‘—will be here when you get back.’
Sodar stroked his beard, considering. ‘I’d need an assistant – I’m not as spry as your masters. And I’ll need someone to run ahead and report on the terrain – a guide or someone familiar with the area. Has anyone in Chaenbalu explored that part of the continent?’
‘North-western Odarnea?’ Sodar nodded in reply and Tosan shook his head. ‘Quiri is the farthest north we send avatars, but that’s north-east. Out west … no.’ He paused. ‘Didn’t the blacksmith come from that region?’
Sodar hmmed thoughtfully to himself. ‘Sraon is from Innistiul, which is even father north … but yes. He may know the terrain.’
‘The two of you will go, then,’ Tosan decided. ‘The record stays here at the Academy. Master Carbad will escort you out now.’
Sodar nodded then glanced to Annev. ‘And my deacon will come with me?’
Tosan sniffed. ‘No. Your deacon is an acolyte of the Academy. Ainnevog will remain here.’ Sodar raised a single white eyebrow, but if he had any complaints, he did not voice them.
‘Very well,’ the priest said. ‘I shall return to the chapel and continue with my translation.’
‘Go, with all possible expediency. Annev, you will stay.’
Sodar nodded then turned to Annev. ‘Be careful,’ he whispered, his tone heavy with meaning. Annev nodded, and Master Carbad and the old priest left.
Tosan gathered up the Speur Dún manuscript and his clutch of books as the door closed. He handed the oil lamp to Annev.
‘Escort me back to my chambers, Acolyte Ainnevog. We’ll talk along the way.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
The two men climbed the narrow stairs with Annev leading the way. When they reached the main hall, Tosan moved beside him and set a plodding pace.
‘I see you are wearing my daughter’s glove,’ the headmaster said at last.
Annev’s heart skipped a beat. He knows. Of course, he knows.
It’d been a bold choice to wear the crimson garment during Regaleus services – Sodar had even counselled Annev against it – but Annev had wanted to please Myjun, and he had convinced himself that Tosan wouldn’t recognise it. It had been a proud and foolish decision.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘Myjun gave it to me.’
‘A Regaleus gift?’
‘Just a gift,’ Annev hedged, remembering Tosan’s prejudices about Regaleus gifts.
Tosan sighed. ‘I’m disappointed Myjun continues to encourage your interest – and that you have ignored my requests to discourage her. She is not for you, Ainnevog – but that is not why we are speaking now. I wish to discuss tomorrow’s test.’
‘The Test of Judgement?’ Annev was surprised. ‘What about it?’
Tosan’s pace slowed even further as he considered his words. ‘Witmistress Kiara tells me you are ranked significantly below your skill level. She says that, of all your classmates, you are the only one she believes deserves the title of avatar.’
Annev’s heart soared at the unexpected praise. ‘Witmistress Kiara is very kind.’
‘No,’ Tosan replied, stopping in the middle of the hallway. ‘She is not. She is cold, pushy, high-minded, and mean-tempered.’ He paused, smoothed his robes, and resumed their walk. ‘She is also very intelligent,’ he continued, ‘and perceptive. A very skilled teacher. So when she criticises a whole class of avatars and compliments just one of my students, I take note.’
Annev nodded, uncertain what to say or how this related to tomorrow’s test. Before he could work up the courage to speak, Tosan finished his thought.
‘Why have you not yet earned your avatar title?’
The question caught Annev by surprise. Why haven’t I earned my title? It certainly wasn’t for lack of trying. It was often because of Fyn’s meddling, but Annev had competed in several Tests of Judgement where he had not crossed paths with the boy. So could he honestly say Fyn was his only obstacle? Was he even the largest?
‘I don’t know,’ Annev said at last.
They turned the next corner in the hall and continued to walk in silence.
‘I don’t like saying it,’ Tosan said after a long pause, ‘but Witmistress Kiara is right – you are talented enough to be an Avatar of Judgement. I’ve observed your training, and I get reports from the masters and ancients. You are a bright and capable student. I expected you to be among the first to earn their title, yet you’ve consistently fallen short. It’s an observation that vexes me, particularly when others bring it to my attention.’
‘I’m sorry, Elder Tosan.’ And Annev was surprised to find he meant it. ‘I will try harder.’
‘No,’ Tosan said, ‘lack of effort is not the root of this problem.’ Tosan lifted the Speur Dún manuscript from the stack of books he carried and shook it. ‘He is holding you back.’
‘Sodar?’ Annev asked, confused. Tosan nodded, to Annev’s continued confusion: whatever his frustrations with the priest, Annev didn’t believe the old man was preventing him from becoming an avatar. ‘No,’ Annev objected. ‘Sodar wants me to pass the Test of Judgement. He helps me train every day. All the time.’
Tosan scoffed. ‘I’m certain he does, but he is training you to replace him as a priest – not to fulfil your role as an avatar, much less to serve as a master or an ancient.’ Tosan rifled through the parchment in his hands, examining the pictographs contained there. ‘Do you deny he is sharing ideas with you? Ideas that may hold you back or make you question your training?’
Annev considered it, trying to be honest with himself as much as with the headmaster, and his answer was less certain; Sodar’s ideology definitely clashed with the masters and ancients – there was never any question of that – but he’d never before thought Sodar might want Annev to fail his avatar test. The priest had plans for him, after all – secret plans that he shared with Arnor but would not reveal to Annev – and it seemed unlikely those plans involved Annev dashing off on dangerous missions for the Academy. In fact, Arnor’s conversation with Sodar revealed the opposite: one day, soon, Sodar might return to his brothers in Quiri, and when he did he would try to take Annev with him.
‘Sodar shares a lot with me,’ Annev said, choosing his words carefully, ‘but not everything. He supports me in becoming an avatar, but …’
‘… but he views you as his deacon and would prefer you became the next village priest.’ Annev nodded, unsure what else to say. Tosan sighed. ‘We had a man like that once – Master Flint. He wanted to leave the Academy and join the priesthood. In the end he became Master of Sorrows – and his duties became infinitely more complicated.’
‘Master of Sorrows?’
‘Yes. An old title reserved for the master of religion, which became defunct when Sodar became village priest. From the records I’ve read, he reminds me of Sodar. A good man, I suppose, but with skewed loyalties.’