A hollow feeling opened up inside her, and she felt her heartbeat quicken. She bathed frequently with ash and lye soap stolen from traders. He was way out of her league and it was downright odd that he had obliged himself to talk to her, let alone walk her home. Cocked hats and buckled swords spoke of rank. Give me my pistol and my dagger. She pitted aspirants against each other in any way imaginable, with tests of science, math, and sometimes will alone. “Morning, Mom. Still—” Then, with incredible and obviously deliberate stupidity, and a voice as flat as her own, he asked, “Who is the man?” Her spirit raged within her at the dumbness, the paralysis that had fallen upon her. You know nothing of life, nothing of its dangers, nothing of its possibilities. Martin managed to catch her after class the next day.
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