Caulder looked as if the sun had suddenly risen just for him. He stepped forward eagerly to clasp Trist’s hand, even as Spink muttered disgustedly, “May the good god witness all you do.” It’s a saying my father once called as much a curse as a blessing, for few of us would willingly call the good god to witness all we do every day. I wasn’t sure if Caulder even heard what Spink said, for he turned a quick snarl at him, saying, “My father does not like to be kept waiting!”
I saw Spink struggle not to respond to that, and win. He stood, closing his books and tidying his space. “It seems odd for the commander to still be in his office at this hour,” I observed, and Caulder looked nearly triumphant as he said, “For matters of discipline, where else would he meet with the cadet in question?”
“Discipline?” Spink looked alarmed, as well he might. To be called directly to the commander’s office for discipline, after class hours, bespoke an extreme violation of Academy rules, one that might well lead to suspension or dismissal.
Caulder smiled sweetly. “Of course, I know nothing of what it is all about,” he said in a sugary voice that implied exactly the opposite. He glanced out the window. “I do suggest you hurry, however.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” I asked Spink. Curiosity and dread were devouring me.
“He could hold your hand,” Caulder suggested slyly.
“I’ll be back soon enough,” Spink said with a venomous glance at the boy. He went for his greatcoat, and moments later disappeared down the stairs.
“Did he finish his math before he went?” Gord asked me quietly. Spink’s understanding of the theory was as good as any cadet’s, but his weakness in calculations still undermined his marks.
“I don’t know,” I replied.
“We’ve section tests next Fiveday,” Gord commented, and I groaned, for I had pushed that dread to the back of my mind. Section tests meant that we’d be tested in every one of our subjects, and our marks posted to our records. We’d weathered one section test so far that year. I had not done as well as I had expected, but then, no one had. This time I intended to be better prepared.
“Well, all we can do is the best we can do,” I muttered philosophically. I opened my math book again.
“And you new noble sons had best do well at your sections!” Caulder interjected. I hadn’t even been aware he was still there.
“We expect to,” Gord returned mildly.
“Why must we do well?” Trist asked suddenly.
The boy smiled at Trist. “No one is supposed to know,” he said. He glanced around the room, pleased with our suddenly rapt attention. Even Caleb looked up from his latestDreadful Crimes folio. Caulder licked his narrow lips and added almost in a whisper, “But you could say a lot of futures may depend on the posting of the final grades for the half year.”
“Will the commander do a culling?” Rory asked bluntly.
Caulder raised one eyebrow. “Perhaps. But you didn’t hear it from me.” And with that chill remark, he turned to leave the room. Both Oron and Rory shot desperate looks at Trist.
“Hold up, Caulder!” Trist jumped to his feet. “I was just going out for a bit of air. Perhaps I’ll walk a ways with you.”
“If you wish,” the boy acceded smugly, and waited for Trist to join him. After we had heard their boots descend the stairs, Rory spoke. “I don’t like the sound of that. I warned you fellers about cullings before, just like my cousin warned me. They had an exceptionally large class the year he came into the Academy. The commander that year did three cullings. He’d choose a test or an exercise of some kind, without any advance notice to the cadets, and those who fell below a certain score were simply dismissed.”
“That’s brutal,” gasped Oron, and the rest of us nodded grimly.
“It is. But the commander then said that it was as fair as an ambush; that those who were always ready and alert survived, and those who were lax did not.”
I was suddenly reminded of Sergeant Duril’s rocks. I didn’t like the idea of a sudden culling, but the commander was right. It was fair in the same way that battle odds were fair. I scowled. I still hadn’t found the rock I’d kept on my shelf. It was a minor thing, but it irritated me.
I shook it from my thoughts and opened my math book again. I had been solid on the lesson; now I resolved to be absolutely in command of it. At the table, other cadets were doing the same. Gord sat silent, staring straight ahead. When he noticed me looking at him, he said quietly, “I hope Spink gets back soon.”
I nodded. Spink had passed his last section test, but not by much. I breathed a silent prayer to the good god that Spink’s efforts at study would be rewarded, and then hastily added myself to that petition as well. I bent my head over my books and tried to concentrate.
I looked up immediately when I heard boot steps on the stairs. Trist came in. His cheeks and forehead were red with cold from the outside, but his mouth was pinched white with fury. He looked round at us and seemed to be strangling on his news.
“So? What did you find out? Did he tell you anything?” Oron demanded of him.
“It’s not fair! It’s not fair at all, and there’s no reason for it!” Trist spoke through gritted teeth. He walked over to our hearth and stood with his back to us, warming his hands.
“What is it?” Rory demanded.
“It’s not just an individual culling!” Trist turned back to face us. “It’s going to be based on averaged patrol scores. Lowest patrol is out. One man with a bad test score could lose the Academy for his entire patrol.
“But why?” The cry burst from several of us.
Trist tore off his gloves and slapped them down on the table. “Because the Academy overspent on horses and costs must be cut. So the colonel is looking for a way to get rid of some of our class. That’s what I think. Caulder gave me some lofty speech about how each patrol should lift individuals to a higher standard, and if we haven’t done that by now with our weaker members, then we never will as troopers.”
Rory knit his brow. “That’s something like what Colonel Stiet said in that first speech he gave us at the beginning of the year. But I thought it was just inspirational, not that he’d actually hold us to it.”
Oron looked around wildly. “This means that no matter how well I do, no matter how hard I’ve studied, any one of you could bring me down tomorrow. I could be dismissed from the King’s Academy for something I had absolutely no control over.”
“Spink.” Caleb spoke the name like a curse. “Spink could do us all in. Where is he, anyway? Why isn’t he here and studying, like he should be? Doesn’t he care at all?”
“He was summoned to the colonel’s office. Don’t you remember?” I spoke the words dully. It came to me that alone of us all, Gord had acted on the colonel’s words from our welcoming speech. He had tried to lift Spink’s mathematical capabilities up to match his own. And then, in a wash of near despair, I thought of what else Gord had just said: that if anyone truly conspired to weaken the new nobles in the King’s Council of Lords, he would find a way to turn us against each other. If Spink’s failure sent all of us home, with the only future option of enlisting as common soldiers, how would our fathers feel about one another? Whom would they blame?
“Well, he’d best get back soon! I don’t want my career ended because some frontier lad didn’t know what eight times six was. You’d best drill him well, Gord, or it’s the end for all of us!” This was Rory.
“We’re counting on you. Make sure he passes,” Trist added in a tone I didn’t like.
Gord lifted his head and looked at him steadily. “I’ll do all I can, in that I’ll offer him as much help studying as we both have time for.”
He lowered his eyes to his books again. After a moment the silence in the room passed back to the normal shuffling of papers and scrubbing out of mistakes. Trist went to his room and came back with his own books. We made room for him at the table. He asked to borrow Oron’s grammar book to look up a Varnian verb. He did so, and jotted it down. Trist didn’t look up from his own work as he quietly observed to Gord, “You always sit next to Spink in math class. And he’s left-handed.”
Every head at the table lifted. I looked at Trist in disbelief. “Are you suggesting they should cheat? That Gord should let Spink copy off his test?”
Trist didn’t look up at any of us. “Gord corrects all his work every night before Spink turns it in the next day. How is that so different?”
Gord strangled for a moment, then said tightly, “I’m not a cheater and neither is Spink. I tell him when he has the answer wrong, and show him what he did wrong. He still has to rework all the calculations himself.”
Trist’s voice was very calm. “So if he could see your answers, and if he had time, he might be able to go
