by Robin Hobb
“Epiny!” her father rebuked her, but he sounded more abashed than angry.
“Please, Papa! I’ve been so bored and you told me you no longer approve of Mistress Lallie spending every week’s end with us. I shall die of ennui this Sevday if we do not have some company to amuse me. Please, Papa! Mama will not mind! She is gone to wait on the queen, so she will not complain of too much company and noisy games giving her a headache. Please!”
I had never heard a woman of her years whine and beg like a little child. I think I would have been more humiliated by Epiny’s wheedling if a flush of forlorn hope had not passed over Spink’s face. It was gone almost before I had seen it, but I knew my uncle had perceived it when he said gently, “Epiny my dear, I would be glad to invite Nevare’s friend, but I fear we have left it too late for this visit. I would need to request permission of Colonel Stiet, and Cadet Kester would need time to pack a bag. Perhaps when the first-years are next given leave, we can invite him.”
She gave a harrumph and then crossed her arms stubbornly. “Papa, it is not a problem, really. You can tell the colonel now that we are taking him, and while you are doing so, he could run back and quickly pack a few things. Men need very little in the way of clothing and such; I am sure he could be ready in no time at all. Couldn’t you, Spinrek?” She smiled most charmingly as she unabashedly helped herself to his first name.
He was like a bird paralyzed by a snake. Epiny and Spink were of a height and she cocked her head and smiled as she awaited his response. He looked into her open gaze and knew he must offer a reply and that the only polite response would be to agree with her. “I suppose I could,” he said, and then, as if suddenly aware that he had put my uncle in a difficult position, hastily added, “But I doubt that Colonel Stiet would give me permission on such short notice.”
“Oh, Colonel Stiet? Don’t fret about him. My mother knows his wife, and the colonel’s lady would just die to do anything that might please her. I’ll go with Papa and say that my mother would take it as such a personal favor if you were allowed to visit. Run and get your things so you don’t keep us waiting when we come out. Come, Papa, let us go and see the colonel.”
“Epiny, you are impossible!” To my shock, my uncle was laughing at her deplorable behavior.
“No, Father, I am certainly not! What is impossible is trying to remain amused when the house is as still as a tomb and I have only Nevare to play Towsers. Just look at how he is already frowning at me! I do not think he will be very amusing at all. Purissa is too little to be any use at all in serious games…unless you will take time to play with us? Oh, would you, Papa? I can never guess your finish card when I play Towsers with you. Will you play?”
My uncle just looked weary at the question, and I found myself wondering how many hands of Towsers he’d had to play recently. I well recalled when my sisters had become infatuated with table marbles and made the game the focus of their lives for an entire summer. My father had tolerated it for a month, then exiled it to the schoolroom and finally banned it outright when my mother complained that chores and lessons were being shirked. Uncle Sefert seemed willing to try a different tactic. In a moment of decision, I saw both Spink and myself offered as sacrifice to Epiny’s caprice. “I’m sure I won’t have to mention your mother to get Colonel Stiet to release Cadet Kester to me for the free days.” He paused to look at both of us severely and add, “I trust you young men will bring your study materials so as to be well prepared for Firstday. I do not want the colonel to think that my home is an undisciplined place of folly and leisure.”
“No, sir. I shall not neglect my books.” Spink’s pleasure at the thought of two days away from the routine of the Academy shone in his face. He beamed as I had not ever seen him smile before.
I think that such an honest display of warm anticipation pleased my uncle, for he gruffly ordered us to “put my nephew’s bag in the boot, and then hurry off to fetch Kester’s pack. Epiny, wait in the carriage. I will not be long.”
“But I want to go with them, to see Nevare’s dormitory, Papa!”
For one horrifying moment, I thought my uncle would accede to this also. Instead, he held out his arm to her and patted it firmly with the fingers of his other hand. After a moment she sighed in resignation, and obediently set her hand atop his arm. He escorted her back to the carriage, and then he himself went up the steps of the administration building. As the door closed behind him, she scowled at us from the window of the carriage and gestured imperiously that we should be on our way.
