The New Apprentice

Chapter Eight: Horace's Torment

I smile this morning, a wide, giddy grin. We've been through six months of training! I can hardly believe it! I never even thought this would be possible, and Choosing Day seems like a lifetime ago...

"Amaris!" Will's voice snaps me out of my trip down Memory Lane. "Are you listening?"

I chuckle sheepishly, "Um, not really. Est-ce que vous pouvez le répéter, s'il vous plait?"

Will sighs. "And there she goes again, speaking Gallican. Why did Halt ever agree to teach you?"

I smirk. "Because he's marvelous, of course."

Halt, who's making our breakfast, dryly says, "Well, I suppose it's reassuring to know I'm so important. By the way, nice accent. Not that you don't have, say, years more of lessons ahead of you."

I sigh, the reminder bringing to mind the annual Ranger Gathering, where Will and I (along with the rest of the new apprentices) will be tested to see if we can continue training next year. Because of our spectacular luck, we have only been training for seven months instead of a full year like the other apprentices, so that said 'farewell' to our Saturday holidays- we've been practicing from sunrise 'till sunset, and we practice everything! It's all I could have asked for: We shoot from standing, kneeling, sitting positions, and even while hidden on trees. We do the same positions with our throwing knives, but with the additions of throwing while diving to either side. None of the targets are the same, even if the differences are small. We also practice with our saxe knives and strikers. Concerning stealth, we learned every secret there is, ranging from how to properly use the cloak to searching tricks, like looking back at a spot after it's already been checked to catch any slight motion. We also learned about sweepers, scouts who trail the party they're from to catch anybody that could have been following the main group. We learned history and geography, and we work with our horses, learning the signals they send to their riders when they smell or hear something out of place.

"Arin!" Halt's voice says gruffly, "Tu n'entends pas! J'ai dit que je vais au village pour acheter du pain. Tu comprends?"

I look away from the window, startled, to where Halt is standing by the door.

"Euh, oui, monsieur. Je comprends."

"Bon. Dis-lui que vous deviez practiquer," he mutters, opening the door and shutting it as he leaves.

Sighing, I look over at Will, "Well, I suppose it's a good thing we both have sharp hearing or we'd miss practically everything Halt says."

"I already am!" The boy says, laughing, "All you two do is talk in Gallican!"

I smirk, shrugging, "Your fault for not wanting to learn Gallican."

Will's jaw practically falls off, "Not wanting to learn!? You put the idea in his head! Gallican was optional!"

I look at him with mock pity, "Aww, poor lad. You must have been so lonely these five months. How long are my lessons now? Two hours after dusk?"

"That's not the point, Amaris! You two just forget that you're in Araluen- not Gallica! -and that I speak English- not Gallican! It's like you two have doomed me for not taking an optional class with the already busy schedule that we have. I feel really left out."

Will's shoulders slump and I realize that, for the past month, Halt and I actually have been leaving Will out. After training was over at dusk, I used to go to Will's room and we would talk and laugh and play little games. But when winter came, the one hour Gallican class became a two hour class, leaving no time for Will and me. And with Halt and I speaking in Gallican around the cabin...