Havemercy. Part 2

aHe wonat really exile us,a said Balfour again to Jeannot, not a question, but like he needed to say it.

Some years back, when the war was real bad, wead seen a lot of fugeesa"people with no place to go, no homes, just mowed right down by the Ke-Han. Probably it was because we hadnat been the only country to go to war with the Ke-Han, just the only one able to hold out worth a d.a.m.n. That was just what happened when you ended up sharing a border with crazed, greedy b.a.s.t.a.r.ds who didnat know theyad got enough land once they had it and were always peekina their d.a.m.ned heads over the mountains to see what else there was. Never mind if there were other people living there. The Ke-Hanad done well enough in building themselves a big blue empire, or whatever the f.u.c.k it was they were after until they ran up against us. The people theyad displaced repeated themselves a h.e.l.l of a lot when they talked though, like they needed to hear something more than once for rea.s.surance. Now, Balfour was no f.u.c.king sh.e.l.l-shocked fugee but occasionally he did this, like wead traumatized him or something.

No one ever listened to my clever theory that he was really a girl in disguise. I even took his pants off once to prove it, but it just p.i.s.sed Adamo off.

Jeannot only handed his gloves back, like he had access to some infinite well of patiencea"maybe that fairy-story Well the magicians were always on about. aHe wonat. Weare still at war, even though things have quieted down for now. If word got out that thaEsar had done away with Volstovas dragons, I canat imagine what the people would do.a I could. Itas not every man who can say a riotas been held on their account, but if thaEsar was somehow persuaded into doing something so d.a.m.n foolish as to send us all packing, then I knew at least fourteen who could and would. No one took care of business like we did, and no one could fly those dragons like we could. The Basquiat had seen to that, and now they were paying for it. Good. Let them pay. We went down to the wire for our country when they needed us, and now some prissy little diplomat wanted to tell me what a.s.s I could or couldnat slap?

It was in these low years, the lulls between open conflict, that thaEsar was hardest on us. Wead been fighting for longer than Iad been around, and longer even than Adamoad been flying. As far back as I cared to know, the war had started when Volstov had moved in on the Ramanthines without taking any of their outstanding grudges into account. f.u.c.king lousy sort of thing to inherit, this war with the Ke-Han, but thaEsaras family was inbred as any right-proper n.o.bility, and it wasnat out of bounds to a.s.sume his great-great-granddaddy had been more insane than cunning. Plus, the dirty Ke-Han b.a.s.t.a.r.ds had gone in and taken the Kiril Islands while Volstovad been busy with the Ramanthines, which kind of sidestepped any issue of peace between the two of us. It was kind of convenient, seeing as without the war, there wouldnat have been any Dragon Corps to begin with. It was just these quiet patches that got us into trouble, when the Ke-Han lay low planning their next attack and acted like theyad leave us alone to do it. I knew as soon as the Ke-Han came crawling like vermin over the Cobalt Mountains, thaEsarad come back to us with his tail between his legs, kissing a.s.s like that Margrave he banished.

aI should have just killed her husband,a I said to no one in particular, shouldering Ace out of the way to line up my shot.

aBecause murderas better than adultery?a aItas only adultery if youare the one whoas married, Niall.a aWouldnat be anyone to complain about it though, would there?a Compagnon often thought he was speaking softer than he actually was. It got him into more than a few fistfights.

aDunno,a said Magoughin, with characteristic and therefore irritating amus.e.m.e.nt. aShe seemed pretty vocal.a Didnat matter what country they came from, the upper cla.s.s were always screamers.

aBullas-eye!a Ace had the gall to look surprised. He examined the board carefully, as though there were any doubt where my aim was concerned. People could and did shout b.l.o.o.d.y murder about my comportment and lade-da, but the skills were never in question.

aBest out of three?a THOM.

The lay of Thremedon Citya"a shortening and b.a.s.t.a.r.dization of Three Maidens, which is what it was in the old Ramanthea"is a difficult one for foreigners in the Volstov to accustom themselves to. It often startles the new wave of foreign exchange studying alongside me at the aVersity each year that there are some who live their entire lives without cause to go past Mollyedge, either out or in. More than once, while giving a tour, Iave explained that the reason for this is the powerful force of segregation and old customs, and that the prejudices at work on us today are far stronger even than those of cla.s.s. They have had well over a hundred years to steep, after all, from the year when Volstov pressed its considerable advantage in hitting the already-exhausted Ramanthine forces from behind. Their victory was absolutely guaranteed, since whatever powers the Ramanthines would have called upon to defend themselves had already been spent on their own bitter struggles with Xiaana"the mother country of what was now commonly known as the Ke-Han Empire.

