But by the time Tarma’s pupils cleaned up, the mage-students were also finished for the day, and everyone met together for supper and study or amusement afterward.
Altogether, there were ten pupils in Tarma’s school, a round dozen in Keth‘s, and two that were pure scholars, being taught by Jadrek. One of those was Kira’s twin Merili, the other a “charity student” from their own village, a young boy who lived to learn. Jadrek intended to recommend him as Rethwellan Archivist-in-training when he finished with the child, the current Archivist having no wife or children to follow him. Of Kethry’s pupils, one was her own son Jadrek, though it was likely he’d employ his knowledge as a Shin’a‘in shaman rather than a White Winds mage—the shamans being the only Shin’a‘in permitted to use magic. Only Jadrie was in Tarma’s group; the twins Lyan and Laryn were not particularly interested in fighting, and were learning only the basics every Shin’a‘in should know. Like Jadrie, they had decided early that they wanted the Clan and the Plains, but they were completely horse-mad. On their own initiative, during the summer that followed the spring that Jadrie had tamed her first horse, they had secretly picked a pair of two-year olds out of the Tale’sedrin herds and tamed them without any help at all. The Liha‘irden horse-herders had seen them at it, of course, but since they weren’t doing anything wrong, they were allowed to carry out their plan. Tarma privately suspected that the herders were very proud of the audacious young twins, though if they’d begun to ruin the horses, they’d have been punished for their audacity.
It was too soon to tell what the latest baby, Jendar, was going to turn out to be like—Tarma’s only clue was that he stuck by his mother’s side during every lesson, and only toddled off when she turned her hands to anything other than magic.
But with twenty-seven children of various ages crowded around the supper table, the evening meal was a noisy and amusing affair. No rules of silence were invoked, and the children were allowed to talk about anything they pleased and for this one meal, eat or not eat whatever they liked. At the beginning of each season, there were always a few bellyaches when students stuffed themselves with sweets—one surfeit usually cured them of further foolishness, especially when the next day brought no sympathy, and no break from lessons. The only iron-clad rule was that there were to be no food fights. Tarma and Kethry had both gone without often enough that the idea of wasted food was intolerable. The one and only time that rule had been challenged, Kethry’s combined solution and punishment had been swift and effective. The next day, she had scryed out a group of hungry shepherd-children in the hills. When everyone gathered for breakfast, and the savory meal was laid out on the sideboard—when mouths were watering and appetites roused—she transported every bit of that hot, tantalizing meal to those children, and presented the school with what the children would have eaten. Stale, hard bread and cheese rinds came as quite a shock to pampered children of noble houses. She did the same at lunch. At dinner, she made it very clear that she was prepared to continue sending their food “to children who appreciated it” if there was ever a repetition of the incident. The story had been passed to every new student since then, by word of mouth, and Tarma had no doubt that it had grown in the telling. It certainly guaranteed that there were no food fights again.
She noticed the three older boys had unbent and were treating Jadrie and Kira more as their equals than usual. This meant, of course, that instead of being ignored, the girls came in for teasing and surreptitious prodding and poking. For a while, they seemed to enjoy it, but when the sweet was served, they were clearly beginning to lose their tempers. She debated interfering, but Merili beat her to it.
“Weren’t there supposed to be some gentlemen at this table, besides our teachers?” she asked Tarma pointedly, after a quick flash of a frown at Larsh.
“I thought so, but I haven’t seen any,” Tarma replied, hiding her amusement.
“That’s too bad,” Merili said with a dignity that was so funny Tarma nearly spoiled everything for her by laughing. “If there had been gentlemen here, I was going to ask them to come riding with me after dinner.” She sighed and looked only at Tarma. “Well, if any gentlemen appear, the invitation will still be there.”
The three older boys secretly worshipped their “Little Princess,” and that put a stop to the tormenting. All through dessert, they remained on their best behavior, much to the relief of the other two girls. None of them wanted to fall under the Royal Disfavor, for Merili was as good-natured as she was pretty, and never minded helping when one of Jadrek’s lessons proved difficult to conquer, or when something needed mending or embellishing.
