His first commands had sounded difficult, but the last, I knew, was impossible.
“I can’t,” I said, not believing how stupid he was. “Galen wouldn’t let me come back to the group. And even if he did, I’d never catch up on all I’ve missed. I’ve already failed at it, Burrich. I failed and that’s done, and I need to find something else to do with myself. I’d like to learn the hawks, please.” The last I heard myself say with some amazement, for in truth it had never crossed my mind before. Burrich’s reply was at least as strange.
“You can’t, for the hawks don’t like you. You’re too warm and you don’t mind your own business enough. Now listen to me. You didn’t fail, you fool. Galen tried to drive you away. If you don’t go back, you’ll have let him win. You have to go back and you have to learn it. But”—and here he turned on me, and the anger in his eyes was for me—“you don’t have to stand there like a carter’s mule while he beats you. You’ve a birthright to his time and his knowledge. Make him give you what is yours. Don’t run away. No one ever gained anything by running away.” He paused, started to say more, and then stopped.
“I’ve missed too many lessons. I’ll never—”
“You haven’t missed anything,” Burrich said stubbornly. He turned away from me, and I couldn’t read his tone as he added, “There have been no lessons since you left. You should be able to pick up just where you left off.”
“I don’t want to go back.”
“Don’t waste my time by arguing with me,” he said tightly. “Don’t dare to try my patience that way. I’ve told you what you are to do. Do it.”
Suddenly I was six years old again, and a man in a kitchen backed up a crowd with a look. I shivered, cowed. Abruptly, it was easier to face Galen than to defy Burrich. Even when he added, “And you’ll leave that pup with me until your lessons are done. Being shut up inside your room all day is no life for a dog. His coat will go bad and his muscles won’t grow properly. But you’d better be down here each evening, to see to both him and Sooty, or you’ll answer to me. And I don’t give a damn what Galen says about that, either.”
And so I was dismissed. I conveyed to Smithy that he was to stay with Burrich, and he accepted it with an equanimity that surprised me as much as it hurt my feelings. Dispirited, I took my pot of unguent and plodded back up to the keep. I took food from the kitchen, for I had no heart to face anyone at table and went up to my room. It was cold and dark, no fire in the hearth, no candles in the sticks, and the fouled reeds underfoot stank. I fetched candles and wood, set a fire, and while I was waiting for it to take some of the chill off the stone walls and floors, I busied myself with taking up the floor rushes. Then, as Lacey had advised me, I scrubbed the room well with hot water and vinegar. Somehow I got the vinegar that had been flavored with tarragon, and so when I was finished, the room smelled of that herb. Exhausted, I flung myself down on my bed and fell asleep wondering why I’d never discovered how to open whatever hidden door it was that led to Chade’s quarters. But I had no doubt that he would have simply dismissed me, for he was a man of his word and would not interfere until Galen had finished with me. Or until he discovered that I was finished with Galen.
The Fool’s candles awoke me. I was completely disoriented as to time and place until he said, “You’ve just time to wash and eat and still be first on the tower top.”
He’d brought warm water in a ewer, and warm rolls from the kitchen ovens.
“I’m not going.”
It was the first time I’d ever seen the Fool look surprised. “Why not?”
“It’s pointless. I can’t succeed. I simply haven’t the aptitude and I’m tired of beating my head against the wall.”
The Fool’s eyes widened further. “I thought you had been doing well, before . . .”
It was my turn to be surprised. “Well? Why do you think he mocks me and strikes me? As a reward for my success? No. I haven’t been able to even understand what it’s about. All the others have already surpassed me. Why should I go back? So Galen can prove even more thoroughly how right he was?”
“Something,” the Fool said carefully, “is not right here.” He considered a moment. “Before, I asked you to quit the lessons. You would not. Do you recall that?”
I cast my mind back. “I’m stubborn, sometimes,” I admitted.
“And if I asked you now, to continue? To go up to the tower top, and continue to try?”