Untalented (4 page)

“Sorry, Durin! Gotta run … I saw horsemen coming up the valley road. Maybe I can catch them before they get to the gates,” she threw back over her shoulder.

“Too late.” The head stableman’s answer stopped her in her tracks. “Doyenne’s already greeted them. Moved on to her study ten minutes ago. Come see the horses.”

Who knew how long they’d be before they announced any news? She turned and headed for the stable door.

 
“Don’t see beauties like these too often round these parts.” Durin stared appreciatively into the stable corridor. Saroya peered in. She had to agree. With a horse tethered in front of each of four empty stalls, stablehands removed gleaming leather saddles, or scraped lather off heaving flanks. The biggest horse Saroya had ever seen, a gorgeous black, was already being taken to a corral for a warmdown. The others, similarly spirited animals, gave the Adepts’ handlers a hard time, stamping and prancing from side to side. If the curve of their necks and grace of their steps hadn’t been enough, the tack told her these must be noblemen’s steeds. Worked silver adorned the bridles, bits clinking as a stableboy hung them from a peg. The burnished leather even smelled richer than usual. She turned to Durin.

“Do you know who they are?” she asked.

“Didn’t notice any standards or crests.”

“And they didn’t say anything about why they were here?”

Durin grinned at her. “Nope. Could be they’re just passing through and Crossroads Inn isn’t good enough for them. Took about as much notice of old Durin as of a fly on the wall. Have to talk to the doyenne if you want to know more.”

Saroya smiled ruefully back at him. “We both know how likely the doyenne is to tell
me
anything.”

“Speaking of Doyenne Ganarra, asked me to talk to you, she did. Knows you like the horses. Might want to consider helping us around the stables when term ends. Not a bad life—easy to teach you how to train ’em, you’ve already got a nice seat and hands on the reins.” Durin rubbed his chin. “Won’t be able to get you involved in full breeding and husbandry, now, ’coz the Agriculture Guild would string me up, but I can always use an extra set of hands. Pay’s not great, but better’n nothing. Don’t hold no truck with them that says someone like you’s bad luck.”

The prospect of mucking out stalls for the rest of her life smelled as good as the manure she’d be shoveling, but Saroya didn’t want to offend Durin.

“Can I think about it and let you know later?” Durin nodded. “I’d better run. Maybe the visitors will be at dinner. Thanks for letting me see the horses!” She raced off towards her dormitory.

She came flying off the second floor landing, already planning how to break her news to Nalini. Visitors were gossip fodder, but noblemen! She burst into her room, the door slamming into the wall behind her.

“Nalini, wait ’til you hear—”

“Saroya, where have you been!” Nalini interrupted. “There are king’s men here and the doyenne’s ordered everyone to the Great Hall by third bell. I’m late as it is and you’re not even changed! Look at you—nettles in your hair, and the mud!—you can’t expect to be allowed into the Great Hall with your tunic like that.”

Saroya gaped at her and closed her mouth with a click. So much for being the first with news. She headed for the mirror they shared to take stock. Blast Nalini for being right. Saroya rubbed at a smudge griming her freckles. She could do nothing about the grass-stained tunic.

“I think I have a clean tunic in the chest. Can you dig it out for me while I wash up?”

Saroya tugged her filthy clothes over her head. She scrubbed her face and then plucked at her tangled hair. By the time Nalini found the clean outfit and tossed it to her, she was somewhat presentable. She twirled around for inspection.

“You’re fine, let’s go!” Nalini said.

Tugging on her sandals, Saroya winced at her dirt-caked toes. Nobody would look at her feet, right? She and Nalini hurried out the door towards the Great Hall in the main building.

A hundred voices whispering rustled underneath the roof timbers of the Great Hall. Nalini and Saroya wedged themselves into the crowd to the left of the doors, close to the front of the hall. They peered over the heads of the other students at the raised dais. Several Adepts already sat to the left of the lectern.

Conversation in the hall died down as Doyenne Ganarra entered. She wore flowing robes of gray, her hair swept back underneath the official mark of her rank, a rounded gold-embroidered headdress. Five men followed her in. Their long-legged, confident stride contrasted with her smooth, graceful progress. The doyenne reached the lectern, the men taking up positions standing to her right. They wore travel clothes, sturdy leggings, and long dust cloaks. They bore no identifiable House sigils. Each man carried a long sword belted to his waist. Two had quivers with arrows strapped across their shoulders.

