Chapter 385: Two Places in the Classroom

Lysandra came to breakfast carrying a notebook.

This would not have attracted much attention if Cassia had not been carrying an identical one.

Lexander looked at the books, then at his sister.

“Have I missed something?”

“Probably,” Lysandra said.

She sat beside Cassia and reached for the bread.

He waited.

She buttered a slice.

“Lysandra.”

“I'm going to attend the college too.”

Cassia's smile escaped before she could hide it.

Across the table, Mirelle put down her cup.

“Together?”

“Where our lessons overlap,” Lysandra said. “We spoke about it yesterday.”

“At length,” Cassia added.

“She asked whether I was only offering because she was nervous.”

“Three times,” Cassia admitted.

“And I explained three times that I was capable of wanting an education for myself.”

Lexander leaned back, studying his sister with an expression I recognized. He was trying to remember whether he had overlooked something important while attending to a hundred things that had seemed urgent.

“What would you like to study?” he asked.

Lysandra's teasing expression softened.

“Languages. History. Some of the lessons about managing towns and public works, if they suit me. I've spent enough time helping with arrangements to know how often I rely on somebody else understanding the part I don't.”

Mary looked up from her book.

“A useful discovery.”

“Occasionally an embarrassing one.”

“Those are often useful too.”

Io reached across the table and touched Lysandra's wrist.

“I'm glad.”

For a moment, Lysandra looked younger than she usually allowed herself to appear.

Then Lexander smiled.

“So am I.”

Their visit to the college took place the following morning, two days after Julian's birthday.

I went as far as Concordia with them.

There were gate arrangements to discuss with Lexander's people, and Evelyn had assured me that walking between buildings did not qualify as strenuous exercise unless I found a way to make it so.

I decided not to ask whether she had a particular incident in mind.

Cassia wore a plain blue dress and carried the record of her studies that she and Mirelle had prepared. Lysandra had brought her own list, folded into her notebook.

Neither wore anything intended to announce a royal visit.

Both were recognized before we reached the second courtyard.

Lysandra greeted the man who opened the college's outer door and asked whether the teachers expecting them had arrived.

Cassia stood beside her, taking everything in.

Students crossed the courtyard in small groups. Someone hurried past carrying a rolled map that kept trying to escape its tie. From an open window came the uneven notes of a musical exercise, followed by a patient voice asking for the passage again.

Near the far wall, two young people were arguing over a wooden frame.

“It was straight before you tightened it.”

“Then it wasn't properly fastened.”

“It is properly crooked now.”

Cassia laughed before she could stop herself.

One of them looked up, grinned, and returned to the dispute.

Nobody bowed.

Her shoulders lowered a little.

Lysandra noticed but said nothing.

The woman who received them introduced herself as Mistress Teren.

She had ink on the side of one finger and spectacles attached to a cord that seemed to have caught in her collar. She freed them while inviting us to sit.

“I have been told you would both like to study here.”

“Yes,” Cassia said.

“Good. Tell me what you've done already.”

Cassia offered her list.

Teren read it carefully, asking questions about the histories and languages, then handed it back and turned to Lysandra.

She gave both the same attention.

I appreciated that.

When the lists had been discussed, Teren placed two sheets of paper on the table.

“A few exercises. Nothing elaborate. They'll help us decide where to begin.”

Cassia's hand tightened around her pen.

Lysandra shifted closer, then stopped herself from looking at her friend's page.

Teren noticed that too.

“You may be good company for one another. You'll still need to answer separately.”

“We weren't going to cheat,” Lysandra said.

“Excellent. That saves us an uncomfortable conversation.”

Her tone was so matter-of-fact that Cassia smiled.

I rose.

“I have a meeting nearby. Shall I leave you to it?”

Cassia looked up.

There was a brief hesitation.

Then she nodded.

“We'll meet you afterward.”

Outside, I found myself smiling at a courtyard wall for no apparent reason.

When I returned, they were in a classroom.

I stopped at the open doorway rather than interrupting.

A teacher had drawn a road, a stream, and three villages on a large board. Several students were discussing where a new bridge should go.

Cassia sat near the back beside Lysandra.

They had been invited to observe.

Cassia was already forgetting that limitation.

“But the market isn't there every day,” she said.

The teacher turned toward her.

“Go on.”

She glanced at Lysandra, who gave her the smallest encouraging nod.

“The village with the mill sends carts along that road whether there's a market or not. If the bridge goes farther north, they have to cross the hill twice.”

