Khollo let this thought cheer him, nodding pleasantly to Dari as he filled a bowl with beef stew and retreated to his and Sermas’ customary haunt. On the way, he nicked a fresh loaf and a small crock of yellow butter as well. When he reached the small table at the rear of the kitchens though, he found that two people were already there. One was Sermas. The other was Hern, his crutches propped against the wall beside him.
“Well, this is . . . different,” Khollo observed, taking the last remaining seat without invitation. The other boys didn’t say a word, so Khollo dug into his dinner instead, ripping bread from the loaf and spreading butter on it. Then, with his other hand, he began spooning up great gulps of stew.
“Look, Khollo,” Sermas began quietly. “Don’t beat yourself up about getting kicked out.”
Khollo paused in the act of raising the spoon to his mouth again. Slowly, he set it down. “Who says I’m beating myself up about it?”
Sermas exchanged a look with Hern. Or at least, he tried to. Hern was looking thoroughly miserable, picking at a knot hole in one of the wooden table’s planks.
“Because that’s what you always do when Wilkes and Genal tell you you’re not good enough,” Sermas replied. “This isn’t the first time something’s gone wrong in training.”
“No, but it was the last, wasn’t it?” Khollo thought out loud. Sermas frowned and went to answer, but Khollo cut him off.
“Look, I’m not beating myself up about this. I was earlier, but I’ve done some thinking. Cadet training was never a good fit for me, even at the Academy. I just can’t fit with the structure of it or the specific drill sequences or any of it. I can be coordinated and fight well outside the boundaries, but that’s not how Wilkes wants me to fight. So, it’s just as well I’m out now. Time to try something new, maybe be good at it.”
Sermas looked at Khollo uncertainly. “Are you sure you mean that. I mean, being a warrior was your dream – ”
“Yes, I’m sure!” Khollo growled. “I’ve had plenty of time to think on that today.”
Hern looked up. “Khollo, this is all my fault,” he said miserably. “If I hadn’t gotten you in trouble with Wilkes that one morning, he might not have thrown you out today.”
Khollo laughed, ignoring the bewildered looks that Sermas and Hern were now giving him. “Wilkes has been trying to get rid of me since I got here,” Khollo said finally. “If you want credit for my getting thrown out, you’re going to have to do better than that, Hern.”
Hern gave an uneasy smile and sat up a little straighter. Sermas said nothing, but his penetrating, calculating look said he didn’t quite believe Khollo.
“So,” Sermas said when Khollo’s mirth had subsided. “Where will you go?”
Khollo shrugged and applied himself to his dinner again. “I’m staying at the West Bank, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m living in the smithy now, working with Hern’s uncle.”
“Uncle Tarrik?” Hern asked, grinning.
“Yeah,” Khollo replied. “He’s going to teach me to be a smith. Or at least, a smith’s apprentice.”
“You’re not . . . leaving?” Sermas asked.
“Why would I leave?”
“To get away from Wilkes,” Sermas said immediately. “To leave this mess behind. To find a real purpose and something you’re good at.”
“The only thing I could do if I left here is live on the streets, which you know I’m not cut out for,” Khollo argued. “No, I’m staying. Janis left me a mission, an important one. Even if I wanted to leave the West Bank, I couldn’t. This task is that important.”
“What is it?” Sermas asked eagerly.
Khollo shook his head. “Can’t say. And if I ever get to tell you, you’ll wish I had no reason to.”
Sermas looked at Hern. “Well, that clears everything up,” he observed drily.
“Does this have anything to do with Lord Kurkan and Ondus’ mission?” Hern asked eagerly.
“Possibly,” Khollo replied evasively. “Don’t press me for anything else, I’ve told you too much as it is.”
Disappointed, the two cadets sat back in their seats, looking utterly defeated. Khollo gave a wry smile. “So,” he said, ripping off another chunk of bread from his pilfered loaf. “What did Wilkes put you up to after I . . . left?”
“More spear work,” Sermas groaned. “The whole day. My arms will never be the same again.”
“Maybe we’ll be good enough to transfer to the cavalry,” Hern said hopefully. “At least the horses do most of the work there.”
“I might join Khollo in the smithy if this keeps going much longer,” Sermas agreed.
Khollo shook his head vehemently. “No.”
“No?” Sermas asked, puzzled.
Khollo swallowed. “You two need to keep at it, become warriors. You’re good at that. We need good swordsman and spearmen and foot soldiers. In time, all the training will pay off and you’ll make a real contribution.”
“By patrolling the battlements for eternity,” Hern muttered.
“No, by serving the kingdom,” Khollo countered. “By serving the West Bank.”
“Well,” Sermas said, rising. “Unless you know something I don’t, Khollo, there will be no need for our service anytime soon. I’m off to bed, going to try and recover for tomorrow. Coming, Hern?”
Hern grimaced. “Yeah, pass me those crutches, would you?”
As Hern began hobbling across the kitchen, Sermas gripped Khollo’s arm and leaned down. “Is there anything you want to tell me, Khollo?”
