I could see it in his eyes, then, and I understood. I understood the energy bubbling through every corridor of the Academy. I remembered it, from a quiet, spring afternoon on the hill outside Sachaerrich. I'd seen the same excitement in the eyes of my friends when they heard Cooper was going off to join the Guard.
My stomach clenched at the thought. War. Cooper was not made for war. He was made for long days in his father's shop. He was made for fire brigade, maybe, and he would have done well enough in a city watch. He would have done well enough in the Guard, too, when that had meant digging roads and settling tavern brawls—although he'd have done even better starting them—but he was not made for war. He would be on his way, though, and a thousand other promising young sons of happy, quiet villages.
Themmichus stepped closer, and a line formed between his brows as he frowned up at me. "Well? Aren't you excited? Think of the stories they'll tell."
"I'm thinking of one right now," I said.
He tilted his head, waiting for more, and after a moment I took a deep breath.
"I'm thinking of someone I knew," I said. "Someone who received a commission to the Guard just before I came to study here."
"Cooper?" I felt my eyes widen, and he laughed at me. "You've told that story a dozen times, Daven. Why are you worried about him now?"
"Because he'll be marching to war," I said. "He could be killed."
Themmichus shrugged. "I thought you didn't
like
Cooper."
"I don't," I said. I felt another pang in my stomach and sank back down on the edge of my bed. "I haven't thought of him in months. But here and now, I feel a deep sadness for him." I took a breath and closed my eyes. "And not just for him. For all the boys in these halls."
"Oh," he said, and he deflated. He took a step away and nodded. "All these little boys?"
I met his eyes. "Yes," I said, tired. "Honestly, yes. You're the best of them, Themmichus. But you're all...." I flexed my hands, helpless, trying to find the words.
He supplied them for me. "The rich children of an easy life." He spat the words at me and I hung my head.
"You think it sounds like fun," I said. "So did they. My friends in Sachaerrich. They thought it sounded like an adventure. But it's not. It's fighting. It's good people dying."
He stared at me for a long time, and I could not meet his eyes. Finally he said, "I thought you would be excited. I thought you would be more excited than all of us together."
I shook my head. "No. I have known the pain of loss."
"I don't understand!" He took a hard step toward me, stomping his foot. "Since the day I met you all you've ever wanted was to be a soldier! How can you look down on us—"
"It's not an adventure," I said, but my voice sounded weak in my own ears. He listened anyway, so I went on. "It was never about the adventure. I want to be a soldier because it is good work, laying down my life for a good cause."
"Why can't Cooper be doing that?" he asked. "Why can't that be the thing that has us so excited?"
I looked at him for a long time. I had an answer, but I didn't dare say it. Because they couldn't know. An easy life is too easily offered up for glory by a fool who cannot know the cost. "Because you have a life worth living," I said at last. "You have a name, even if you won't tell me what it is. You have the promise of power. If you want to change the world, do it that way." I took a deep breath and nodded. "I should be a soldier, because the only chance I have of ever changing the world is by the strength of my body. But you have so much more to offer."
His foot twitched, toes tapping rapidly against the cool stone floor. His lips pursed, and for a moment his eyes remained hard on mine. But then he blushed, and he dropped his head, and he nodded.
"I can understand," he said. "I can see why you would think like that. I'm just sorry you couldn't be happy." He sniffed and shrugged one shoulder. "I thought I might get to see you happy."
I looked away. "I'm sorry, Themm."
"They...they're offering an amnesty," he said. "I came to tell you that. The king has offered a general pardon to any able-bodied fighter from the Ardain who reports to the post in Pollix."
I stared at him, stunned. And then I felt a smile tug at my lips. "A rumor?"
He shook his head, short and sharp. "No. I received news from my father today, good and true. There's a call to arms across the Northlands, too, and every shipbuilder on the Isle has been pressed to service to build the ferry fleet. The king is looking to obliterate the rebel's forces."
I sat back. I rubbed my eyes then shook my head. I started to my feet. "You may get to see me happy after all, Themm."
He nodded, but there was sadness in his eyes. "I know. But I...I didn't want to tell you that part."
I shook my head, mouth split in a grin, eyebrows raised in confusion. "What? But why?" He bit his lip instead of answering, and I understood. I felt the joy fade from my eyes, my grin, but it still burned in my chest. I felt the touch of compassion cool beside it, though.
I put a hand on his shoulder and he looked up. I gave him a smile. "I'll miss you, too."
He shrugged, doing his best to look unconcerned, but he had to look away again.
I sighed. "I know you lost friends for spending time with me."
His eyes snapped up to mine, and there was something fierce in them. Offended. "You think so, huh? No, Daven. That's not it."
I let my hand fall from his shoulder. I frowned down at him, confused, and he frowned right back. "I lost friends because I saw the kind of people they were. For what they did to you. I lost friends because I walked away from them when I saw what a hero looked like."
"A hero?" I almost laughed, but he cut me off with a vicious glare.
"Yes. Because I saw you on your first day here. I saw you when you were torn and tattered and afraid. I saw you when everyone hated you and all you wanted in the world was to go away somewhere you'd be safe from all of it. And you didn't. You stayed. And you fought. You fought Archus when you didn't know half a seeming. And even after he made a mockery of you in front of everyone...." He trailed off, sputtering, then started again. "Even when Seriphenes locked you in a cell till even bell...."
He shook his head, and I saw tears in his eyes. "My father told me a long time ago that there are heroes, Daven. And that they're usually not noble-born, and they're usually not much to look at, but that if I ever found one I should bind myself close to him and study at his sunburned feet." He sniffled, and wiped a sleeve at his nose. "And you were everything he ever described."
