Forest Mage. Робин Хобб
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if I must look silly, I would at least be clean. I retrieved Rosse’s clothes, put them on, wiped the worst of the dust off my boots and descended the stairs. The house was silent. My mother and sisters seemed to have vanished completely. I did not even hear their voices in a different room. I tapped at the closed door to my father’s study and then walked in. My father was standing with his back to the room, staring out the window. My brother Rosse was there also. He glanced at me and then away, plainly uncomfortable. My father held his silence.
I broke the silence at last. ‘Father, you wished me to come to your study?’
He did not turn around. He did not immediately reply. When he did speak, he seemed to be addressing the trees outside the window. ‘Your brother’s wedding is scarcely four days away,’ he said heavily. ‘How can you possibly think to undo in four days what sloth and gluttony have accomplished in six months? Did you give a thought to anyone beside yourself when you were allowing your gut to become the size of a washbasin? Do you wish to humiliate your entire family by appearing at a festive occasion in such a state? I am humiliated to think that you have presented yourself thus to the Academy, to my brother, and to everyone who knew your name on your journey home. In the good god’s name, Nevare, whatever were you thinking when you allowed yourself to descend to such a state? I sent you off to the Academy a fit and able young man, physically suited to be an officer and a soldier. And look what comes back to me less than a year later!’
His words rattled against me like flung stones. He gave me no opportunity to reply. When he finally turned to face me, I could see that his quiet stance had been a deception. His face was red and the veins stood out in his temples. I dared a glance at my brother. His face was white and he was very still, like a small animal that hopes not to draw the predator’s attention to himself.
I stood in the focus of my father’s anger with absolutely no idea of how to defend myself. I felt guilty and ashamed of my body, but I honestly could not recall that I had overeaten since I had begun my journey, nor had my pace been what I would call slothful. I spoke the truth. ‘I have no explanation, sir. I don’t know why I’ve gained so much weight.’
The anger in his eyes sharpened. ‘You don’t? Well, perhaps a three-day fast will refresh an elementary truth for you. If you eat too much, you get fat, Nevare. If you lie about like a slug, you get fat. If you don’t overeat and if you exercise your muscles, you remain trim and soldierly.’
He took a breath, obviously to master himself. When he spoke again, his tone was calmer. ‘Nevare, you disappoint me. It is not just that you have let yourself go; worse is that you try to shrug off the responsibility for it. I must remind myself of your youth. Perhaps the fault is mine; perhaps I should have delayed your entry into the Academy until you were more mature, more capable of regulating yourself. Well.’ He sighed, clenched his jaw for a moment and then went on. ‘That cannot be mended now. But the mess you’ve made of yourself is something I can remedy. We cannot undo it in four days, but we can put a dent in it. Look at me, son, when I speak to you.’
I had been avoiding his gaze. Now I brought my eyes back to meet his squarely, trying to mask my anger. If he saw it, he ignored it. ‘It won’t be pleasant, Nevare. Do it willingly, and prove to me that you are still the son I trained and sent off with such high hopes. I ask only two things of you: restrict your food and demand performance from your body.’ He paused and seemed to be weighing his options. Then he nodded to himself. ‘Sergeant Duril has been supervising a crew clearing stones from the land for a new pasture. Go and join them, right now, and I don’t mean to supervise. Start working off that gut. Confine your appetite to water for the rest of this day. Tomorrow, eat as sparingly as you can. We’ll do what we can to trim some of that off you before your brother’s wedding day.’
He turned his attention to my brother. ‘Rosse. Go out to the stables with him, and find him a mule. I won’t have one of the good horses broken down by lugging him over broken terrain. Take him out to the new alfalfa field.’
I spoke up. ‘I think I could find a mule for myself.’
‘Just do what you are told, Nevare. Trust me. I know what is best for you.’ He sighed heavily, and then with the first hint of kindness I heard from him, he said, ‘Put yourself in my hands, son. I know what I’m doing.’
And that was my welcome home.
Rosse and I rode silently out to the work site. Several times I glanced at my brother, but he was always staring ahead, his face expressionless. I supposed he was as disappointed in me as my father was. We said a perfunctory goodbye, he rode off leading my mule and I joined my work crew. I didn’t recognize any of the four men and we didn’t bother with introductions. I simply joined them at the task.
The future pasture was on a sunny hillside by a creek. Coarse prairie grass and buck-brush grew there now. The ground was littered with stones, some loose on top of the earth and others nudging up out of the soil. The larger ones had to be moved before a team and plough could break the thin sod. I’d watched our men do this sort of work before though I’d never bent my back to it myself. It should have been well within my ability, but Academy life had softened me. My first hour of prising rocks from their beds and lifting them into a wagon first raised and then broke blisters on my hands. The work was both tedious and demanding.
We used iron bars to prise the larger stones from the hard earth. Then each had to be lifted, sometimes by two men, and loaded onto a buckboard wagon. When the wagon was full we followed it as the team hauled the stone to the edge of the field. There we unloaded it in a neat line of rock. It became a rough stone wall to mark the edge of the sown pasture. The other men talked and laughed among themselves. They were not rude; they just ignored me. Doubtless they had decided I wouldn’t last long and that there was little point in getting to know me.
Sergeant Duril was supervising the work. The first time he rode by to check on our crew, I don’t think he recognized me. I was glad to escape his notice. The second time he rode up to ask how many wagon loads of stone we’d hauled since he last spoke to us, he stared at me and then visibly startled.
‘You. Come here,’ he commanded me roughly. He didn’t dismount, but rode his horse a short distance while I walked beside him. When we were out of earshot of the work crew, he pulled in and looked down at me. ‘Nevare?’ he asked, as if he could not believe his eyes.
‘Yes. It’s me.’ My voice came out flat and defensive.
‘What in the good god’s name have you done to yourself?’
‘I’ve got fat,’ I said bluntly. I was already tired of explaining it. Or rather, I was tired of not being able to explain it. No one seemed able to believe that it had simply happened and that I had not brought it on myself by sloth and greed. I was beginning to wonder about that myself. How had this befallen me?
‘So I see. But not in a way I’ve ever seen a lad put on weight! A little gut from too much beer, that I’ve seen on many a trooper. But you’re fat all over! Your face, your arms, even the calves of your legs!’
I hadn’t stopped to consider that. I wanted to look down at my body, to see if it was truly so, but suddenly felt too ashamed. I looked away from him, across the flat plain that soon would be a pasture. I tried to think of something to say but the only words that came were, ‘My father has sent me out here to work. He says hard work and short rations will trim me down before Rosse’s wedding.’
His silence seemed long. Then he said, ‘Well, a man can only do so much in a few days, but the intention is what matters. You’re stubborn, Nevare. I would never have imagined that you’d let yourself go like this, but I know that if you’re determined to get back to what you were, you’ll do it.’
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