Shaman's Crossing

After the others had departed and we were left alone to tidy away the rafts, soldiers, and buckets, he shocked me by asking me solemnly, “Nevare, have you ever considered becoming a cavalla scout?”

“No, sir!” I replied in quick and honest horror.

He smiled at my disdain for the position. “And why is that, Cadet Burvelle?”

“Because I, well, I want to be an officer and distinguish myself in service to my king and make my family proud of me and…”

My words dribbled away as he cut in quietly with, “And you could do all that as easily as a scout as you could as a lieutenant in uniform.” He cleared his throat and spoke quietly, as if sharing a secret with me. “I know a number of good men stationed in the border forts. A recommendation from me would take you far with them. You wouldn’t have to remain here at the Academy with your nose shut in a book for most of the day. Six weeks from now, you could be free and on the open land, serving your king.”

“But sir!” I halted, realizing that I should not argue with an officer, nor even offer an opinion until he sought it.

“Speak freely,” he encouraged me. He went back to his desk and sat down. As I spoke, he toyed with a small model of a catapult.

“Captain Maw, a scout does not have the status of a regular officer. He commands no men save himself. He operates alone. Often he is a ranker or a man disowned by his family. They are expected to know the conquered folk intimately, their language, their habits…Sometimes scouts even take Plains wives and have children with them, and only come into the forts sporadically to report for duty. They are not…they are not gentlemen, sir. I am sure that being a scout is not what my father intends for me.”

“Perhaps not,” he conceded after a few moments. “But I will tell you this plainly, young man. You have a talent for innovation and independent thinking. Those abilities are not prized in a lieutenant. On the contrary, your commander will do his best to quash those gifts, for a freethinking lieutenant is not an asset to a smooth chain of command. Cadet Burvelle, you are not meant to be a cog in a gear drive, nor a link in a chain. You will be unhappy there, and will make those above and below you unhappy in consequence. I think the good god made you to act on your own. Soldier son you may be, and by the king’s word, your father may be a noble. But take it as no shame that I say this to you. I do not see an officer when I look at you. That is not an insult. It is my honest appraisal. I think you are brilliant, capable of landing on your feet no matter what tricks life plays you. But I do not see you as a line officer.” He smiled at me kindly and looked more like an uncle than an Academy instructor as he asked me, “Do you honestly see yourself as an officer five years from now?”

I squared my shoulders and forced my words past a lump of disappointment in my throat. “Yes, sir. I do. With all that is within me, it is what I aspire to be.”

He left off playing with the catapult and leaned back in his chair. He raised his bushy gray eyebrows and sighed with resignation. “Well then. I suppose that is what you will do your best to be. I hope you find it to your liking, Cadet. I hope the cavalla does not lose you when you discover that the limits of such a role are greater than you thought them to be.”

“I am cavalla, sir. Born and bred.”

He nodded gravely. “I suppose that you are. Remember something for me. Remember that your raft passed through the rapids with its cargo because you were wise enough to engineer some flexibility into your structure. Do the same with yourself and your ambitions, Cadet. Leave room for them to bend without breaking you. Dismissed.”

And with that he sent me out into the fading afternoon to ponder his offer. I could not decide if his words had been complimentary or a warning to curb my ambitions. I didn’t discuss it with any of my fellows.

After the first two months of classes, those of us who had performed well were allowed a day of liberty every second Sevday to visit relatives. It was a welcome change from the previous “holidays” we’d been offered in our schedule. All the first-years had been given a Sevday of leave once before, but it was a sham. We’d been ordered to spend our “free day” attending a musical performance given by Lady Midowne’s Historical Society. A score of noble ladies and their daughters sang original compositions that told of significant events in Gernian history. It was interminable, with extravagant costumes and sets and mediocre singing that scarcely reached our ears. At the end, we dutifully applauded, and only then learned that first-years were not even allowed to attend the tea that followed it to mingle with the young ladies. Instead, we were sent back to our dormitory to “enjoy the rest of our day of freedom.”