Shaman's Crossing

“I will do this for you. I will get our letters, yours and mine, from Daraleen. And I will, if they are there, get the letters from your friend’s mother and brother. The very least I owe young Lord Kester is a response to his request that his soldier brother be allowed to court my daughter. But I will also demand to see what sort of missives Epiny has been sending to young Spink, to incite such a battle frenzy in Daraleen. I should have sensed there was something behind her sudden demand that Epiny be sent off to a finishing school. And Mistress Pintor’s Finishing Conservatory at that! It is very expensive, despite its remote location. And I shall sit down with Epiny as well, to explain to her the courtesies that are proper between a girl and a young man, for I’m sure she has no concept of what she has done. Doubtless she thought to befriend him and no more than that. If all is as I expect it is, I myself will contact Colonel Stiet, to see that Spink is restored to his good standing at the Academy. Does that put your mind at ease?”

I scarcely could say yes, for I feared what he might find in Epiny’s letter to Spink. I had not yet known my cousin to mince words, even when she was trying to persuade her father that she was far too young to be considered a young lady. But I kept that thought to myself and only thanked my uncle and shook his hand. Before he released my hand from his, he added, “If Epiny were of a suitable age, I might even look favourably upon a suitor of Spink’s quality. He seems a level-headed young man, and that is a trait I think Epiny will sorely need in a husband.” But even as my spirits rose with hope, he added, “But he would not fit at all with my lady’s political ambitions, I fear. I doubt she would ever assent to Epiny becoming engaged to any new noble’s son.”

I was incredulous. “My aunt has political ambitions? I do not understand.” How could a woman hope to compete in the harsh world of nobles and influence? “I thought she would seek a wealthy suitor for Epiny, or someone of a fine old family—”

I think my uncle sensed the whole of my question for he shook his head at me. “And you think that is social rather than political? You have much to learn, Nevare. Or would, if you were a first son. Soldier sons are blessedly immune to such machinations. Here in Old Thares and especially at court, the wives of lords have a society of their own, with a hierarchy of power and alliances that seem far more complicated to me than the simple politics of the Council of Lords chamber. Epiny and Purissa are the coin my lady will spend to secure her position, if you wish to put it crassly. With them, she will buy alliances with other noble houses. There have already been enquiries about both my daughters. I have made it plain that I choose to wait until they are women before I decide. I would have them marry well, but also to men who I can trust to protect them, and even to men that they may grow to love. Colonel Stiet has made no secret that he would take either of my girls as a match for Caulder. But Lady Burvelle hopes to find first sons for both of them, and as determined is she is, I suspect she will succeed.”

“But—” I began, but my uncle held up a hand.

“It’s too cold out here to discuss anything more tonight, Nevare. I have kept you far longer than I intended, and you’ve given me much that I need to think over. You should be getting to bed. If I’m not mistaken, it will soon be lights-out in the halls. Clear your mind of your worries for now, or rather, think only on preparing for your exams, for that is the only thing you can really do anything about. Write to me, and rest assured that if I do not hear from you on a daily basis, I’ll be back.”

And with that he was gone, stamping his feet to warm them as he took the path back to his carriage. I became aware that my own toes had gone numb. I hurried up the steps of Carneston House and reported to Sergeant Rufet on the desk, for I was returning to the dormitory a bit late. He excused me when he heard I’d had a family visitor, and I hurried up the dimly lit stairs. At the final landing, I found Spink perched on his chair, holding his maths text to the wall sconce. He looked ten years older than he had at the start of the year.

“My uncle summoned me,” I said without preamble. “He came to the Academy because he hadn’t been receiving my letters.”

“Does he despise me?” Spink asked immediately.

I told him all that had transpired. I spared him nothing, thinking it was better to let him know that he had small chance of ever wi

“I believe you,” I said. “But I also fear that he will think that you incited Epiny.”

“Well. There’s nothing I can do about that,” he said. His words were philosophical but his voice was despairing.

“You should go to bed, Spink. Get one solid night of sleep this week. This endless studying will make you a wraith by week’s end.”

“I need to keep at it. I just have to fix the equations in my mind. Where I ca

I stood a moment longer. “Well. I’m going to bed.”

“Good night.” He was not to be dissuaded from his vigil.

In the darkened study room, my books were on the table as I’d left them. I gathered them up in the dark and carried them back to my room.

I put them away by touch and undressed by my bed, letting my clothes drop to the floor. I was suddenly too tired to deal with them. I listened to my friends’ breathing for a moment, then fell into my bed and let go of consciousness.

The remaining days to the section exams both lagged and sped past me. I thought it cruel that Captain Infal did no review with us, but simply kept on introducing new material right up to the day of the test. I felt my brain was crammed with dates and facts and names but little understanding of how the battles had flowed or what the overall strategy had been.

A long anticipated letter from Carsina arrived enfolded in a bare note from my sister. I tore it open and for the first two pages her flowering phrases and curly handwriting cheered me. But by the third page, the charm of her i

I tried to shake myself free of my dismal thoughts and forced myself to read to the end of her letter. There was, I realized, nothing new in it. She had sewn a sampler and baked two loaves of pumpkin bread from a new recipe. Did I like pumpkin bread? She so looked forward to cooking for our darling children and me as they came along. She had already begun to fill her hope chest. She enclosed a drawing she had done of our initials intertwining. It was what she was embroidering on the corners of the good linen pillowcases that her grandmother had given to her for her future home. She hoped I liked it. She closed with the wish that I would think of her, and that I would send her some blue lace like I’d sent my sister if I had the opportunity to get to town.

It suddenly struck me that what I knew of Carsina was that she was pretty and well ma