The Apogian War

Chapter 43

Since Danilo's departure the cadet barracks had been silent, hostile, astir with little eddies of gossip from which Darkovan was coldly excluded. He was not surprised. Danilo had been a favorite and they identified Darkovan with the Dover who had brought about his expulsion. His own suffering, his loneliness-all the worse because for a time it had been breached-was nothing, he knew, to what his friend must have been feeling. Dani had turned on him that night, he realized, be use he was no longer just Darkovan, he was another persecutor. Another Dover. But what could have made him so desperate? He went over it again and again in his mind, without reaching any conclusions at all. He wished he could talk it over with Lew, who had been just as shocked and horrified by it. Darkovan had felt it in him. But Les had gone to Alsha, and Darkovan had no idea when he would be back. The day before the cadets were dismissed to their homes, to return next summer in Council season, Darkovan was scheduled for his regular practice session with Cyan Hardais. He went with the usual blend of ex citement and apprehension. He enjoyed his reputation among the ca dets as a swordsman too expert for ordinary teaching and the sessions with Dyan challenged him to the utmost, but at the same time he knew these sessions alienated him further from the other cadets. Besides he emerged from them battered, bruised and completely exhausted. Cadets were readying for practice in the little dressing room off the armory, strapping on the padded surcoats which were worn to protect against the worst blows. The heavy wood and leather practice swords could not kill, but they could inflict substantial injury and pain and even break bones. Darkovans flung off his cloak and tunic, pulling the ded coat over his head and flinching as he twisted his body to fasten the straps. His ribs were always sore these days. As he fastened the last buckle, Cyan strode in, threw his jerkin on a bench and got quickly into his own practice outfit. Behind the thick fencing-mask he looked like some giant insect. Impatiently he gestured Regis toward the practice room. In his haste to obey Darkovan s forgot to pick up his gauntlets, and the older man said harshly, "After all these months? Look here" He that out his own clenched fist, pointed to the lump on the tendons on the back of the hand. "I got that when I was about your age, I ought to make you try it one day without gloves; forget again and I will do just that. I promise you'd never forget an other time!" Feeling like a slapped child, Darkovan went back hastily and snatched up the heavily padded gamtlets. He hurried back. At the far end, one of the arms master's aides was giving young Gareth Lindir a lesson, pa tiently positioning and repositioning his arms and legs, shoulders and bands, after every separate stroke. Darkovan could not see their faces behind the masks, but they both moved as if they were bored with the business. Bruises were better than that, Regis thought as he hurried to join Cyan. The bout was brief today. Cyan moved more slowly than usual, al most awkwardly. Darkovan found himself recalling, with a faint embar rassment, a dream he had had some time ago, about fencing with Cyan. He couldn't remember the details, but for some unremembered reason it filled him with anxiety. He touched Dyan at last and waited for the older man to regain his stance. Instead Dyan Bung the wooden sword aside. "You will have to excuse me for today," he said. "I am somewhat He paused. "Somewhat-disinclined to go on." Darkovan had the impres sion that he had intended to plead illness. "If you want to continue, "Enough, then." He pulled off his mask and went back into the dressing room. Regis followed slowly. Cyan was breathing hard, his face dripping with sweat. He took up a towel and plunged his head into it. Darkovan, unbuckling his padding, tumed away. Like most young people. he felt embarrassed at witnessing the weakness of an elder. Under the thick surcoat his own shirt was dripping wet; he pulled it off and went to his locker for the spare one he had learned to keep there. Cyan put aside the towel and came up behind him. He stood looking at Darkovan' n***d upper body, darkened with new and healing bruises, and finally said, "You should have told me. I had no idea I'd been so heavy handed." But he was smiling. He reached out and both his hand firmly and thoroughly, over Regit ribs. Regie flached from the to and laughed nervously Cyan shrugged, laughing in stume bes benken," he said, running his fingers along the lowat ribe, "o no ban done, Regis hurriedly drew on his clean shirt and tunie, thinking that Dyn knew precisely to the inch every time be hit an old besie-or made fresh onet Dyan eat on the bench, lacing up his boots. He then his fencing slippers into his locker. "I want to talk to you," he said, "and you're not on duty for another hour. Walk down to the tave with me. You must be thirsty too." "Thank you." Regis picked up his cloak and they went down the hill to the inn near the military stables, not the big one where the common soldiers went to drink, but the small wineshop where the officers and es dets spent their leisure time. At this hour the place was not crowded. Cyan slid into an empty booth. "We can go into the back mom if you'd rather." "No, this will do very well." "You're wise," said Cyan impersonally. "The other cadets would resent it if you kept away from their common haunts and amusements What will you drink?" "Cider, sir." "Nothing stronger? Please yourself." Dyan called the waiter and gave his order, commanding wine for himself. He said, "I think that's why so many cadets take to heavy drinking: the beer they serve in the mess is so near undrinkable they take to wine instead! Perhaps we should im prove the beer they're given as a way of keeping them sober!" He sounded so droll that Darkovan could not help laughing. At that mo ment half a dozen cadets came in, started to sit at the next table, then, seeing the two Dover. seated there and laughing together, went back and crowded at a smaller table near the door. Cyan had his back turned to them. Several of them were Regis' barracks-mates; he nodded politely to them, but they pretended not to see. "Well, tomorrow your first cadet season will be over," Cyan said. "Have you decided to come back for a second?" "I'd expected to, Captain." Cyan nodded. "If you survive the first year, everything else is easy. It's that first year which separates the soldiers from the spoiled children. I spoke to the arms master and suggested he try you as one of his aides