A student near the window frowned at the board.

“It's a shorter bridge there.”

“Yes,” Cassia said. “But would they use it?”

The teacher picked up the chalk.

“That is a question worth asking. What information would we need?”

The room began answering.

Loads. Weather. How steep the hill was. Whether the stream flooded the lower crossing. Who maintained the road.

Lysandra lifted her hand.

“And whether the people who live there agree with our drawing.”

The teacher smiled.

“Especially that.”

I left before either woman saw me.

They did not need a king watching from the doorway while they discovered they belonged in the room.

Teren met us afterward beneath the courtyard arcade.

She had a proposed schedule for each of them.

“You can begin with these lessons,” she said. “There are a few differences in your preparation, so the schedules aren't identical.”

Cassia studied hers.

“Mathematics?”

“You've learned several methods correctly. You hesitate when a problem is presented differently. A little work there will save you trouble later.”

Cassia nodded slowly.

Lysandra looked at her own page.

“My history lesson is earlier.”

“Your written account was confident,” Teren said. “It also joined two events that happened several years apart.”

Lysandra stared at the schedule.

“Ah.”

Cassia's mouth twitched.

“You may enjoy that briefly,” Lysandra told her.

“I am.”

They would share several lessons and separate for others. The first weeks would give both them and their teachers a chance to adjust the arrangement.

“There is a place for you tomorrow,” Teren said. “If you're ready.”

Cassia looked at Lysandra.

Lysandra looked back.

“Tomorrow,” they said together.

Then both laughed.

The return through the gate was louder than the journey out.

Cassia described the bridge exercise while Lysandra described a language lesson they had watched afterward. Each remembered something the other had missed.

They stopped twice in the passage to compare schedules.

At the third stop, Mary found us.

“Successful?”

Cassia handed her the page.

Mary read it, then Lysandra's.

“These mornings will be kept clear. I'll make the adjustments we discussed.”

“I could still come to the receiving rooms afterward,” Cassia said.

“On the days we agreed. You also have reading.”

Cassia glanced down at the list of books beneath her lessons.

Apparently she had not yet considered that learning might follow her home.

Lysandra looked equally thoughtful.

I found their expressions reassuring.

That evening, Julian accompanied them to choose a case for Cassia's papers.

He took his responsibility seriously.

He tested the fastening on the first case, rejected the second as too narrow, and asked whether the strap on the third could be shortened without cutting it.

The leatherworker answered with admirable patience.

Lysandra selected one for herself while Cassia considered the colors.

“They don't have to match,” Julian told them.

“We know,” Cassia said.

He looked at their identical notebooks.

Lysandra followed his gaze.

“Those happened to be available.”

He did not appear convinced.

On the walk back, Cassia asked whether he had enjoyed his birthday.

“Yes.”

“All of it?”

Julian thought before answering.

“I was sad for a little while.”

“I know.”

“But I liked it.”

She brushed her fingers over his hair.

He tolerated that for several steps before moving out of reach.

“My name's finished inside the chest.”

“Will you show me?”

“After supper.”

He glanced at the case under her arm.

“Before you have to study.”

Cassia smiled.

“Before I study.”

Their first morning as students began with a missing pen.

Lysandra found it tucked into Cassia's notebook after Cassia had checked beneath her chair twice.

“You put it there so you wouldn't forget it.”

“I remember that now.”

Mirelle watched from beside the window while Adriana adjusted a loose fastening on her sister's sleeve.

“Are you nervous?” Adriana asked.

“No.”

Lysandra looked at her.

“Yes,” Cassia amended.

“So am I,” Lysandra admitted.

That seemed to help more than reassurance would have.

At the gate, they turned back together.

Mirelle waved.

Lexander told his sister to enjoy herself, then appeared to reconsider whether that was the appropriate advice for lessons.

Io saved him.

“And tell us about it afterward.”

They promised they would.

Then Cassia reached for Lysandra's hand, squeezed it once, and stepped through beside her.

I spent that morning learning how much could go wrong in three paces.

“You arrived with your sword too far from your body,” Avarn said.

“I arrived beside the correct stone.”

“That was Elyan's lesson. This one is mine.”

Thor laughed behind me.

My injuries had improved enough for Evelyn to permit brief exercises, provided I stopped when she said. This had been explained to all four of my teachers, leaving remarkably little room for creative interpretation.

Vaerun had me turn one hand to wind, grip a wooden practice hilt, and keep the rest of the hand insubstantial.

It was harder than his demonstration had suggested.

