But by the time Tarma's pupils cleaned up, the mage-students were also finished for the day, and everyone met together for supper and study or amusement afterward.
Altogether, there were ten pupils in Tarma's school, a round dozen in Keth's, and two that were pure scholars, being taught by Jadrek. One of those was Kira's twin Merili, the other a "charity student" from their own village, a young boy who lived to learn. Jadrek intended to recommend him as Rethwellan Archivist-in-training when he finished with the child, the current Archivist having no wife or children to follow him. Of Kethry's pupils, one was her own son Jadrek, though it was likely he'd employ his knowledge as a Shin'a'in shaman rather than a White Winds mage -- the shamans being the only Shin'a'in permitted to use magic. Only Jadrie was in Tarma's group; the twins Lyan and Laryn were not particularly interested in fighting, and were learning only the basics every Shin'a'in should know. Like Jadrie, they had decided early that they wanted the Clan and the Plains, but they were completely horse-mad. On their own initiative, during the summer that followed the spring that Jadrie had tamed her first horse, they had secretly picked a pair of two-year-olds out of the Tale'sedrin herds and tamed them without any help at all. The Liha'irden horse-herders had seen them at it, of course, but since they weren't doing anything wrong, they were allowed to carry out their plan. Tarma privately suspected that the herders were very proud of the audacious young twins, though if they'd begun to ruin the horses, they'd have been punished for their audacity.
It was too soon to tell what the latest baby, Jendar, was going to rum out to be like -- Tarma's only clue was that he shack by his mother's side during every lesson, and only toddled off when she turned her hands to anything other than magic.
But with twenty-seven children of various ages crowded around the supper table, the evening meal was a noisy and amusing affair. No rules of silence were invoked, and the children were allowed to talk about anything they pleased and for this one meal, eat or not eat whatever they liked. At the beginning of each season, there were always a few bellyaches when students stuffed themselves with sweets -- one surfeit usually cured them of further foolishness, especially when the next day brought no sympathy, and no break from lessons. The only iron-clad rule was that there were to be no food fights. Tarma and Kethry had both gone without often enough that the idea of wasted food was intolerable. The one and only time that rule had been challenged, Kethry's combined solution and punishment had been swift and effective. The next day, she had scryed out a group of hungry shepherd-children in the hills. When everyone gathered for breakfast, and the savory meal was laid out on the sideboard -- when mouths were watering and appetites roused -- she transported every bit of that hot, tantalizing meal to those children, and presented the school with what the children would have eaten. Stale, hard bread and cheese rinds came as quite a shock to pampered children of noble houses. She did the same at lunch. At dinner, she made it very clear that she was prepared to continue sending their food "to children who appreciated it" if there was ever a repetition of the incident. The story had been passed to every new student since then, by word of mouth, and Tarma had no doubt that it had grown in the telling. It certainly guaranteed that there were no food fights again.
She noticed the three older boys had unbent and were treating Jadrie and Kira more as their equals than usual. This meant, of course, that instead of being ignored, the girls came in for teasing and surreptitious prodding and poking. For a while, they seemed to enjoy it, but when the sweet was served, they were clearly beginning to lose their tempers. She debated interfering, but Merili beat her to it.
"Weren't there supposed to be some gentlemen at this table, besides our teachers?" she asked Tarma pointedly, after a quick flash of a frown at Larsh.
"I thought so, but I haven't seen any," Tarma replied, hiding her amusement.
"That's too bad," Merili said with a dignity that was so funny Tarma nearly spoiled everything for her by laughing. "If there had been gentlemen here, I was going to ask them to come riding with me after dinner." She sighed and looked only at Tarma. "Well, if any gentlemen appear, the invitation will still be there."
The three older boys secretly worshipped their "Little Princess," and that put a stop to the tormenting. All through dessert, they remained on their best behavior, much to the relief of the other two girls. None of them wanted to fall under the Royal Disfavor, for Merili was as good-natured as she was pretty, and never minded helping when one of Jadrek's lessons proved difficult to conquer, or when something needed mending or embellishing.
As usual, the children inhaled their sweets; before many moments had passed, they had all scattered to the four winds to ride, continue last night's work on a pair of snow forts, or run off the last of their energy in games, until a candlemark before bathtime, when they would be herded to the library for study. That left the adults alone except for the baby, and they looked at each other, heaved a sigh of relief, and laughed.
"Does it get noisier every year, or is it my imagination?" Jadrek asked, prying Jendar's chubby fingers off the handle of a knife, and giving the boy his heavy silver bracelet to play with instead.
"Of course it gets noisier every year; there are more children every year," Ikan Dryvale replied, wriggling his finger in his ear as if to clear his hearing. "Even if you didn't take more students, Kethry would be providing the increase herself!"
"Oh, come now!" Kethry laughed. "You make me sound like a brood-hen!"
"I overheard you delivering the Lecture to the boys, Tarma," Justin interjected. "How did they take it?"
"We'll have them all back after Midwinter," she was able to tell him, with great satisfaction. "We'll still have to pound sense into their heads, but we aren't going to be the enemy anymore."
"Oh, really?" Ikan's eyebrows arched. "I wasn't all that sure of young Hesten. There's a strong streak of rebellion in that one."
"There always is in the smart ones," Justin pointed out, refilling his cup. "It was Belton I wasn't certain of. He hasn't completely trusted us since the day he arrived."
"Warrl says he does now," Tarma replied. Justin glanced over to the fireside, where Warrl was finishing his own dinner, and the kyree looked up and nodded in confirmation.
"Well, that's a relief," was all Justin said, and the conversation turned to other topics and other students.
As the servants finished clearing the table, leaving only the pitchers of drink, Tarma sat back in her chair at the foot of the table and pondered her "family" with a feeling of complete contentment.
Justin looked far more prosperous than he had in the old days; there were threads of gray in his blond hair, and his face was craggier, but other than that he carried his age lightly. That might have been due to Estrel, his wife, who sat beside him -- their baby Kethren was in the nursery asleep, where Jendar would be shortly. Estrel looked like what she was, a fresh-faced young shepherdess of a mere seventeen. What didn't show on the surface was a vast knowledge of herb-healing and midwifery, a very shrewd and clever mind, and an utter devotion to Justin. She first saw Justin at the school, where she and the other village younglings were taking short lessons in reading, writing, and figuring from Jadrek, who gave those lessons gratis. She had also been apprenticed to the village midwife, and had naturally come into close contact with Kethry.