Exile's Honor

have taken him, a foreigner, to apprentice as his replacement, if he'd had any other choice. He could turn Dethor down, and have all those needless deaths on his own conscience. Or he could accept the position—

—and accept that he was going to stay.

:You are needed here,: Kantor said simply. :Perhaps only a handful of people even among the Heralds know this—but you are needed here. Whatever else comes, whether your God had a hand in bringing you here, whether or not He has further plans for you here, there is that. No one else can do what you can; Dethor has looked a long, long time for his replacement, and you are his last, best choice.:

'Then—yes,' he replied, answering both Dethor and Kantor. 'Yes. Learn I will, and teach.'

'Then here's my hand on it.' Dethor held out his sword-callused palm, and Alberich clasped it. A powerful and strong hand, that one had been; it was strong still, under the swollen joints and past the pain.

'Now, let me show you your quarters.' Dethor got up out of his chair; Alberich forbore to offer him a hand. There would be a time for that later. Right now, Dethor could manage, and as long as he could manage alone, he would want to. Alberich rose, and followed in the old man's footsteps.

The quarters behind the salle turned out to be a series of interconnected rooms, with no space wasted on halls. This was a sitting room, primarily; the sun came in here on winter afternoons, which probably made it a good place for Dethor to sit and bask his bones. At the rear, it led into the 'showering room' which had a cistern on the roof that fed both it and a privy on the other side of the room—which was where that second door led. On the other side of that was Dethor's bedroom, then a second room, which looked mostly unused, but which did have a bed and a wooden chest in it. Then storage grooms and an office, which led, in turn, back into the salle. If one followed a path around, it would be in the shape of a 'u' with the two points of the letter representing the two doors into the salle.

A pile of clothing and gear lay on the bed in the second room, which Alberich assumed was going to be his. Jadus worked quickly, it seemed. The arrangement suited him, actually. And comforted him. There would be no one sleeping between him and a direct line out of here. Oh, there were windows to climb out of, but that was awkward and had the potential to be very noisy.

'This has always been laid out with the idea that the Weaponsmaster shares quarters with his Second,' Dethor told him, then grinned evilly. 'The Second's closer to the salle, so if there's a crisis in the middle of the night—?'

'The Second, the one who answers, is,' Alberich said with mock resignation. 'Master.'

'Exactly. Just got one question for you. I have 'em bring my meals over from the Collegium—there's a fireplace in the sitting room where things can be kept hot. Wastes my time to be hauling myself over there and back, three times a day. But you—you might be wanting to be around people more.'

It's too painful for him to be dragging himself back and forth. Alberich found it very easy to read between those lines. But—he's lonely. No, I won't desert him, not even for meals. 'If you, my master and teacher will be here—then going there of what use is?' he asked logically. 'A waste of my time. Asking questions, having advice, I could be. Besides, soldiers are we. Understand each other, we do.'

Was it his imagination, or did Dethor actually soften a bit? 'You'll find that boy Kimel is another of our sort,' he said. 'Head of His Majesty's Personal Guard, that boy, and hard on himself. Always after someone to make him better and keener, but he just hasn't what's needed to be Weaponsmaster. Trained him myself, though.'

'Then, on himself, he would hard be.' Alberich knew that much for certain. 'Like master, like man, at home we say.'

'We say the same thing here,' Dethor replied, and it seemed, with some content. 'Not so different after all, in some things, at least.'

'No,' Alberich agreed.

'Right, I have a gaggle of youngsters coming in a moment. You get this room arranged to your liking, then come out and give me a hand with 'em. No time like the present to start.' Once again, Dethor was all brisk business, and as he limped out, Alberich made haste to follow his orders.

He made up the bed with the linens and blankets he found in the chest, and put his things away. Not that he had a great deal to put away—those uniforms, light ones for summer, heavier materials for winter, a cloak—some toiletries, which he was pleased enough to see. He took the opportunity to give his short-cut hair a good combing, thinking as he did so that he probably ought to let it grow out now. Longer hair seemed to be the fashion in Valdemar, and there was no use in looking more conspicuous than he already did.

:You've decided to stay.: Kantor exuded satisfaction.

:Yes.: He knew he had made up his mind that the so-called 'trial' was over, probably the instant that he realized Dethor wanted him to train as a replacement Weaponsmaster. Maybe that was all it had really taken, the knowledge that they weren't going to make work for him, and fit him in somehow, but that there already was a place here that was crying out for someone like him.