Chapter 46: The Hours He Kept

Chapter 46: The Hours He Kept

Silas had brought half of Greybank home in his boots.

He discovered this when he lifted one over the washbasin and a clump of dried mud fell into it, followed by a small stone. The other boot produced less mud and a seed with hooks that had worked itself beneath the laces.

He held the seed up between two fingers.

"Absolutely not," Silas muttered.

It went into the waste. He finished cleaning the boots, set them where they could dry, and looked around for anything else from the trip that might be trying to establish itself in his room.

The case was empty. His clothes were put away. There was no reason to keep postponing breakfast.

He had ordered eggs, bread, and a pot of tea large enough to last through the morning. The tray arrived while he was washing his hands. Silas carried it to his comfortable chair himself and settled in with the book he had abandoned before departure.

For the first few pages, he kept expecting his device to chime.

At Greybank there had always been someone about to call them downstairs. Here, the device stayed quiet. He ate the eggs while they were hot, turned a page, and eventually forgot to listen for it.

When he next checked the time, almost an hour had passed.

He stretched his legs farther beneath the desk and read another Chapter.

Orrel’s quote waited among the messages he opened afterward. The mechanic had listed his fee separately from the tools and practice pieces. Beside one optional item he had written, Useful later. Don’t buy it yet.

Silas removed it from the order.

The remaining amount was small enough that he could approve it without working out how many evenings it would take to earn back. He did so, then paused over the confirmation.

I like this part.

He left the balance alone and checked his academy schedule instead.

That was less pleasant.

There was written work due, a remedial session the next morning, and a field debrief in the afternoon. Two optional lectures overlapped with hours he had already decided belonged to him. He saved their reading lists and declined both.

The written assignment concerned the difference between a stabilized gate and a secured approach to one. Silas understood the difference well enough after Greybank. Explaining which organization was responsible for each stretch of road required a book.

He fetched it from the shelf.

By lunchtime, his answer contained fewer guesses and considerably more references than he wanted. A gate could be stable while the roads serving it still needed patrols. Association standards did not mean the Association owned every road, supplied every escort, or paid for every damaged vehicle. Local arrangements mattered.

Silas checked the paragraph again, remembering the driver standing beside his broken trailer.

The game had allowed him to click a destination and arrive there.

He preferred that arrangement.

He submitted the work, ate, and spent the rest of the afternoon doing very little. His body remained sore in places he had not noticed during the journey. The room helped; so did not hauling himself across campus to attend something available in a book.

The following day, Ferrow had him walk a measured circuit before she permitted any conditioning work.

"Turn around," she said when he reached the marker.

Silas looked at the rest of the course. "Already?"

"I want to see you walk back," Ferrow said.

He obeyed. Ferrow watched his stride, asked about his medicine, and adjusted the day’s work without discussing his health loudly enough for the whole group to hear.

He appreciated that. He was less grateful for the balance exercises she gave him afterward.

At the afternoon debrief, she laid the Greybank report on her desk and asked him about the latch.

Silas explained where it had caught. Ferrow let him finish before asking, "What happened when the escort fired?"

"I looked away," Silas said.

"And your hold?" Ferrow asked.

"Slipped." Silas shifted in his chair. "I corrected it."

"I read that," Ferrow said. "Did you try to watch the road again?"

"Not while Orrel was pulling the pin," Silas said.

"Good," Ferrow said. "What would you have done if Vennor hadn’t been covering you?"

Silas looked at the report. He remembered how little he had been able to see around the vehicle, and how badly he had wanted to turn when Vennor shouted Alden’s name.

"I’d have asked for someone to watch," Silas said. "Whether I’d have remembered to ask before something came out of the bushes is another matter."

Ferrow rested her pen on the page. "That’s an honest answer."

"Don’t sound so surprised," Silas said.

"I’m pleased you gave me one," Ferrow said. "Vennor’s account says you stayed with the job after that. Did you know Cross was all right?"

"Not until the pin was out." Silas rubbed his thumb along the chair arm. "I could hear him. That wasn’t particularly reassuring."

Ferrow nodded and made a short note. She did not tell him that he should have been braver, or that he would get used to it. He had been preparing to dislike both answers.

"I’ll keep the attention work in your practice schedule," she said. "For now, ask for cover before you start something you can’t safely drop."

"The recovery credit stands," Ferrow said. "Your next assessment is camp establishment. You’ll have preparation material tonight."

"How far away?" Silas asked.

"On academy training grounds," Ferrow said.

"And how many nights?" Silas asked.

"None. It’s a day assessment." Ferrow glanced up. "You can stop looking like that."

He had not realized he was.

She gave him the schedule. He checked the date first, then the return time. Both were acceptable, although he would have preferred an assessment that could be submitted from his desk.

"Same team?" Silas asked.

"New groups," Ferrow said. "You need to work with more than three people."

Silas folded the sheet and put it in his pocket. He had only just learned what to expect from the last three.

At home, he cleared a little space and tried holding three wooden blocks while looking away from them. Territorial Awareness made the first attempt embarrassingly easy. He could feel the blocks in place even while reading a paragraph on his terminal.

That would not help him on a road outside Greybank.

He set the blocks down. At his next scheduled practice period, he used the academy’s ordinary handling station instead. A slow-moving marker gave him something else to watch while he held two blunt practice pieces within the marked area.

One drifted when the marker changed direction.

Silas returned it to position, annoyed by how small a distraction it took. On the next attempt, he made a brief glance and brought his attention back before trying to follow the marker farther.

He stopped at the end of his allotted period. There was nobody trapped beside a broken trailer this time, and he had no intention of arriving at Orrel’s demonstration too exhausted to learn anything.

The remaining days passed between study, short practice sessions, and meals he could afford to enjoy. He bought a jar of fruit preserve after finishing the last of the plain bread. On the morning of Orrel’s visit, he discovered that he had eaten nearly a third of it.

He put the lid back on before making that worse.

His desk was clear by one. The weapon case and the unused Severance board were stored away, leaving room for Orrel’s tools. Silas checked the time, found that six minutes had passed, and opened his book.

A message from Mira interrupted him shortly afterward.

They posted the assessment groups. You’re with me.

He found the notice. Two unfamiliar names followed theirs: Nell Sayer and Julian Marden.

Do they know what they’re doing? Silas sent back.

Mira’s reply arrived while he was reading the equipment list.

They were asking about you. Marden wanted to know whether refusing you something could become a disciplinary case.

Silas lowered the device.

He had won one hearing, and apparently people thought he had been given the court afterward.

Before he could decide how to answer, Orrel knocked.