From a strictly militaristic viewpoint, it was a brilliant move by the man who was then thaEsar, since there was little loss on the Volstovic side of things. From the viewpoint of the Ramanthines, and those who still considered themselves direct descendents, it was an act of aggression that remained unforgivable some hundred-odd years later. When we were renamed Thremedon by the Volstov more than a hundred years ago, those who still called themselves Ramanthine were the poor and penniless citizens of Molly, who had nothing to lose through the claim.

Most living below the Mollyedge referred to the leader of Volstov as thaEsar, cutting out the extra vowel for what they considered a simplification of speech. This was usually accompanied by a derisive hawking of spit onto the ground, or the floor, or wherever you happened to be standing at the time. As a general rule, in Molly, it made little difference. Things were much better along the aVersity Stretcha"cleaner for one, though the people there still referred to him as thaEsar, and Iad never learned anything different. To be honest, Iad never imagined it would matter. I certainly hadnat thought, when Marius said aThom, sit down, I think Iave found you the project of a lifetime,a that Iad be heading anywhere near the palace.

This is what comes of befriending magicians.

When thaEsar wanted something done, he wanted it done now, and though there were members of the Basquiat head listen to, I imagined it took an awful lot of convincing to get him to accept that a student in the university could be the solution to his problems.

What had happened was, I was up late working on a paper when Marius walked in. Normally he knocked, so the way he slipped in and shut the door behind him coupled with the look he wore told me something was wrong. Something was up, theyad have said down in Molly, but Iad spent a lot of time getting the slang and the slur out of my voicea"and when it comes to relearning everything you know, you couldnat slip up, not even inside your own head.

aEvening, Thom,a said Marius.

aGood evening,a I said, and stood quickly. There was only one chair. In terms of seniority, talent, and pretty much everything, that chair was rightfully Mariusas.

aNo, Thom,a Marius said. aActually, I think youad better sit.a aItas not the scholarship,a I said, feeling my heart sink like lead somewhere deep into my stomach. I thought Iad earned the renewala"Marius said it was as good as signed, sealed, and delivered to my doorstepa"but sometimes when you were dealing with scholarship officials, signed and sealed occasionally did not deliver, no matter how much of a sure thing it was.

aWhat? No, Thom. Thatas not what Iave come here to talk about.a Ah, I realized, getting a closer look at his face; and then I did sit down, because I knew I had to. aWhatas happened?a aYouare aware of the . . . incident,a he began.

Because it was peacetimea"or as close to peacetime as wead seen in a hundred yearsa"theread been more incidents lately than I could count on the fingers of one hand, and possibly on the fingers of two; Iad been too busy to keep track of them all. It was end of term, and my research nearly done. Such was the life of the able-bodied and able-minded student, and besides which, Iad never stepped inside the palace, nor seen the n.o.blesse any closer than out a window or by accident in shops when Marius was kind enough to take me along, and let me look, and advise me not to touch.

In other words, I knew there had been incidents, a significant number of them, because no one had anything else to worry about. For the life of me, however, I couldnat fathom to which incident my mentor was referring.

He must have read as much on my face: bewilderment, confusion, apology. He sighed and waved his hand. aThe most famous one,a he said. aThe Dragon Corps. Surely you have hearda"a aOh, yes,a I said. aThe diplomatas wife.a aArlemagnes,a Marius groaned, and heaved a weary sigh. aIave been in d.a.m.n talks for the past forty-eight hours. The man wants their heads.a aWell we canat give him that,a I said, and felt stupid almost immediately after.

aTheyare the only thing standing between us and the Ke-Han,a Marius confirmed. aWell, the corps and the magicians, of course, but the Ke-Han also have magicians. The corps is vital. Everyone knows it. Weare in a bind, Thom.a I paused. aBut whata"a aDoes this have to do with you?a Marius drew both hands through his hair, looking tired. I realized, shamed, that I hadnat offered him anything to drink or eat, but from the worry drawn in sharp lines about his mouth, I knew he wouldnat have accepted anything. It was oftena"though luckily not alwaysa"business first, with Marius; business before anything else. aA good question. Yes. Well.a I waited for it, saying nothing.

