The Apogian War

Chapter 40

At this season the sun was already up when the rising bell rang in barracks. Little runnels of snow were melting in the court as they crossed the cobblestones toward the mess hall. Regis was still sleepy in spite of the icy water he had splashed on his face. He felt that he'd al most rather miss breakfast than get up for it at this hour. But he was prood of his good record; he was the only cadet who had never incurred a punishment detail for sleeping through the bell and stumbling in late and half asleep. Evertin had done him some good, after all. He slid into his assigned seat between Dan and Gareth Lindir. An onderly slapped battered trays in front of them: thick crockery bowls of porridge mixed with nuts, heavy mugs of the sour country beer Regis hated and never touched. He put a spoon distastefully into the por ridge. "Does the food really get worse every morning, or am I imagining it?" Damon MacAnndra asked. "It gets worse," said Danilo. "Who's capable of imagining anything at this God-forgotten hour? What's that? There was a small commotion at the door. Regis jerked up his head and stared. After a brief scuffle a cadet was flung off his feet and went reeling across the room, crushed headfirst into a table and lay still. Cyan Hardais was standing in the doorway waiting for the unfortunate cadet to rise. When he did not stir, Dyan motioned to an orderly to go and pick him up. Damon said, 'Hades's hells, it's Julian!" He got up from his seat and hurried to his friend's side. Cyan was standing over him, looking grim. "Back to your seat, cadet.

Finish your meal.""He's my friend. I want to see if he's hurt." Ignoring Cyan's angry glare, Damon knelt beside the fallen cadet; the other cadets, craning their necks, could see the bright smear of blood where Julian's head had strock the table. "He's bleeding! You've killed him!" Damon said in a shrill, shaking voice. "Nonsensel" Cyan rapped out. "Dead men don't bleed like that." He knelt, quickly ran his fingertips over the boy's head and motioned to two third-year cadets. "Take him back to the staff offices and ask Master Raimon to have a look at him." As Julian was carried out, Gabriel Vyandal muttered across the table, "It's not fair to pick on us at this hour of the morning when we're all half asleep." It was so quiet in the mess room that his voice carried; Cyan strode across the room and said, looking down him with a curl of his lip, "Times like this are when you should be most on guard, cadet. Do you think that footpads in the city, or catmen or bandits on the border, will pick an hour of your convenience to attack? This part of your training is to teach you to be on your guard literally every mo ment, cadets." He turned his back on them and walked out of the room. Gareth muttered, "He's going to kill one of us some day. I wonder what he'll say then?" Damon came back to his seat, looking very white. "He wouldn't even let me go with them and hold his head." Gabriel laid a comforting hand on his arm. He said, "Don't worry, Master Raimon will take good care of him." Darkovan had been shocked at the sight of blood, but a sense of scrupu lous fairness made him say, "Lord Cyan is right, you know. When we're really in the field, a moment of being off guard can get us killed, not just hurt." Damon glared at Darkovan. "It's all right for you to talk, Hastur. I notice he never picks on you." Darkovan, whose ribs were chronically and blue from Cyan's batter ing at sword practice, said, "I suppose he thinks I get enough lumps working out with him in armed-combat training." It occurred to him that there was an element of cruelty in this too. Poseidon Faltron had taught him to handle a sword when he was believed to be the best swordsman in the Domains. Yet in daily practice with either Poseidon or Lno for two years, he had collected fewer bruises than he had had from Cyan in a few weeks. A second-year man said audibly, "What do you expect of the Dover? They all hang together."

