The Complete Soldier Son Trilogy: Shaman’s Crossing, Forest Mage, Renegade’s Magic. Robin Hobb
cold meats, cheese and bread set out on a table to welcome us, but also tobacco for my father. My uncle, clad in an elaborate smoking jacket and silk lansin trousers, rose and came to greet my father with an embrace. Then he stood back from me, pipe in hand, and feigned amazement at how I had grown. He insisted that we sit down immediately to the late night repast he had had prepared for us, and I was glad to do so.
Their conversation flowed over my head as I ate. I was glad to be seen and not heard, for it afforded me the uninterrupted opportunity to enjoy the best food I’d faced in some days, and also to see my father and my uncle as I’d never witnessed them before. In the next hour I realized what had always escaped me, that my father and my uncle were close and that my Uncle Sefert not only rejoiced in my father’s elevation but had genuine affection for his younger sibling. I had been a child the few previous times I had seen them together, and on those occasions they spoke and behaved with the reserve appropriate to their stations. Perhaps it was the lateness of the hour or the casual setting, but tonight they spoke quickly, laughed heartily, and generally behaved more like two boys than two peers of the realm.
As if to make up for lost time, they discussed a dozen topics, from the health of my father’s crops and the product of my uncle’s vineyards to my uncle’s marriage plans for his daughter and my father’s selection of prospects for Yaril’s hand. My father spoke of my mother’s gardens, and that he wished to visit the flower market and take new dahlia tubers home with him, to replace the ones devoured by rodents earlier that summer. He talked about my mother’s pleasure in her garden and home, and how his daughters grew all too swiftly and would soon leave his protection. In contrast, my uncle spoke of his wife’s discontent and ambition with painful honesty, acknowledging that she was ill-pleased with my father’s elevation in status, as if somehow his rise had compromised my uncle’s position. ‘Daraleen has always been jealous of her position. She was a younger daughter in her family, and never thought to be wed to a first son. It is almost as if she fears that some of her honour will be taken from her if others rise to share the same footing. I have tried to reassure her, but alas, her mother seems to share her daughter’s apprehension. Her family behaves as if the new nobles sprang from common stock, but every one of the soldier sons King Troven elevated had a noble father. Nonetheless, my wife’s family shuns contact with the new nobles as upstarts and frauds. It is without foundation, but, there it is.’
My father commiserated with him on this, taking none of it personally, as if they spoke of a house with a cracking foundation or a field suddenly prone to root-rot. He did not condemn the woman, nor was there any discomfort in how frankly they discussed her jealousy. It was a flaw they both acknowledged, but did not allow to affect their relationship. Daraleen went to great pains to cultivate her friendship with the Queen. She put their daughters before her majesty at every opportunity, and hoped to see them invited to court for an extended stay. To that end my younger cousin, Epiny, had begun to study the occult, for spiritualists and séances and other such nonsense fascinated the Queen. My uncle was plainly displeased by this. ‘I have told her she is to regard it as studying pagan beliefs or plainsmen legends. At first, she seemed to share my opinions of it, but the longer she studies that claptrap, the more she babbles of it at table and the more validity she seems to give it. It troubles me, Keft. She is young, and unfortunately behaves even younger than her years but I think the sooner she is settled with a solid man, the better it will be for her. I know that Daraleen has high ambitions for her, and hopes to marry her above our station. Nightly she reminds me that if Epiny finds favour with the Queen and is invited to court, she will be seen by the finest young nobles of the realm. But I fear for my daughter, Keft. I think she would be better off studying the scriptures of the good god than researching crystal chimes and telling fortunes with silver pins.’
‘She does not sound so different from my own Yaril. It seems to me that Elisi, too, went through a flighty period at about that age. All she wanted to babble about was what she had dreamed the night before, and although she knows I don’t approve of the old holy days, she sulked for a week when I would not allow her to go to a friend’s Dark Evening ball. Give Epiny a year or so, brother, and I expect her father’s common sense will come back to her. Girls need those flights of fancy and time to indulge them, just as boys pass through a reckless time of measuring their courage by challenging themselves.’
I was a bit surprised to think that fathers took so much thought over their daughters. Then, as I pondered it, it seemed that of course it must be so, and I wondered if some day Carsina and I would have daughters that we must safely shepherd into marriages. I wondered if I would ever sit with Rosse and discuss my children’s prospects. I was jolted from my thoughts when Uncle Sefert suddenly addressed me. ‘Nevare, you have a pensive look. What are you thinking?’
I spoke honestly, without giving thought to my words, saying, ‘I was hoping that some day Rosse and I will sit at table together and discuss our plans for our children with as much fondness and pleasure as you share with my father now.’
I had not intended to flatter either of them, and yet my father gave me the warmest smile I had ever seen on his face. ‘Such is my wish for you also, my son,’ he assured me. ‘When all is said and done, family is what counts for most in this world. I hope to see you have a distinguished career in the cavalla, just as I hope to see Rosse manage my lands well and to see your sisters well wed, and young Vanze honoured as a pious and learned man. Yet above all, I hope that in the years to come, you will remember one another fondly, and always do whatever you can for the honour and well being of your family.’
‘As surely my younger brother has done for our family over the years,’ my Uncle Sefert added, and was rewarded by the slight blush that suffused my father’s face at his elder brother’s praise.
I perceived my uncle then as a very different man from what I had previously supposed him. I decided that their free discussion in front of me marked, perhaps, their recognition that I was now a man and more worthy of confidences than I had been as a child. As if to confirm this, my uncle then asked me a number of polite questions about our journey and my preparation for the Academy and its rigours. At the news that I had brought Sirlofty, he smiled and nodded his approval, but cautioned, ‘Perhaps you should stable him with me until you reach the state in your training where they will allow you a personal mount. I have heard that the officer in charge of the young cadets has instituted a new practice of putting all of them on uniform horses to begin with, so that pace and stride and appearance are matched for each regiment.’
‘I had not heard of that,’ my father frowned.
‘It is quite recent,’ my Uncle Sefert assured him. ‘The news of it likely has not reached the eastern frontiers yet. Colonel Rebin has recently chosen to retire; some say his wife importuned him, others that the gout in his knees and feet has become so painful that he can scarce bestride a chair, let alone a horse. There are also less kind whispers that he somehow offended the King and found it wiser to leave the post before he was relieved of it. Whatever the cause, he has left the Academy and Colonel Stiet has taken it over.’
‘Colonel Stiet? I don’t believe I know him,’ my father observed stiffly. I was alarmed at how unsettled he seemed to be at this sudden news.
‘You would not. He isn’t a frontierman, or even cavalla, but I’ve heard he is a good military officer for all that. He had risen through the ranks here at home, by diligence and long years rather than field promotions. Yet the gossip is that he is more given to show than Colonel Rebin was, and his insistence on well matched horses, all of a colour, for each regiment is but the tip of it. My wife’s family knows the Stiets well. We have often dined together. He may not be a soldier’s soldier, but he will have the Academy’s best interests at heart.’
‘Well, I’m not opposed to a bit of spit and polish, I suppose. Attention to detail can save a man’s life in a ticklish situation.’ I could hear that my father was speaking for my benefit, and suspected he was trying to make the best of a bad situation.
‘He’s more than polishing uniform buttons and shining boots.’ My uncle paused. He stood up, paced a turn about the room, and then continued. ‘This is gossip, pure and simple, and yet I think I’ll pass it on. I have heard he favours the soldier sons of the established nobles over King Troven’s battle