The doyenne cleared her throat before she spoke. Her mellow voice carried surprisingly well to the far corners of the hall.

“Adepts and students, please join me in welcoming these weary travelers as our guests. They have journeyed all the way from U’Veyle with a request from the king himself.”

An excited murmur ran through the hall. What could the king want with a ragtag group of orphans and students? It must be something to do with the Adepts. Nalini gave her a puzzled glance. Saroya shrugged as Doyenne Ganarra continued.

“To honor the memory of Queen Padvai, King Urdig wishes to make several gifts to the people of the realm. The queen believed in educating those less fortunate, and as recognition of the work of the Adepts here in Adram Vale, he offers those of you who will be leaving us this year the opportunity for higher learning in the capital. Not the provincial capital, Tarash, but U’Veyle itself. Those of you graduating in the spring will instead leave us tomorrow.” She turned to the men standing beside her on the platform. “These men are members of the King’s Guards, and will escort you on the journey to U’Veyle.”

A stunned silence greeted her words. Saroya felt Nalini grip her arm hard, but she was too focused on the doyenne to spare her a look.

“After dinner, the following students shall return to their rooms to pack up those belongings they wish to take to the capital: Tarmi Ageda, Martezha Baghore, Nalini Ferlen …” All told, twenty-one students would be making the journey. But not Saroya. “King Urdig honors us by giving you this most precious of opportunities. Justify our confidence in your abilities by excelling in all your endeavors. Now, our guests will join us in the dining hall for the evening meal. Please make them welcome.”

The Great Hall began to empty, and Nalini turned to Saroya, her face stricken. Saroya struggled to hide her disappointment. She could tell from her friend’s expression, fast turning to pity, that she hadn’t succeeded. “It’s all right, Nalini. You and I both know there is no guild for me in the capital.” Her voice caught as she continued. “Let’s go. We’re missing dinner.”

Saroya picked at her food. As if being passed over for the trip were not humiliation enough, upon their arrival at the dining hall, the Adepts separated the two friends, with Nalini directed to sit at the long banquet table with the others making the journey, the king’s men, Doyenne Ganarra, and several higher-ranking Adepts. They forced Saroya to sit with the students one year her junior. She ignored their whispered comments and sidelong glances as she stared at her plate. She could not bring herself to look at the head table. She didn’t trust herself not to burst into tears of rage and frustration if she did.

She heard—faintly, as though she stood at the bottom of a chasm—the doyenne toasting the king’s men, and the new members of their party. The dumplings on her plate blurred in front of her. She
would not
cry. What she told Nalini was true. There were no guilds for her in the capital, or anywhere. Time to stop dreaming. Opportunity was for the Talented.
 

Seeing the expression on her face, the boy sitting opposite her turned away, embarrassed. One of the king’s men, likely their leader, stood up and raised his glass to the doyenne. He praised the Cloister and the Adepts’ devotion to their charges, but as he described the trip ahead, and the fine schools in the capital, something in Saroya snapped. With shaking hands, she put down her cutlery, shoved back her chair, and hurried between the long tables to the door. She barely noticed heads turning her way, and a pause in the speech. She reached the stairs to the dormitory, and let the sobs escape her.

It wasn’t like she’d woken up that morning filled with excitement and high hopes. Yet the loss of something she’d never even had hit her like a punch in the stomach. This was the first of what promised to be endless demonstrations of everything she’d get passed over for from now on.

Saroya managed to compose herself by the time Nalini returned to their room an hour later. She sat on the bed, watching her friend choose what to bring with her in her new life.

“U’Veyle,” Nalini was saying. “Even if I did well at the Tarash Healer’s Guild I’d be lucky to ever see the capital. We might have been able to see each other if you made it to Tarash, too, but now …”

Nalini held up two tunics, and Saroya pointed to the one in her left hand. Nalini tossed it onto the growing pile of items on the bed.

“You’d have been more likely to find a good House to engage you in the capital, too.”

Saroya sighed. “Nalini, I’m really happy for you. Could we not talk about me any more?” She got off the bed and helped Nalini sort through her clothes. “I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow.”