As usual, the children inhaled their sweets; before many moments had passed, they had all scattered to the four winds to ride, continue last night’s work on a pair of snow forts, or run off the last of their energy in games, until a candlemark before bathtime, when they would be herded to the library for study. That left the adults alone except for the baby, and they looked at each other, heaved a sigh of relief, and laughed.
“Does it get noisier every year, or is it my imagination?” Jadrek asked, prying Jendar’s chubby fingers off the handle of a knife, and giving the boy his heavy silver bracelet to play with instead.
“Of course it gets noisier every year; there are more children every year,” Ikan Dryvale replied, wriggling his finger in his ear as if to clear his hearing. “Even if you didn’t take more students, Kethry would be providing the increase herself!”
“Oh, come now!” Kethry laughed. “You make me sound like a brood-hen!”
“I overheard you delivering the Lecture to the boys, Tarma,” Justin interjected. “How did they take it?”
“We’ll have them all back after Midwinter,” she was able to tell him, with great satisfaction. “We’ll still have to pound sense into their heads, but we aren’t going to be the enemy anymore.”
“Oh, really?” Ikan’s eyebrows arched. “I wasn’t all that sure of young Hesten. There’s a strong streak of rebellion in that one.”
“There always is in the smart ones,” Justin pointed out, refilling his cup. “It was Belton I wasn’t certain of. He hasn’t completely trusted us since the day he arrived.”
“Warrl says he does now,” Tarma replied. Justin glanced over to the fireside, where Warrl was finishing his own dinner, and the kyree looked up and nodded in confirmation.
“Well, that’s a relief,” was all Justin said, and the conversation turned to other topics and other students.
As the servants finished clearing the table, leaving only the pitchers of drink, Tarma sat back in her chair at the foot of the table and pondered her “family” with a feeling of complete contentment.
Justin looked far more prosperous than he had in the old days; there were threads of gray in his blond hair, and his face was craggier, but other than that he carried his age lightly. That might have been due to Estrel, his wife, who sat beside him—their baby Kethren was in the nursery asleep, where Jendar would be shortly. Estrel looked like what she was, a fresh-faced young shepherdess of a mere seventeen. What didn’t show on the surface was a vast knowledge of herb-healing and midwifery, a very shrewd and clever mind, and an utter devotion to Justin. She first saw Justin at the school, where she and the other village younglings were taking short lessons in reading, writing, and figuring from Jadrek, who gave those lessons gratis. She had also been apprenticed to the village midwife, and had naturally come into close contact with Kethry.
Estrel had fallen in love with Justin immediately, and set about winning him for herself with a determination that surmounted each and every obstacle in her path. She fit in very well here, and was in charge of the nursery when Kethry was busy with her own students.
Justin and Estrel sat in the middle of the table on Tarma’s right. Ikan sat across from them on the left. His amber hair betrayed no gray yet, and if someone didn’t know what to look for, he could be mistaken for a plowman. He still had utterly innocent blue eyes, and the face of a country-br
ed dolt straight out of the fields. That might have been why the younger boys responded better to him than to Justin; he didn’t look nearly as intimidating. He had yet to settle down, distributing his favors to as many women as cared to fling themselves at him—and plenty did.
Kethry and Jadrek sat at the head of the table—and equal distribution of teachers ensured that mayhem at supper was kept to a minimum. Since they’d come “off the road” and settled down here, on the estate that King Stefanson had bestowed upon them for their service in getting back his throne, Kethry had allowed her hair to grow, as had Tarma. Kethry’s had grown faster though, and it had already been much longer than Tarma’s when they retired. Now, if she let it loose from the single plait she wore it in during the day, it would just brush the floor, a glorious waterfall of dark amber with red highlights. There was no sign of gray in it yet, although there were the faint beginnings of crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes.
