The Riddle - Alison Croggon [214]
Saliman stood very still, looking searchingly at Hem. Then he sat down on Hem’s bed and rested his brow in his hands in a gesture of despair that made Hem grin despite himself, although he took care to straighten his face when Saliman looked up.
“Hem,” he said at last. “Do you have any idea whose garden you entered today?”
Hem shook his head.
“I have just had a very long and very boring conversation with Alimbar el Nad. He is a consul of the Ernan of Turbansk, and is fifth in authority to the Ernani herself. It seems that he found you in his private courtyard, which he keeps expressly for his own use. Not even his servants are allowed there. And yet you seem more worried about whether or not your clothes are soiled . . .” He shook his head. “What were you doing there?”
Hem studied his feet closely. He wasn’t going to admit that he was stealing mangoes if no one had accused him; he would be thrown out for sure. Saliman sighed heavily and stood up.
“After a great many courtesies and sweetmeats, and after offering to place the spell of bounty on his house, a most exhausting and complicated charm, I may add, and also promising that I would whip you soundly, I managed to soothe him. Alimbar is a hasty and impatient man, quick to take offense — and to give it, truth be told. I had to swallow my pride at least three times, and that goes hard for Saliman of Turbansk. But you almost caused a most difficult friction between the School of Turbansk and the Court, and it could not be worse timed.”
Hem stared at the floor until his eyes burned, only half comprehending what Saliman was saying.
“Hem,” Saliman continued gravely. “I am very angry with you, and I ought to punish you. But, to be honest, I don’t believe it would make anything better than it is. So I will not be whipping you. Although perhaps that is merely to save what little shred of my pride remains.”
“So you’re not going to send me away?” Despite himself, Hem’s voice wavered.
Saliman looked surprised. “Send you away? Whether you stay here or not is your decision, Hem, not mine. No, I would not send you away.”
Hem gave an involuntary sigh of relief. He was not afraid of being whipped, although no one had beaten him since he had met Maerad, and perhaps he had lost some of his old toughness. But now Saliman was standing with his back to him, looking out of the window. He was silent for a long time, and Hem began to feel ashamed of himself.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, when the silence had stretched out too long.
“But are you, Hem?” asked Saliman, turning around. “Are you really sorry? It is not enough to say so, and then to do the same thing again.”
Now Saliman’s face was very serious, and a fluttering started in the boy’s stomach. When Saliman was happy with him, Hem felt exultant, but his displeasure hurt more than any whipping. Saliman was one of the few human beings he wholeheartedly respected, and there was an unsettling power in Saliman’s dark gaze, which seemed to see without prejudice or fear through any dissembling.
“Well?” Saliman’s voice was gentle, but within it was a strength like steel.
“I am sorry,” said Hem, a little more clearly. “I don’t mean to cause trouble.”
Saliman sighed again, and sat back down on the bed, patting the cushions beside him. “Sit down, Hem. Tell me, are you very unhappy?”
Hem blinked at the unexpectedness of the question. He had not spoken to Saliman about his feelings. He opened his mouth to answer, and then shut it again.
“Urbika tells me you are not making friends,” said Saliman. “And she says you are struggling with the Suderain language, which can’t help.”
Despite himself, Hem blushed. He didn’t like the thought that people were observing him like that. He struggled with himself. He had longed for the chance to pour out his heart to Saliman, to tell him all his troubles. Saliman would understand his constant nightmares, his fears, the difficulties he had talking to people, how he hated the other minor Bards. He knew that