Heritage and Exile by Marion Zimmer Bradley

was walking along the room, making some kind of final check. At the far end of the room was an open space with a couple of heavy benches and a much-scarred wooden table. There was an open fireplace, but no fire was burning at present. The windows were high and narrow, unglazed, covered with slatted wood shutters, which could be closed in the worst weather at the price of shutting out most of the light. The cadet officer said, “Each of you will be sent for some time today and tested by an arms-master.” He saw Regis sitting on the end of his bed and walked down the row of beds to him.
    â€œYou came in late. Did anyone give you a copy of the arms-manual?”
    â€œNo, sir.”
    The officer gave him a battered booklet. “I heard you were educated at Nevarsin; I suppose you can read. Any questions?”
    â€œI didn’t—my grandfather didn’t—no one sent my things down. May I send for them?”
    The older lad said, not unkindly, “There’s no one to fetch and carry for you down here, cadet. Tomorrow after dinner you’ll have some off-duty time and you can go and fetch what you need for yourself. Meanwhile, you’ll just have to make out with the clothes on your back.” He looked Regis over, and Regis imagined a veiled sneer at the elaborate garments he had put on to present himself to his grandfather this morning. “You’re the nameless wonder, aren’t you? Remembered your name yet?”
    â€œCadet Hastur, sir,” Regis said, his face burning again, and the officer nodded, said, “Very good, cadet,” and went away.
    And that was obviously why they did it, Regis thought. Probably nobody ever forgot twice.
    Danilo, who had been listening, said, “Didn’t anyone tell you to bring down everything you’d need the night before? That’s why Lord Alton sent me down early.”
    â€œNo, no one told me.” He wished he had thought to ask Lew, while they could speak together as friends and not as cadet and commander, what he would need in barracks.
    Danilo said diffidently, “Those are your best clothes, aren’t they? I could lend you an ordinary shirt to put on; you’re about my size.”
    â€œThank you, Dani. I’d be grateful. This outfit isn’t very suitable, is it?”
    Danilo, who was kneeling in front of his wooden chest, brought out a clean but very shabby linen shirt, much patched around the elbows. Regis pulled off the dyed-leather tunic and the fine frilled shirt under it and slid into the patched one. It was a little large. Danilo apologized.
    â€œIt’s big for me too. It used to belong to Lew—Captain Alton, I mean. Lord Kennard gave me some of his outgrown clothes, so that I’d have a decent outfit for the cadets. He gave me a good horse too. He’s been very kind to me.”
    Regis laughed. “I used to wear Lew’s outgrown clothes the years I was there. I kept growing out of mine, and with the fire-watch called every few days, no one had time to make me any new ones or send to town.” He laced up the cords at the neck. Danilo said, “It’s hard to imagine you wearing outgrown clothes.”
    â€œI didn’t mind wearing Lew’s. I hated wearing my sister’s outgrown nightgowns, though. Her governess taught her needlework by having her cut them down to size for me. Whenever she was cross about it, she used to pinch or prick me with her pins while she was trying them on. She’s never liked sewing.” He thought of his sister as he had last seen her, heavy-footed, swollen in pregnancy. Poor Javanne. She was caught too, with nothing ahead of her except bearing children for the house of Hastur.
    â€œRegis, is something wrong?”
    Regis was startled at Danilo’s look of concern. “Not really. I was thinking of my sister, wondering if her child had been born.”
    Danilo said gently, “I’m sure they’d have sent word if