hard. How could he think such things? It was as if there was a voice inside him, questioning his questions.
He shook himself. Did he not have the right to query the things he swore to? No, the voice told him. He had already sworn. Service questioned was no service at all.
âWatch out!â
Eamon looked up just in time to have his nose hit by the mane of a passing horse. A Gauntlet messenger cast a dark look down from the saddle as he rode by, muttering curses.
Eamon folded his arms deeply into his jacket and carried on up the steps. He forwent the liberty of aiming a well-kicked stone at man and horse.
âYou look particularly dapper and grippingly miserable this morning, Eamon!â called a cheerful voice.
Raising his head Eamon saw Ladomer leaning on one of the columns. The lieutenant was already sweaty and dishevelled from a couple of hours of swordplay. Eamon smiled. He had borne enthusiasm like Ladomerâs once, though hardly so well.
âLadies like a young man in uniform,â he replied. âWhy else do you think I joined but to look dapper?â
âYou joined because you knew it was the right thing to do,â Ladomer answered. âI bet that they already have you marked out for the Hands,â he added, sheathing his sword and bowing with a courtierâs finesse. âYour record is exemplary.â
âHave you already forgotten the other night? Donât be daft, Ladomer,â Eamon replied, giving him a none-too-gentle whack on the arm. âTheyâll look at you for a Hand before ever they look at me â and if they set us side by side then I think I would fare far the worse for standing next to you.â He continued walking; Ladomer bounded up to his side with a delighted grin.
âMe, join the Hands?â he laughed loudly. âOh, I would like to, Eamon, but do you really think black would suit me?â
Eamon looked at him. Notwithstanding the ridiculous and arrogant pose that Ladomer had adopted for his Handiness to be judged, Eamon nodded. âI think it would,â he answered. âYou are a better man than I.â
âI shall never be noticed in Edesfield,â Ladomer said sadly. âThatâs why I try to get out of it as often as I can. But you!â He took hold of Eamonâs shoulder with a smile. âYou are going to Dunthruik. Black would suit you.â
âI donât think it would.â Suddenly he grasped what Ladomer had said. âGoing to Dunthruik? Where did you hear â?â
Ladomerâs face creased with mirth. âThereâs some interesting talk in the officersâ mess.â
âThere is?â Eamon gaped.
âYou know the officers, Eamon. We hear about things, like placements ,â Ladomer put peculiar emphasis on the word, âbefore they are officially announced â sometimes our opinions are sought on the matter. Not that weâre supposed to discuss it. Weâre not supposed to discuss impending promotions, either,â he added with an ever-increasing grin.
Even if Ladomer hadnât been smiling, the oddly delighted shift in his tone would have alerted Eamon to some hidden message. His jaw dropped. âPromotions?â he stammered.
âSeems that Captain Belaal might be thinking of elevating a couple of ensigns to lieutenants.â
Eamon frowned. âIsnât that supposed to happen at the same time as the swearing-in?â he asked haltingly.
âYes. But there are a few protocols in place for elevating men outside of swearing ceremonies.â
âYou mean, Belaal just pins an extra badge on someoneâs throat?â
âAnd says something meaningful while heâs doing it,â Ladomer grinned. âThatâs more or less it, yes.â
âSo who are these lucky men?â
The lieutenantâs grin grew broader. âInteresting talk is never as precise as that, Mr Goodman.â
Their footfalls echoed in the college