The hilt fell through my fingers twice.

On the third attempt, it remained.

“There,” he said. “You don't need to rebuild flesh to hold something.”

I moved the practice blade through a slow cut.

Rain curled around the handle.

For one clean instant, the sword followed exactly where I intended while sunlight shone through my wrist.

Then the shape wavered.

Avarn caught the blade before it struck the ground.

“Tomorrow,” he said.

I looked toward Evelyn.

She had not spoken yet.

Avarn shrugged.

“I can recognize tired hands.”

I was beginning to understand why the others trusted him.

Cassia and Lysandra returned before the evening meal, talking so quickly that the gate attendant had to remind them to keep walking.

Cassia had ink on one cuff.

Lysandra had a correction written across the top of a page in a hand considerably firmer than her own.

“How was it?” Mirelle asked.

They answered simultaneously.

Then stopped.

Then both began again.

Mirelle sat down.

“We have time.”

Their first shared lesson had concerned the accounts of a small town. Their separate lessons had exposed different gaps. Cassia had managed the arithmetic once the teacher persuaded her to stop trying to perform every step in her head.

Lysandra had discovered that recognizing a historical name did not mean she remembered what the person had done.

“I wrote a very convincing paragraph about the wrong minister,” she said.

Lexander covered his mouth.

“Don't,” she warned.

“I haven't said anything.”

“You're arranging it.”

Cassia set her notebook on the table.

“We ate with two other students.”

Mirelle's attention sharpened gently.

“What were they like?”

“One works with her aunt in a shop after lessons. The other wants to design bridges.”

“Did you discuss the one from yesterday?” I asked.

“At length,” Lysandra said. “Nobody agreed.”

“Will you sit with them again?” Adriana asked.

Cassia nodded.

Then she looked at Lysandra, and they smiled in a way that made further questions unnecessary.

Io's birthday arrived the next day.

Four days after Julian's.

Lexander wished her a happy birthday at breakfast and gave her his present privately afterward. We greeted her warmly without making any reference to the west gallery.

She appeared perfectly content with that arrangement.

This made Evelyn suspicious.

“Do you think she knows?” she whispered.

“I think she knows it's her birthday.”

Adriana gave me a look.

“You know what she means.”

“If she knows about supper, she's being very kind to our efforts.”

Across the table, Io was helping Seraphina spread jam on bread.

Seraphina opened her mouth.

Ignatius kicked her gently beneath the table.

Io looked down.

“Feet to yourselves.”

Both children sat very straight.

Evelyn closed her eyes for a moment.

“We only need until evening.”

Preparations began once Io left for her ordinary morning duties.

Lisbeth directed the movement of furniture. Mirelle and Helena arranged flowers low enough for people to see one another. Castellan positioned the screen across the service entrance and inspected the terrace lamps.

Thor met the musicians and showed them to the quiet room they had requested.

They were pleased to discover that nobody intended to ask them to play while they tuned.

Evelyn kept Adriana comfortably seated while they checked the food arrangements together. The pear cake remained in the kitchens, safely beyond Carol's immediate reach.

Cassia and Lysandra attended their morning lessons.

That had required a discussion the previous evening.

“We said we'd help,” Cassia had protested.

“You have helped,” Lisbeth replied. “The invitations are delivered. The transport is arranged. Go to your lessons.”

They returned in the afternoon and found work waiting that could actually be finished before supper.

Lysandra checked the arriving guests from Concordia. Cassia helped Julian position the children's gift on a small table near Io's chair.

The four painted panels stood in a light frame that Garrick Valewood had made with Julian's assistance.

Ignatius's mother still had six fingers in the drawing.

Nobody had corrected them.

Elyan made the children's stars shine.

He knelt beside the garland and touched each little opening with a fingertip. Soft points of light remained, steady and cool, bright enough to show the uneven edges without overwhelming them.

Seraphina held one star between her palms.

“It isn't hot.”

“No.”

“Will it stay?”

“For the evening.”

Ignatius looked up.

“Can we make it do that?”

Elyan glanced toward Evelyn before answering.

“Perhaps someday. Tonight this is my part of your gift.”

Ignatius accepted that and turned to show Julian.

I watched a faint gleam gather on Garrick Grey's fingers as he reached for another star.

It faded when he let go.

Evelyn saw it too. Her eyes met mine, then returned to the children.

We would mention it to Rysa.

For the moment, Garrick was more concerned with a knot in the ribbon than with whatever his domain had noticed.

