and I felt a tearing cramp in my side. I could not help myself. I clutched at my belly. “Sir, I’m feeling ill. Permission to leave, sir.”
“You have it. Take your papers with you. I never want to see you in this office again.”
He thrust the paper into my slackened hands. I held it against my complaining stomach as I staggered from the room. In the outer office, the colonel’s secretary stared at me as I passed him by without a word. I hastened out the door and down the steps. Sergeant Rufet was waiting for me, his face impassive. I began a quick march back to the dormitory, but after a few steps I faltered. A wave of vertigo swept over me and I halted, swaying on my feet.
Sergeant Rufet spoke in a low voice. “That must have been some dressing-down. Taking it hard, I see. Buck up, Cadet. Be a man.”
Be a man. Stupid, useless advice. “Yes, Sergeant.” I kept walking. Blackness kept trying to close in from the edges of my vision. I would not faint. Never before had foul news had such a profound physical effect on me. My belly boiled with acid and my head spun. I focused my eyes on the path and staggered on.
“So. How many demerits will you be marching off?” he asked. His tone was genial, as if to make light of whatever had befallen me, but I thought there was an edge of concern in it, too.
I could scarcely find breath to answer. “I won’t be marching at all,” I managed, ashamed of how my voice hitched on the words. “I’ve been dishonorably discharged. They’re sending me home in disgrace. I’ll never be a soldier, let alone an officer.”
The sergeant halted in surprise. I think he thought I would stop too, but I kept on walking. I feared I would collapse if I did not. One foot in front of the other. He caught up with me and asked me in a toneless voice, “What did you do, Cadet, to merit that?”
“Nothing. It’s what Caulder accused me of doing. He said I’m the one who got him drunk at Dark Evening. I didn’t. I was just the one who dragged him home.” When the sergeant said nothing, I added bitterly, “His old noble friends are the ones who took him to town and got him drunk. They wanted him to pass out so they could get into a whorehouse without him. I heard them talking about it. Those old noble bastards left him to freeze on the ground. I picked him up, I obeyed the doctor’s order, I dragged him home, and I’m the one to be kicked out. All because I’m anew noble’s son.”
“Caulder.” The sergeant growled the word like it was a curse. Then he added, in a low, vicious voice, “New noble, old noble, that’s all I hear, and not a damn bit of difference do I see between the lot of you. Any noble’s son is the same to me, born to lord it over me. Damn lot of you wet behind the ears still, but in three years you’ll be polishing your lieutenant’s bars while I’m still riding a damn desk and babysitting youngsters.”
A fresh wave of misery washed over me. In all the times I’d walked past the sergeant’s desk, I’d never stopped to wonder what he thought of us. I glanced over at him. There he was, a man grown, years of service behind him, and in two years at the Academy, I’d outrank him. That injustice suddenly seemed as great as what had just befallen me. I drew a breath against the misery that had swollen my throat shut and tried to speak.
“Shut up, Cadet,” he said coldly before I could get a word out. “I’m not any kind of a noble’s son, but I know an injustice when I see it. Listen. Listen to me. Don’t say a damn word about that discharge. Fold it up and shove it in your pocket. And don’t do a damn thing until someone commands you to do it. Shut up and sit tight. Caulder’s been a thorn in my flesh since he and his old man got here. Maybe it’s time I had a word with that pup, and let him know that I know what’s what with his trotting about here and there. I see a damn sight more than I say. Maybe it’s time I put a word in his ear about what I know. Maybe he’ll say something to his father to make him change his mind. But the fewer people the colonel has to explain that change to, the easier it will be for him to do it. So you, you just lie low and don’t do anything for a while. Do you understand me, boy?”
“Yes, sir,” I said shakily. I should have felt better for his words of support. Instead I only felt fainter. “Thank you, sir.”
“You don’t call a sergeant ‘sir,’ ” he pointed out sourly.
