Shaman's Crossing (The Soldier Son Trilogy #1)

Shaman's Crossing (The Soldier Son Trilogy #1) Page 211

He turned bloodshot eyes to me. He looked tired but cheerful. After a moment he said, “I never found her. I searched for a time, and then gave it up. Perhaps she had the good sense to stay at home. I went looking for you but never found you. Too many people. Will you ask after her when you write to your uncle?”

“I will.” I realized I had neglected to send him a letter yesterday. For that matter, I hadn’t received a letter from him. Well, bad news will keep, my father always said, and I could not think of one good thing to tell him. I thought of telling Spink about my private conversation with Captain Maw. I thought of telling him that all our dreams were doomed. I pushed that thought aside. Some part of me was still desperately clinging to hope. To speak of us being culled seemed unlucky, as if it were a curse I might bring down on us by speaking it aloud. My mind jumped to a topic only slightly less miserable. “At least you had a better night than I did,” I told him, and recounted my pleasant ride home with Caulder. I had thought he would laugh, but he looked grave.

“You probably saved his life, but we all know what a little snake Caulder is. He’ll never appreciate what you did for him.”

Our conversation was interrupted when Oron belatedly joined us at the table. He looked paler than usual, save for the dark circles under his eyes. His hands shook slightly as he heaped food onto his plate. He gave us a sick sort of smile. “It was worth it,” he said to our unanswered question.

“Did Rory go back to the Speck woman?” I asked bluntly.

Oron looked down at his heaped plate. “He and Trist did,” he admitted. He struggled to keep a strained smile from his face as he added, “Actually, we all did. It was amazing.”

I don’t think Spink picked up on what we were discussing. “Well, all of Dark Evening was amazing!” Spink agreed, surprising me with his enthusiasm. He was in such a good mood that I could scarcely stand to look at him. It was as if he’d forgotten entirely about the culling that still hung over our heads. He went on, “Never in my life have I seen anything like it. I didn’t think there were that many people in the entire world; well, you know what I mean. I’ve never seen such a crowd, or tasted such amazing food. I saw this woman, and she was dressed only in paper chains! The man with her was dressed like a wild man; he only wore strings with leaves attached to them. They were dancing so wildly, I was shocked! And, oh, did you go to the circus? Did you see the tiger tamer, with his big cats jumping through hoops of flame? And then, the sideshow…that poor little girl with flippers instead of arms. Oh, and while I was there, the Specks broke their usual custom and did the Dust Dance! It was amazing! The man in charge of them said it had never been seen this far west before! And-”

“They did it when I was there, too.” Light suddenly dawned in my mind. “It was all a trick, Spink. He probably always says they never do it, and they probably do it at every show. That way he makes it seem more special.”

“Oh.” Spink looked deflated.

Oron, across the table from us, nodded sagely. “Most of the acts in that tent were a sham, I’d bet.”

“I talked to the fat man, and he claimed he’d once been a cavalla lieutenant. Can you believe that?” I asked them.

Oron gave a huff of amusement. “Right. He’d break a horse’s back.”

Spink looked so crestfallen, I almost wished I’d kept my knowledge to myself. He shamed me further by saying quietly, “He said the same thing to me and I felt sorry for him. We gave him some money.”

“Gullible country boys!” Oron exclaimed, and then groaned and put a hand to his belly. “Maybe I’m not feeling as chipper as I thought. I’m back to bed, lads.”

He left the table, and Spink and I followed him a short time later. Spink didn’t look well, and I suspected I was as pale as he was. I followed him back to Carneston House, where we found most of our fellows still abed or moving sluggishly about. I sat down and wrote a long letter to my uncle. I’d begun a second to my father, confiding my fears of being culled, when Sergeant Rufet himself entered our common room. He seldom ventured upstairs outside of inspection times, so all of us came immediately to our feet. His face was grave as he said, “Cadet Burvelle, come with me. You are to report to Colonel Stiet immediately.”

I quickly gave my letter to Spink to post and fetched my coat. Rufet was kind enough to give me a moment to smooth my hair and straighten my uniform. I followed him down the stairs, and then was shocked when he accompanied me out the door. “I know the way there, Sergeant,” I said in some confusion.