Marius coughed, swallowed, and looked for a moment very sorry himself. aYouare an incredibly clever young man, Thom,a he began carefully. aAnd with the right initiativea"or if someone else saw the opportunity you yourself had no way to see, if they saw it, right there, before them, waiting to be takena"a He broke off and shook his head, clearly angry at himself. aNo,a he said, changing tacks. aThom, Iave volunteered you.a aFor what?a aTo rehabilitate the corps,a he said. aItas your thesis, isnat it?a aWell,a I attempted, anot exactly.a aThe Esar, his esteemed and incredibly wealthy highness, will give you more funding than you could ever have dreamed of,a Marius said evenly, his dark eyes bright. He was on the younger side of very old, but he looked in that moment as vital and powerful as any of the younger magicians, despite the gray streaking his hair and beard. aYou will never have to bank on scholarships again. If you can do thisa"if you can do thisa"you will be a national hero, and the Esar ecstatic, and the Arlemagnes less d.a.m.n loud, and the corps more diplomatic, and everyone so happy their jaws ache with grinning.a aAnd if,a I said, swallowing hard, aI donat do this?a aThatas not an option,a Marius said. aIam sorry. Itas an opportunity, Thom. The best youall ever get.a aOh,a I replied. aThatas why itas so terrifying.a And then, quick as that, Marius had me in his hansom, and was hurrying me through the carpeted halls, everything gilded or real gold. And then we were in private audience with thaEsara"the Esara"himself.

It was all like a dream, really. Or perhaps a nightmare. I was uncertain as to which this could possibly be.

The foreign diplomat from Arlemagne said things mostly in his own unfamiliar language. He was angry, though on a topic much more personal than that of his sovereignas dalliances. He frequently burst into tirades in a broken tongue I could barely understand (though Iad been trained in both Arlemagnesa tongue and old Ramanthe), hurling threats and the occasional writing implement around the unexpectedly small bastion room.

I was trying as hard as I possibly could not to stare at my surroundings, or to look around the room any more than was strictly necessary. Wead studied the bastion in school, of course, though Iad never thought that I would be lucky enough to chance on ever entering. It was one of the oldest buildings in Thremedon, and one of the only original Ramanthine edifices that had been permitted to remain instead of being destroyed like the rest.

The reasoning behind this was quite simple. The bastion was built to be a fortress. In the unsteady years when Volstovas rule was yet settling in, there had been countless rebellions, men and women fighting for Ramanthe in the streets of the city itself. The then-Esar had needed a place to put them all, and the bastion was just as good at keeping people in as it was at keeping people out. It was the largest and most famous prison we had. It had housed more historical figures than I could count. It was a piece of history.

At least the diplomat wasnat throwing anything that could cause any true damage, I comforted myself.

I got the sense that almost everyone in that room wanted to tell the man with the mustache to calm down, only they were afraid of triggering some unstoppable upset that would send our country tumbling into war with not only the Ke-Han but with all of Arlemagne as well.

All I could think, in my inimitable intelligence, was: But theyare supposed to be our allies come spring.

Opinion differed on whether we truly needed allies at all. We had been at relative peace for so long now that the prevalent att.i.tude in the city was that we would win the war within the year. Among the most commona"and least charitablea"sentiments was the idea that Arlemagne was only joining with us now that it was clear who the victor would be in our seemingly unending conflict.

I was glad Marius had not sent me in alone. Politics were his affair, and despite a glowing recommendation, I felt certain that, without his presence, I would not have been allowed a foot in the door.

At last, the cuckolded diplomat ceased his ranting, his face bright red and his shoulders heaving, and all eyes in the room turned to me.

aIam told,a said thaEsar, whose face before this Iad only ever seen on coins and miniatures, athat you might have a solution?a I bowed lower than Iad ever bowed before in my life and nodded weakly. Of course, you cannot say no to a king.

CHAPTER TWO.

HAL.

The chatelainas brother wasnat eating.

I didnat really think it was my place to coax him to accept food like a sick cat, but leaving plates by the door wasnat advisable either because one of the dogs was bound to eat the food before Margrave Roystona"Uncle Roy to the childrena"ever deigned to touch it.

