by Garth Nix
‘You’re it in the Winter Shift,’ said Nerrith. ‘Didn’t you know? Each Bridgemaster only takes on one new cadet each season, and only then if they’re short of Seconds. You were lucky the Bridgemistress only has two Seconds right now and she didn’t care for the cadet candidates we’ve had these past months. I thought she might have to borrow a Second from one of the other Shifts, which is what happened to me last year, but I suppose she always knew you’d turn up.’
‘How?’ asked Morghan.
Nerrith gave him a look that he supposed was one of kindly scorn.
‘She’s a Clayr, of course. You don’t see those blue eyes and that dark skin on anyone else, do you? And her hair was all gold before, so they say.’
‘But the Clayr live in the Glacier,’ said Morghan. ‘They See the future there, in the ice. What’s she doing here, with the company?’
‘Maybe she’ll tell you one day,’ said Nerrith, with the air of someone who already knew this secret, though Morghan doubted that she did. But he did believe Amiel was a Clayr, though he had never heard of one who had permanently left the Glacier. He had seen Clayr from time to time in Belisaere. But they were only visiting, and always traveled in groups, on the business of their strange community.
‘Where are the Bridgemistress’s Seconds?’ he asked next.
‘Gone on ahead, to check the road and the way stations,’ said Nerrith. ‘They’re all right. Terril, the senior, will probably be a Bridgemistress herself in a few years, and Limmie, I mean Limath, he was a cadet till only last summer, so he’ll remember what it was like and not be too hard on you.’
They’re often the worst, thought Morghan pessimistically. Keen to pass on whatever horrible things happened to them.
His thoughts were interrupted as Nerrith announced it was time for supper. On the way to the refectory, she told Morghan that there were usually two sittings and that it was important to be on good terms with the chief cook and the stewards or else one might be served more gristle than meat, and that at some time, he would spend three months working in the kitchens and the refectory, as part of his training.
Morghan did not mention that he already knew this kind of work well, though he quickly discovered that the food in the refectory was better than that of the Three Coins. He had to force himself to eat slowly. If he’d been alone, he would have bolted down everything in sight, and tucked half a dozen of the small brown-crust pies under his shirt for later. But the refectory was crowded, and Nerrith sat next to him and talked and talked, so he ate slowly but steadily, and listened.
Nerrith told him he would have an unprecedented three meals a day, including breakfast, luncheon, and supper. She detailed the traveling rations they would draw, and what the food was like at the bridge, and where he should sit, or more importantly not sit, some tables being reserved by custom if not actual regulation for particular officers of the company. For example, Famagus, the chief clerk, who after the four Bridgemasters was the most important officer, had a favorite table and a particular chair. On no account must a cadet ever sit on his chair, for as the keeper of all records he was a very important figure in the lives of both cadets and Seconds. Though he did not leave the headquarters in Navis, Nerrith said it felt like he was always around, because his letters fell upon them like arrows. There were dozens each day, always wanting some count of equipment, a tally of goods, or an explanation of work, and replying was always the work of the junior officers.
‘I hope you have a good writing hand,’ she added. ‘And you can spell. If a report is untidy or misspelled, Famagus sometimes makes us write it out again, three times.’
‘You mean when you were a cadet,’ suggested Morghan.
‘You’re in for some disillusionment if you ever make it to Second,’ replied Nerrith. ‘We get paid and all, but no one thinks we’re worth much more than the cadets.’
‘Sometimes with good reason,’ said a voice behind them. Nerrith choked on a mouthful as she hastily stood up, and Morghan almost fell backward over his chair as he followed suit.
‘I said I wanted to see Cadet Morghan before my evening rounds, not at the commencement of them,’ said Bridgemistress Amiel. ‘I am not pleased, Second Nerrith. Please let Bridgemaster Korbin know that you have let me down.’
‘Yes, milady,’ said Nerrith. She turned on her heel and left.
