The Soldier Son Trilogy Bundle Page 58

  I don’t think Spink picked up on what we were discussing. “Well, all of Dark Evening was amazing!” Spink agreed, surprising me with his enthusiasm. He was in such a good mood that I could scarcely stand to look at him. It was as if he’d forgotten entirely about the culling that still hung over our heads. He went on, “Never in my life have I seen anything like it. I didn’t think there were that many people in the entire world; well, you know what I mean. I’ve never seen such a crowd, or tasted such amazing food. I saw this woman, and she was dressed only in paper chains! The man with her was dressed like a wild man; he only wore strings with leaves attached to them. They were dancing so wildly, I was shocked! And, oh, did you go to the circus? Did you see the tiger tamer, with his big cats jumping through hoops of flame? And then, the sideshow…that poor little girl with flippers instead of arms. Oh, and while I was there, the Specks broke their usual custom and did the Dust Dance! It was amazing! The man in charge of them said it had never been seen this far west before! And—”

  “They did it when I was there, too.” Light suddenly dawned in my mind. “It was all a trick, Spink. He probably always says they never do it, and they probably do it at every show. That way he makes it seem more special.”

  “Oh.” Spink looked deflated.

  Oron, across the table from us, nodded sagely. “Most of the acts in that tent were a sham, I’d bet.”

  “I talked to the fat man, and he claimed he’d once been a cavalla lieutenant. Can you believe that?” I asked them.

  Oron gave a huff of amusement. “Right. He’d break a horse’s back.”

  Spink looked so crestfallen, I almost wished I’d kept my knowledge to myself. He shamed me further by saying quietly, “He said the same thing to me and I felt sorry for him. We gave him some money.”

  “Gullible country boys!” Oron exclaimed, and then groaned and put a hand to his belly. “Maybe I’m not feeling as chipper as I thought. I’m back to bed, lads.”

  He left the table, and Spink and I followed him a short time later. Spink didn’t look well, and I suspected I was as pale as he was. I followed him back to Carneston House, where we found most of our fellows still abed or moving sluggishly about. I sat down and wrote a long letter to my uncle. I’d begun a second to my father, confiding my fears of being culled, when Sergeant Rufet himself entered our common room. He seldom ventured upstairs outside of inspection times, so all of us came immediately to our feet. His face was grave as he said, “Cadet Burvelle, come with me. You are to report to Colonel Stiet immediately.”

  I quickly gave my letter to Spink to post and fetched my coat. Rufet was kind enough to give me a moment to smooth my hair and straighten my uniform. I followed him down the stairs, and then was shocked when he accompanied me out the door. “I know the way there, Sergeant,” I said in some confusion.

  “Orders. I’m to escort you there, Cadet.”

  He sounded as if his head were just as sore as my fellow cadets’, and so I walked beside him in silence and dread. I knew this could not bode well for me. Rufet asked the colonel’s adjutant to admit me. For a change, I saw no sign at all of Caulder. When the inner door of Colonel Stiet’s office opened, Sergeant Rufet remained outside it. It closed behind me.

  The room seemed dim after the brightness of the cold winter day. Despite the holiday, Colonel Stiet was in full uniform and seated at his desk. He stared at me, motionless, as I crossed the room. His eyes looked tired and the lines in his face deeper than I recalled them. I walked in the door, stood at attention before his desk, and “Cadet Burvelle, reporting as ordered, sir,” I said.

  He looked up at me, cold anger in his eyes. He had been writing something when I came in. Now, without a word to me, he went back to it. He finished it, signed it with a flourish, and then, as he poured drying sand over the ink, said, “My son could have died last night, Cadet Burvelle. Did you know that?”

  I stood very still for a moment. Then I answered honestly, “Only when Dr. Amicas told me about it, sir. Then I did precisely as he told me.” I wanted to ask if Caulder was all right today, but dared not.

  “And prior to that, Cadet? What did you do prior to meeting with the doctor?”

  A stillness was growing inside of me; I had a sense that everything depended on this answer. Honesty was all I had. “I tried to keep him awake, sir. He was very nearly unconscious when I found him, and I feared that if he were left passed out at the Great Square, he might freeze to death or be trodden on. So I carried him from the square to the cabstand and brought him home.”