I don’t know how I made the rest of that long march back to Carneston House. He left me at the door and went, with a heavy sigh, to sit behind his desk. I still clutched my discharge paper in my hand. I started up the stairs. They had never seemed so steep or so long. Sternly, I ordered my body to behave itself and tried to get a grip on myself. On the first landing I paused to catch my breath. Sweat was pouring down my back and ribs. I crumpled up the paper I didn’t have the energy to fold, and thrust it into my pocket.
I have climbed cliffs that were less demanding than those remaining flights of stairs. When I reached our rooms at last, I stumbled past Spink sitting at our study table. “You look awful!” he greeted me worriedly. “What happened?”
“I’m sick,” I said, and no more than that. I stumbled to our room, let my coat fall to the floor, kicked off my boots and lay on my bunk facedown. I’d never felt so wretched in my life. Yesterday, I’d learned that I’d likely be culled, and it had seemed the worst possible fate. Today, I knew how foolish I’d been. Culled, I could have been a ranker or a scout. At least I’d been left a chance to prove myself a proper soldier son. Dishonored, I was nothing except an embarrassment to my family. My guts squeezed inside me. I only knew that Spink had followed me into the room when he spoke.
“You’re not the only one sick. Trist is down bad, with something a lot worse than a hangover. Oron went to fetch the doctor. And Natred left an hour ago to go to the infirmary. What did you eat at Dark Evening? Natred said he thought he got some bad meat.”
“Leave me alone, Spink. I’m just sick.” I wanted desperately to confide in him about what had just happened, but didn’t even have the energy to unfold the story. Besides, the sergeant had told me to say nothing. Lacking any better source of advice, I’d take his. I tried to take slow, calming breaths and regain some sort of control over myself. Nausea surged in my gut. I swallowed and closed my eyes.
I don’t know how much time passed before I admitted to myself that I truly was ill. It seemed fitting that I should be as physically miserable as I was mentally. I could hear Trist retching across the hall. I dozed off, and woke to a hand on my brow. When I turned over, Dr. Amicas was looking down at me. “This one, too,” he said tersely to someone. “What is his name?”
“Nevare Burvelle,” I heard Spink say dully. A pen scratched on paper.
When he saw my eyes were open, the doctor demanded, “Tell me everything you ate and drank at Dark Evening. Don’t leave anything out.”
“I didn’t give the liquor to Caulder,” I said desperately. “All I did was bring him home. Like you told me to. He was passed out on the ground when I found him.”
Dr. Amicas stooped and peered into my face. “Oh. So that was you last night, was it? You still owe me some cab fare, Cadet, but we’ll let it pass for now. I saw Caulder early this morning. Worst case of alcohol poisoning I’ve ever seen in a boy that young. But he’ll live. He just won’t enjoy it for a while. Now. What did you eat and drink?”
I tried to remember. “A potato. Some meat on a stick. Something else. Oh. Chestnuts. I had chestnuts.”
“And to drink?”
“Nothing.”
“You won’t be in trouble for it, Cadet. I just need to know. What did you drink?”
I was getting very tired of people thinking I was a liar. But instead of getting angry, I felt weepy. I ached all over. “Nothing,” I said again, past the lump in my throat. “I didn’t drink anything. And Caulder lied about me.”
“Caulder lies about a great many things,” the doctor observed, as if that shouldn’t surprise me. “Can you get yourself undressed and into bed, Cadet? Or do you need help?”
I groped at my chest, surprised to find that I was still dressed. When I began to fumble at my buttons, the doctor nodded as if satisfied. I heard someone gag and then begin to retch again. It sounded close by. The doctor scowled and spoke sternly, and this time I realized he had an assistant standing at his elbow. “And there’s another one. I want this whole floor quarantined. No. I want the entire hall quarantined. Go downstairs immediately and tell Sergeant Rufet to post a yellow flag by the door. No one comes in or out.”
I think the assistant was happy to leave judging by how quickly he fled. I sat up to take off my boots and the room spun around me. Nate and Kort were both lying on their bunks. Nate was hanging, head down, over the edge of his mattress, retching into a basin on the floor. Kort was motionless. A frightened-looking Spink was standing near the window, his arms crossed on his chest. Doggedly, I went to work at getting my shirt off my arms.