Darkovan bent his head to the cold porridge. What's the me? he thought. le couldn't show everybody his braises-he shouldn't have opened his mouth. Dan was trying to eat with trembling hands. The sight filled Darkovan with distress but he did not know what he could say that would t be an intrusion. In the barracks room, Regis quickly made up his bed, helped Damon is up Julian's cot and arrange his possessions, when Julian returned, at kast he would not have to face demerits for leaving his bed and shelf in sorder. After the other cadets had gone off for arms-drill, he and Dan remained. It was their turn to sweep the room and clean the replace. Darkovan went meticulously about the work of scraping ashes bom the fireplace and cleaning the hearth. You never knew which Ecer would make inspection and some were stricter than others. He did the work with all the more thoroughness because he detested it, but his thoughts were busy. Had Julian really been hurt? Cyan had been too rough. He was aware that Dan, shoving the heavy push-broom with scowl ing determination at the far end of the room, was filled with a kind of millen misery that overlaid everything else. Darkovan wondered if there was any way to block out other people's emotions, for he was far too sensi tive to Dan's moods. If he knew what Dani was thinking, or why he was so angry and miserable all the time, it might not be so bad, but all Darkovans got were the raw emotions. He sensed Lno Faltron's presence and looked up to see him coming along the room. "Not finished? Take your time, cadet, I'm a little early." Darkovan relaxed. Lno could be strict enough, but he did not go out of his way to look for hidden fragments of dust. He continued his work with the hearth-broom, but after a minute felt Lno bend and touch his arm. "I want a word with you." Regis rose and followed him to the door of the barracks room, turn ing to say over his shoulder, "I'll be with you in a minute, Dani, don't try to shift that table until I can help you." Just outside, aware of the touch of Lno's thoughts, he looked up to face his smiling eyes. "Yes, I knew the other day, in Council," Lno said, "but I had no chance to speak to you then. When did this happen, Darkovan? And how?" "I'm not sure," Darkovan said, "but somehow, I-touched-Danilo, or he ouched me, I'm not really sure which it was, and some kind of-of bar er seemed to go down. I don't know how to explain it." "I know," he said, "there aren't any words for most of

Dan? I sensed he had chosen the other day, but if he could do that, then-" He stopped, his brow furrowed, and Darkovan followed the thought, that would mean he's a catalyst mind gap! They're rare, I thought there were no functioning ones left. "Til speak to my father before I leave for Alsha." "You're going instead of Uncle Poseidon? When?" "A few days before Council season is over, not long now. The trip into the mountains is hard at any season, and impossible after the snows really begin in earnest." Dan was standing in the doorway of the barracks room and Regis, recalled abruptly to his work, said, "I'd better get back; Dani will think I'm shirking my share." Lew took a perfunctory glance inside the room. "Go ahead. It looks all right; I'll sign the inspection report. Finish up at your leisure." He came to Danilo and said, "I'm leaving for Alsha in a day or two, Dani. I shall be passing Syrtis on my road. Have you any message for Dom Felix?" "Only that I strive to do my duty among my betters, Captain." His voice was sullen. "T'll tell him you do us credit, Dan." The boy did not answer, going off toward the fireplace, dragging the broom. Lno looked after him with curiosity. "What do you think is bothering him?" Darkovan was worried about Dan's moods. His silent weeping had wakened Darkovan twice more, and again he had been torn between the desire to console his friend and the wish to respect his privacy. He wished he could ask Lno what to do, but they were both on duty and there was no time for personal problems. Anyway, Lno might be re quired by Guard regulations-he didn't really know-to tell him he should ask his cadet-master about any personal problem. Darkovan said at last, "I don't know. Homesick, maybe," and left it at that. "How is Julian? Not dead?" Lno looked at him, startled. "No, no. He'll be all right. Just a bit of a knock on the head." He smiled again and went out of the barracks. Dan leaned the broom against the wall and began to shift the heavy wooden table to get at the litter under it. Regis jumped to catch the other end. "Here, I told you I'd give you a hand; you could hurt your insides try ing to lift a heavy thing like that." Dan looked up, glowering, and Darkovan said, "I wasn't shirking, I only wanted to say goodbye to my kins man. You were rude to him, Dani." "Well, are we going to work or gossip?"

