:Yes, you did, and none of us wanted to move,:Tylendel mind-chuckled. The garden door may be nice but it’s drafty as the Cave of the Winds. If I had someone to keep me warm- :
:I could get you a dog,:she suggested, and watched his lips twitch as he tried not to smile. :Well, that’s one worry out of the way.:Then said aloud, “All right, Vanyel, History, Literature and Religions it is, and weapons work with Kayla in the morning. She teaches the young highborns, and she’s very good - and if I find out you’ve been avoiding her lessons, I’ll take a strap to you.”
Vanyel flushed at that, but said nothing.
“Donni, Mardic, Tylendel, give Vanyel a hand with his things; we’ll put him in the garden chamber. I had Margret get it ready for him this morning.”
As the three trainees scooped up a pack apiece, and Vanyel bent slowly to take the fourth, Savil added a last admonition.
“Vanyel, what you do with your free time is your own business,” she said, perhaps a bit more harshly than she intended. “But if you get yourself into trouble, and there’s plenty of it to get into around here, don’t expect me to pull you out. I can’t, and I won’t. You’re an imposition. It’s your job to see that you become less of one.”
Vanyel thanked the trainees for their help as they dropped his packs to one side of the door, speaking in a voice that sounded dull and exhausted even in his own ears.
The blond one hesitated for a moment - just long enough to give him what lookedlike a genuine smile, before slipping out the door.
But despite that smile, Vanyel was mortally glad when they didn’t linger. He closed the door behind them, then leaned up against it with his eyes shut. The entire day had been confusing and wearying, an emotional obstacle course that he was just happy to have survived.
The worst of it had been the past couple of hours; first, being shuttled off to Savil’s quarters with Erek and Garth suddenly deciding to act like the jailers that they were, then the interminable wait - then the Interview.
Her words had hurt; he willed them not to. He willed himself not to care.
Then he moved to the middle of his new room and looked around himself, and blinked in surprise.
It was - amazing. Warm, and welcoming, paneled and furnished in goldenoak, and as well-appointed as his mother’s private chamber. Certainly nothinglike his room back at Forst Reach. A huge bed stood against one wall, a bed almost wide enough for threeand covered with a thick, soft red comforter. In the corner, a wardrobe, not a simple chest, to hold his clothing. Beside it a desk and paddedchair - Havens, an instrumentrack on the wall next to the weapons-rack! Next to the window a second, more heavily padded chair, both chairs upholstered in red that matched the comforter. His own fireplace. A small table next to the bed, and a bookcase. But that wasn’t the most amazing thing -
His room had its own private entrance, something that was either a small, glazed door or an enormous window that opened up on a garden.
Idon’t believe this,he thought, staring stupidly through the glass at the sculptured bushes and the glint of setting sun on the river beyond. I just do not believe this. I expected to be in another prison. Instead - He,tried the door Iwindow. It was unlocked, and swung open at a touch.
- instead, I’m given total freedom. I do not believe this!His knees went weak, and he had to sit down on the edge of the bed before he collapsed. The breeze that had been allowed to enter when he opened the window made the light material used as curtains flap lazily.
Gods- he thought, dazedly. Idon’t know what to think. She saves Star- then she humiliates me in front of the trainees. She gives me this room- then she tells me I’m the next thing to worthless and she threatens to beat me herself. What am I supposed to believe ?
He could hear the murmuring of voices beyond the other door, the one the tall blond had closed after himself. They sound so comfortable out there, so easy with each other,he thought wistfully. They were terribly un-alike, the three of them. The one called Donni could have been Erek’s twin sister; they looked to have been cast from the same mold - dark, curly-haired, phlegmatic. The shorter boy, Mardic, had the look of one of Withen’s smallholders; earthy, square, and brown. But the third -
Vanyel was experiencing a strange, unsteady feeling when he thought about the tall, graceful blond called Tylendel. He didn’t know why.
Not even the minstrel Shanse had evoked this depth of - disturbance - in him.
There was a burst of laughter beyond the door. They sound so happy,he thought a bit sadly, before his thoughts darkened. They’re probably laughing at me.
He clenched his teeth. Damn it, I don’t care, Iwon’t care. I don’t need their approval.
He closed his walls a little tighter about himself, and began the mundane task of settling himself into his new home. And tried not to feel himself left on the outside, telling himself over and over again that nothing mattered.
The slender girl Vanyel’s aunt had called “Donni” looked askance at all the padding and armor Vanyel picked off his armor-stand and weapons-rack. “Are you really taking all that?” she asked, hazel eyes rather wide with surprise.
He nodded shortly.
She shook her head in disbelief, her tight, sable curls scarcely moving. “I can’t see why you want all thatstuff, but I guess it’s your back. Come on.”
There’d been no one in the suite when Vanyel woke, but there hadbeen cider, bread and butter, cheese, and fruit waiting on a sideboard in the central room. He had figured that was supposed to be breakfast, seeing that someone- or several someones, more like - had already made hearty inroads on the food. He had helped himself, then found a servant to show him the way to the bathing-room and the privies, and cleaned himself up.
He’d pulled on some of his oldest and shabbiest clothing in anticipation of getting’ them well-grimed at the coming weaponry-lesson. He was back in his own room and in a very somber mood, sitting on the floor while putting some new leather lacings on his practice armor, when Donni came hunting him.
He gathered up his things and followed one step behind her out through his garden door and into the sunlit, fragrant garden, trying not to let any apprehension seep into his cool shell. She took him on a circuitous path that led from his own garden door, past several ornamental grottoes and fish ponds, down to a graveled pathway that followed the course of the river.
They trudged past what looked like a stable, except that the stalls had no doors on them, and past a smaller building beside it. Then the path took an abrupt turn to the right, ending at a gate in a high wooden fence. By now Vanyel’s arms were getting more than a little tired; he was hot, and sweating, and he hoped that this was at least close to their goal.
But no; the seemingly placid trainee flashed him what mighthave been a sympathetic grin, and opened the gate, motioning for Vanyel to go through.
“There,” she said, pointing across what seemed to be an expanse of carefully manicured lawn as wide as the legended Dhorisha Plains. At the other end of the lawn was a plain, rawly new wooden building with high clerestory windows.
“That’s the salle,” she told him. “That’s where we’re going. They just built it last year so that we could practice year ‘round.” She giggled. “I think they got tired of the trainees having bouts in the hallways when it rained or snowed!”
Vanyel just nodded, determined to show no symptoms of his weariness. She set off across the grass with a stride so brisk he had to really push himself to keep up with her. It was all he could do to keep from panting with effort by the time they actually reached the building, and his side was in agony when she slowed down enough to open the door for him.