‘I expect my cadets and Seconds to be punctual, within reason,’ said Amiel. ‘It is now a quarter after the hour. Did you not hear the town clock strike, Cadet Morghan?’
‘No, milady.’
‘Here we take our time from the town clock. At the bridge, horns are blown in the North Fort, the Midriver Bastion, and the Work Camp, on the hour, every hour. Doubtless you will be responsible for such timekeeping at some point. You have been provided with a book of Company Orders?’
‘Yes, milady.’
‘You will find a section on timekeeping between pages eighty-seven and ninety-one. Do you possess one of these timekeeping eggs the artificers are making in Belisaere?’
‘No, milady,’ said Morghan. He was about to add that they called them ‘watches’ now, but decided against it.
‘You can tell the hour from the sun? Or the moon?’
‘Yes, milady,’ said Morghan. He hesitated again, but this time he did speak. ‘And … and from the Charter, milady.’
Amiel looked surprised.
‘Good. That is an old spell, not often known these days, save among folk who need careful count of time.’
‘My grandmother taught me,’ said Morghan. ‘It is the only spell that I had from her that I can remember. I was six and … and wondering when I would get my dinner.’
It had been one of the last of the regular dinners. His grandmother had attempted to ‘fix’ his father not long after she taught him how to find and recognize the marks that spun in time with the passage of the sun and waxed and waned in keeping with the hours of light and darkness. She had said it could sometimes be very important to know how long it would be before the sun would rise.
‘It is the first small part of weather lore,’ said Amiel. ‘Do you know anything more?’
‘No, milady,’ answered Morghan.
‘I have some small knowledge of weather lore,’ said Amiel. ‘If time permits from your regular instruction, we may look into it. Speaking of such, as doubtless you already know from your reading of Company Orders, part of the regular duty of cadets and Seconds is to accompany the Bridgemistress on her rounds, whether at house, bridge, or camp. As my two Seconds have gone ahead to scout the road, this privilege is solely yours this evening. Follow me.’
Morghan learned a lot about the company and the Bridgemistress in the next hour and a half, as he followed Amiel all over the ‘house,’ as she called the whole sprawling array of buildings. Though preparations had been under way for more than two months for the Winter Shift to move to the bridge, and everything had supposedly been done, Amiel checked into everything. On nearly every inquiry she was satisfied with the result. The one occasion when she was not satisfied, and the nature of her dissatisfaction, made Morghan very thoughtful. He had been beaten, shouted at, spat on, and worse on numerous occasions by his supposed superiors and customers at the inn, by older students at the Academy, and by his own parents when they were drunk or drugged. He had nursed his wounds alone and had sworn that one day he would be richer, and more powerful, and more important than his tormenters. Their dominance over him was only temporary, a fleeting moment that would be forgotten.
Amiel did not swear or use force. On discovering that one of the wagon drivers had not replaced a broken axle with a new one, but had had repairs done instead and presumably pocketed the difference, she merely looked at the axle, then at the driver, and had said, ‘This is the second infraction, Werrie. There is the gate.’
Werrie had fallen to his knees and begged and pleaded for another chance. He’d sobbed out a story, made incoherent by his tears, something about debts and family. But Amiel had merely p
ointed at the gate again, and when Werrie groveled at her ankles, she gestured to summon two of the gate guards, who picked him up and dragged him out. Morgan made particular note that they tore the company emblem from the sleeve of Werrie’s coat, and unpinned the enameled badge from his hat.
‘Cadet Morghan,’ said Amiel conversationally, as she continued to the next wagon, ‘you have seen a very rare occurrence. This company looks after its people well, but we expect much in return. While you may err out of stupidity, or weariness, or simply make less than ideal choices, if you intentionally put the company’s goods, persons, or premises at risk, you will be warned once only. The second time, you will be expelled, your share or shares forfeit, and your name published across the Kingdom as an offender against the company. In some very few cases, we take even sterner action, as we may under our original patent from Queen Hellael the Second.’
Morghan thought about that later, as he lay in his narrow bed and tried to sleep. There were many people in the barracks, a lot of them still preparing gear, or talking, but it was not this busy noise that kept him awake.