  “So I’ve heard. From both the doctor and my servants. And before that, Cadet Burvelle? What did you do before that? Did you attempt to keep him from drinking so much? Did you think, perhaps, that it was unwise to urge a boy of Caulder’s years to consume an entire bottle of rotgut liquor?”

  “Sir, that was not my doing!”

  “That isn’t what I asked you!” the colonel shouted at me. “Answer my question! Would you have done the same thing to another boy of his years? Don’t you think that pouring liquor down a lad is a poor revenge for childish thoughtlessness?”

  I stared at him, unable to comprehend what I was being accused of. My silence seemed to feed his fury. “He’s a boy, Cadet Burvelle. Still just a boy, prone to a boy’s mischief. He is my son, but even I will admit that he does not have the best judgment. But what do you expect of a growing boy? Whatever grudge you imagine you have against him, it isn’t worth his life. You’re older than he is, and a cavalla cadet. He looked up to you, wanted to be like you, and trusted you blindly! And you betrayed that innocent, boyish trust! For what? Revenge for some minor prank on your fat friend? You went too far! Here!” He suddenly snatched up the paper he had been writing on and thrust it at me. “Those are your discharge papers. You are to be gone from the Academy before classes resume. Pack yourself up and get out of here. There is no room at the King’s Cavalla Academy for men like you.”

  “I’ve been culled,” I said dully. I’d been expecting it. I hadn’t expected to be the first officially sent packing.

  “No! That would be too good for you. You’ve been dishonorably discharged from this Academy. I trust you know what that means. I intend that you never hold a position of power over any man. You’ve shown that you are not worthy of it, nor to be trusted with it. Take your discharge and go!”

  My head was reeling. I did know, very well, what a dishonorable discharge from the Academy meant. It would disqualify me from all military service. I would not be allowed to enlist even as a foot soldier. Oh, there were romantic tales of young men changing their names and enlisting to prove they had reformed themselves, and it was rumored that some of the civilian scouts who served the military in the more dismal regions were actually dishonorably discharged soldiers. But I knew what the discharge would mean for me. It meant no career, ever. I would go back to my brother’s holdings, and slink about them to the end of my days, a useless son. My father’s line would have to wait an extra generation before my brother’s second son, if there was one, could redeem our honor. I felt physically ill. I’d done a good deed and lost my future. Too late now to go to Captain Maw and tell him I’d be a scout. Too late for everything except disgrace.

  I had nothing left to lose. I disobeyed my commander. I did not take the papers he was waving at me, but spoke, unbidden.

  “Sir, I fear you have been misinformed about what happened last night. I did not take Young Caulder to Dark Evening. I did not even know he was there until I saw him in the company of some other cadets. I did not give him drink. All I did was to go to him after he had drunk a full bottle of liquor and passed out, and see that he got safely home. I swear to you, sir, on my honor, that I had nothing to do with your son’s downfall.”

  I felt as if my body were literally burning with my fervor. I know I swayed on my feet and prayed I would not disgrace myself by falling. Colonel Stiet looked at me in disbelief. “Must you compound your failures by lying about them? Do you think my son is unconsciou
s still? Do you think I don’t know everything? He has confessed all to me, Burvelle. All. You were the one who bought the liquor and put it in his hands. You and your friends urged him to drink, even when he told you he had had enough. The others will be discharged as well; they were to be culled anyway.” He looked down at the paper he still gripped in his hand. “I only wish there were something more severe than a dishonorable discharge that I could inflict on you. I will be notifying your uncle. By this afternoon’s mail, he will know of how you have shamed his name.”

  “I didn’t do it,” I said, but my words sounded feeble and uncertain. My guts seemed to squirm inside me and I felt a tearing cramp in my side. I could not help myself. I clutched at my belly. “Sir, I’m feeling ill. Permission to leave, sir.”

  “You have it. Take your papers with you. I never want to see you in this office again.”

  He thrust the paper into my slackened hands. I held it against my complaining stomach as I staggered from the room. In the outer office, the colonel’s secretary stared at me as I passed him by without a word. I hastened out the door and down the steps. Sergeant Rufet was waiting for me, his face impassive. I began a quick march back to the dormitory, but after a few steps I faltered. A wave of vertigo swept over me and I halted, swaying on my feet.

