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

Shaman's Crossing (The Soldier Son Trilogy #1) Page 238

I found my bunk easily. A neatly lettered sign on the foot of it gave my name. And on the rolled-up mattress I found five letters waiting for me. One was from Epiny and Spink.Mr. and Mrs. Spinrek Kester, she had written on the envelope, in very large letters. I smiled at that. The smile faded when I saw the next envelope was from Carsina’s father. And the third was from Carsina herself, carefully addressed to Cadet Nevare Burvelle. A flat fourth envelope would probably hold a letter of rebuke from Yaril. She’d had such high hopes for Carsina and me. The fifth was from my father. I set them all aside for the time being and turned to putting my possessions away. I wondered what I hoped the letters would say, and had no idea.

I put my books on my shelf and hung my clothing in my cupboard. My trunk went at the end of my bunk. I worked slowly and meticulously as I put every item in its place. Then I made my bed with the fresh bedding I’d been issued. And all the while my mind ground through every possible answer I might have to face in those letters.

When my bunk was covered with a tightly tucked blanket, I perched on its corner and opened Epiny’s letter first, as it seemed the least threatening. It had been written on the road and posted from a way station. Everything she saw and did was marvelous and exciting and amazing. They had slept under the wagon during a downpour when bad roads had delayed them from reaching the next town. It had been so cozy, like a rabbit’s burrow, and they’d heard the howling of wild dogs in the distance. She’d seen a herd of deer watching them from a hillside. She’d cooked porridge over a fire in an open kettle. Spink got stronger every day. He had promised to teach her to shoot once he was well enough to hunt again. She had thought she was pregnant, but then her courses came, which was horribly inconvenient when they were traveling, but probably no worse than morning sickness would have been. I blushed at her bluntness and realized that she wrote exactly like she talked. At the end of her long, closely written letter was a wavering greeting from Spink and an assurance that he was as happy as a man could be. I folded the pages and tucked them back into the envelope. So. They were happy. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. I decided that they would build a fine life together, and that thought eased my heart.

The missive from my father was next. He wrote that my mother had enjoyed Epiny’s letters but that he looked forward to hearing from me personally. He was glad to hear I had recovered. He’d had a note from Dr. Amicas expressing some reservations about my health and continued attendance at the Academy. The doctor suggested that I take a year’s leave from the Academy, return home, and then reconsider my Academy career at that time. That sentence made me frown. The doctor had said nothing of that to me. My father wrote that he had already notified the doctor that he would see me when I returned home for my brother’s wedding in late spring, and that my father would decide for himself at that time if my health had been severely compromised. For now, he trusted I would continue to live sensibly, study hard, and trust in the good god. I decided that perhaps he was referring to an earlier missive from the doctor, one that he had sent before my recovery had become so robust. I set my father’s letter aside and gave a small sign of relief. Other than his mention of the doctor, it sounded as if all was well with him.

The letter from Carsina’s father was written in a bold black hand. He wished me well for my continued recovery. He said that looking at death, in any form, could make a man question his life’s direction, and often that was good. It would also make a man bold. Foolishly bold in some cases. He reminded me that I had yet to earn the right to call Carsina my fiancee, but that he trusted I would, and that he expected all correspondence I sent her to be as honest and honorable as my first letter had been. My parents were well when he had last seen them. His lady wife sent her best wishes as well.

A drop of perspiration trickled down my spine. I wiped my sweaty hands on my shirt and opened Carsina’s letter.

Dear Cadet Nevare Burvelle,

I am thrilled to receive your letter and to know that you are recovering from your illness. The news we had from Old Thares was very frightening.

You asked me if, freed of all parental constraints, I would still choose you to be my husband. I must remind you that we are still not formally promised to one another. Yet if the good god blesses us and you strive with dedication and courage, I am sure that soon we will be. Then the answer will be, yes, I would choose you. I trust my parents’ judgment to guide me in all things, as I am sure you trust yours.

With great affection and in the good god’s light,

Miss Carsina Grenalter