Someone laid a careful hand on his shoulder, shook him lightly. The barracks room was filled with the dimness of sunset. Danilo said, “Regis? I’m sorry to wake you, but the cadet-master wants to see you. Do you know the way?”
Regis sat up, still a little dazed by the sharp edges of nightmare. For a moment he thought that Danilo’s face, bent over him in the dim light, was actually red and flushed, as if he had been crying, like in the dream. No, that was ridiculous. Dani looked hot and sweaty, as if he’d been running hard or exercising. Probably they’d tested his swordplay. Regis tried to throw off the remnants of dream. He went into the stone-floored washroom and latrine, sluiced his face with the paralyzingly cold water from the pump. Back in the barracks, tugging his leather tunic over Dani’s patched shirt, he saw Danilo slumped on his cot, his head in his hands. He must have done badly at his arms-test and he’s upset about it, he decided, and left without disturbing his friend.
Inside the armory there was a second-year cadet with long lists in his hands, another officer writing at a table and Dyan Ardais, seated behind an old worm-eaten desk. Because the afternoon had turned warm, his collar was undone, his coarse dark hair clinging damoly around his high forehead. He glanced up. and Regis felt that in one swift feral glance Dyan had learned evervthing he wanted to know about him.
“Cadet Hastur. Getting along all right so far?”
“Yes, Lord Dyan.”
“Just Captain Ardais in the Guard hall, Regis.” Dyan looked him over again, a slow evaluating stare that made Regis uncomfortable. “At least they taught you to stand straight at Nevarsin. You should see the way some of the lads stand!” He consulted a long sheet on his desk. “Regis-Rafael Felix Alar Hastur-Elhalyn. You prefer Regis-Rafael?”
“Simply Regis, sir.”
“As you wish. Although it seems a great pity to let the name of Rafael Hastur be lost. It is an honored name.”
Damn it, Regis thought, I know I’m not my father! He knew he sounded curt and almost impolite as he said, “My sister’s son has been named Rafael, Captain. I prefer not to share my father’s honor before I have earned it.”
“An admirable objective,” Dyan said slowly. “I think every man wants a name for himself, rather than resting on the past. I can understand that, Regis,” After a moment, with an odd impulsive grin, he said, “It must be a pleasant thing to have a father’s honor to cherish, a father who did not outlive his moment of glory. You know, I suppose, that my father has been mad these twenty years, without wits enough to know his son’s face?”
Regis had only heard rumors of old Kyril Ardais, who had not been seen by anyone outside Castle Ardais for so long that most people in the Domains had long forgotten his existence, or that Dyan was not Lord Ardais, but only Lord Dyan. Abruptly, Dyan spoke in an entirely different tone.
“How tall are you?”
“Five feet ten.”
The eyebrows went up in amused inquiry. “Already? Yes, I believe you are at that. Do you drink?”
“Only at dinner, sir.”
“Well, don’t start. There are too many young sots around. Turn up drunk on duty and you’ll be booted, no excuses or explanations accepted. You are also forbidden to gamble. I don’t mean wagering pennies on card games or dice, of course, but gambling substantial sums is against the rules. Did they give you a manual of arms? Good, read it tonight. After tomorrow you’re responsible for everything in it. A few more things. Duels are absolutely forbidden, and drawing your sword or knife on a fellow Guardsman will break you. So keep your temper, whatever happens. You’re not married, I suppose. Handfasted?”
“Not that I’ve heard, sir.”
Dyan made an odd derisive sound. “Well, make the best of it, your grandfather will probably have you married off before the year’s out. Let me see. What you do in off-duty time is your own affair, but don’t get yourself talked about. There’s a rule about causing scandalous talk by scandalous behavior.