Free The Reign Of Istar by Margaret Weis, Tracy Hickman Page B

murder.”
    He walked out and went to reinspect the drill equipment.
    A short time later he walked back in and went straight to the front. When he turned
     around, he saw a group of frightened but determined novices, who had just learned that honor could be fatal but were willing to be honorable. Where Tarli had been, he saw
     an empty space. He was relieved, both for the boy and for himself, but he also felt a sudden, sharp disappointment that only the Mask kept him from showing.
    “Those of you who remain,” he said, “may die for it. Some in training, some in service,
     and some in combat - yes, even in these times.” The pain of this next story was duller
     after all these years. “The knight I first squired for was killed in combat. I have vowed,
     since then, to prepare each novice well for an honorable life and a fitting death.”
    They stared at him, and he let it sink in. For the first time, these boys were getting
     some sense of what their deaths might look like. They were also feeling, for the first
     time in their lives, grown-up courage.
    He looked at the faces in front of him and felt relieved that Tarli had left; the boy had
     an innocence that would be destroyed by training -
    A terrible growl came from directly underneath Saliak, who let out a startled,
     high-pitched shriek, leapt straight up, and scrambled over the second and third row of
     benches to find the door. Most of the others jumped, but settled back embarrassedly.
    Saliak made it almost to the door before he turned to see. Smiling innocently, Tarli
     crawled out from under the front bench. He took a seat in Saliak's place.
    Saliak slunk back and sat next to Tarli.
    Tarli, bright eyed and grinning, said to Moran, “Excuse me, Sire.”
    The Mask stayed in place, not acknowledging what had happened, but Moran didn't miss the
     stony glares of the embarrassed novices, or the utter hatred on the face of the humiliated
     Saliak.
    Tarli, Tarli, Moran thought with a surprising rush of exasperated fondness, I couldn't
     have charted a rougher path for you than you just mapped out for yourself.
    When class was over, Rakiel stepped out from behind the dragon-covered tapestry. He'd been
     observing. “What do you think of them?” he asked.
    “The usual,” Moran answered shortly. “Too much ambition, too much energy, not enough
     thought.”
    Rakiel chuckled. “And can you make them think?” “Fear can.” Moran looked out the window,
     saw Saliak take an ill-advised swipe at the back of Tarli's head. Tarli heard it coming - how, Moran
     couldn't imagine - and ducked the blow. Saliak stumbled. Tarli, stepping aside, let him
     fall. Saliak, without getting up, threw a well-aimed stone, which struck Tarli in the
     shoulder.
    Moran turned from the window. “This afternoon we start with the first lance drill. That
     would scare anyone. They'll think about what they're doing, from then on.”
    “Even that Tarli?” Rakiel shook his head. “Face it, he's not fit to be here. He's a head
     shorter than any of them, and he's making enemies already.” He grimaced with distaste.
     “Moreover, he plays jokes like a kender. Frankly, I don't think some paltry lance drill
     will make him think.”
    “ 'Some paltry drill'? Perhaps you should try it, then.”
    Rakiel glanced at the tapestry; his eyes lingered on the lance points. “Some other time.
     Draconniel tonight?”
    Moran glanced pointedly at the niche behind the tapestry. “I'll be observing the boys
     tonight. Over dinner? It would be my pleasure.” And, oddly, it was a pleasure. At least
     Rakiel was someone to talk to.
    The oddity didn't escape Rakiel. “ 'Your pleasure'? Really, Moran, you must be starved for
     company.”
    *****
    HE WAS LONELY FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HIS LIFE. HE SPENT MOST OF THE SUMMER WITH HER.
    FIRST HE TOLD HER ABOUT PLACES HE'D VISITED, THEN HE TALKED ABOUT TALISIN AND HOW IT HAD
     HURT TO SEE HIM DIE IN SOME MINOR SKIRMISH WITH A BUNCH OF