I fell back onto the edge of my bed. "Themmichus...I had no idea. I thought you were just...."
"Nice," Themmichus said. "You thought I was just nice. Because I'm little. You probably thought I could use a big strong friend, for that matter." His lip curled in disgust. "I fought for you, Daven. My name holds power, even here. I fought the Chancellor for you. I wrote home to tell my family what a remarkable warrior you are, and my sister has nearly fallen in love with you just from secondhand stories. My father sent a letter of complaint to Seriphenes that nearly got Archus expelled. I thought you were a good man. We all did." His shoulders rose and fell, and his face was flushed. His eyes flashed fire.
I hung my head. "But what am I supposed to do?"
"You're supposed to fight," he said. "Not in storybook wars. Not in stupid, bloody battles. You're supposed to fight the bullies and the powers and your own self-pity and become a real-life hero."
I looked at my hands. I couldn't raise my voice above a mumble. "I haven't seen you much, these last few weeks."
I felt his nod. "You haven't made the time," he said. "I thought it would pass. I thought you would find your spark, call your power, and then things would change."
I took a deep breath, but it did nothing to ease the tension in my chest. I let it out in a weary sigh. "I'm sorry, Themm. There is no magic in me."
"You haven't even been here a year," he said. "You cannot know that. Most of us have schooling all our lives before we ever come to study here."
"It's not about schooling," I said. "The Chancellor said so. It's about my heart. I don't
belong
here."
"Then change your heart," Themmichus said. He was begging. "You said it yourself. You have so much more to offer."
I should have met his eyes. I wanted to. I couldn't. "I'm sorry, Themm. I can't. I have tried and tried and tried." I thought of long black days trapped in a closet, desperate for any trace of light. "I can't."
He didn't answer. For a long time he stood there, towering over me despite his size. And then he turned, without a word, and left.
I sat there for a while feeling empty. He had been my only friend at the Academy. In some ways, he had been my only friend ever. He had believed in me. I wanted to go after him, to tell him I was sorry, to make it right.
But I couldn't. It had nothing to do with pride. It had to do with...well, with the world as it was. I would not stay here. Not now. I was going off to war, to take the king's amnesty. Anything else I said to Themmichus would ring hollow.
So I rose, said my good-bye to the open door, and took my travel pack from the armoire. I stuffed it with three sets of sturdy clothes from the commissary. I almost put the sword belt back in the bag, as it had been on our disastrous flight from the capitol, but a flash of memory was enough to stop me. I sighed, long and low, and buckled the belt around my waist for the first time in months. The weight of it felt good.
And then I heard a knock on my open door. Antinus stepped through then raised an eyebrow as he cast a glance at the sword on my hip. "I thought I told you to leave that in your room," he said.
I met his eyes for a long moment, and he nodded. "Not your room anymore?"
"Not for long," I said.
He nodded again. "I expected something like that when I heard the news. You're going off to be a soldier?" He didn't really wait for my nod. He leaned against the doorframe and breathed a little sigh. "You have been a good student, Daven. A remarkable one, even if you never changed a thread of reality. It was my honor to teach you our principles, if not our secret workings."
I felt tears sting my eyes. They weren't really for Antinus, but he was the one who got them. "You have been one of three kindnesses in this place. I thank you for taking the time and risk of teaching me. If we ever cross paths again, please consider me your friend."
He smiled, then solemnly we shook hands and said serious good-byes. Then he turned and retreated down the hall. Finally alone, I felt a fever of excitement and fear stirring in my blood, but as I turned to survey the little room I realized it was time to go. Now. With my heart set on a course of action, I couldn't stay here a moment longer.
I waited only long enough for Antinus to leave the hall. Then I took the washed-leather purse Sherrim had given me in Sachaerrich, still heavy with the weight of unspent pennies, and tied it on my belt. I slung the heavy leather pack over my shoulder and cast one look over my little room. In the blink of an eye I was ready to go, with everything I needed hanging on my back, and some weary flicker of hope in my heart for the first time in weeks. In an instant I exchanged one future for another in my mind, in the space of an hour I rebuilt my whole world. I don't know how I was able to do it so quickly, but I saw only suffering and frustration here, and I saw glory and freedom in the King's Guard. At last I had an easy choice.
I slipped from my room, turned left, and opened the little wooden door at the end of the dormitory hall. It opened onto the front courtyard, one none of the students ever really visited. As I stepped out into the late afternoon sun, I remembered why.
The Academy's front gates loomed, massive and scrolled with deep, curling runes that whispered with a dark, foreboding power. I felt the immensity of them from a hundred paces away, the finality of them, and a shiver chased down my spine. I took a step in their direction, and for a moment I thought I saw an image among the twisted curls that covered the gates. A face, lost in the intricate sigils. For a heartbeat it was Themmichus. Then Claighan. And then it was gone, and I knew it all for my imagination.
But it was enough to stop me. I stood beneath the gates, staring at them across a great dusty distance. Then I took a deep breath, and it settled in my chest like a heavy weight. I closed my eyes, turned in place, and returned to the Dormitory.
This time I didn't enter through the side door nearest my room. I went around to the main entrance on the south wall, and down the building's central hall as wide as a boulevard. Halfway down, on the right, I approached the familiar door to the office of the Kind Father.
I knocked as I entered, and the old priest looked up from his place behind a desk scattered with papers and open books. His eyes widened as I entered. "You're three days early."
"I'm here to say goodbye," I told him. "I don't care if he can't really hear me. I just need to say it."
He held my eyes for a long time, then shook his head. "You may have better luck than you expected," he said. "But you will have to wait."
I frowned. "Why?"
"Because he is awake." At those words I was in his office in an instant, and halfway across it before he continued solemnly. "And he is not here."