The situation didnat seem about to get better, and I didnat seem about to get any smarter. I had a bowl of the Mmeas favorite stew in one hand, a book tucked under my arm, and a closed door right in front of my face. I had to shift things a little and nearly dropped the bowl, but after a minute of awkward struggling, I managed to knock against the door with my right elbow.

From within, I heard the Margrave sigh. This was not a good sign. The week before head been possessed of energy and defiance enough to swear, but since head begun to boycott food head graduated to sighing only, and the chatelain spent most of his time shouting at everyone he could because, I suspected, he was worried the same as I was.

aDinner,a I said, because I couldnat think of anything else, and then, aif you wouldnat mind. If itas not too much trouble, I mean.a He seemed to know what I was talking about before I could even get it out, which was as unsettling as it ever was. Margrave Royston often gave the impression that he was reading my mind, though I knew he wasnat. Even in my books, it said the ability to draw anotheras thoughts into your consciousness was a rare gifta"what was known as a quiet Talenta"and those who were mind readers even went by a special name: velikaia. Most went mad from it, and those who did have the Talent were required to wear a badge that declared them and gave people fair warning. No; likely it was that the Margrave was just so enormously clever and I so lacking in pretense.

The door creaked as it opened and I slipped inside before I could spill or drop anything.

The room the chatelain had given his brother was one of our largest, with windows overlooking the Locque Nevers, a large desk against one wall, and a bed against the other. The curtains were drawn, though the days were long enough yet that the sun hadnat set, and I got the uncomfortable feeling they hadnat been opened all day. A thin shaft of purple evening light split the drapes in two, illuminating the dust swirling around the room and little else. Last week Iad not been bold enough to make any changes to the Margraveas room. Today, borne by some strange fit of audacity, I set the bowl of stew on the desk along with my book and crossed the room to throw the curtains wide.

There was another sigh, from behind me this time, and I turned aside from the dusty folds of fabric. Margrave Royston was kneeling on the ground, sifting through an enormous black trunk with silver fastenings. Next to the trunk was a stack of romans in all range of shapes and sizes. He seemed to be looking for something.

aHave your orders extended to staying and making sure I eat?a I blinked, feeling immediately guilty as though Iad been caught staringa"which in a way I had. At least his irritability was a comfort, for if he still had it in him to snap at me, then I could at least feel a.s.sured he hadnat given up entirely.

aNo,a I said honestly, remembering the stew. It wasnat my place to judge Mmeas cooking, but she could put together a mean dinner when she had a mind toa"or when she was required, on days when our cook fell ill.

I went to fetch the meal Iad brought. The Margrave dropped another roman on top of his unsteady pile in response.

aItas better warm,a I persisted. There wasnat anyplace to set the bowl near the Margrave that I could see, so I kept ahold of it.

Finally, he looked up. I was still having trouble seeing the resemblance between Margrave Royston and the chatelain. They were brothers, of course, and I knew that, but Iad been looking for some small signifier, any sign at all that this man shared a relation to the kindly, bl.u.s.tering man Iad come to appreciate as my patron. They had the same nose, I decided, and perhaps they once might have had the same mouth, but then the chatelain didnat have dark eyes that pinned me as surely as a beetle on a card. And their voices were so different it was hard to imagine them both men, much less relatives.

aYou arenat going to leave until Iave eaten, are you?a The Margraveas questions lately had been resigned, tinged with acquiescence, as though he didnat really need to ask at all.

aNo,a I said, surprising myself. I sat on the floor a good distance from the books in case any drops from the bowl should escape. aWhat are you looking for?a aPoison,a the Margrave answered sourly, reaching across the distance between us to take the dish from my hands.

I didnat know what to say to that.

He ate a spoonful of the stewa"more than Iad seen him eat the entire previous day. Then his eyes found me again.

When Iad first come to the chatelainas family, wead gone to the lakeside country, where the waters were deep and wide. Here I felt again as if I was young, on a tiny boat in the middle of a deep lake, staring into the depths of water that had no sign of a bottom. It confounded me some, that I could spend so long gaining years and experience only to have them stripped away in a matter of seconds. If this was what everyone in the city was like, I decided it was a good thing Iad never been to the Volstov capital.

aSo,a the Margrave said at last, rolling the word around in his mouth as though he were tasting it, like the stew. aWhat are you reading?a Iad been staring at the romans again.

aItas about the Ke-Han,a I answered, eager to have something to talk about. aIs it true they really have magicians like ours?a aThey do.a He swallowed another spoonful of the stew. The chatelain had been the proud owner of a beard for a little over a month, and head ended up with more food caught in it than his mouth. The Margrave did not share his brotheras problem. aThey arenat . . . exactly like ours, but theyare magicians, true enough.a aHowa"How are they different?a The query was out before I could stop it. The chatelain had instructed his children not to pester their uncle with questions, and I had to a.s.sume the same rules were meant to apply with me as wella"more strictly, in fact, than to the others.