I loaded my bag into the boot and then Spink and I risked a demerit by running full tilt back to Carneston House. As Epiny had predicted, it took very little time for him to stuff his necessities into a small bag, and then we were off, again at a run. Although we had hurried, my uncle and Epiny were both waiting beside the carriage when we returned. Young Caulder was there, and despite my uncle’s disapproving grimace, he seemed to be trying to strike up a conversation with Epiny. At that moment it dawned on me that it was very likely that my cousin knew Caulder if her mother and his mother were actually friends.
We caught the end of some admonition Epiny was delivering to him as we hurried up, out of breath. “…just tell him you won’t wear it, Caulder. Has your father no idea of how silly you look, all dressed up as a cadet when it will be years and years until you are really old enough to be one? It’s like you are playing dress-up in your nursery! Look at me, now. I’m years older than you are, and yet you don’t see me all dressed up as if I were already a lady of the court or a married woman!”
Caulder’s cheeks were very pink. He sucked in his lower lip, almost as if he feared it would tremble, and glared at Spink and me as if it were our fault we had overheard his friend’s remonstrance. He brought his heels together and bowed to Epiny, saying only, “I shall look forward to seeing you at Lake Foror for the spring holiday.”
“Perhaps,” she said vaguely, and then, turning aside from him, she lifted her whistle to her lips and tweeted it at us inquiringly.
“We’re ready,” I told her, almost defensively. The way Caulder was staring at us promised trouble for Spink and me later. I felt it unwise to completely ignore the boy, so I bid him a stiff farewell, as did Spink. I suddenly wanted, more than ever, to be away from the Academy.
On the long ride to my uncle’s home, he and I dominated the conversation. I do not think Spink had ever been in so fine a carriage. He touched the leather of the seat, fingered the tassel on the cushion, and then abruptly folded his hands on his lap. He looked out the window for most of the journey, and I did not blame him, for Epiny stared at him frankly, breathing lightly and speculatively through her whistle. I thought her behavior quite childish for her years and wondered that her father tolerated it, but he seemed caught up in quizzing me about my studies, routine, classmates, and teachers, and ignored his wayward daughter.
At one point, in the midst of my uncle telling me a story about his days at boarding school, she took the whistle out of her mouth, pointed it at Spink, and said accusingly, “Kellon Spinrek Kester. Am I right?”
Spink, startled, only replied with a sharp nod. When my uncle looked at me quizzically, I said, “Spink’s father was a war hero. He was tortured to death by Plainsmen.”
“He lasted over six hours,” Epiny enlightened us, and then added for our benefit, “I adore history. I much prefer our family’s soldier son journals to the watered-down places-and-dates history in the schoolbooks. Your father’s journal mentions Spink’s father, Nevare. Did you know that?”
“Not until now, Epiny,” I said, deliberately using her first name, as she had made so free with Spink’s nickname. Then I inwardly winced, wondering if my uncle would think me ill mannered, but in truth, I do not think he even noticed. I was shocked when Spink said, very quietly, “I should like to read those entries if I might, Lord Burvelle.”
“Of course you may, Cadet Kester,” my uncle replied warmly. “But I fear that we shall have to rely on Epiny to fin
d them for us. My brother, Nevare’s father, sent us more than twenty-five volumes during the course of his service for the king. He was a very prolific writer in his soldier son days.”
“I can find it easily enough,” Epiny promised. “And if you wish, I can copy out those passages for you. They might make a lovely introduction to your own soldier son journals.” She smiled at him warmly as she said this, and Spink returned her a tentative smile of his own.
When we arrived, Epiny scrambled out of the carriage ahead of even my uncle, saying over her shoulder, “I’ll see that they set an extra place for Spink at the table. I am famished, for all I ate this morning was an apple and a rasher of bacon, I was so excited to be going to pick you up.”