Vaerun helped hang the garland without allowing any loose end to tangle.

“A modest use of hurricanes,” I remarked.

“Speak for yourself. That knot was formidable.”

Evelyn and Adriana went to collect Io before supper.

Both had dressed for the evening, just as they had said they would. Adriana wore something comfortable that fell softly over her stomach, and Evelyn had pinned her hair back with a clasp the children had approved after a lengthy consultation.

“Too shiny,” Carol had said of the first choice.

The glowing garland behind her had apparently been exempt from that criticism.

We waited in the gallery.

Nobody hid beneath furniture.

This had needed saying twice.

Julian stood with the four children near their present. Mirelle smoothed one corner of the tablecloth and then deliberately left it alone.

Cassia and Lysandra exchanged a glance across the room.

Thor lifted one hand toward the musicians.

Footsteps sounded in the passage.

Io came through the doorway between Evelyn and Adriana, still finishing a sentence.

Then she stopped.

Warm light filled the room. Flowers stood on the small tables. Beyond the open terrace doors, the evening sky was turning blue above Havenreach.

The musicians began a tune she knew.

“Happy birthday!” Seraphina called.

Everyone else followed, although Carol added, “We didn't tell!” loudly enough to be heard above most of us.

Io put a hand over her mouth.

For a moment, she did not move.

Then she turned toward Evelyn and Adriana.

“You did all this?”

“Everyone helped,” Evelyn said.

Adriana took her hand.

“Come and see.”

Io reached the children's gift before she reached her chair.

Ignatius pointed to his panel immediately.

“That's you reading.”

“I see.”

“The hand holds more.”

She studied the six fingers with admirable composure.

“Very practical.”

Seraphina explained her flowers. Garrick introduced the horse and the enormous sun. Carol leaned forward to show the crowded supper table she had drawn.

“So you always have people.”

Io's expression changed.

She crouched carefully, drawing them close enough that all four tried to explain their pictures again at once.

Julian stood beside the frame, smiling.

Io reached for his hand too.

“And you helped them?”

“With some of it.”

“Thank you.”

He looked down, pleased.

Behind them, the crooked stars glowed.

Lisbeth caught Lexander watching his family and quietly passed him a cup before he remembered to ask for one.

Supper stayed warm.

That pleased Io almost as much as the absence of anyone asking her to speak.

She sat in the chair Carol had chosen and ate while conversation moved easily around the tables. Concordian friends caught up with people they had not seen for several weeks. Mirelle and Helena compared flowers with Lisbeth. Thor listened to the musicians between bites, clearly satisfied that they had remembered the tunes on her list.

At one point, Io noticed a serving dish needed moving and began to rise.

Lexander touched her hand.

“Someone has it.”

He was right.

She sat back.

A little later, she did it again without needing the reminder.

Cassia and Lysandra told her about their first lessons when she asked. Neither pretended to have found everything easy.

“We're supposed to bring an example of a public decision whose costs were overlooked,” Cassia said.

Mary, passing behind her chair, stopped.

“How many examples do you need?”

Lysandra laughed.

“Only one.”

Mary looked almost disappointed.

Io smiled at the two students.

“I'm glad you're going together.”

Cassia glanced at Lysandra.

“So am I.”

When the pear cake arrived, Io recognized it before anyone told her what it was.

She looked directly at Lexander.

He spread his hands.

“I was questioned.”

“Thoroughly,” Adriana said.

Evelyn began cutting slices.

There were no speeches.

Io thanked us anyway, quietly, while we passed plates around. Then the music changed, and Lexander held out his hand.

She glanced at the open space between the tables.

“You arranged that too?”

“I hoped.”

She went with him.

For the length of the tune, nobody approached with a report or asked either of them to settle anything. Seraphina watched from Lisbeth's lap. Ignatius leaned against Thor, growing sleepier by the moment.

Cassia sat beside Lysandra with their empty plates on the table.

Their college cases waited near the door, papers tucked away until tomorrow.

After a while, Lysandra rose and held out her hand.

“Come on.”

Cassia looked surprised.

“Here?”

“There's room.”

They joined the others, laughing when they began on different steps and had to start again.

Adriana leaned against my shoulder. Evelyn sat on her other side, watching Io smile at something Lexander had whispered.

“Do you think she liked it?” Adriana asked.

Across the room, Io rested her head briefly against her husband's chest before the next turn carried them past the lamps.

“Yes,” I said.

When the music ended, nobody hurried to clear the tables.

Io asked for the tune again.