Jadrek’s hair had gone completely to silver-gilt, but all of the lines in his face now were those most often associated with pleasure rather than pain. He was both a handsome and a distinguished man, and between them, he and Kethry had produced some incredibly handsome children. Though he still suffered a bit in the winter from his old troubles, Estrel and Kethry kept the worst symptoms of his bad joints at bay.
And me—
:And you, mindmate. You arestill as thin and tough as a whip, though a bit creaky in the joints yourself. There’s a trace of white in your hair, but no sign of age on your face, and no sign of it in the ring, provided you don’t do anything intolerably stupid. And no one would ever mistake you for anything but Shin‘a’in, blood and bone. Great beak of a nose, golden skin, blue eyes, black hair, just like every other Clansib I’ve ever seen.:
She grinned, hiding it behind her cup. Thank you, Furball, for deflating any vestige of vanity I might have had.
Yes, the years had been very kind to all of them. About the only thing she could have wished for was that Ikan would settle down himself. Preferably with a spouse with true Healing talent; that was the one thing the school lacked, was a resident Healer.
:Be careful what you wish for,: Warrl cautioned, with a laugh behind his mental voice.
Oh? You know something?
:There’s going to be a new Healing Priestess arriving tomorrow in the village. Same Order as Tresti was—so there will be no difficulty at all if she decides to get married. I hear she’s very pretty and very, very clever.
What else did you hear? Tarma asked, sensing that Warrl was much more amused than his simple description would warrant.
:Only this; Father Mayhew has been warning the boys to mind their manners and keep their hands to themselves. He told his housekeeper that her Superior warned him that as a Novice she knocked a man unconscious with a piece of firewood for trying to take liberties. I’d say she isn’t going to be the easy conquest the village girls have been.:
Tarma almost choked, and took a quick swallow to hide it. Well, well, well, so Ikan was finally going to meet his match!
:She’ll either infuriate him or captivate him.:
Huh. Probably both.
Warrl yawned hugely and winked at her, then turned to the fire to warm his belly.
“Jadrek, have you got any word on when their escorts come to get the children?” she called into the next break in conversation. “We ought to tell them at bedtime.”
“Your three oldest boys will be leaving in three days; their escort is due to arrive then. Three of Keth’s children will be staying here over the holidays, and all of the rest with the exception of Kira and Merili will go out with a caravan coming in tomorrow and leaving the day after. Kira and Merili’s escort will be here in four days.” Jadrek sounded quite sure of himself, as well he should be; he had messengers traveling between himself and the escorts every day from the time they left the students’ homes. He was taking no chances on a “false escort” presenting himself and making off with one of the children, for all of them were highborn enough to command significant ransoms.
“That’ll cheer Kira up; she was afraid the weather would keep her here over Midwinter,” Tarma said with satisfaction.
“Oh, but Jadrie will be devastated,” Kethry replied. “Would you believe my little hoyden was looking forward to having Kira do her hair and Merili help her with a dress for the Midwinter feast?”
Tarma felt her jaw go slack with surprise. “Jadrie? A dress? Next thing you’ll tell me is that she’s trying to snare herself a boyfriend!”
Jadrek laughed. “Just wait until summer, Tarma, I think she’s got her eye on that stripling shaman—” he paused for a moment, and his capacious memory supplied the name before Tarma could think of it. “—Ah‘kela, that’s it. Ah’kela shena Liha‘irden. The one two years older than she is.”
With the name came the face, and Tarma couldn’t help but grin with acute satisfaction. Ah‘kela was a handsome, and unaccountably shy adolescent, in training with Liha’irden’s Chief Shaman. And if Jadrie did manage to snare him—well, that solved the problem of where the new Clan Tale‘sedrin was going to get its new shaman when the time came to form it up. Jadrek the younger certainly wasn’t going to be old enough in time.