It was pure amazement that forestalled sleep. He could not believe how much his life had changed for the better, a wonderment that was accompanied by a deep-seated fear that something would happen to take it all away again.
Finally, Morghan did sleep, but he felt like he had only just closed his eyes when he was roused again, by a rough shake on his shoulder.
‘Come on, lad! The day won’t wait for you.’
The next few weeks were a golden time for Morghan. He wasn’t necessarily happy, as such, for he did not really know that such a state existed, or how he might reach it. But he was content and busy, a combined state that he was equally unfamiliar with, the result of finally finding a respectable place among a well-ordered community, rather than the confusion of never knowing what the next day would hold, apart from the petty miseries that were his lot at the Three Coins, or the arbitrary actions of his parents.
The company’s wagons traveled the Royal Road north, and had right of way over almost everyone, so they rarely had to leave the paved and well-drained highway for the muddy shoulder. They were lucky with the weather, too. To begin with the days were cold but fine, and the morning frosts light, not much more than a tonic to wake up a tired cadet.
He was tired, for his every waking hour was occupied, mostly following the Bridgemistress everywhere or dashing off at her orders, usually to discover something she already knew but Morghan did not. She also set him passages of Company Orders to memorize, and showed him Charter marks that he had to summon for her the next day, with the promise that in time he would also learn how these marks could be combined with others to become useful spells.
Amiel did not sleep very much herself, which made things even more difficult. By the fourth day he was very tired indeed, so tired that he could not even summon the energy to be nervous about the imminent arrival of the Bridgemistress’s two Seconds, who were due to arrive that evening, having already been to the Bridge to check the road and discover anything unusual, before doubling back.
The two Seconds rode into camp at dusk, the hails of the sentries alerting Morghan before he saw them. He was holding a washing basin and a ewer of warm water for Amiel in her tent, for her to wash the dust from her face and hands. She heard the calls too, and gestured for him to set basin and ewer on their stands.
‘Go and meet my Seconds,’ she instructed. ‘Tell them to report when they have taken some repast.’
‘Yes, milady.’
‘For your instruction, if they have anything urgent to report, they will refuse and come straight to me,’ added Amiel. ‘As you will do, if returning from a similar task.’
‘Yes, milady,’ repeated Morghan. He bowed and went outside into the orderly camp and walked between the rows of tents to the horse lines. The guards there nodded to him.
‘Good even, Romashrikil and … Kwor … Kworquorakan.’
The guards smiled and nodded again. Morghan walked past them, still unsure if they were playing tricks on him. They had told him their names themselves, but they were like nothing he had ever heard before, and they did not look as if they were from so distant a country as to have such names. He had yet to hear anyone else address them, which in itself suggested it was all some kind of elaborate joke to play on the new cadet.
The Seconds were taking off their saddles. Terril was a slim, serious-looking woman easily eight or nine years Morghan’s senior. Limath looked to be much the same age as himself, Morghan reckoned, though he was considerably broader in the shoulders and sported a rather splendid beard as jet-black as his hair. He was also much more mud-splattered than Terril, some of it above his belt, though Morghan noticed neither of the horses was particularly dirty, and not at all above the knees.
Limath saw him first as he turned around with his saddle and gear over his shoulder.
‘Terril!’ he cried. ‘By all that is marvelous! A cadet!’
‘A cadet indeed,’ said Terril. She inclined her head.
Morghan bowed, not quite as deeply as he did to Amiel.
‘My name is Morghan,’ he said carefully. ‘The Bridgemistress desired me to inform you that you need not report to her until you have taken some repast.’
‘I am Second Terril,’ said Terril. ‘This rag-bag is Second Limath.’
‘Rag-bag is rather extreme,’ said Limath. He clapped Morghan on the shoulder. It was a companionable touch, though the younger man had braced for a testing blow. ‘I fell off, if you must know. There was a storm, and bandits, and …’
‘Perfect calm and an empty road, in truth,’ said Terril. ‘Limath just isn’t a very good rider.’
