The day of the mission to the harpies was one of those dawns that appeared to have been dropped on the floor and retrieved covered in dust. It was a gray dispirited thing, the day looming ahead dark as the forest.
“I never said you could come with us,” said Commander Woodsinger. “I said I would consider it, and you simply assumed that you could. Why is that, Cadet?”
“Well, be fair,” said Elliot. “You never said that I couldn’t.”
“The Border camp is full of people who I did not expressly forbid to come on this mission. Those people are sleeping in their beds, because it was not necessary for me to specifically inform them they were not welcome on a mission I did not invite them to.”
“But Commander,” said Elliot. “We’re special to each other.”
Commander Woodsinger gave him a look that was even more forbidding than usual. It was not that she was ever soft or gentle with him, but Elliot thought she might prefer him to speak to her differently when there was a troop of warrior-training cadets who could hear her. He glanced toward their politely listening faces, beyond Serene and Dale. He was grateful Luke was not here yet.
He thought about the fact Luke was not here yet for a moment, and then started to smile.
“The truth is, Commander Woodsinger,” Elliot said. “Luke needs me.”
The commander raised her eyebrows.
“This is a time of extreme emotional turmoil for him, when it is necessary that he be calm, accepting, and understanding of another culture,” Elliot went on. “As one of the people who has been, over the years”—geographically—“closest to him, I feel I would be an asset.”
“You with your intensely soothing personality, Cadet,” remarked Commander Woodsinger, and a cadet standing behind Serene yelped with laughter.
Elliot thought this was going well. The commander looked less forbidding: if this was the way she saved face and Elliot was allowed to come along, Elliot would take it.
He decided to risk a little actual truth.
“And I want to be with him,” said Elliot. “In this time of emotional turmoil, that is.”
“It does make sense that Cadet Sunborn might require a certain amount of extra support during this mission,” said Commander Woodsinger. “I will permit you to accompany us. You must make sure to be accompanied by a cadet from warrior training at all times, to scrupulously obey every order you are given, and to pull your weight when we are setting up camp.”
Elliot saluted. He was very glad the matter was settled, because at that point Luke, who might be gloomy enough not to be early but who was too much of a soldier to ever actually be late, turned up. He looked bowed down, as if he were carrying the whole gray heavy morning on his shoulders.
He gave Elliot a suspicious look. “Why are you here?”
“I’m coming with you!” Elliot informed him.
“You are not coming with us,” said Luke. “You were not on the list of cadets assigned to this mission. Because you are not in the warrior training course!”
Luke was so cranky. Elliot beamed. “Ah, but you see, I explained to Commander Woodsinger that this was a time of emotional turmoil and you needed me.”
Luke’s face was indescribable. Elliot deeply regretted not bringing another camera to the otherlands.
“You what?” said Luke. “I what?”
Elliot made a heroic effort not to laugh, and gave Luke a soulful look. “Don’t worry about my schoolwork, buddy. I’m just glad to be here for you.”
“I suppose the three of you are inseparable,” said Commander Woodsinger. “But you could have asked earlier, Sunborn.”
Elliot had not realized that the commander also wished to be hilarious. He shot her a delighted smile. She stared impassively through him.
“He was shy, ma’am,” Elliot said. “He’s so bashful and modest.”
Luke seemed to be struggling to find words: Elliot was familiar with the small hoarse sound he made when too outraged to speak. He had never thought of it as birdlike before.
Then the commander stopped being hilarious and started being unreasonably cruel. She said that Elliot and Luke had to share a tent, just because Serene and Elliot had done a few—well, more than a few—scandalous things in a tent in the past.
“But ma’am!” Luke protested. “I was going to go in with Serene.”
“If I wanted to be taking shameless advantage of Cadet Schafer,” Serene observed. “No slur intended to his virtue, but . . . I would be.”
Elliot would have preferred Serene not announce that in front of the troop, but he could not say she was lying. He also felt it was clear he should have a tent of his own, and he had an excellent scheme to make that happen.
He looked again at the faces of the troop. Oh well. Luke probably suspected already, and Elliot had always said he would make the announcement in front of a class. Close enough.
“It’s true,” Elliot said, nodding vigorously. “But I need a tent of my own, please. I require extra blankets because it is very easy for me to take a chill, and there are space issues! Besides, I go both ways and I have wandering hands. Nobody is safe with me!”
Nobody looked even faintly surprised, including Luke, who just looked cross.
“You’re not going in with Serene, because I am!” Luke snapped.
“This is why we don’t take cadets from the council course on missions!” said Commander Woodsinger. “No experience roughing it. No more arguments, Schafer, for once in your life. You go in with Sunborn. Chaos-of-Battle can go in with Wavechaser, since he doesn’t fancy women. Schafer, you’ll just have to restrain your wandering hands.”
Elliot rolled his eyes in her direction. He was clearly going to be an invaluable asset to the mission, and a key part of drafting the treaty between harpies and humans. It was only reasonable to give him his own tent. In a world where diplomats were truly respected, he would have a tent, and people to fan him and hand him ballpoint pens.
Instead, he was forced to trudge through the woods with a heavy bag on his shoulders. Treacherous tree roots kept trying to trip him up, and the uneven ground kept getting away from him.
“I am trying my best,” said Elliot, making sure to project an air of noble suffering. “But I am not a sporty type.”
Commander Woodsinger gave him a wry look. “You’re doing fine. And you can run a four-minute mile.”
“So what?” said Elliot. “Wait, is that good?”
Serene and Luke both looked unimpressed, but he became aware that Dale and several other people were nodding with some conviction.
“Wait, have I been tricked into being athletic?” Elliot demanded. “Have I been bamboozled by people who turned out to both be inhumanly sporty?”
He realized what a tactless thing that was to say when Luke’s half smile tore off his face like a bandage ripped off too early. Luke put his head down and charged ahead, regardless of tree roots and slopes. Serene kept pace with him easily, and Elliot used some of his apparent-athleticism (he had been tricked!) to do the same.