So much had happened to him in a few short marks. This morning he had been quite willing to walk out of here forever; now he wasn't merely a Trainee, he had a real position here. It felt a bit dreamlike, as if days had passed in the course of the morning. He had gone straight into the life of this place without a pause for breath. That wasn't like him. It made no sense. There was only one way to account for it. That blasted Kantor.
:Me?: his (his!) Companion replied, oozing innocence. :Don't go laying your so-called conversion at my doorstep. I gave you every opportunity to escape. I even had Talamir tell you the great secret—that you could have shaken our bonding loose if you really decided you couldn't bear this life. How many people have been told that in the course of our history?:
:How should I know?: Alberich asked rhetorically.
:I was about to tell you. No more than a dozen, that's what. You're here now —:
:Because you laid a trap for me, you and your precious Heralds, and baited it with the one thing I'd find irresistible.:
"Then that leaves him free, this afternoon?" Dethor asked, gesturing with a slice of buttered bread. "Good. We'll start you in as my assistant right now, Alberich. Get the youngsters used to seeing you as my assistant first before they start hearing rumors about the evil Karsite Trainee."
Alberich nodded. Well, what else was he to do? He knew it was going to happen—the "evil Karsite Trainee" business. How could it not? If the situations were reversed...
Not that they could be. The first sight of a white uniform, and the wearer of that uniform would find himself the object of target practice. Thoughtfully, he bit off a hangnail.
"The difference, I see not," he offered. "The Weaponsmaster, if good he be, always hated is."
Dethor smiled wickedly. "Better to have 'em hating you as the tyrannical Weapons Second, the brutal taskmaster. That way there'll be no room in those rattling little skulls for the evil Karsite Trainee." He finished his bread in a way that suggested the devouring of small children.
Alberich smiled, just a little. The Weaponsmaster was absolutely right, of course. Children—and, to be fair, a great many adults—were apt to label people and stick with the first label they'd come up with. "A brutal taskmaster, I surely will be, as ever," he replied, with a touch of grim humor. "My recruits, ask."
Dethor rubbed his hands together. "I'll keep the small ones, but you—ah! You, I intend to unleash on the older ones. I've been easy on 'em—too damned easy, tell the truth, I can't bout 'em anymore, and there's never anyone here consistently that can give 'em proper workouts. And—oh, glory!—you've fought real fights. None of this court fencing, oh no! That's the trouble with the teachers the highborn have; they learn to duel, to do fancy court fighting, but not how to fight. Plenty of Heralds do, of course, most of 'em trained by me, but they're needed out there, and can't be spared." He shook his head reluctantly. "And, truth to tell, it takes more than knowing how to fight to make a Weaponsmaster."
Kantor put in a few words of his own. :The "older ones," the best fighters among them, anyway, have been getting above themselves lately. We have a flock of them that are one, maybe two years from getting their Whites that were almost all out of the highborn, noble families. Before they were Chosen, they got private swordsmanship lessons, and those continued even after. They think they're masters of the sword now because they're so much better than the rest of the Trainees; Dethor can't give them the sort of workout they need to show them that they aren't.:
Alberich knew exactly what Kantor meant, and was beginning to warm to his new task. And as for Dethor, well, it was clear that he was doing more than merely "warm" to the task. He bordered on gleeful.
Alberich caught some of his spirit. It wasn't malicious, but there was a certain edge that suggested that there were a couple of these adolescent Heralds-in-training who were due for a comeuppance. Thought themselves immortal and invincible, and it would have to get pounded into their skulls that they weren't. The usual adolescent hubris, of course. Over and over, they came into the Sunsguard, sure of their skill, and thinking only of glory and fame. Time after time, if they didn't learn that war against bandits was dirty, perilous, and inglorious, they got their fame by having their names inscribed on the Tablets of the Fallen in the Great Temple. At least none of these youngsters would be looking to make a name for himself by taking their officer out in a practice bout—or worse. Worse was an ambitious and unscrupulous recruit who was hoping to advance himself by removing the obstacle that Alberich represented. Or to do the same, at the behest of one of Alberich's under-officers.
"That sort, I have seen," he said shortly, and left it at that.
But he did get a bit of a shock when they finished their meal—a relatively light one, appropriate for two men who would be doing very physical work, shortly—and he followed Dethor out into the salle again. Of the six adolescents choosing practice weapons or limbering up, two were female.
Girls! True, one of the Heralds that had first found him had been a woman—he vaguely recalled that now—but it hadn't really occurred to him intellectually, even though Kantor had reminded him of that fact, that he would be teaching girls. Females just didn't put themselves forward. Not in Karse, anyway. Females had very clearly defined roles in Karse, which did not include being fighters.
:Don't hold back with them,: Kantor said instantly. :You won't be doing them any favors.: And when he still hesitated, Kantor added sharply, :There are barbarians in the North, pirates and slavers in the West, and bandits in the South. And they will probably face all three before they're middle-aged, if they live that long. It will be one woman and one Companion out there, alone, and you have to prepare them for that.:
:Yes, I do see that.: It made him feel a little sick, but Kantor was right; they were Trainees, they would be Heralds, and he would do them no favors at all by going easy with them.
In fact, he might well kill them. Or worse. There was always the probability of an "or worse." It was a simple fact that the probability was higher for a female.
:Or both,: Kantor added grimly. :They can't be as strong as the boys; you'll have to give them skill to make up for that. If anything, the girls will need your skills more than the boys.:
"Well, Trainees, I have a little surprise for you," Dethor said cheerfully. He gestured at Alberich, who lingered near the door. "This is my new Second—and from now on, he'll be putting you through your paces, while I watch."
Alberich had no difficulty in keeping his face expressionless. This was no different than facing a line of new recruits. Even the ages weren't that dissimilar; he guessed these youngsters to be between sixteen and eighteen years of age. He'd had recruits that young, although, since he'd been in the mounted troops, they'd all come from some background where they'd been riding since they could walk. And, mostly, the cavalry came from recruits rather than conscripts. He supposed Trainees probably fell under the same banner as recruits; surely he was the only Trainee who had ever felt as if he'd been conscripted against his will.