Valdemar 06 - [Exile 01] - Exile’s Honor by Mercedes Lackey Page B

with some content. “Not so different after all, in some things, at least.”
    â€œNo,” Alberich agreed.
    â€œRight. I have a gaggle of youngsters coming in a moment. You get this room arranged to your liking, then come out and give me a hand with ’em. No time like the present to start.” Once again, Dethor was all brisk business, and as he limped out, Alberich made haste to follow his orders.
    He made up the bed with the linens and blankets he found in the chest, and put his things away. Not that he had a great deal to put away—those uniforms, light ones for summer, heavier materials for winter, a cloak—some toiletries, which he was pleased enough to see. He took the opportunity to give his short-cut hair a good combing, thinking as he did so that he probably ought to let it grow out now. Longer hair seemed to be the fashion in Valdemar, and there was no use in looking more conspicuous than he already did.
    :You’ve decided to stay.: Kantor exuded satisfaction.
    :Yes.: He knew he had made up his mind that the so-called “trial” was over, probably the instant that he realized Dethor wanted him to train as a replacement Weaponsmaster. Maybe that was all it had really taken, the knowledge that they weren’t going to make work for him, and fit him in somehow, but that there already was a place here that was crying out for someone like him. :Yes,: he repeated. :It seems I’m needed.:
    Which was by no means a bad thing. Not at all.

4
    J ADUS returned about noon, as Alberich and Dethor were picking up the discarded bits of armor and practice weapons in the salle and putting things away. With Jadus was a young man in yet another sort of uniform—this time including a tabard with the Valdemar winged horse on it belted on over his clothing. A servant? It seemed so, since the fellow was carrying a set of stacked metal containers that fitted neatly into a common woven-straw cover. Jadus and Dethor led the young man through the door into the living quarters, while Alberich put the last few bits in a cupboard and followed them.
    The young man opened up the straw cover and took out the metal containers one by one, and opened them in turn to disclose the components of their meal, kept hot. Clever, that; Alberich admired the arrangement. Certainly the Collegium was seeing to it that Dethor didn’t suffer for taking his meals away from the rest.
    By Alberich’s standards of camp cookery, it was a sumptuous meal. All of it was laid out in the sitting room, with cutlery and plates that Dethor produced out of a cupboard that Alberich hadn’t noticed until Dethor opened it. The servant departed, but Jadus did not; evidently he intended to share their meal. There were four different dishes, plus bread and butter; Alberich took an equal portion of each. Something like a stew, some sliced vegetable, beans, and what appeared to be baked apples. The flavors were good—when in the hands of the Healers, he’d first noticed that the food was good—but not quite familiar. The spices were all different; flavors he was used to were missing, new ones added. And these people didn’t seem to use as much spice as Karsites did. It was good but—not exactly right. Even the bread was lighter in taste, texture and color than Karsite bread, and not as chewy. As much as the language, the food brought it home to him that he was on alien soil.
    â€œYour classes won’t start for another three days, Alberich,” Jadus said, when the edge had been taken off Alberich’s hunger. “Dethor, up at the Collegium we’ve decided that you should establish a schedule with Alberich first, and we’ll work his classes in around that.” The Herald sighed gustily. “At the moment, there are so many classes he will need to take, it won’t be a problem to work a schedule of three in around whatever you set him up for.”
    Dethor nodded, and refilled all their