“I know. There’s hardly any time to say goodbye. In a way, I wish I was still going to Tarash.”

“You can’t be serious. You’ll learn a lot more apprenticing in U’Veyle than from some country healer in Tarash.”

“I know. But U’Veyle’s so much closer to Galon Ford.”

“How can your parents still be upset about the healer thing?”

Nalini had looked so forlorn when she first arrived at the Cloister five years ago. Her parents, unhappy about her nascent healing Talent, made the long journey from her hometown of Galon Ford only to dump her in Adram Vale. The Ferlen clan excelled at building; the talk of the Cloister revolved for days around the shouting match between Nalini’s father and Doyenne Ganarra when the doyenne balked at forcing Nalini into builder’s classes. In the end, the doyenne relented; Adram Vale was not renowned for producing strong Talents and the Cloister needed the money. Nalini had been miserable for months.

Nalini handed Saroya a letter. “It came just after your Testing … I didn’t want to bother you …” Saroya’s eyebrows climbed up her forehead as she read the threat to hold back Nalini’s final tuition payment unless Nalini re-Tested as a builder.

“But your parents can’t fight your final Testing!”

“Wrong. I’m ‘a disgrace to the family line’—the first Ferlen in seven generations who’s not a builder.”

They heard a quick knock before the door was flung open. An Adept swept into the room, two students carrying a trunk behind her.

“Nalini, everything you wish to take with you to the capital must fit into this trunk.” The students set it down with a thunk on the floor. “Anything you need during the ride goes in these saddlebags, but leave room for your daily ration of food. Bring a warm cloak and wear sturdy clothes. The weather could turn at any time. Be ready at dawn tomorrow.”

The Adept turned and scowled at Saroya. “You, Saroya, will report to the doyenne’s chambers at first light. She was none too pleased with the spectacle you made of yourself in front of our guests.” With that, the woman left them as suddenly as she had come.

Saroya exchanged a glum look with her friend, before walking over to the trunk and fingering the latch. The brass hasp felt cold to her touch. She lifted the lid and peered inside. A faint whiff of lavender reached her nostrils. The trunk was lined, with trays at the top for smaller items. It had been used before, its corners scuffed and some of the inner fabric torn. Still, she had never seen anything she wanted more. Suddenly Saroya laughed.

“It’s not as if seeing Doyenne Ganarra tomorrow could make me feel any worse,” Saroya said. “Do you think she’ll give me more laundry chores? Maybe she’ll make me clean the chicken coop. Or do a kitchen inventory.”

Nalini grinned. “If you don’t watch out, she could put you in charge of minding Mistress Jarra.” Saroya howled, thinking about having to endure Jarra’s endless complaints about her aches and pains, and her constant opining about the deteriorating quality of the current crop of youths.

Saroya and Nalini were still giggling when they finally turned in. Nalini blew out the candle. Saroya tried to sleep but tossed and turned instead. The unfairness of tomorrow—losing both Nalini and her chance at the city, plus facing the doyenne’s punishment—kept her awake. Saroya stared at the dim ceiling without really seeing it. Unfair. She couldn’t shake the thought. It was all so unfair.

But did it have to be? Could she still salvage something from this mess? If she didn’t do something, no one else would on her behalf.

Veshwa was the key to finding her family. Veshwa might even be her own mother. If she was a servant of Veyle, it seemed logical that Saroya would find her in the capital. She
had
to go with the others to U’Veyle.

Saroya threw back her blanket, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, moving quietly so as not to wake Nalini. She padded barefoot across the floor, then thought better of it. Best to put her best foot forward. She returned to the bed, and fumbled beneath it, looking for her sandals. She grabbed the shoes, and worked her way back to the door.

“Where are you going?” Nalini asked, voice muzzy with sleep.

“Best you don’t know.”

“That doesn’t bode well.” Nalini sounded wide awake now.

Saroya slipped on her sandals, since stealth no longer gained her anything. “The doyenne’s mad at me already, right? I might as well do something to really embarrass her in front of her guests.”

“Saroya!” But Saroya had already started down the hall. She heard the rustling of sheets, then the slap of feet coming after her. Nalini tugged at her hand, but kept her voice low to avoid waking the others. “Tell me what you’re doing.”