jumping-tumble-of-doom. Wanna see?”
Alec stiffened as the equally wet dog rubbed against his side, sniffing his jacket and whining. “What if you go bathe Khavi instead?”
It was a worthy effort, but destined for failure. Diam cocked his head in Alec’s direction, smiled, and sprawled himself in front of the fire. “No, we like it here,” he announced. And fell asleep.
* * *
“You’ll lose a student after midyear exams,” Seaborn said, his knee testing a chair in Savoy’s quarters. “Who do you think?”
“Tanil or Renee.”
But you knew that before you asked.
Savoy watched his friend pry off the chair cushion and smack it, eliciting a dull thud. “Quit destroying my furniture.”
“I think someone put a board inside the pillow.”
“Yes. Me. Put it back.”
“Life here too soft for you?”
Savoy perched himself atop his desk. His friend didn’t come to speak of furniture. He came to talk about the only topic he cared about these days. Cadets. “Say it, Connor. Or don’t say it. Make up your mind.”
Replacing the cushion, Seaborn sat down, his eyes inspecting the floor. “I care little for Tanil’s fate, but Renee . . . She’s got the mind to make a good Servant. It would upset me to lose her. Speak with her about her academic efforts. Your words would do what mine cannot.”
And Cory, the Seventh’s sergeant, could speak on virtue next. “Connor, you wrote half my papers.”
“Which makes me a dangerous evaluator.”
“I’m a fighter, Connor. My job is to keep her alive, not to worry about her grammar.”
“You are a teacher! Your job is to steer her from trouble and help her graduate. Are your morning sword games accomplishing that?”
“If she deigns to actually use the moves I teach her, they may guard her life.” Savoy crossed his arms. “Whether she does, or how she balances time, is her decision.”
“A teacher ensures his students make the right one, with books as much as with swords.” Seaborn shook his head. “You work with her because you’re bored, Korish. But you aren’t here for you, and you aren’t here to be her friend. Kids make choices based on your guidance. When you get it wrong, they pay the consequences. Stop this before you lead her into trouble.”
“She is sixteen, not six, Connor.”
“Wake up, Korish! With your looks and status, you could tell a sixteen-year-old girl to drink poison, and she’ll want to.” He drew a breath. “You don’t even see how she looks at you, do you?”
“Bloody gods, listen to yourself.” Savoy shook his head. This was the senior cadets’ last Academy year, before their two-year field trials. By nineteen they’d take the Servant’s Oath and make decisions in the Crown’s name. They’d hold others’ lives in their hands. And Connor feared granting them control of their own schedule. “Have you even ventured out of Atham in the past five years?” Savoy asked. “There is a world out there, you may have failed to notice. One where people must make their own decisions of what to eat for breakfast. And then deal with the consequences.”
Connor sat down and laced his fingers together. He spoke with frustrating calm, as if addressing a magistrate in court instead of a friend in a barracks. “The Seventh, if I recall, primarily runs secret, highly tactical missions in hostile territories. Do you believe that platform gives you the full worldview you speak of? Do you even know the real purpose behind half your assignments?” His hands opened. “So yes, Korish, I seldom leave Atham, and I ride in a wagon when I do go. But I work with the law, which touches more people than the edge of your sword ever can. And I work with cadets, who will likewise touch others.”
Savoy stared at the invisible wall of words that his friend erected between them. “You tangle in abstracts, Connor. I’m a fighter.”
Connor raised his brows. “Abstracts? Like laws that treat children as hardened criminals?” His
Alec stiffened as the equally wet dog rubbed against his side, sniffing his jacket and whining. “What if you go bathe Khavi instead?”
It was a worthy effort, but destined for failure. Diam cocked his head in Alec’s direction, smiled, and sprawled himself in front of the fire. “No, we like it here,” he announced. And fell asleep.
* * *
“You’ll lose a student after midyear exams,” Seaborn said, his knee testing a chair in Savoy’s quarters. “Who do you think?”
“Tanil or Renee.”
But you knew that before you asked.
Savoy watched his friend pry off the chair cushion and smack it, eliciting a dull thud. “Quit destroying my furniture.”
“I think someone put a board inside the pillow.”
“Yes. Me. Put it back.”
“Life here too soft for you?”
Savoy perched himself atop his desk. His friend didn’t come to speak of furniture. He came to talk about the only topic he cared about these days. Cadets. “Say it, Connor. Or don’t say it. Make up your mind.”
Replacing the cushion, Seaborn sat down, his eyes inspecting the floor. “I care little for Tanil’s fate, but Renee . . . She’s got the mind to make a good Servant. It would upset me to lose her. Speak with her about her academic efforts. Your words would do what mine cannot.”
And Cory, the Seventh’s sergeant, could speak on virtue next. “Connor, you wrote half my papers.”
“Which makes me a dangerous evaluator.”
“I’m a fighter, Connor. My job is to keep her alive, not to worry about her grammar.”
“You are a teacher! Your job is to steer her from trouble and help her graduate. Are your morning sword games accomplishing that?”
“If she deigns to actually use the moves I teach her, they may guard her life.” Savoy crossed his arms. “Whether she does, or how she balances time, is her decision.”
“A teacher ensures his students make the right one, with books as much as with swords.” Seaborn shook his head. “You work with her because you’re bored, Korish. But you aren’t here for you, and you aren’t here to be her friend. Kids make choices based on your guidance. When you get it wrong, they pay the consequences. Stop this before you lead her into trouble.”
“She is sixteen, not six, Connor.”
“Wake up, Korish! With your looks and status, you could tell a sixteen-year-old girl to drink poison, and she’ll want to.” He drew a breath. “You don’t even see how she looks at you, do you?”
“Bloody gods, listen to yourself.” Savoy shook his head. This was the senior cadets’ last Academy year, before their two-year field trials. By nineteen they’d take the Servant’s Oath and make decisions in the Crown’s name. They’d hold others’ lives in their hands. And Connor feared granting them control of their own schedule. “Have you even ventured out of Atham in the past five years?” Savoy asked. “There is a world out there, you may have failed to notice. One where people must make their own decisions of what to eat for breakfast. And then deal with the consequences.”
Connor sat down and laced his fingers together. He spoke with frustrating calm, as if addressing a magistrate in court instead of a friend in a barracks. “The Seventh, if I recall, primarily runs secret, highly tactical missions in hostile territories. Do you believe that platform gives you the full worldview you speak of? Do you even know the real purpose behind half your assignments?” His hands opened. “So yes, Korish, I seldom leave Atham, and I ride in a wagon when I do go. But I work with the law, which touches more people than the edge of your sword ever can. And I work with cadets, who will likewise touch others.”
Savoy stared at the invisible wall of words that his friend erected between them. “You tangle in abstracts, Connor. I’m a fighter.”
Connor raised his brows. “Abstracts? Like laws that treat children as hardened criminals?” His
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