The door closed. Tristen stood still, looking for some cue what to do, what to say, what to expect of them both or what they expected of him.
Much the better, Cefwyn murmured then, looking him up and down. Did you rest well?
Yes, master Cefwyn.
Cefwyn looked askance at that greeting; Tristen at once knew he had spoken amiss and amended it with, My lord Cefwyn, as Cefwyn sat down in the same chair Idrys had lately held. Emuin settled on a chair near the table, and Tristen turned the chair he had been using and sat down quietly and respectfully.
You may sit, Cefwyn said dryly, in that very tone Mauryl would use when he had done something premature and foolish.
Yes, sir. So he had been mistaken to sit. But now Cefwyn said he should. He had no idea what to do with his hands. He tucked them under his arms to keep them out of trouble and sat waiting for someone to tell him what he was to do here.
We come to unpleasant questions this morning, said Emuin gently. But they must be asked. Tristen, lad, is there nothing more you can tell me of Maurylʼs instruction to you?
No, sir, nothing that I know, beyond to read the Book and follow the Road where it would lead me.
But you cannot read the Book.
No, sir. I canʼt.
And what was Maurylʼs work? What was the nature of it? Did he say?
He never told me, sir.
How can he not have known? Cefwyn snapped, but Emuin shook his head.
He is very young. Far younger than you think. Not all seemings are true. Listen to him. Tell me, Tristen, lad, do you remember Snow?
Snow was a word White and Cold and Wet, lying on the ground, clinging to the trees, falling like rain from the skies.
I know what it is, sir. It comes to me.
But you have not seen it.
No, sir.
Ever?
Not that I remember. Perhaps the shutters werenʼt open.
This is an unnatural business, Cefwyn said, locking his arms across his chest. I tell you I have no liking for it. Emuin, can you judge what he says?
He feared Cefwyn, whose eyes were sometimes cold as Idrysʼ eyes, whose voice very often had an edge to it, and whose speech had many, many turns he failed to follow.
But Emuinʼs voice was gentle and forgiving. He was Maurylʼs, my lord Prince, and Mauryl was not wont to lie, whatever his faults.
He never stuck at worse acts.
Peace, Emuin said sharply, and turned on Tristen a gentler look. Lad, Iʼve told you that I knew your master. That he was my teacher, too. He would not have you lie to me.
No, sir, Tristen answered. I wouldnʼt think so.
You have no idea why he died.
I donʼt know that he is dead, sir.
What do you think befell him? Why do you think he might be alive?
I donʼt know, sir. I know It was difficult to speak of his reasons and his guesses. He had never said them aloud. He had persuaded himself not to speak them aloud, not so long as the guards questioned him. But Emuin said he was Maurylʼs student, too, so surely he should tell Emuin the truth.
I know that Mauryl believed he would go away somewhere. I thought he meant the Road. He gave me the Book and said he might not have to go if I could read it. But I failed. It was a difficult failure to admit. He was deeply ashamed and troubled with a thought that had worried at him ever since he had come to the guardsʼ hands. Perhaps I was mistaken to go out the gate. Perhaps I was mistaken about when he wanted me to go. I would have asked him, if he were there, sir. I wish I might have asked him.
I do not think you were mistaken, Emuin said, which he was glad to hear. You did exactly as Mauryl would have had you do, and very wisely, too.
I hope so, sir.
I am very sure.
Tears welled up in his eyes and a knot came into his throat. He looked down, because Mauryl had said men did not show their tears, and Mauryl had said he was becoming grown. But the tears escaped him and ran down his face, so he wiped at them surreptitiously, as quickly as he could, and tried to pretend they had never happened.
You see, Emuin said to Cefwyn. He is still a child in many respects. Mauryl did not gain everything he wanted in his working.
He had no idea what Emuin meant. He looked to see whether Emuin frowned or not, and in that moment Cefwyn leaned back and folded his arms, regarding him coldly. You will stay here, Cefwyn said sternly, and then cast a glance at Emuin. How much, then, can he comprehend?
Heat mounted to Tristenʼs face. Sir, I do understand you.
Do you? Cefwyn seemed always on his guard, as Idrys seemed to be. Perhaps Cefwyn was angry about his mistakes in manners. He knew he had made them, even in recent moments.
Lad? Emuin said. What do you understand?
I understand most things, sir, but there are some Words that come slowly, so I lose the sense of them. But, he added quickly, lest Emuin think he was more trouble than he possibly wished to undertake, even on Maurylʼs wishes, I am not slow to learn, sir. Mauryl told me otherwise.
Cry you mercy, Cefwyn said in a breath. So you do answer for yourself, sir.
Yes, sir. Yes, mʼlord.
Apprentice to Mauryl?
Apprentice. It came muddling up out of somewhere. I think after a kind, mʼlord, but Mauryl called me a student.
Did he?
Yes, sir.
If I give you liberty of the keep, of all this vast building, will you agree to stay within its walls?
He suddenly realized Cefwyn was asking him to stay. And Emuin had just said that he had done what Mauryl wished. He began to hope for a turn for the better that after all he had not failed Maurylʼs order. Yes, sir, he said, with all attention, all willingness to obey.
You will undertake not to speak to others than myself and Emuin, in any regard.
I will not speak to others, no, sir.
Lad, Emuin interposed, Prince Cefwyn means that restriction for your protection. There are some few people about who are not to be trusted, who would use you very deceitfully, and some would do you harm. You must trust the two of us, and only us.
Not Idrys, sir?
Idrys serves Prince Cefwyn. You may speak to Idrys. He is Lord Commander of the Princeʼs Guard. And you may always tell the servants what you want and what you do not. His Highness means simply that you should not converse with chance strangers you meet in the halls.
Yes, sir. I understand. In Ynefel in all the world before there had been only Mauryl. He had never had to understand there were safe people and dangerous people, but on his way to this new place he had learned that abundantly, and he was glad to know there was a rule he should follow. It would be ever so much easier to please these men and avoid trouble if he had a rule.
Good. Emuin rose and, as Emuin had done before, patted his shoulder in leaving. Cefwyn got up to go, Tristen rose, and Cefwyn delayed to look back, frowning as he studied Tristen from head to foot.
Then Cefwyn shook his head and left, as if he still disappointed Cefwynʼs expectations.
He stood staring at the door after it shut, hands clenched on the back of the chair. He should not, he told himself very firmly, be angry or upset with Cefwyn, who had given him everything he presently had; who had, in fact, given him everything pleasant and good.
Everything but welcome.