heard his disappointment. "So desperate for honor," he said. "So desperate for pride. And so determined to leave matters in the hands of those who would deprive you of it."
Anger flared hot in my chest. What could this wizard know of such things? I turned on him, but before I could speak I saw the determination in his eyes. And I understood. "You really mean it. Don't you?"
He frowned, just a slight crease between his brows. "Mean what?"
"You're doing all of this for my pride. Why? Why would a Master of the Academy and a confidant of the king care about the feelings of an orphaned shepherd?"
His eyes held mine. A fatherly smile tugged at his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. He spoke soft and low. "I barely care about you at all, boy."
"But that first night you said it was to make amends—"
He shook his head. "No. You deserve amends, but I cannot make them. You deserved some touch of dignity, but the Green Eagle wouldn't give it. You deserved fair reward for your efforts, but Jemm never offered it."
"But why? Why do you care?"
"Because I need a decent swordsman still young enough to learn magic," he said, with a simple sincerity. "Because you have no ties to hold you back. And because until you learn to believe in your own authority, you will make a truly miserable student of magic." He took a long step back, and looked me up and down. "Wizards do not receive the respect they deserve, Daven. They take it, from man or from nature. That is what I have been showing you all along."
He nodded past me to a servant scurrying down the hall gripping the edge of a fine ceramic basin in one hand and the handle of a heavy pitcher in the other. "Get cleaned up, get dressed, and join me across the hall." He waved to another door. "And be quick about it. Time is of the essence."
With that he turned on his heel and swept across and through the door, leaving me alone. The servant hurried past me, shouldering through the door to my sitting room, and I followed him in. He set the basin on a tall, narrow table and poured steaming water that smelled very lightly of flowers. Then he laid out two small towels he'd carried tucked in his belt, and turned to me.
"Will you need anything else?"
The question was almost absurd. I needed...insight. Understanding. Patronage. Instead of answering, I stepped past him and sank down into one of the wide, deep chairs against the wall. I let my head fall back and closed my eyes.
What was I doing? What was I really hoping for here? That the king—the king of the Northlands, the Isle, and all of Southern Ardain—would smile upon me and sponsor me to the Academy of Wizardry? It was laughable. I was worse than nameless. A quick bath and a change of clothes would hardly change that.
I thought back on my last conversation with the wizard. I left a pleasant enough home without a thought, for just the promise of honor, but until just now I had never bothered to understand why. And he still hadn't said it outright, but there was much significance in something he'd said. "I barely care about you at all."
That...that I understood. That I could believe. And with that piece, I could understand more of what he'd said before. "A great threat approaches," he had said. "I would make a weapon of you." It wasn't about me. I was just a piece on the board, a pawn to be moved into place for another one of his schemes.
Perhaps that should have offended me. Perhaps it should have frightened me. It didn't. All my life I had wanted to be a soldier, and this was no worse a fate than that. And in exchange he had offered me a place of honor. He would teach me how to make my own honor.
I nodded, eyes still closed. I smiled. All I had to do was impress a king. I laughed, low and dark, but I had my instructions for that, too. Stay close and stay silent. I could do that well enough.
I heaved myself to my feet, suddenly feeling strong and sure. I was surprised to find the servant still standing just inside the door, watching
Anger flared hot in my chest. What could this wizard know of such things? I turned on him, but before I could speak I saw the determination in his eyes. And I understood. "You really mean it. Don't you?"
He frowned, just a slight crease between his brows. "Mean what?"
"You're doing all of this for my pride. Why? Why would a Master of the Academy and a confidant of the king care about the feelings of an orphaned shepherd?"
His eyes held mine. A fatherly smile tugged at his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. He spoke soft and low. "I barely care about you at all, boy."
"But that first night you said it was to make amends—"
He shook his head. "No. You deserve amends, but I cannot make them. You deserved some touch of dignity, but the Green Eagle wouldn't give it. You deserved fair reward for your efforts, but Jemm never offered it."
"But why? Why do you care?"
"Because I need a decent swordsman still young enough to learn magic," he said, with a simple sincerity. "Because you have no ties to hold you back. And because until you learn to believe in your own authority, you will make a truly miserable student of magic." He took a long step back, and looked me up and down. "Wizards do not receive the respect they deserve, Daven. They take it, from man or from nature. That is what I have been showing you all along."
He nodded past me to a servant scurrying down the hall gripping the edge of a fine ceramic basin in one hand and the handle of a heavy pitcher in the other. "Get cleaned up, get dressed, and join me across the hall." He waved to another door. "And be quick about it. Time is of the essence."
With that he turned on his heel and swept across and through the door, leaving me alone. The servant hurried past me, shouldering through the door to my sitting room, and I followed him in. He set the basin on a tall, narrow table and poured steaming water that smelled very lightly of flowers. Then he laid out two small towels he'd carried tucked in his belt, and turned to me.
"Will you need anything else?"
The question was almost absurd. I needed...insight. Understanding. Patronage. Instead of answering, I stepped past him and sank down into one of the wide, deep chairs against the wall. I let my head fall back and closed my eyes.
What was I doing? What was I really hoping for here? That the king—the king of the Northlands, the Isle, and all of Southern Ardain—would smile upon me and sponsor me to the Academy of Wizardry? It was laughable. I was worse than nameless. A quick bath and a change of clothes would hardly change that.
I thought back on my last conversation with the wizard. I left a pleasant enough home without a thought, for just the promise of honor, but until just now I had never bothered to understand why. And he still hadn't said it outright, but there was much significance in something he'd said. "I barely care about you at all."
That...that I understood. That I could believe. And with that piece, I could understand more of what he'd said before. "A great threat approaches," he had said. "I would make a weapon of you." It wasn't about me. I was just a piece on the board, a pawn to be moved into place for another one of his schemes.
Perhaps that should have offended me. Perhaps it should have frightened me. It didn't. All my life I had wanted to be a soldier, and this was no worse a fate than that. And in exchange he had offered me a place of honor. He would teach me how to make my own honor.
I nodded, eyes still closed. I smiled. All I had to do was impress a king. I laughed, low and dark, but I had my instructions for that, too. Stay close and stay silent. I could do that well enough.
I heaved myself to my feet, suddenly feeling strong and sure. I was surprised to find the servant still standing just inside the door, watching
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