He answered me, though, in the weary voice Iad come to recognize so well. aNo one knows their source.a aOh,a I said. And then, hating myself for my own ignorance, aYou mean like the Well?a aLike our Well, yes.a He nodded, stirring his dinner in precise, careful motions. I watched his hands, imagination lending a paleness to them that could not have been real; head not been shut up in his room that long. Even so, Iad never before felt so inadequate, not even when I was new to the castle and constantly getting in the way of my adoptive family.

There were no simple rules to learn that would help me accustom myself to Margrave Royston.

aIave never understood everything about the Well,a I said before I could stop myself. aI mean, some of the books say that there was a time when men could drink from it directly, but there are others that say that such a straight dose of power would kill a man.a The Margrave looked at me over the dinner Iad brought him, and I thought that I saw a glimmer of something like interest in his expression.

aIt wasnat guarded to begin with,a he said, aif thatas what you mean. The Ramanthines had a very different idea of how to go about things. They were much freer with who might be granted great power and who might not be. Our Esar likes things to be far more controlleda"far more inst.i.tutionalized, you might saya"and he likes to know just how many magicians there are with pure Talents. By which I mean, those who havenat bred with the common folk, or diluted their power by marrying someone with a completely different Talent from their own.a He paused to see if I was following, then carried on. aThe Well water gets into your very blood, and it operates like a pedigree. Most magicians view dilution as an inevitability, that our powers will over the course of years, now that the Esar has his zealots to guard the Well and thereas no one drinking from it directly. Of course, every a.s.sembly of individuals has its recalcitrants. There are those who are very reluctant to lose their power, and who believe that it is of the utmost importance to keep their bloodline pure. Never mind that there are only so many times one can reproduce within similar categories before youare marrying your own cousin. Thatas how you get inbred but extremely useful lunatics like young Caius Greylacea"from families too keen to preserve the purity of their Talents, and without the good sense it would take to fill a thimble.a aAnd itas guarded?a I asked, almost breathless. Hearing the Margrave speak was better even than reading the most thrilling of romans. And, even better, what the Margrave told me was true; the history of Thremedon, the story of the Well.

aBy the Brothers and Sisters of Regina,a the Margrave said, ayes. Theirs is a story you donat find in every history book. Theyare devotees of a young Volstov woman who died for her country. Regina was tortured for information, but she never spoke a word. In honor of her, the Brothers and Sisters often sew up their mouths. So you can see why they are perfect for the task of guarding one of Volstovas best-kept secrets.a aOh,a I said, trying not to look as painfully foolish and eager for knowledge as I felt. It wasnat just that this was the most that Margrave Royston had spoken to me in all the time since head come to stay at Castle Nevers. It was that this was the first time anyone had answered a question of mine with more than a cursory reply, and a brusque warning not to spend all my time thinking of such nonsense.

aI doubt such knowledge will do you much good here,a the Margrave said after my silence, no doubt mistaking my lack of further response for a lack of interest. I could see it the moment the interest faded from his eyes.

aIam sorry,a I said suddenly. aI donat mean to bother you.a The chatelain had warned me of the possibility that his brother might be rude in his displeasure, but Iad not been prepared for the slow, unsettling misery that hung around the Margrave like a heavy fog, obscuring whatever precarious attachments he had grounding him to this room, to the countryside, and perhaps even to the world.

To my dismay, he lowered the bowl and placed it on the floor. He took a moment to adjust his cuffs, then reached back into the trunk, rustling softly as he searched for something that I hoped wasnat poison.

Luck was with me, as what he drew out of the trunk was nothing more suspect than yet another roman, bound in red leather, t.i.tle and author embossed in gold plating. I had to sit on my hands to keep them from reaching for it of their own accord.

aWould you like to read something besides histories, Hal?a He held the volume out to me without a care, as though it were not an item worth more than my own lifea"something which I was almost certain it was.

