Brightly Burning

fortune. 'And your father is kinder.'

'Now, Nelda, the boy isn't bad,' Archer admonished. 'He's just a bit adrift.'

'You aren't home enough to see,' his mother replied, 'or you weren't, back in Alderscroft. Running off with those ne'er-do-well friends of his, never coming back until all hours, and the gods only know what he was up to with them—'

'Nothing that anyone ever complained about,' Archer retorted, a sharpness in his tone showing that he was getting weary of his wife's complaints. 'No one ever said anything to me about Lan getting into mischief.'

'Well, they wouldn't, would they?' Nelda muttered, but there wasn't much else she could say beyond that. No one had ever complained to her about Lavan's behavior either, as Lan well knew, because no matter what he and his friends got into, they always made sure it wasn't where anyone would see them.

Archer turned back to his son, and rewarded his wary hope with a faint smile. 'Times change, more so here in Haven, maybe. We've got another place for you, and you can thank the Collegia for it.'

'I'm going to the Collegium? But I'm not—'

He wasn't a Bard or a Healer, and he certainly wasn't a Herald! But his father laughed and shook his head.

'Na, na, not to the Collegia—that's for the highborn, not for the likes of you! Or at least, not unless you show some kind of genius, my boy, and since you've not shown anything so far, I rather doubt you're going to start now! But it's the Collegia and the way the highborn send their younger sons and sometimes daughters there for extra learning that made the Haven Guilds think something of the kind was a good place for our younglings.' He cocked his head to the side and took in Lan's baffled expression. 'You're going to school, lad.'

'School?' Now he was more confused, not less. He knew how to read, write, and cipher, so what more could he possibly learn? 'I've already been to school.'

'Not like this, you haven't.' Archer settled back on his heels and tucked his thumbs into his belt, looking as proud as if he had thought of the idea of this 'school' himself. 'This is the school all of the Trade Guilds in Haven put together. You'll be going beyond what the priest at Alderscroft could teach you—history, fancy figuring, oh, I don't know what all else. And the schoolmasters will be testing you, seeing what it is you're good at. When they've got you figured, they'll be finding a Master for you to 'prentice to; something you'll fancy more than clothwork, I reckon.'

'You'll start tomorrow,' Nelda stated, narrowing her eyes, 'And you should be thanking your kind father for such a blessed opportunity.'

'I am—I mean, thank you sir,' Lan replied, still in a daze, and not quite certain if this was something to be glad about, or otherwise. More schooling? He hadn't been particularly brilliant at bookwork before....

But as he continued to stammer his thanks, he evidently sounded sincere enough to satisfy both his mother and father. They dismissed him, and made no objection when he went back to his room.

He stood beside his bed in the open window, staring at the blank wall of the neighbor's house, close enough that if he leaned out, he could touch it. The wall seemed an apt reflection of his state of mind.

Only one thought was at all clear.

Now what am I getting into?

TWO

ONE of the manservants woke Lan at dawn the next morning, gave him barely enough time to dress, and chased him downstairs. While the sullen fellow stood there with his arms crossed, tapping one foot, Lan threw on the first things that came to hand—his tunic and trews from yesterday. His mother waited for him at the foot of the stairs, and eyed him with patent disfavor.

'Get back up there and put on something decent. You don't have to make people think we're too niggardly to clothe our children properly,' she ordered sharply. 'And get your hair out of your face. You look like a peasant.'

He straightened abruptly with resentment, but didn't feel up to a verbal joust that he'd only get the worst of, since most of what he would like to say was likely to bring on some sort of punishment. Instead, he stalked back upstairs with his spine making a statement of irritation and did as he was ordered. He rummaged through his wardrobe, changing into tunic, shirt, and trews of his father's best white linen and indigo-blue wool, and slicking his hair back with a wet brush.

And if something happens that I get this stuff dirty or scuffed up, I'll no doubt hear all about my carelessness.

His mother gave him a brusque nod of approval when he descended again, and allowed him to proceed to the breakfast table. The sun was just at the horizon as the servants placed his food in front of him, for once in company with Sam as well as his father and mother. Samael didn't have much to say this morning, and Nelda ate quickly, leaving the table before any of the male members of the family. Lan had the distinct feeling that once she had made certain that he wasn't going to disgrace her in the way of his appearance, she felt that her duties had been entirely discharged.

Towering over his brother, Sam nodded at Lan as he shoved his empty bowl and plate away, reached for a