In contrast, Annev had seen Titus’s expression shift from confusion to dismay and then to a sort of passive acceptance, perhaps even relief – and Annev was not surprised. Titus had always been more interested in a steward’s duties than those of an avatar. Any horror on the smaller boy’s face was reserved for Annev.
For Annev’s part, his mind and his heart could not accept the headmaster’s words. He’s promoting Therin to teach me a lesson, because he thinks I stuck to Sodar’s principles and not the Academy’s. He stared at the floor, tears threatening. He could have promoted all three of us – he could have – but instead he’s punishing me for sticking to my principles – to Sodar’s principles. Annev felt the rage boiling inside him, then felt it freeze into cold blades of despair: he could never be with Myjun. He couldn’t even look at her.
He never wanted me to be with her, Annev realised. It’s all been personal, from the very start.
Annev wanted to challenge the headmaster – he ached to lash out, to prove he was worthy to be an avatar – but in failing the final Test of Judgement, he had lost everything. Annev wasn’t even an acolyte any more – he was a steward. Fyn had won. Kenton had won. For the rest of Annev’s life, they would order him around and rub his nose in their successes. All their cheating and backstabbing had been rewarded, while Annev was punished. Myjun would marry another, and every day that he passed her in the halls of the Academy, he would feel the shame of this day.
Annev had lost.
Tosan was shaking hands with Edra and Murlach, congratulating them and Ancient Denithal, the ingenious and elderly alchemist, on a job well done. As he spoke with the three men, Titus, Therin and Annev rose from their knees. Annev felt the other boys’ eyes on him, but he couldn’t bear to meet their gazes. Not now. Maybe never again.
‘Avatar Therin,’ Tosan said, ‘you will go with the master avatars. The Master of Disguise will see that you are properly fitted for your new tunics, and the Master of Stealth will fit you for new shoes and boots. If you have need of anything else, you may ask the quartermaster.’ The stricken-looking Therin was ushered away in a flash of brown and red, mouthing the word ‘sorry’ to Annev as he went.
Annev watched in silence. He didn’t want to blame Therin for accepting the promotion, for not holding his ground and demanding that all three of them become avatars together … but he did still blame the boy, perhaps unreasonably. His shock and dismay echoed the sense of betrayal he had felt when Therin had stolen his badges, only this was worse – so much worse. His anger and resentment were growing.
‘I’m sorry you won’t be progressing within the Academy, Titus.’ Ancient Benifew placed a hairy arm around Titus’s round shoulders. ‘I suspect you’ll find joy in your new calling, though.’ He paused, eyeing Annev, and seemed to decide to keep his words for Titus alone. ‘Come, my boy. We have a few hours before the other acolytes get themselves cleaned up and you all take on your new roles as stewards. Walk me to the kitchens and we can get something to eat. While we’re there, I can tell you the story of Bron Gloir, and how he single-handedly killed five thousand men on the steppes of Speur Dún.’
Titus handed his bronze rod back to Edra and let Benifew lead him across the room. As he passed Annev, he made eye contact and offered a weak smile.
‘At least we’ll be stewards together. Right?’
Annev didn’t have the heart to reply. He stared at the floor, barely knowing what to do with himself, and when he finally lifted his head he saw Witmistress Kiara in a heated discussion with Elder Tosan. Tonja, Faith and Myjun had all disappeared, and Annev supposed that was for the best, too. He couldn’t look Myjun in the eye now. Part of him hoped he would never have to see her again.
‘Very well,’ the headmaster growled. Kiara made her way towards the door along with the masters, who were filing out of the room. As soon as she had left, Tosan began a hushed conversation with the ancients who had remained behind.
Annev shifted from one foot to the other, feeling unwanted and out of place but with nowhere to go either. He was exhausted, hurt and angry. He edged towards the door at the glacial speed of someone with no sense of purpose. Nothing mattered any more. He might as well return to the chapel, to work and die as a celibate priest. Or maybe he’d have to stay in the stewards’ dormitories now. It didn’t matter. He wished he could forget the day – forget all that he had ever hoped and dreamed – and be forgotten by others in turn.
‘Acolyte Ainnevog.’
Annev stopped at the threshold, his shoulders slumped, as Ancients Maiken, Denithal and Peodar filed out of the room, ignoring him. Ancients Jerik and Dorstal followed closely behind, their glares amplifying Annev’s misery. Once the room was empty, Elder Tosan finally addressed him.
‘Acolyte Ainnevog, you will be in my study in thirty minutes.’
Great, Annev thought, what else can he take from me?
‘Yes, Elder Tosan.’
The headmaster studied Annev from head to toe, closed his eyes, and rubbed his temples. ‘Before you come up, get something to eat from Master Sage and a dry pair of boots from quartermaster Brayan.’ He sighed, as though wearied by some invisible burden.
‘Don’t be early,’ he added, leaving the chamber, ‘and definitely do not be late.’
Chapter Thirty-Two
Annev walked the Academy’s long stone hallways in silence. When he reached the kitchens he was relieved to see Titus and Ancient Benifew had already gone. The fat Steward of Health gave him a ration of bread and soup, and then Annev hurried down the hall to get some dry shoes from Master Brayan.
While he ate and changed his boots, Annev’s mind churned. He was about to become a Steward of the Academy, and he doubted any lecture from Tosan could make Fyn’s gloating or the loss of Myjun worse … so what did Tosan want? To discuss his new duties as a steward? Annev needed time to mourn and to puzzle out what he had done wrong first; his wounds were simply too fresh, too painful for anything else. He felt sick. Bloated with anger, failure and frustration.
Why did Tosan have to cling so doggedly to the Academy’s rules? Why couldn’t he let all three of them pass the test? Annev was furious with the headmaster, and he didn’t trust himself to hold his tongue when he got to Tosan’s study.
Only … Tosan had warned him. He’d very clearly said not to hold back or be kind to his peers. So why hadn’t Annev listened? He had to recognise that part of his anger was with himself, for believing he could force Tosan’s hand.