The Complete Soldier Son Trilogy: Shaman’s Crossing, Forest Mage, Renegade’s Magic. Robin Hobb
about? Were they all in the service of the good god or did women secretly still worship at some of the old altars? Such questions whetted my curiosity for Dark Evening in Old Thares. To be turned loose in the great old city with my fellows, a man among men on a wild festival night, was something I had never imagined. I counted up my allowance that I had hoarded and felt that the holiday would never come.
In the middle of that week, what began as a good-natured snowball fight with the old nobility first-years from Drakes Hall turned into a nasty pitched battle, with ice and rocks replacing the earlier missiles. I had been at the library, and only learned of it through Rory’s retelling when our patrol gathered at the study table that night. Rory had a black eye and Kort a swollen lip to show for it. The skirmish had dissolved when several older cadet officers had come upon the scene. Even so, Rory was rejoicing over making an antagonist ‘bleed some of that fine old blood out of his fine old nose.’ Trist had also been a participant, as had Caleb. Oron had only witnessed it and yet seemed more upset than Rory. Twice he said aloud, ‘I just don’t understand it. We are all cadets here. What could have made them hate us so suddenly?’
The second time he said it, Gord shut his book with a sigh. ‘Don’t any of you read the newspapers?’ he asked, and did not wait for the reply before adding, ‘The Council of Lords has just voted on taxation for the King’s Road. The Old Nobles opposed it, arguing that they need their monies for roads and improvements in their own territories rather than “the road to nowhere” as Lord Jarfries called it. The old nobility had expected to easily defeat the proposal to channel a portion of their tax income to King Troven’s coffers for the road. I even read that some of them laughed aloud when a New Noble named Lord Simem first proposed it. Yet when the ballots were counted, three times and no less, the vote was in favour of taxation for the King’s Road.’
He said this as if it were of immense importance. We all stared at him silently.
‘Puppies!’ he said at last in disgust. ‘Think about what it means. It means that enough Old Nobles crossed the line to vote with the New Nobles, secretly, that the King is regaining a stronger hand in the country. The Old Nobles who thought that power was coming slowly but surely into their hands have suffered a major setback. They resent it, and because of that they and their sons resent us all the more. They thought they were on the path to running this country, with the King as little more than a figurehead. But for our fathers, it would have come true. The old nobility would have continued a slow march upon the monarchy, taking more power and control for themselves, retaining more taxes, building more wealth … Don’t any of you see what I’m talking about?’ Sudden frustration broke in his voice.
‘The good god put King Troven over all of us, to rule us justly and well. All of holy writ tells us that the lords should serve their king as a good son serves his father; in obedience, respect and gratitude for his guidance.’ Oron said this so solemnly that I nearly bowed my head and signed the air with the good god’s sign. He sounded more like a bessom at that moment than Gord ever had.
Gord snorted. ‘Yes. So we have all been brought up to believe, every soldier son of us, every son of a New Noble father. But what do you think the Old Nobles have told their first sons and their soldier sons? Do you think they have been taught their first duty is to the King, or to their own noble fathers?’
‘Treason and heresy!’ Caleb said angrily. He pointed a finger at Gord accusingly and said, ‘Why do you say such things?’
‘I don’t! I serve the King as willingly as any man here. I only say that perhaps we have been brought up not to question and, as a result, you do not understand those who do question. You do not see how our loyalty might offend those who are not so blindly loyal themselves.’
‘Blindly loyal!’ Rory was incensed. ‘What’s blind about knowing that we owe the King our loyalty? What is blind about knowing our duty?’
Gord sat back in his chair. Something hardened in his face. He had changed in the last couple of weeks, in a way I could not clearly define. He was still as fat; he still sweated through drill and panted with the effort of heaving his bulk up the stairs, but there seemed to be something of steel in him now. When he had first joined us he had laughed along with his mockers when people made jokes about his weight, and sometimes even made fun of himself. Now he kept silent and merely stared at those who baited him. It seemed to make some of the fellows angry, as if he had no right to stand on his dignity and refuse to accept their mockery as his due. Now he looked round the table at those of us gathered there, and I suddenly perceived that it was not just maths that he was good at. There was more intellect behind those piggy little eyes than I had credited him with. He licked his plump lips, as if deciding whether to speak or not. Then the words seemed to break forth from him, not in a torrent, but in a deliberate cascade of derision.
‘I said blindly, not stupidly, Rory. I don’t think it’s stupid for us and for our fathers to give loyalty to a man who benefited us greatly. But we should not be blind to what he gains by it, nor to what it does to others. Did none of your fathers ever discuss politics with you? When we take our history lessons, do any of you listen? We are to be officers and gentlemen when our schooling is done. Loyalty is fine, but it is even better when it is backed up with intellect. My dog is loyal to me, and if I sicced him on a bear, he would go with no questioning of whether I knew what was best for him. But we are not dogs, and though I believe a soldier must go where he is ordered and do as he is told, I do not think he must march forth in ignorance of what propels his commander’s decisions.’
Caleb had never been especially quick-witted, and that day he decided that Gord’s words had insulted him. He came to his feet and loomed over the table. His long, skinny frame made it difficult for him to look threatening but he knotted his fist and said, ‘Are you saying my father is ignorant just because he didn’t talk politics at me? Take it back!’
Gord did not stand up but he didn’t back down. He leaned back in his chair as if to disarm Caleb’s aggression, but spoke firmly. ‘I can’t take it back, Caleb, for that isn’t what I said! I was speaking in generalities. We all came here, I hope, knowing that our first year is a winnowing process. We expected to be hazed and to have strict teachers and boring food and a burden of assignments and marching and tasks that no sane man would ever make his daily regimen. Yet we undertake it, knowing full well, I trust, that they deliberately make it more difficult and stressful than it needs to be. They are hoping that the weak and even the not-very-determined will be dissuaded by the process and turn away. Better to cull them out now than to have a battle whittle them away, with other men losing their lives in the process! So, we do obey, but we do not obey blindly. That is what I am saying. That we endure what we endure here because we know the reason for it. And when I am a cavalla officer in the field, I expect that I will do the same there. I will obey my commander’s orders, but I hope I will remain intelligent enough to discern the reasons behind my orders.’
He looked round at us all. Despite ourselves, we were hanging on his words. He nodded, as if in appreciation of that, and went on, almost as if he were lecturing us, ‘And thus we come back to Oron’s question: what makes the old nobility first-years dislike us so much if we are all cadets here? And the answer is, they are taught to. Just as we are subtly schooled to resent them. It probably began as a way to wring the best out of us, just as they encourage each house and troop to compete against their fellows. But the politics of our fathers have infected it now, and made it something uglier.’
‘But why? Why does someone want us to hate each other?’ Oron clasped his cheeks and practically wailed the words.
Gord gritted his teeth for a moment and then sighed. ‘I didn’t say that anyone had deliberately set us against each other in a serious way. I am saying that what the Academy began as healthy competition between us has changed to something more ominous because of the political situation in the streets. That it may even be getting out of control within our walls, becoming something far more vicious than our superiors ever intended. It is in the King’s best interest to have his cavalla officers enjoy solid camaraderie. It is certainly in the cavalla’s best interest, and hence the Academy’s. But there will still be some, Old Nobles and New, who think we should despise each other because our fathers vote against each other in the Council of