As the boys spoke of their banishment, Ileth wondered if her being placed under Gorgantern was yet another test. Surely the Masters must know what sort of man he was after all these years. He tortured her relentlessly, criticizing and complaining about her efforts even when she worked as hard as both of the new boys put together. Yes, he kept the place clean and the day’s catch was efficiently divided and dressed, but why hadn’t they thrown him out? His chances of ever being matched up with a dragon or even being a wingman must have been vanishingly small. But what were they looking for in this test? The ability to endure nasty comments? Or did they expect her to stand up to him, get the better of him somehow? Perhaps they just wanted to see how badly Ileth wanted to be a dragoneer.
After seeing how they glared at each other, Ileth quietly suggested to Gorgantern that maybe they be given work that didn’t involve knives.
“If they’re dumb enough to try to stab each other, I want to watch,” Gorgantern replied. “I’ve been yearning for a fight all summer; the heat isn’t doing its job this year. If they start to stabbing, holler right away and for once don’t stutter!”
5
My Dear Falth,
Forgive me for not writing you sooner. In truth, there was little to report these past weeks. There is still little to report, but I did not wish you to think your trust in me misplaced.
You will be pleased to know that your late charge Santeel of the Name Dun Troot is doing well in the Serpentine. Her health is excellent and she eats with appetite. I was practically next to her when she swore her oath. I’m sure you understand that she did much better than I at that ritual, and you can tell your family that the white pin she now wears flatters both her complexion and her family name. They do not let her powder her hair here save for when we dress for dinner on the duty day of the week-over, and that bothered her (and the rest of us who were asked to commiserate at the deprivation) at first. Though her collection of friends does not, perhaps, reflect the number she deserves, she gives direction as one of the leading novices in our residence. We can always rely on her to become involved in our labors, and she freely draws on her wealth of knowledge to offer suggestions for improvements.
At first, she was put to work in the smithy, but the work didn’t suit her talents, so she moved on to the chicken runs. The Serpentine has several substantial sets of chicken coops to supply us with eggs and meat. Chickens, as you know, are not the cleanest of birds, and she does a good deal of scrubbing after her work there and must sometimes bandage small wounds received in the daily retrieval of eggs. I hope she’s not giving off some kind of odor that makes the chickens think her hands are their fish-meal! Perhaps you can send her some strongly scented soap. Address it to me if you wish to avoid giving her embarrassment by implying that she needs a vigorous application of pine or lavender. I will pass it to her discreetly.
But she is far from discouraged! I often return later than she does as I have a long walk that is half climb, but I believe she is continuing her studies in her free time before the dinner hour. The study volumes she had in her baggage are all in a neat row, dust-free, and so well taken care of they appear new from the press. She did have a mishap with her correspondence, though, when she confused her ink-jar with her teacup. At least I think that is what happened. The stains in her teeth eventually came out.
As for me, I am grateful for your advice and showing as much patience as I can. I did look at that statue whose story you relayed. It is near the Long Bridge out to the dragon delvings and is small, that is to life, but extremely fine work.
I do not have Santeel’s advantages in enjoying society. Other than a dead rat that ended up in my bedding the other night, I’ve hardly touched hands with a friend. My appearance is altered so that you might not recognize me; my hair was cut radically short one night when I returned to the Manor late (I often miss dinner, as the apprentice who supervises me gives me extra cleaning duties at the end of the day) and so tired that I spent the evening in a half-awake daze. I must have been sick of caring for it and cropped it off, because I was shocked the next morning to find it almost entirely gone. The boyish cut does have advantages. It is easy to clean, at least.
The paper runs out. If anything goes seriously amiss with the honorable young Dun Troot, I will make haste to acquaint you with the facts. I am certain they will make an apprentice of her in time.
Faithfully yours in this commission,
Ileth
There were rules to living at the Serpentine, strictly enforced on all the novices by the many layers superior to them. You had to keep yourself and your berth tidy. Everyone had their principal job, their common work, and a few “furthers,” as they were called—the Serpentine expected its novices to be educated enough to converse and trade with anyone in the Republic, and ideally be able to supply their dragon outside it. Random fighting would be punished, but formal duels were allowed under the usual rules for those in the Republic’s service. You always had to show respect to the Masters of the Serpentine, dragoneers, and those who supervised you. Outside the Serpentine, you were expected to be an exemplary citizen.
But Ileth never had a chance to get outside the Serpentine. She had no money for the few marketing trips and wasn’t of an illustrious enough name that she’d be invited to dine in town.
The punishment system was expedience itself. You would be removed from the Serpentine for any crimes that could have you bound over to trial. Repeated rule breaking, such as not cleaning and maintaining your footwear and dress, eating when you were supposed to be on duty, or trading and dealing outside of market days or trips into town, would also get you put outside the walls in whatever rags were handy. One of the previous draft’s novices who hadn’t yet made apprentice was discharged for buying smuggled wine and tobacco “over the wall,” as they styled it.
There was next to nothing in the way of instruction, as Caseen had explained her first day, and if such a thing as a lecture hall existed anywhere in the fortress, she’d not yet seen it. She attended one lecture about crossbows almost by accident; the Duskirk boy ran into her and Galia on the Long Bridge on an afternoon off and they joined him for the session, held in the amphitheater. Ileth found it more interesting than she thought; her mind was so starved for a break in the routine that the lecture enthralled her. The military expert told them about the tactics the Galantines had used with mixed success to take down dragons (dragon scale would often deflect a bolt fired from head on; crossbow men on the ground had to have the nerve to wait until they could get a side shot or, even better, a rear shot at a dragon) and showed them the latest in notched sights.
The Santeel Dun Troots of the world had tutors admitted to give them lessons in the Great Hall or the Visitor’s House near the gate. Ileth had no tutors, or lesson books, or allowance to spend. All she had was her old travel boots, her issue of clothing, the knife with an improvised handle, and some socks that kept slouching.
She was also the last of the year’s novices to speak to a dragon, and that by accident, as she’d been sitting on the doorstep when the full tour of the Beehive was given to the others and they were introduced to a few of the friendlier dragons who spoke Montangyan well.