his family had offered what it could but it was not a substantial amount and of influence they had even less to barter. I went and stood up with Spink’s brother and listened to the priest say the words that bound them to one another. Epiny’s dress was simple as was the lace veil she wore, and yet it still looked extravagant next to Spink in his even more ill-fitting uniform. Worse, I suspected it would be the last use he would ever have for it. It was the first time I’d seen him since the infirmary. He looked as if a good gust of wind could carry him off. His eyes were still shadowed and his cheeks sunken, yet he spoke clearly when he thanked Epiny’s parents for giving her, and still managed to look happier than I’d ever seen him before. So did Epiny, and despite my misgivings, I envied them both.
I had very little time alone with Spink. He wearied easily and Epiny was determined both to baby him and to have him to herself as much as possible. When I found one quiet moment, I gave him my personal good wishes, and then suddenly found myself saying, “It’s strange. Things matter so much, and then suddenly they don’t matter at all. On the day of our examinations, I agonized that you and Gord had found a way to cheat. It seemed of such great importance to me then, a life-or-death matter. Well, now I know what a life-or-death matter is. Does everything seem different to you since we came so close to dying?”
He gave me a soul-baring look. “Since we died and came back, you mean? Yes, my friend. Everything seems different to me. And things that bothered me a great deal then don’t matter to me at all anymore.” He gave a small snort of laughter. “But I will confess the truth to you. Yes. I did cheat. But Gord had nothing to do with it. I wrote “6x8 = 46” on the inside of my wrist.”
“But six times eight is forty-eight!” I exclaimed.
For a long instant, Spink just gaped at me. Then he burst into a hearty laugh, and that brought Epiny sweeping up to us to demand how I had managed to win that response from him. Very shortly after that, they left on their wedding trip, which was only to last two days before they journeyed east again with Spink’s brother. The little gathering dissolved almost as soon as the bride and groom departed, and I was happy to seek my room under the pretence of being wearied by all the excitement. My uncle excused me easily, and actually looked as if he wished he could go with me. He appeared bedraggled in that harried way of men whose wives are intensely unhappy with them. My aunt was dressed in a severe dress in a grey so dark it was almost black. She had not spoken one word to me and I was able to bow silently over her hand and escape.