Reign of Shadows - Deborah Chester [17]
Caelan kept his head bowed. So far, this wasn’t too bad.
The Elder’s pale thin hand fluttered over certain of the scrolls on his desk. “These are lists of your various transgressions, offenses, and errors. They have been compiled by the masters who have charge of you.”
Caelan looked up. “I guess there’s a lot of them.”
The Elder’s expression grew even more severe. “This is not a matter of amusement, Novice Caelan.”
Caelan hastily rearranged his own expression. “No, sir.”
“Nor pride.”
“No, sir.”
“You are from one of the finest Traulander families. You have been brought up according to principles of harmony and perfection. You have been taught severance, witnessed it practiced in your home. You have enjoyed the advantages of private tutors. You have never known want or lack. Is this true?”
Caelan shifted uneasily. He wasn’t enjoying this. “It’s true, Elder Sobna.”
Harmony and perfection, he thought bitterly. Yes ... if he made no noise, asked no questions, never ran or leaped or stretched, never sought independence, never searched for different answers. Private tutors like jailers, droning on and on, holding accounts like money changers, running to share the results with Beva, telling, tattling fools. No, Caelan had never known any lack at home, unless to crave love and understanding was a lack.
He could feel his emotions churning up, stinging his eyes. Furiously he held them back.
“Why did you run away?”
Caelan lifted his chin. He didn’t answer.
“Have we mistreated you here, Novice Caelan?”
Caelan opened his mouth, then checked the hot words on his tongue.
When he said nothing, the Elder’s gaze moved sharply to his. “Did you fail again to hear my question?”
“No, I heard it,” Caelan said.
“Then give me your reply. Have we mistreated you here?”
Caelan set his jaw. There was no going back now. “I think so.”
“You think so. You are not sure?”
Damn him. Caelan flushed. “I’m sure,” he said curtly.
“Please go on.”
“You know,” Caelan said, struggling against his anger. “You probably have it on a list.”
“You are impertinent, Novice Caelan. I am waiting for a reply to my question.”
“Why?” Caelan burst out. “You know the answer. What I say isn’t going to make any difference. You already have your mind made up.”
The Elder’s face might have been carved from stone.
“Ah, so you have the ability to read minds, Novice Caelan. Interesting. What other talents do you possess?”
Seething at his cool mockery, Caelan glared at him and said nothing.
“Your failure to answer my question indicates you have no answer. Therefore, I can only conclude that you do not truly believe we have mistreated you.”
“You want to see my bruises?” Caelan retorted.
The Elder raised his brows. “You have been disciplined, Novice Caelan, when you transgressed. You have been placed under a discipline conducive to study, no doubt for the first time in your life. You have fought that, as many wild or untamed creatures must fight at first. But neither have you learned.”
Caelan glared at the floor, his ears roaring against this lecture he didn’t want to hear.
“We are tolerant here,” the Elder went on, “but tolerance has limits. Because of your father, we were willing to continue our efforts to train you, even allowing you to remain in the novice class for an unprecedented third term if necessary.”
Caelan looked up in dismay. He should have known they wouldn’t kick him out. His anger welled up anew. “I’ll run away again.”
“It will not be necessary.”
Caelan caught his breath in hope.
“Boyish pranks and rebelliousness are an annoyance, nothing more. Endangering the entire hold is something else entirely.”
Caelan thought about the destroyed warding key and dropped his gaze. He hadn’t meant to put anyone in danger.
“How did you remove it?”
Caelan frowned and said nothing.
The Elder rose to his feet. “How?” he demanded.
“I—I just took it off.”
A look of alarm crossed the Elder’s face, then was gone. His eyes were bleak. “Impossible.”
Caelan shrugged. “Then believe what you want.”
The door behind him opened,