This civility from the Margrave was somehow worse than his previous defiance.

I took the roman, fingers hesitating over the pages before I could bring myself to open it. It fell open as easily as a door fitted with the right key, with no crack of stiffness from the spine. A story often read, then. I cleared my throat. Occasion sometimes called for me to soothe the children to sleep by reading to them, and though Margrave Royston was no child, Iad been charged with caring for him all the same.

Even if I hadnat been, I felt a little sorry for this man, whose misery marked everything he touched.

There was a chair at the desk, and a perfectly serviceable bed, but the Margrave made no move to rise from the floor, so neither did I. He only closed his trunk and leaned his long arms against it, watching me with an unexpected patience, as though he had all the time in the world. Such exclusive attention made me nervous.

My fingers stilled against the first page.

aThis is about Tycho the Brave,a I said, recognizing the words all at once.

The Margrave stirred with what I thought might be annoyance, but when I looked at him, his expression hadnat changed any. Head only lifted his head to speak.

aYes.a It was much thicker than my own volume. I found myself turning the pages ahead, to the place that I knew best: And they were very happy until the end of their days. There was a full romanas length again after those words.

In fact, my finger was placed solidly in the middle of the book.

aOh,a I said again, back to feeling foolish. aThereas so much more left to this one.a The Margrave cleared his throat, and though I looked up too late to catch it, I thought he might have been smiling.

aYes,a he said again. aYouall find in this next part that he is quite unfortunate enough to have been struck by lightning.a All at once I felt a curious reverence overtake me, the way I felt when I encountered a new and particularly wonderful story. There was no time to examine it, however, since the Margrave had been kind enough to entrust me with one of his books. He was waiting for me to start reading. With a p.r.i.c.kle of excitement I could scarcely contain, I concentrated hard on the unfamiliar words in front of me, reading aloud until there was no longer any light to see the words by.

THOM.

My thesis was of a different nature from Mariusas particular field, despite the considerable and fortuitous overlap. He specialized in politics, while Iad been studying the various peculiarities of a society raised exclusively on war. When Marius had said, then, that my time with the Dragon Corps would help me to write my thesis, he hadnat been entirely incorrect. Head helped me a great deal over the years by being a fount of knowledge and encouragement, but most of my studies had become independent once Iad refined my own field. That year was to mark my last as a student; Marius had promised to recommend me at the least as an a.s.sistant professor before I was found a supporter, either in the bastion or the Basquiat, to fund my work so that I might turn my treatise into a proper volume.

These were dreams: small and una.s.suming, but nevertheless mine. I set a considerable store by them.

aThink of it this way,a Marius said. Head come earlier to take me to see the dragon compound, the Airman, and I was grateful for the company, though he would not be able to escort me to that first crucial meeting with the corps at thaEsaras palace. aYou can have an entire chapter devoted to the peculiar and fraternal behavior of the members of the Dragon Corps, raised not on motheras milk but rather the innate knowledge of their own vital importancea"who are allowed to do as they please without fear of any repercussion, and who think so highly of themselves that they are able, without pause, to call a diplomatas wife from Arlemagne a Hapenny wh.o.r.e in the middle of Miranda, in broad daylight.a Iad done my research for this particular test as I did my research for all other exams. I was well-read, up-to-date, and completely prepared. That wasnat to say I didnat feel a sick kind of nervousness churning and clenching in my stomach, because I did, and had for the past twenty-four hours, only two of which had approximated sleep.

aWell, youare not getting the chop,a Marius reasoned with me gently, tugging at his beard. aThom, I do think you can pull this off.a His trust meant a great deal to me. I knew that if I failed, it would reflect very poorly on his standing in the Basquiat and in thaEsaras bastion both. And after all Mariusas support, I didnat want to let him down, either. aDonat worry,a I said, then, lying through my teeth, aIam not. Worried, I mean.a aThom,a he said, ayouare green.a I didnat look in the mirror to corroborate this a.s.sessment. I was almost certain he must be right, since I certainly felt green enough. aDo you think theyall notice?a I asked instead.

aYes,a Marius said. aThey smell fear. Theyare trained to.a There was very little information about the corps accessible to the public. Margraves from the Basquiat bound me to secrecy about the preparatory knowledge I was given, as well as the knowledge I would come to gather in my own, personal experiences dealing with the dragons and their pilots. My thesis would have to deal with the corpsapsychology alone, and not even approach the many secrets hidden behind the Airmanas doors. Iad only ever seen dragons from the ground, wheeling overhead in the sky on their way to deployment: great, metalline, sleek. Copper and silver and steel, catching the sunlight along the glint and arc of their spiny wings. They were as mythical as they were man-made. I was out-of-my-mind terrified, and the members of the corps would sense that as soon as they looked at mea"if they even bothered to look.

