Chapter Two: Winternights

Those that interacted with Lezard Valeth agreed that he was a strange boy. He made absolutely no effort to befriend anyone, not that they would want to be friends with a boy like that. All people from the upper class were a bit stuck up, but Lezard acted so to everyone except the adults. The students didn't complain, though, since most of the time the Valeth boy chose to be by himself, and as long as he was left alone he seemed content enough.

The boy assigned as Lezard's roommate at first bemoaned his fate, but in time he took advantage of his unique position. Lezard more or less ignored his presence when they were together, and other students gathered around to hear what sort of things the Valeth boy did. Though they were unanimous in their dislike for him, they couldn't help being curious as well.

"He studies all the time," the boy reported to his eager audience. "The mid-term tests are months away and he's already preparing for them."

"I imagine so," said an older student. "He's younger than most first years. He probably needs the extra time." The older students shared a chuckle, but the first years did not. They all had seen Lezard in class and knew he was keeping up with everything in spite of his age.

"He's going to burn himself out," predicted another older student. "It's happened before in the first years." His fellows murmured their agreement. "They overload and then collapse under the pressure. It's the worst at test time. You'll see."

Lezard was a very intelligent boy, but even if he were not he would still know that the other students in the academy didn't like him. He didn't care he was unpopular; he didn't come to the academy to make friends, after all. In his opinion it was better that the student population left him alone. They would just distract him from his work.

His daily routine secured that he would have as little contact with the rest of the student body as possible. He awoke before anyone else to bathe and dress, and spent the time before his first class in the library. He took his meals apart from the students as well, but he was by no means alone. On the first day, a teacher took pity on his solitary luncheon and sat beside him. Now he always ate with the teachers.

No one tried deluding themselves into believing that Lezard quickly rose to the top of his class because of his association with the teachers. Nor did they bother explaining it by his upper class status and the fact that he had an "advantage" by being a Valeth. He was succeeding all on his own. If he wasn't such an unpleasant person he would've been admired for this incredible feat; as it was, the other students found his success an insult.

The only comfort they took was the fact that however smart this boy was, he was still human. He was pushing himself far too hard, and the semester had barely begun. He would burn out, they assured each other. There was no way he could keep up the mad pace he started on.

---

The air was getting colder, and for the moment activity in school was at a stand-still. It was with great relief that the students left the chilly halls to return home for Winternights. The break was welcome, for soon after their return they would have to take their mid-term tests. Only one student was not looking forward to going home.

Lezard hated to leave the academy and its vast offering of knowledge. He had no friends at the academy to miss. He remained just as separated from everyone else as he always had been, perhaps more so thanks to his position as top of his class. He had highly disappointed his classmates when he did not crash and burn as they hoped he would. Now with the threat of five days away from the academy, he feared he would drop from the top spot on their return.

He had no choice in the matter, though. The school would be deserted for the festival, and refusing to go home would do much more harm than good. So with a heavy heart he put away his notes and grudgingly returned home with his father. The carriage ride back was draped in silence.

The servants were busy preparing for the festival, and Lezard was more than glad to get out of their way. He would go through the motions as he did every year, honoring his ancestors and praying to the gods, and having a birthday right in the middle of the festival. He only involved himself in the preparations this year because of his mother: Winternights was a good opportunity to see if he could find out the true cause of her death.

"Lezard, I don't think I've ever seen you this willing to participate in a festival," his father commented. "Your mother will be so pleased."

"I have always had great respect for the dead, Father," Lezard replied, "and now that Mother is departed as well I wish to do all I can to show how much I honor them." Luckily his father didn't notice the smirk on his face as he said this. He was certainly not faking his interest in the festival, but he did lie about his reasons.

Lezard became much more involved in the festival than he had ever been for any previous celebrations. He volunteered to give offerings to the gods, he joined his father at the feast, and at least looked as if he was celebrating his ancestors. It was all an act, of course. He wanted to please his ancestors so he could find out about his mother's death. When his father was asleep he would call to them, asking them to give him some sort of enlightenment.

His birthday passed by with a modest party; it always turned out that way, since the day fell during Winternights. The festival drew to a close and he joined his father in thanking the ancestors and the gods. His thanks to them was not quite as sincere as it should have been. His ancestors gave him no help, and he was no closer to understanding if he had caused his mother's death. As usual, he would have to find out the truth on his own.