They laughed together, for a long time. Pain receded and was forgotten. They laughed and never spoke about how much it hurt.
They took it on themselves to teach Dentos. He continued to learn next to nothing from Master Grealin so every night after practice they would relate a story of the Order’s past and make him repeat it back, over and over again until he knew it by heart. It was tedious and exhausting work undertaken following hours of exercise when all they wanted to do was sleep but they stuck to their task with grim determination. As the most knowledgeable, much of the burden fell on Caenis, who proved a diligent if impatient mentor. His normally placid nature was tested to extremes by the stubborn refusal of Dentos’s memory to store more than a few facts at a time. Barkus, who had a sound but not exhaustive knowledge of Order lore, tended to stick to the most humorous tales, like the legend of Brother Yelna who, bereft of weapons, had caused an enemy to faint with the remarkably noxious nature of his flatulence.
“They’re not going to ask him about the farting brother,” Caenis said in disgust.
“They might,” Barkus replied. “It’s still history isn’t it?”
Surprisingly Nortah proved the most able teacher, his story telling technique straightforward but effective. He seemed to have an uncanny ability to make Dentos remember more. Instead of simply telling the tale and expecting Dentos to repeat it word for word he would pause to ask questions, encouraging Dentos to think about the meaning of the story. His usual taste for ridicule was also put aside and he ignored numerous opportunities to laugh at the ignorance of his pupil. Vaelin normally found much to criticise in Nortah but he had to admit he was as determined as the rest of them to ensure the continuance of their group; life in the Order was hard enough, without his friends he might find it unbearable. Although his methods bore fruit, Nortah’s choice of tale was fairly narrow, whilst Barkus favoured humour and Caenis liked parables illustrating the virtues of the Faith, Nortah had a taste for tragedy. He related the Order’s defeats with relish, the fall of the citadel of Ulnar, the death of great Lesander, considered by many the finest warrior ever to serve in the Order, fatally flawed by his forbidden love for a woman who betrayed him to his enemies. Nortah’s tales of woe seemed endless, some of them were new to Vaelin and he occasionally wondered if the blond brother wasn't just making them up
Vaelin, with his added duties of seeing to Scratch in the kennels every evening, took on the task of testing Dentos’s acquired knowledge at the end of each week, firing questions at him with increasing rapidity. It was often frustrating, Dentos’s knowledge was growing but he was fighting years of happy ignorance with a few week’s effort. Nevertheless he did manage to earn some rewards from Master Grealin who confined his surprise to a raised eyebrow.
With the month of Prensur the remaining time narrowed to a few days and Master Grealin informed them their lessons were over.
“Knowledge is what shapes us, little brothers,” he told them, for once his smile was absent, his tone entirely serious. “It makes us who we are. What we know informs everything we do and every decision we make. In the next few days think hard on what you have learned here, not just the names and the dates, think on the reasons, think on the meaning. All I have told you is the sum of our Order, what it means, what it does. The test of knowledge is the hardest many of you will face, no other test bares a boy’s soul.” He smiled again, gravely this time, then brightened into his habitual humour. “Now then, final rewards for my little warriors.” He produced a large bag of sweets, moving down the line and dropping a selection into their upturned hands. “Enjoy little men. Sweetness is a rare thing in a brother’s life.” Sighing heavily he turned and waddled slowly back to the store room, closing the door softly behind him.
“What was that about?” Nortah wondered.
“Brother Grealin is a very strange man,” Caenis said with a shrug. “Swap you a honey drop for a sugar bean.”
Nortah snorted. “A sugar bean is worth three honey drops at least…”
Vaelin resisted the temptation to barter his sweets and took them to the kennels where Scratch rolled and yelped with delight as he tossed the treats into the air for him to catch. He didn’t miss a single one.