Luckily, I had very little to pack, and therefore little time to consider my fate.

aAgain,a Marius said, tapping his foot on the carriage floor.

I drew in a deep breath. aChief Master Sergeant Adamo is their superior,a I said patiently. aIam to direct all questions, plans, purposes, grievances to his desk, and report only to him. Anything else will be seen as an act of insubordination and, once Iave lost his support, Iall have no more luck than a fish on a hook.a That last bit was Mariusas personal elaboration, but I found thinking about it in those terms, while admittedly chilling, did help keep me focused.

aAnd the others?a Marius was exacting, but Iad no cause to be resentful of his precision as an instructor. In fact, it had only ever served me well.

aIave devised a mnemonic device for the others,a I said. aBy Night, Iall Always Remember My Effective and Judicious Lecturer Mariusas Companionable Guidance.a aVery kind,a said Marius. aWell?a aBalfour, Niall, Ivory, Ace, Raphael, Merritt, Evariste, Jeannot, Luvander, Magoughin, Compagnon, and Ghislain.a It was a mouthful, and Iad forgotten to breathe.

aYouare missing one,a Marius informed me.

I frowned. aI am?a aRook, I believe,a Marius said. aHeas Havemercyas pilot. Heas also the one who caused this mess in the first place.a The strangest detail about the dragons was that each magician who designed and built them named them like they were his or her own children. Some were named after lovers, famous battles, lost children. One of the scientistsa"widely considered the most talented architect in all of Volstova"was something of a zealot, and the three dragons head designed were all named after prayers: Thoushalt, Compa.s.sus, and his most recent triumph, Havemercy, the scourge of the skies. Havemercy was the latest of the dragons and arguably the most famous. They said she was as black as onyx or obsidian laced with platinuma"an experimental and alchemic metallurgy that had the Basquiat up in arms no more than fifteen years agoa"and shead been exceedingly picky about choosing her pilot. Marius had already shared with me his opinion as to why: that, though the science was not perfected yet at the time of Havemercyas forging, the technology still depended upon individual Talents, and the result was a capriciousness in which machines should never be allowed to indulge. That, and the question of their capacity for fuel, made up the only two flaws that any man, scholar or magician, could pick out in the crafting of the dragons. Even the largest of them couldnat hold enough to carry it into the heart of Lapis, the capital city of Xiaan where the Ke-Han magicians made their home. Or at least, not enough to mount a serious attack on the city, then carry them back, as well. No one knew what the dragons ran on, since it was meant to be kept a secret, but Iad heard several clever theories that speculated their fuel was a diluted solution of water from the Well itself.

aI donat have room for another R,a I said cheekily. aIall have to remember him as the one I forgot.a Marius clapped me on the shoulder. aWell, then, Thom,a he said. aAre you ready?a aYes,a I said.

But I wasnat.

ROYSTON.

The tutor, Hal, took to reading to me near the end of my second week in exile. And, when I offered no immediate protest, the practice became first habit, then ritual. Resignation, boredom, the sheep, the incessant and constant proliferation of uninspiring trees, the coming of cold weather, my own idiocy and self-pity, my shame and lossa"all these factors conspired against me until I was helpless against any external forces, incapable of making any choice or decision. I allowed Hal to do as he pleased when it pleased him, and while part of me grudgingly antic.i.p.ated his arrival each evening to coax me toward food and conversation, I knew my brother had put him up to the task. Still, it was a break in the monotony of my day that interested mea"even if this was only a vague interest, in that it was not expressly disinterest. I felt enveloped not in a blizzard but in a fog; I could barely muster the enthusiasm to roll out of bed in the morning, leave my dust-settled room, and roam the blocky, uninspired hallway.

I recognized the signs: This was depression, in its purest and most clinical form. Despite my self-awareness, I was incapable of warding off its advancea"perhaps because I no longer cared if it swallowed me whole. It was quite possible I hadnat noticed its first stages and was already long lost to its grip.