‘True, true,’ sighed Limath. ‘But perhaps the luck that has given us a new cadet will also allow me to walk to the Bridge, and I need not ride till … oh, damn …’
Morghan turned his head to see what had stopped the flow of Limath’s speech and instinctively braced as he saw Sergeant Ishring.
‘Need not ride until tomorrow morning, Second Limath, I think you were saying?’ asked Ishring. ‘To the seventh milepost and back, perhaps you were about to say?’
‘Indeed, Master Ishring,’ said Limath. Morghan was surprised to see him smile, as if perfectly happy at being caught out. ‘I daresay I could use the practice.’
‘I daresay,’ said Ishring. ‘I beg your pardon for my intrusion, Second Terril.’
He turned his attention to Morghan. ‘Cadet Morghan, the Bridgemistress has decided that now the Seconds have returned, she can spare you from tomorrow for additional arms drill. You will have the first hour after dawn and the first hour from the halt with me, for poleaxe and other work.’
‘Yes, sergeant!’ bellowed Morghan.
Ishring nodded and stalked off past the torch-poles, out into the darkness toward the nearest of the outer guard posts. Morghan had already been taken around the outer ring of sentries, learning where they all were so that he could at least in theory find them in the dark. In this careful preparation, as in so many other things the company did, the young cadet saw the very real expectation of trouble.
‘Show us our tent and the refectory wagon, then,’ said Limath. ‘I could eat a horse.’
‘You’d probably do that better than you ride them,’ said Terril.
‘Ah, I shall miss your wit when you are made Bridgemistress,’ said Limath. ‘Now, Morghan, is it? Was the watch list for the Bridge made up before you joined?’
‘I don’t know, Second,’ said Morghan.
‘Ah, you would know, because you would have been writing out a dozen copies if it had,’ said Limath with great satisfaction. ‘Fortune smiles upon us, Terril.’
‘I suspect that rather you should say the Bridgemistress knows her business,’ said Terril drily.
Morghan was unable to stop a flicker of puzzlement wrinkling his brow, though he did suppress a question. Terril saw it pass across his face, like a swift cloud across the sun.
‘Tell Cadet Morghan why you are so pleased to see him … or rather, any cadet … and the associated matter of the watch list.’
‘Ah, it is simple!’ roared Limath, clapping Morghan on the back. ‘You know that the Bridgemistress must always be accompanied about by a Second or a cadet? We must buzz about her like bees around the queen of the hive, ready for anything, to sting or fly at her order. You follow?’
‘Yes …’ said Morghan cautiously.
‘But unlike bees, who only work under the sun, the Bridgemistress moves by night as well as day. You see now?’
‘I’m not sure …’
‘It is simple! You comprehend that the day and night is divided into four watches?’
Morghan nodded.
‘With only two Seconds, we must divide all four watches between us, to follow the Bridgemistress about and do her bidding. But there is also weapon work, and writing work for Famagus, and all manner of other works that must be done, and if we must serve the Bridgemistress watch-by-watch, it leads to a terrible lack of that wonderful thing that we know as sleep.’
‘Ah, I do see now,’ said Morghan. He paused for a moment, wondering if he should admit a weakness that might be used against him. ‘I admit that I am a little bit—’
‘Tired?’ interrupted Terril. ‘That is the lot of cadets, and even for such exalted beings as Seconds. But you will be more tired still by the time we reach the Bridge. It is in many ways a test, Morghan.’
‘A test! But I have been tested …’
Morghan’s voice faltered, and stopped for a moment, before he resumed.
‘I see. I shall not fail.’
‘That’s the way, young cadet!’ boomed Limath. ‘Let’s get this gear cleaned up, Terril, and then … food!’
‘You’d best go back to the Bridgemistress,’ said Terril. ‘If I were you, I’d run. The Bridgemistress does not make much allowance for the chattering we have just done. We will not be far behind.’