My uncle descended more sedately and we followed him in. A servant came to take my bag and took Spink’s worn leather case as well. My uncle directed that we should be put in adjoining rooms. He added to us, “You’ll be in the room that I had as a boy, Nevare. And your friend will be in your father’s old room. The rooms share a sitting room that used to be our schoolroom. I think a lot of our old things are still in there; you may find them amusing. I think I’ll leave you both in Epiny’s capable hands and see you at dinner. Is that agreeable?”
Of course it was, and I thanked him sincerely before we followed the servant up the stairs. I settled my things quickly and then walked through the connecting room to Spink’s chamber. I found him standing, his valise at his feet, staring around himself as if he had never seen a bedchamber before. His mouth was slightly ajar as he looked at the carved bedstead and matching wardrobe, the embroidered hangings, the heavy curtains, and the ornate and well-stocked desk. He turned to me and said, “I had no idea your family was so grand!”
I grinned. “We aren’t. My bedroom at home is far humbler than this, and a third the size, my friend. This is a lord’s house, built over generations.” I ran the toe of my boot lightly over the thick rug on the floor. “The value of this rug alone would more than equal all the furniture in my bedroom at home. But surely you have old nobility relatives of your own. Have you never visited the house your father grew up in?”
He shook his head. “They have very little to do with us. My father was given his title posthumously, you know. My uncle looked at my mother, a widow with young children, and perhaps thought that she would make too many demands of them if they offered her any help at all. So they did not. When our first overseer absconded with so much of the money, we heard that my father’s family said, ‘Well, that is what happens when a soldier’s widow tries to live like a great lady.’ Which was not the case at all, but my mother was not about to spend time and money traveling to Old Thares to prove them wrong. They live here, you know, somewhere in this city. Your uncle probably knows them. But I don’t, and I don’t think I ever will.”
I was trying to think of something to say when there was a tap on the door. Epiny walked in almost simultaneously, saying, “Well, here you both are! What is the delay?”
“Delay in what?” I asked her.
She looked at me as if I were slow and shook her head a bit. “Coming downstairs, Nevare. Dinner isn’t for hours yet, but I’ve managed something to sustain us until then. Come on.”
Her tone was imperative and she didn’t wait to see if we would obey, but simply walked out of the room. Spink looked at me and then followed her meekly. I trailed them with less grace. My cousin was embarrassing me. She was certainly old enough to behave like a lady. I wanted Spink to feel welcomed into my gracious and dignified ancestral home rather than assaulted by a spoiled little girl.
She somewhat atoned by leading us to a small room off the pantry where she had fashioned an indoor picnic for us. Dishes of cold food and napkins were set out on a bare kitchen worktable. She helped herself to a cold chicken wing with her fingers and then stood eating it, and we were only too happy to follow her example. There were also a pot of black tea, a loaf of bread, butter, jam, and little vanilla cakes. We ate without ceremony, catching the crumbs in napkins. After our months of Academy fare, the simple food was ambrosia. I had never seen a girl eat like a boy before, biting meat off bones and then wiping the grease from her lips. I had not realized how hungry I was until I started eating. Then I concentrated on it, and let Spink and Epiny do all the talking. She swiftly had the names and ages of all his siblings and a brief history of his life out of him; in short, she learned more about him in that hour than I had in all our months at the Academy.
We helped her clear away the evidence of our furtive feast and then she took us out walking in the gardens. The stables were a short stroll from there and I was very pleased to have the chance to show Spink my horse. “That is the finest animal I’ve ever seen,” he told me, his envy plain in his voice as he looked up at Sirlofty’s proud head.
“And he has the temperament of a kitten,” Epiny responded, as if my horse were hers. “Father told me that he would never go in a sidesaddle, but I tried it, and he does. He was a bit surprised at first, but willing, and now I’m sure I could ride him anywhere, but Father will not let me. He says I would first have to ask Nevare, and I told him, ‘How silly! Do you think Nevare will trust him to some stableboy to exercise, someone he has never even met, and then say no to his cousin whom he knows, his own flesh and blood?’ But Father insisted that I cannot take him out of the ring without your permission, and so I am asking. Nevare, may I ride your horse on the promenades in the park?”
