"Isn't there anything secret to them?" Lan replied, both irritated and touched by his concern.
"No. Get used to it," Tuck replied promptly. "Now, spit it out so we can both get some sleep."
Slowly, reluctantly, Lan told him what had happened when he and Kalira had been waylaid by the Jelnacks, and for the first time, he told someone besides Pol just what had happened that night in the school. "What's bothering me is that she's right. I am responsible—"
"Huh." Tuck didn't immediately launch into assurance, which in a curious way, comforted him more than that assurance would have. He wasn't going to give Lan a comforting answer just because he was Lan's friend....
"All right, I can see your point. And you are responsible; I mean, if they'd been picking on someone other than you, nothing would have happened. But that doesn't mean that the old bag is right either. You're not a murderer."
"How am I not—" he began, then stopped. "Because I didn't intend to kill them?"
"Right. And maybe that seems like an irra—erra—" Tuck searched for the word he wanted.
"Irrelevant?" Lan suggested.
"Right. That kind of difference. But it's not. It's a big difference." Tuck sounded quite sure of himself, and a moment later Lan found out why. "I've had First Level Judgment, and in the law there's a big difference. There's premeditated murder, and that's where the guy plans it out and goes and does it in cold blood, on purpose. Then there's simple murder, where maybe the guy gets into a fight with someone, and instead of backing off, gets a weapon out and kills the other guy. Now, that didn't happen with you, because you never got a chance to defend yourself, and you were ganged up on. That's the law. So you aren't a murderer."
Tuck was so sure of himself that Lan began to believe him. "So what am I?" he asked, uncertainly.
"I'm working that out; give a fellow a moment, I haven't even gotten a test on this yet!" Tuck replied a little crossly. "Now, what's next?" Silence in the darkness, then, "Ah! Got it. There's manslaughter, where a guy kills someone by accident, but that isn't you either, because it has to be someone helpless, and that toad Tyron wasn't helpless, you were. So what that leaves is accidental death in self-defense." Solid self-satisfaction filled Tuck's voice. "That's the one that fits, all right. You were the helpless one, you got ganged up on, they wouldn't let you go, and they were going to hurt you a lot. You couldn't help it if your Gift got away from you—heckfire, you didn't even know what it was and you hadn't got any training in it! How could you do anything with it? And how could anybody expect you to?"
"I don't know...." Lan was still troubled, but Tuck wasn't listening to him, he was plowing straight ahead as if this was just another classroom exercise.
"Eyah, that's it. And the law says 'not guilty.' That's the law. You can't hold somebody responsible for what happens when they're pushed to the edge and things get out of hand." Now Tuck seemed to recollect that Lan was the subject of this exercise, and his voice took on a coaxing tone. "Honest, Lan, I'm positive on this one. Cross my heart!"
:I told you,: Kalira seconded. :Now you're heard it from me, from Pol, and from Tuck. Would you like me to ask Rolan's opinion? I already know that Jedin would agree with Tuck, and for that matter, so does the King.:
Lan gulped. The King? The King knew about him?
But when it all came down to it, it was Tuck, honest, clear-minded, transparent Tuck who convinced him. Tuck couldn't lie if he wanted to; it was as if a permanent Truth Spell was working on him. And Tuck was convinced of his innocence.
"I think I'm still going to feel horrid—" he ventured.
"Well, you'd be a miserable dog if you didn't!" Tuck retorted, "and I wouldn't be your friend anymore! But you don't have to feel guilty. So let's get some sleep; morning conies early around here."
"All right," he replied. "Thanks, Tuck."
"No problem," Tuck mumbled, already half asleep.
Lan yawned, closed his eyes, and after a few moments more of thought, followed Tuck's example.
SIXTEEN
WHEN everyone got back to the Collegium and back to lessons, no one said a word to Lan about his encounter at Midwinter. Lan breathed a great deal easier when it looked as if no one had heard a word about it. He really didn't want to say more to anyone than he had to; if the entire Collegium and Circle chose to ignore what had happened, he was perfectly happy to go along with that.
As classes resumed, he found himself absorbed more and more into the life of the Collegium. Tuck's circle of friends accepted him without question; he often ran into Elenor on walks or visiting her father. She had taken a great interest in him, probably because of her specialty. He reckoned that to a Mind-Healer he must be fascinating, given all of the horrible things that had happened to him. She was a nice girl, though, and didn't make it obvious. And she was good company.
Of all the places where he had lived, he felt most at home and happiest here. Even if he didn't always enjoy his classes, there were none he disliked, and most he found fascinating.
And above all things, there was Kalira. She was more wonderful every day; he often thought that he could happily live in a desert as long as she was with him.
The third week after Midwinter, he returned to his room to find a message waiting for him from his sister Macy. She wanted to pay him that promised visit. Since the day after the next was one where he usually had a free afternoon, he dashed off a quick reply to that effect, and made sure that he still did have that time free.
Not only did he have it, but Tuck did as well, and his friend volunteered to wait with him at the gate for Macy's arrival.
So the two of them waded through fresh snow up to their knees on the appointed afternoon, with more snow gently falling all around them. It was a particularly pretty, fluffy snow, falling through air that felt deceptively warm, covering bushes and coating the limbs of the trees. Daylight, filtered through clouds and falling snow, seemed to come from everywhere, gentle, soft, and pure. As they passed the Palace proper, courtiers and highborn were spread throughout the gardens, with the more high-spirited engaging in snow fights while the rest admired the scenery. Their handsome cloaks and coats of every possible hue, ornamented with fur and embroidery, made a fine show in the falling snow. The younger women, the Queen's handmaidens, dressed in various shades of blue ornamented with white fur and silver embroidery, watched and whispered among themselves as their suitors and would-be suitors showed off by pitching snowballs at targets and, occasionally, each other.
"Huh," Tuck said, amused. "They wouldn't think it was such fun if they couldn't duck back into the nice, warm Palace and have servants rush up to them with dry clothes."
"Probably not," Lan agreed. "But d'you know, there's no harm in them enjoying it either. Nothing better than a good snowstorm when you've got a nice fire in front of you—and who was it wanted us to get snowbound back home?"