Lerial blinks. Understrength? Then he remembers that the payroll has to include the captain, an undercaptain, and a senior squad leader in addition to the rankers. “Seventeen rankers, or seven rankers and no undercaptain.” He pauses. “Most likely, seven without an undercaptain.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because my father wouldn’t allow a company to patrol seventeen rankers below complement.” Not when we’re usually outnumbered anyway, for all the companies stationed on the borders.
“I’ll accept that.”
Lerial waits for the next problem, understanding the necessity for being able to handle figures in his head, but not particularly caring for the exercises.
After another half glass of exercises, Saltaryn smiles. “You’re showing much more discipline in studying. Your father will be pleased to hear that.”
Lerial nods politely, thinking, Not pleased. That’s what he expects.
When Saltaryn and Lerial leave the study, Lerial wonders if he should seek out Woelyt for another round of sparring.
How will you get better and be able to best Lephi if you don’t keep trying? Especially after Woelyt told you that you needed to practice more. He takes a deep slow breath, then walks along the main floor corridor that leads toward the outer courtyard and the Lancers’ practice area.
Unsurprisingly, Woelyt is available, as if the undercaptain has expected Lerial to appear, and Lerial suspects that the officer just may have … or that Saltaryn has informed him when Lerial would likely be finished with his lessons.
Although the soreness in his leg turns out not to hamper him as much as he had feared, he still has difficulty in responding to anything new or different that the undercaptain brings to bear. After the second round of sparring, while he is catching his breath and trying to cool down somewhat, he turns to Woelyt and asks, “How long do you think it will take before I can defend against something I’ve never seen before?”
“When you’re first sparring it seems to take forever,” replies Woelyt with a smile. “The longer and harder you practice, especially with those who are better than you are, the sooner you’ll recognize and be able to defend against moves you haven’t seen. It’s mostly recognition in time to use defenses you already know.”
That doesn’t give Lerial much cheer, true as he suspects the officer’s words are. Still, he perseveres until Woelyt has to leave on his rounds. Then he trudges back into the palace and makes his way to the north fountain court, which he finds empty. He isn’t certain whether he’s relieved or unhappy to find no one else there, although he wonders where his mother and sister might be … or Amaira, for that matter.
After he feels cool enough that he won’t start sweating heavily after he washes up, he heads for the bath chamber. He needs to write another essay for Saltaryn, who was less than pleased with his last effort, and that is likely to take much of what is left of the afternoon.
That night, after dinner, he makes his way to his aunt’s chambers.
Emerya does not invite him in, but steps into the corridor. “Amaira’s fighting a little flux.”
“What about tomorrow?”
She smiles and shakes her head. “For now, Lerial, I think you’ve learned enough.”
“Has Father or Mother-or Saltaryn-said anything? Is that why you don’t want to teach me more?”
“Saltaryn has expressed some concerns,” Emerya admits. “But I have taught you all you should know about order right now.”
“I don’t know that much.”
“You know enough … for now. We’ll see how you do with what I’ve showed you.”
Lerial can tell that there will be no changing her mind. After a moment, he ventures, “I understand, I think, but there is one thing…”
“Oh?”
“Saltaryn had me practicing lighting candles I couldn’t see from a distance…”
Emerya raises her eyebrows, so white that they are almost invisible.
“Just across the study. Even that isn’t easy. The candleholders were bright and polished when we started, but when we ended, they were tarnished.”
“Did Saltaryn handle them?”
“He did, but they were tarnished all over, not just where he touched them.”
Emerya nods. “Saltaryn doesn’t have the most precise personal control over his use of chaos. The best of the Magi’i handle chaos with order in a way that the chaos stays outside their bodies. They’re the ones who live the longest. I’ve told you about that, remember?”
“But they aren’t the strongest.”
“They don’t seem the strongest,” replies his aunt. “There’s a difference. That’s another reason why you need to follow the rules and techniques I’ve showed you. They’re harder, but they’ll serve you well.”
“I’ll never be a healer or an ordermage.”
“You can’t say that.” She pauses. “You can’t ever be known as a healer or an ordermage, especially not if you end up leading Mirror Lancers.”
“Because ordermages and healers aren’t supposed to kill people?”
“They’re not thought to be capable of it. That’s not quite the same thing … if you think about it. If I were you, I would think about it … a great deal.” She stops for a moment, then says, “You could be a healer, Lerial, but that wouldn’t be good for you, or for Cigoerne. For now, you’ve learned all you need to know.”
“I’m still having problems with my sparring.”
“It’s only been an eightday or so. Everything takes time.”
“But…”
“I need to see to Amaira, Lerial.”
“Oh … I’m sorry.”
“That’s all right. Just keep working on what I showed you.” She smiles, then slips back into her chambers.
For a long moment, Lerial just stands there. Then, he turns and begins to walk back toward his own quarters, thinking.
… You can’t ever be known to be a healer or ordermage.… not if you end up leading Mirror Lancers … His aunt’s words keep running through his thoughts.
VI
For the next eightday, Lerial dutifully continues his lessons with Saltaryn, followed by sessions with Undercaptain Woelyt. While he feels he is getting better and is able to avoid the worst strikes and bruises, the undercaptain still disarms him regularly, even though Lerial has taken to practicing even more by himself. He no longer gets that tired holding the wand, but he is all too aware that he does not have the physical strength of the undercaptain, or even of Lephi, who returned from his first patrol late the previous evening.
When Lerial rises on sevenday, he sees no sign of his brother, who does not rise for breakfast and is doubtless sleeping in, although their father has always insisted that sevenday morning is for work and that only on that afternoon and eightday itself are the two excused from duties and lessons. Lerial finds he is annoyed, but not especially surprised, since their father’s rules seem to him to be applied less rigidly to Lephi. That’s the way things are, and will always be.
He eats his breakfast quietly, with Ryalah, Amaira, and Emerya, although his mother arrives as he is finishing, then heads for his lessons with Saltaryn. The magus is less demanding on sevendays, and by late midmorning, Lerial is finished. Lephi is still not up.
So Lerial seeks out Undercaptain Woelyt and spends a good glass accumulating more bruises and, hopefully, getting better in using the sabre.
After cooling down and cleaning up, Lerial returns to his chambers to work on an even longer essay for Magus Saltaryn. Lephi does not come by, and Lerial is not about to go looking for him. Instead, he finishes the essay and practices some with the sabre wand, if not strenuously enough to work up much of a sweat. Finally, it is time to head down to the main courtyard for refreshments before dinner.
He reaches the east door to the courtyard just after Lephi. His older brother’s face is lightly tanned, as dark as it will likely ever get, but his short-cut hair is now almost white-blond, and his green eyes appear paler to Lerial. He even looks more confident as he fills a glass with red wine, not watering it, and settles into the chair across the large courtyard table from his mother.