All the while Epiny spoke, Sirlofty was whuffling her shoulder and nudging her to be stroked. She petted him with familiarity and that firm competence that marks a good horseman. Or horsewoman, I thought sourly. She could not have maneuvered me better and I was certain she had engineered it so. I wanted to forbid her to ride him, but could not say so in front of Spink without appearing selfish and unreasonable. The best I could hedge my permission was by saying, “I think we shall leave it up to your father. Sirlofty is a lot of horse for someone your size.”
“My Celeste actually tops him by a hand, but he is smoother-gaited than my mare. Would you like to see her?” And with that she left Sirlofty’s stall and took us two doors down to a gray mare with a silky black mane. As Epiny had said, she was taller than Sirlofty, but far more docile. I knew instantly that Sirlofty’s fire was what attracted her, not his smooth gait, but held my tongue as she and Spink were chatting away. Spink had never owned a horse all to himself and had been almost relieved to know that he would not need to furnish his own mount until third year. But he did find our little cavalry mounts insipid, and his descriptions of the spiritless beast that was his daily mount soon had Epiny choking with laughter.
We left the stables and followed an ornamental walk through a landscaped orchard of miniature trees. It was late in the year and the trees were long bare of fruit or leaves, but Epiny insisted that we see it all. The wind was rising and I could not understand Spink’s enthusiasm for the stroll. Even the statuary looked cold to me, and the ornamental pond was mossy and depressing; the fish hid under a layer of floating weeds and fallen leaves. As we tried in vain to see the ornamental fish in its murky depths, a light rain began to fall. Just as we were abandoning the pond and, I hoped, bound for the house, we were accosted by a small girl in a pinafore and black pigtails. She marched up to Epiny, pointed a skinny finger at her, and admonished her, “You are not supposed to be walking around alone with young gentlemen. Mother said so.”
Epiny pointed a finger right back at her and, bending slightly at the waist, informed her, “These are not young gentlemen, Purissa. This one, as you know, is your cousin. You didn’t even say ‘how do you do’ to our Cousin Nevare! And this one is a cadet from the Academy. Curtsy to Cadet Kester.”
The little girl obeyed each of Epiny’s commands in turn, quite charmingly and with more maturity than Epiny had shown. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Purissa,” I told her, and her smile crinkled her nose when I bowed to her.
Epiny was not charmed. “Now run along, Purissa. I’m showing the
m around until dinnertime.”
“I want to go with you.”
“No. Run along.”
“Then I shall tell Mother when she gets back.”
“And I shall have to tell her that you were trotting about in the gardens alone during the hour when you are supposed to be studying the Holy Writ with Bessom Jamis.”
The child did not look the least bit daunted. “He fell asleep. He’s snoring and his breath smells like garlic. I had to run away.”
“And now you have to run right back. If you are wise, you will be there, head bent over your books when he awakes.”
“His breath makes the whole schoolroom stink!”
I was horrified at both my cousins’ blunt discussion of their tutor. I had never imagined that girls had such discussions among themselves. But despite myself, I was grinning. I tried to smother my smile. Spink had laughed openly and even Epiny looked moved by the child’s plight. She pulled a tiny handkerchief out of her pocket and gave it to her, instructing her, “Go to the lavender beds and fill this with leaves. Then sit at your school table and hold it before your nose while you read. It will fend off the garlic.”
“The lesson today is boring. It is the second chapter of the Dutiful Wife.”
Epiny looked dismayed. “That is boring. It is beyond boring. Put your finger in at that spot, but read the Book of Punishment instead. It is all about what happens to people for various sins in the afterlife. It’s very gory and quite amusing, in a horrid sort of way. When Bessom awakes, just flip the book open to where you should be.” She leaned closer and added in a whisper, “You should see what it says will befall wayward and harlotrous daughters.”