  Sergeant Rufet spoke in a low voice. “That must have been some dressing-down. Taking it hard, I see. Buck up, Cadet. Be a man.”

  Be a man. Stupid, useless advice. “Yes, Sergeant.” I kept walking. Blackness kept trying to close in from the edges of my vision. I would not faint. Never before had foul news had such a profound physical effect on me. My belly boiled with acid and my head spun. I focused my eyes on the path and staggered on.

  “So. How many demerits will you be marching off?” he asked. His tone was genial, as if to make light of whatever had befallen me, but I thought there was an edge of concern in it, too.

  I could scarcely find breath to answer. “I won’t be marching at all,” I managed, ashamed of how my voice hitched on the words. “I’ve been dishonorably discharged. They’re sending me home in disgrace. I’ll never be a soldier, let alone an officer.”

  The sergeant halted in surprise. I think he thought I would stop too, but I kept on walking. I feared I would collapse if I did not. One foot in front of the other. He caught up with me and asked me in a toneless voice, “What did you do, Cadet, to merit that?”

  “Nothing. It’s what Caulder accused me of doing. He said I’m the one who got him drunk at Dark Evening. I didn’t. I was just the one who dragged him home.” When the sergeant said nothing, I added bitterly, “His old noble friends are the ones who took him to town and got him drunk. They wanted him to pass out so they could get into a whorehouse without him. I heard them talking about it. Those old noble bastards left him to freeze on the ground. I picked him up, I obeyed the doctor’s order, I dragged him home, and I’m the one to be kicked out. All because I’m a new noble’s son.”

  “Caulder.” The sergeant growled the word like it was a curse. Then he added, in a low, vicious voice, “New noble, old noble, that’s all I hear, and not a damn bit of difference do I see between the lot of you. Any noble’s son is the same to me, born to lord it over me. Damn lot of you wet behind the ears still, but in three years you’ll be polishing your lieutenant’s bars while I’m still riding a damn desk and babysitting youngsters.”

  A fresh wave of misery washed over me. In all the times I’d walked past the sergeant’s desk, I’d never stopped to wonder what he thought of us. I glanced over at him. There he was, a man grown, years of service behind him, and in two years at the Academy, I’d outrank him. That injustice suddenly seemed as great as what had just befallen me. I drew a breath against the misery that had swollen my throat shut and tried to speak.

  “Shut up, Cadet,” he said coldly before I could get a word out. “I’m not any kind of a noble’s son, but I know an injustice when I see it. Listen. Listen to me. Don’t say a damn word about that discharge. Fold it up and shove it in your pocket. And don’t do a damn thing until someone commands you to do it. Shut up and sit tight. Caulder’s been a thorn in my flesh since he and his old man got here. Maybe it’s time I had a word with that pup, and let him know that I know what’s what with his trotting about here and there. I see a damn sight more than I say. Maybe it’s time I put a word in his ear about what I know. Maybe he’ll say something to his father to make him change his mind. But the fewer people the colonel has to explain that change to, the easier it will be for him to do it. So you, you just lie low and don’t do anything for a while. Do you understand me, boy?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said shakily. I should have felt better for his words of support. Instead I only felt fainter. “Thank you, sir.”

  “You don’t call a sergeant ‘sir,’ ” he pointed out sourly.

  I don’t know how I made the rest of that long march back to Carneston House. He left me at the door and went, with a heavy sigh, to sit behind his desk. I still clutched my discharge paper in my hand. I started up the stairs. They had never seemed so steep or so long. Sternly, I ordered my body to behave itself and tried to get a grip on myself. On the first landing I paused to catch my breath. Sweat was pouring down my back and ribs. I crumpled up the paper I didn’t have the energy to fold, and thrust it into my pocket.

  I have climbed cliffs that were less demanding than those remaining flights of stairs. When I reached our rooms at last, I stumbled past Spink sitting at our study table. “You look awful!” he greeted me worriedly. “What happened?”

  “I’m sick,” I said, and no more than that. I stumbled to our room, let my coat fall to the floor, kicked off my boots and lay on my bunk facedown. I’d never felt so wretched in my life. Yesterday, I’d learned that I’d likely be culled, and it had seemed the worst possible fate. Today, I knew how foolish I’d been. Culled, I could have been a ranker or a scout. At least I’d been left a chance to prove myself a proper soldier son. Dishonored, I was nothing except an embarrassment to my family. My guts squeezed inside me. I only knew that Spink had followed me into the room when he spoke.

