The summer had been golden. At the end of the term his clan pupils had even given him a present – a small box of vanilla-flavoured boiled sweets purchased from Apothecary Ramus. Alterith had been touched by the gesture, though the first of the sweets had made his teeth ache and he had shared the rest with the class.
With his pupils more attentive he decided to teach more than history, reading and writing, and had included lessons on arithmetic and mathematics. To his surprise he found that some of his students were quick to grasp the concepts, and one in particular was exceptionally gifted. Arleban Achbain soon learned to work out complicated sums in his head.
It was still hard to believe that such a gift could prove to have such heartbreaking consequences.
Banny had worked hard, often staying behind after class to talk to Alterith about figures and their magic. Alterith’s bleak mood lifted as he recalled Banny’s fascination with the figure nine. ‘It is a pure figure, and never diluted,’ said Banny one day.
‘In what way, Banny?’
‘No matter how many other figures are used to multiply it the base figure always returns to nine,’ the boy told him.
‘Explain.’
‘Well, sir, five times nine is forty-five. Four plus five equals nine. Sixteen nines equals a hundred and forty-four. One plus four plus four equals nine. All multiplication of nine returns to nine. Isn’t it wonderful?’
Alterith smiled at the memory. So impressed had he been with Banny he had entered him for the school examination in arithmetic. The application was denied. Worse, Alterith was ordered to cease teaching beyond his brief. All lessons, apart from reading, writing and history, were cancelled forthwith. The problem did not end there, however. At the end of the winter term the headmaster, the elderly Dr Meldane, had attended one of Alterith’s classes, sitting quietly at the back.
The lesson had been a triumph, a class full of attentive pupils, with one of them reading an essay aloud to the others at the close. It told the tale of Bendegit Bran, one of Bane’s greatest generals. Alterith had been full of pride.
Two days later Dr Meldane had summoned Alterith to his plush office on the first floor of the school proper. He did not offer Alterith a seat. ‘I am puzzled,’ he said, ‘as to why a competent teacher such as yourself should take it upon himself to alter known history. Perhaps you would explain.’
‘I have altered nothing, sir,’ Alterith told him. ‘All of my teaching is based on known records of ancient events, as verified by the findings and research of the Journal of Varlish Studies.’
‘Do not bandy words with me, sir,’ snapped Dr Meldane. ‘I listened to a nonsense essay with an underlying premise that the Keltoi were a great people, noble and just. You did not dispute this . . . this fabrication.’
‘What was there to dispute, sir? Everything the boy said was true. King Bane did lead an army to defeat Stone at the height of its power. He did institute laws which were just. The people were happy under his rule. Where is the error?’
‘Bane was the son of Connovar, a Varlish king. Therefore Bane himself was Varlish – at least in part. The Keltoi of themselves have never achieved anything of note. If they were noble and intelligent where was their empire? Where are their scientists and philosophers? The Keltoi are an inferior race, Shaddler. That is what is known.’
‘Perhaps, sir,’ said Alterith, ‘it was their intelligence and nobility which prevented them from creating an empire. Perhaps they decided that butchering other races and stealing their lands was barbarous and inhuman.’
‘This conversation is concluded,’ said Dr Meldane. ‘The experiment of teaching highland youngsters has proved a failure. The class will not resume after the winter break, and your services are hereby terminated.’
‘Terminated? You are dismissing me?’
Meldane reddened. ‘You were offered this position, Master Shaddler, because you were known to be sound. In short, a man who understood the glory that is the Varlish destiny. I overlooked your humble origins, and your lack of social graces. But you, sir, are a traitor to your race. I’ll not have your like polluting my school. Be so kind as to remove yourself from my sight.’