best year. Do you think you can teach the brats some of the things been trying to pound into yo "I can try, sit don't be too gmtle with them. A few bruises at the right time can save their lives later on." He grinned suddenly. "I seem to done better by you than I thought, kinman, indging by the your "It have look of ribst in was infectious Darkovan laughed and said, "Well, you haven't and the braises. No doubt I'll be properly grateful for them, some day." Cyan shrugged. "At least you haven't complained," he said. "I ad mire that in someone your age." He held Darkovan s eyes for a split second longer than Regis felt comfortable, then took a long drink from his glass. "I would have been proud of such behavior from my own son." "I didn't know you had a son, sit." Cyan poured himself more wine and said, not looking up, "I had s son. His tone did not alter even a fraction, but Darkovan felt the genuine pain behind Cyan's carefully strady voice. "He was killed in a rockslide at Evertin a few years ago." "I am sorry, kinsman. I had never been told." "He came to Thendara only once, when I had him legitimated. He was in his mother's care, so I saw him very seldom. We never really got The silence stretched. Regis could not barricade the sharp sense of regret, of loss, he could feel in Dyan. He had to say something. "Lord Dyan, you are not yet an old man. You could have many sons. Dyan's mile was a mere mechanical stretching of his mouth. "More likely I shall adopt one of my father's bastards," he said. "He strewed them all about the countryside from the Hellers to the Plains of Valeron. It should be easy enough to find one with laran, which is all the Council cares about. I have never been a man for women, not ever made any secret of it. I forced myself to do my duty by my clan. Once. That was enough." To Regis' awakened sensitivity he sounded inimes sumably bitter. "I refuse to think of myself as a very special sort of stud animal whose fees are paid to Dover. I am sure that you"-he raised his eyes and met Regis', again prolonging the glance with intensity "can understand what I mean." Dyan's words struck home, yet his intent look, the feeling he was ap parently trying to create, that there was a special rapport between them, soddenly embarrassed the boy. He lewend his eyes and said, Tint are just what you mean, kinnnan." Dan shrugged and the sudden intensity was gone a quickly wit had come. "Why, just that, being heir to Darkov they've already begin placing you under pressure to muitry, just as they did with me when I was your age. Your grandsire has a reputation in Council as a most per sistent and tenacious matchmaker. Do you mean he let Festival Night pass without panding a doren suitable maidens in front of you, in the hope you'd develop an intolerable itch for one of them?" Dark,, said stillly, "Indeed he did not, sit. I was on duty Festival Night." "Truly?" Dyan raised an expressive eyebrow. "There were a doves high born maidens there, all pretty, and I thought they were all in tended for you! I'm surprised he allowed you to stay away." "I've never asked to be excused from duty, sir. I'm sure Grandfather would not have asked it for me." "A most commendable attitude," Cyan said, "and one I might have expected from your father's son. But how disappointed the old man must have been! I've accused him to his face of being a disgraceful old procurer!" Cyan was grinning again. "But he assured me that he is al ways careful to have the wedding properly in order before the bedding Regis could not help laughing, although he knew he should be ashamed to join in making fun of his grandfather, "No, Lord Dyan, he hasn't spoken of marriage. Not yet. He only said that I should have an heir a as young as possible." "Why, I'm ashamed of him!" Cyan said and laughed again. "He had Rafael married off by the time he was your agel" Daekovan had resented the memory of his father, whose death had robbed him so much; now he felt an almost wistful longing to know of so what kind of man he had been. "Kinsman, am I so like my father as they say? Did you know him well?" "Not as well as I could have wished," Cyan said. "He married young, while I was in Nevarsin where my father's... debaucheries...could not contaminate me. Yes, I suppose you are like him." He looked atten tively at Regis. "Although you are handsomer than Rafael, handsomer by far." He was silent, staring down at the swirl in his wineglass. Dark picked up the mug of cider