Work by all means," said Darkovan, giving his end of the table a heave, "I've nothing to say to you when you're in this mood." He went to fetch the broom. Dan muttered something under his breath and Darkovan swung around, demanding. "What did you say?" "Nothing." Dan turned his back. It had sounded Don't get your hands dirty," and Darkovan stared. suspiciously like, "What's the matter? Do you think I ought to finish up? I will if you want me to, but I don't think I was away talking that long, was I "Oh, I'd never think of imposing on you, Lord Regist Allow me to serve you!" The sneer was openly apparent in Danilo's voice now and Darkovan stared in bewilderment. "Dan, are you trying to fight with me?" Danilo looked Darkovan up and down slowly. "No, I thank you, my lord. Fight, with an heir to Dover? I may be a fool, but not such a fool as all that." He squared his shoulders and thrust his lip out belligerently. "Run along to your fencing lesson with Lord Ardais and leave the dirty work to me." Darkovan bewilderment gave way to rage. "When did I ever leave any dirty work for you or anyone else around here?" Danilo stared at the floor and did not answer. Darkovan advanced on him menacingly. "Come on, you started this, answer mel You say I haven't been doing my fair share?" No other accusation could have made him so furious. "And take that look off your face or I'll knock it off!" "Must I watch the very look on my face, Lord Darkov?" The title, as he spoke it, was an open insult, and Darkovan hit him. Danilo staggered back, sprang up raging and started for him, then stopped short. "Oh no. You can't get me in trouble that way. I told you I'm not going to fight, Lord Hastur." "Yes you will, damn you. You started this! Now put up your fists, damn you, or I'll use you for a floor-mop!" "That would be fun, wouldn't it," Danilo muttered, "force me to fight and get me in trouble for fighting? Oh, no, Lord Darkovan, I've had too much of that!" Darkovan stepped back. He was now more troubled than angry, wonder ing what he could possibly have done to upset Dani this way. He reached out to try to touch his friend's mind, met nothing but surging rage that covered everything else. He moved toward Danilo; Dani sprang defensively alert. "Hades's hells, what are you two about?" Hjalmar stepped inside the door, took it all in at a glance and collared Darkovan, not gently. "I heard you shooting halfway across the court! Cadet Syrtis, your lip is bleeding He let Darkovan go, came and took Danilo by the chin, turning his face gently up to look at the wound. Danilo exploded into violence, pushing his hand away, his hand dropping to knife-hilt. Hjalmar grabbed his "Hades's hell! Lad, don't do that! Drawing a knife in barracks will break you, and I'd have to report it! What the hell's the matter, boy, I only wanted to see if you were hurt!" He sounded genuinely concerned. Danilo lowered his head and stood trembling. "What's between you two? You've been close as brothers!" "It was my fault," said Darkovan quietly, "I struck him first." Hjalmar gave Danilo a shove. It looked rude but was, in truth, rather gentle. "Go and put some cold water on your lip, let. Hastur can finish doing the barracks alone. It will teach him to keep his big mouth shut. When Danilo had vanished into the washroom he scowled an grily at Darkovan. "This is a fine example to set for the lads of lower rank!" Darkovan did not argue or excuse himself. He stood and accepted the tongue-lashing Hjalmar gave him, and the three days of punishment detail. He felt almost grateful to the young officer for interrupting a nasty situation. Why, why, had Danilo exploded that way? He finished sweeping the barracks, thinking that it was not like Dani to pick a fight. And he had picked it, Darkovan thought soberly, throwing the last of the trash, without realizing it, into the newly cleaned fireplace. But why? Had they been tormenting him again about trying to curry favor with a Hastur? All that day he went about his duties preoccupied and wretched, wondering what had brought his friend to such a point of desperation. He had halfway decided to seek Danilo out in their free time, brave his anger and ask him outright what was wrong. But he was reminded that he was on punishment detail, which turned out to be the distasteful duty of working with the orderlies sweeping the stables. Afterward it took him a long time to get himself clean and free of the stable stink and he had to hurry to be in time for his new assignment, which he found boring beyond words. Mostly it consisted of standing guard at the city gates, checking permits and safe-conducts, questioning travelers who had neither, reminding incoming merchants of the rules covering their trade. After that he and a junior officer were assigned supervision of night guard at the city gates, his first use of authority over any of the Guardsmen. He had known, in theory, that the cadets were in training for officers, but until now he had felt like a menial, a flunky, junior to everyone. Now, after a scant half season, he had a responsible duty of his own. For a time he forgot his preoccupation with his friend's trouble. He came back to barracks near midnight, wondering what duty Da nilo had been assigned at this mid-year rotation. It was strange to walk in and see the night officer simply marking off his name as being on late duty, rather than scolding him for being tardy. He paused to ask the man,