  “You’re not the only one sick. Trist is down bad, with something a lot worse than a hangover. Oron went to fetch the doctor. And Natred left an hour ago to go to the infirmary. What did you eat at Dark Evening? Natred said he thought he got some bad meat.”

  “Leave me alone, Spink. I’m just sick.” I wanted desperately to confide in him about what had just happened, but didn’t even have the energy to unfold the story. Besides, the sergeant had told me to say nothing. Lacking any better source of advice, I’d take his. I tried to take slow, calming breaths and regain some sort of control over myself. Nausea surged in my gut. I swallowed and closed my eyes.

  I don’t know how much time passed before I admitted to myself that I truly was ill. It seemed fitting that I should be as physically miserable as I was mentally. I could hear Trist retching across the hall. I dozed off, and woke to a hand on my brow. When I turned over, Dr. Amicas was looking down at me. “This one, too,” he said tersely to someone. “What is his name?”

  “Nevare Burvelle,” I heard Spink say dully. A pen scratched on paper.

  When he saw my eyes were open, the doctor demanded, “Tell me everything you ate and drank at Dark Evening. Don’t leave anything out.”

  “I didn’t give the liquor to Caulder,” I said desperately. “All I did was bring him home. Like you told me to. He was passed out on the ground when I found him.”

  Dr. Amicas stooped and peered into my face. “Oh. So that was you last night, was it? You still owe me some cab fare, Cadet, but we’ll let it pass for now. I saw Caulder early this morning. Worst case of alcohol poisoning I’ve ever seen in a boy that young. But he’ll live. He just won’t enjoy it for a while. Now. What did you eat and drink?”

  I tried to remember. “A potato. Some meat on a stick. Something else. Oh. Chestnuts. I had chestnuts.”

  “And to drink?”

  “Nothing.” />
  “You won’t be in trouble for it, Cadet. I just need to know. What did you drink?”

  I was getting very tired of people thinking I was a liar. But instead of getting angry, I felt weepy. I ached all over. “Nothing,” I said again, past the lump in my throat. “I didn’t drink anything. And Caulder lied about me.”

  “Caulder lies about a great many things,” the doctor observed, as if that shouldn’t surprise me. “Can you get yourself undressed and into bed, Cadet? Or do you need help?”

  I groped at my chest, surprised to find that I was still dressed. When I began to fumble at my buttons, the doctor nodded as if satisfied. I heard someone gag and then begin to retch again. It sounded close by. The doctor scowled and spoke sternly, and this time I realized he had an assistant standing at his elbow. “And there’s another one. I want this whole floor quarantined. No. I want the entire hall quarantined. Go downstairs immediately and tell Sergeant Rufet to post a yellow flag by the door. No one comes in or out.”

  I think the assistant was happy to leave judging by how quickly he fled. I sat up to take off my boots and the room spun around me. Nate and Kort were both lying on their bunks. Nate was hanging, head down, over the edge of his mattress, retching into a basin on the floor. Kort was motionless. A frightened-looking Spink was standing near the window, his arms crossed on his chest. Doggedly, I went to work at getting my shirt off my arms.

  “Dr. Amicas! What are you doing here? I sent for you an hour ago!”

  I flinched at Colonel Stiet’s voice. As he advanced into the room, his boot heels clacking on our floor, I wondered if it was all a dream. The colonel looked both distraught and furious. His face was red with exertion. Plainly he had hurried up the stairs. The doctor spoke flatly. “Colonel, remove yourself immediately from this building, or risk being quarantined here with me and these cadets. We’ve a grave situation here, one that I will not approach with half-measures. All of Old Thares is at risk.”

  “I’ve a grave situation of my own, Doctor. Caulder is ill, seriously ill. I sent my first messenger for you more than an hour ago. He came back to say only that you were ‘busy.’ When I came to the infirmary to fetch you myself, they told me you were at Carneston House. I find you up here, mollycoddling hungover cadets while my boy burns with fever. That is not acceptable, sir. Not acceptable at all!”