Ah, but that will give us a shaman-in-training under Ah‘kela. Shamans are always in demand as spouses, and the twins will have no difficulty finding mates, not with every Liha’irden girl over the age of ten petting them and admiring their golden hair and green eyes ... Jadrie was the one that might have been too much for most boys, just as I was. Hah! I should have known she’d solve her own problems!
Justin burst out laughing, interrupting her reverie. “Tarma, you look like the most self-satisfied match-maker I ever saw in my life!”
“It can’t hurt to think about these things, can it?” she protested.
“Yes, but you look like a cat who’s stolen an entire pitcher of cream,” Ikan teased. “You should see yourself!”
“Piff,” she scoffed, and glared at Justin. “Just you wait until your babies are grown! If you don’t turn out worse than me, I’ll be greatly surprised!”
Estrel giggled, and Justin turned beet-red. “He already is, Tarma. He already is!”
She didn’t elaborate, much to Justin’s obvious relief, but Tarma could well guess. Like every male with strong bonds to his children, he was probably planning who was and was not a “worthy” prospective mate for his little boy, and worrying about the possible consequences. “Well, unless you want to lose your son and heir to the barbarians, better not plan on a betrothal to Jadrie—or any other girl-child Keth may conjure up,” she teased.
“And have you as an in-law?” he shuddered. “Perish the thought!”
She mimed throwing a dagger at him, and the evening broke up in laughter.
After the official “lights out” time, Kira waited until the last sounds of the grown-ups checking on all of the students faded, then for good measure, waited another one hundred breaths, before reaching up with her foot and poking the bottom of her twin’s bunk. Merili had been waiting for that signal; she slipped out of bed and slid down to the floor as silently as a kitten, and the two of them wrapped warm robes around themselves and slid their feet into sheepskin slippers, using only the light of the embers in their fireplace to see by. The pockets of both their robes bulged, hinting at something interesting inside. As Merili rummaged a carefully-hidden package out of her wardrobe, wrapped in paper she had saved from lessons and patterned with berry-juice ink, Kira got a similar package from under her bed. With Kira in the lead, scouting every step of the way, they made their way down the dark hallway each with one hand trailing along the wall to guide her. Both of them had made this journey innumerable times before, and they slid their feet soundlessly along the smooth wooden floor.
When Kira’s hand encountered empty air, she knew she had come to the staircase, and she warned her twin with the merest thread of a hiss. She bent to pull off her slippers, picked them up, and felt her way down with
her bare toes a step at a time, pausing on the landing to put her slippers back on and hiss the “all clear” for Merili. She was glad to get her slippers back on; the floor was icy-cold and she wriggled her toes in the warm fleece while she waited for Merili.
When her twin’s hand touched her arm in the dark, Kira led the way out into the second-floor hall, and onto the corridor where Jadrie and her twin brothers had their own rooms. Keeping to the left side of the hall, she felt her way along the wall. When her hand brushed the third door, she stopped and gave three very soft taps.
The door opened, swiftly and silently, and Jadrie grabbed both their hands and pulled them inside.
She had built up her fire to a cheerful blaze, had cleverly shrouded the window in a rug so that no light betrayed her, and had lit a single candle. As Kira and Merili took their places on sheepskin-covered cushions beside the fire, suppressing giggles, Jadrie rolled up a towel and stuffed it against the door sill, sealing off the crack at the bottom so that no light would leak out there either, to show that there was a cozy little clandestine party going on.
Only then did the older girl joined them, taking her own cushion and plumping herself down on it.
“There!” she whispered, looking very proud of herself. “We should be safe as long as the boys don’t wake up.” Then her face fell a little. “But this is probably the last chance we’ll get to be together before you go home.”
“Yes, but we’ll be back soon enough! Look what I brought for our party—” Merili replied cheerfully, and began pulling handfuls of chestnuts out of the bulging pockets of her robe.
“I got apples,” Kira supplied, pulling three luscious fruits from her previously-loaded pockets, as Jadrie arranged the chestnuts close to the fire to roast.
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