“Uh… a nose? If you’re going front to back. If you’re going ground up, I guess… hooves?”
Luc rolled his eyes. “Not thehorse, you weasel. Theword‘apple.’ What does it start with?”
Rolan gave a long, noisy groan, drawing the sound out for as long as his breath would go before planting his face on the tabletop.
“What good is reading when you fight a Cryptic?” he muttered into the table. “Are you gonnareadit to death? Or is that a fate you only save for poor, innocent children? I thought I was apprenticed to an Arcanist, not a blasted librarian. You wanna teach me a real skill?” He turned his face, planting his cheek on the table and grinning at Luc. “Teach me fighting.”
The Arcanist’s blue eyes glinted. “Reading.”
Defiantly, Rolan sat up and thrust his jaw forward. He pounded a fist on the table. “Fighting!”
“Reading.”
“Oh no…” Rolan’s head fell back. His arms and legs went limp. He rolled out of the chair and splattered onto the floor where he lay with his limbs sprawled to the sides.
“Jelly bones,” he moaned.
Luc dragged a weary hand over his face, seeming to age ten years in a moment.
“What,” Luc sighed, “are jelly bones?”
“It’s a condition,” mumbled Rolan, his face pressed to the floorboards. “Very serious. You can’t make me read if I have jelly bones. Can’t walk, can’t bathe, can’t use the toilet. And I just drank alotof water. This is going to be a serious problem for you soon.”
“Enough!” Luc tossed up his hands. “I don’t have time for this idiocy. I have work to do.”
He rose and began cleaning the house, scrubbing the table and kitchen, carrying out rugs to beat them over a line, sweeping every mote of dust from the floor—except for the bit where Rolan remained motionlessly sprawled.
Ah. So it was gonna be like that, was it? Luc would try to wait him out.
Rolan could play that game too.
Luc cleaned all day. He sorted things, packed them, then sorted them again. He cleaned the windows. He scrubbed out the fireplace. When darkness eventually fell, Rolan was still lying on the floor. At some point he must have fallen asleep, because he wokewith a start when Supper appeared and began licking his hair.
“Mmmf,” he groaned, his mouth dry and sticky.
Luc was sitting in his armchair by the fire, one arm extended to stir a pot of stew. His mouth slanted smugly as Rolan was forced to endure Supper’s disgusting and thorough ablutions.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” Luc said. He lifted a spoon piled with delectable meats and seasoned vegetables. The smell made Rolan’s stomach twist. “You must be pretty hungry by now.”
“I’ve gonedayswithout eating before,” Rolan told him. “I know how to ignore hunger. You can’t beat me that way.”
Luc put down the spoon, his brow creasing as he studied Rolan. Then he leaned back, rubbing his face, to stare at the fire. Several long minutes passed with neither of them moving.
Finally Luc said, “What if I teach you readingandfighting?”
“That sounds exhausting for us both.”
“Rolan.”
“Fine!” Rolan popped up from the floor, his arms and legs tingling numbly. “Fighting and reading. But inthatorder. And… I want to learn the scarecrow thing too.”
Luc’s brow furrowed. “The scarecrow thing?”
“You know. That ridiculous thing where you balance on a wobbly pole like a lunatic? It looks as stupid as dirt, but I want to learn that too. Fighting, balancing, and reading, in that order, and you’ve got a deal.”
“Ah.” Luc narrowed his eyes. “I can work with that. Yes, I do believe I can.”
Rolan gripped the knife and studied his target, suddenly unsure of all his choices. “It’s a bit far, don’t you think? Maybe I should start with stabbing things.”
