Chapter 4: A Learned Child

"He reads incessantly," Brother Madron said. "He writes well enough. But he still says very little." The Chantry brother handed over a rolled parchment containing Theo's most recent school work. "It's mystifying. I was inclined to think he was simple at first, regardless of what you told me, but after three years? I wonder if I'm getting through to him or if he's just toying with me."

Bann Trevelyan stared out the window to the courtyard. Matthias was down there with his wife of nearly a year; already she was swelling with child, and the household was a whirlwind preparing for a new baby. It was odd to think that it was only eight years ago that they'd welcomed Theo. He winced at the pang in his chest and hoped Matthias would never have to know the pain of a mage child, or a third son.

He turned and took the parchment. Theo's letters were well-formed, and he seemed to have a grasp of the simple Chant verses his tutor had asked him to interpret. "I hope he's not badly behaved when with you?" he asked.

Brother Madron shook his head. "Not at all. Quite the opposite. He does as asked, he just doesn't say much of anything." The man fidgeted with his cuffs. "If he doesn't like me, or if you're displeased with me…"

"I'm sure everything is fine; this work shows that he is learning at least." Bann Trevelyan set the scroll on his desk. "I assure you I'm not displeased. I will speak with my son and straighten this out." He smiled and Brother Madron bowed and left.

Theo had always been a quiet, observant child, but ever since they'd found him in a basement storeroom, face bloody and tear streaked, foot swollen with spider venom, he'd been practically silent. He didn't complain; didn't cry; didn't beg. Thisbe had said he didn't want to have a new tutor and had run away and hidden when she tried to get him to come up to the house the day Brother Madron arrived. And while Alick knew his youngest daughter was crafty and sly (Maker, she could play the Game if he ever married her off to an Orlesian!) Theo said nothing to the contrary.

He looked back to the courtyard. Gavriel was practicing archery and Theo, on a break from his studies, watched. Alick sighed. It had been easy to avoid his son when Theo was younger. There was no denying he was a good boy, and it had only been around his fifth name day that there had been hints of misbehavior; and by then, it was Brother Madron's duty to deal with him. But as he grew older and more unexpectedly sullen, perhaps Alick had to address things himself.

By the time he made it down to the courtyard someone had found a small, lightweight draw bow and Theo was hefting it in his hand. Gavriel resumed target practice, and Theo copied his older brother's movements. Alick watched his two sons for a quiet moment. By eight years of age, Matty had been begging to learn the sword; Gavriel followed shortly after, and getting the both of them to learn archery, just on the principle that they were young noblemen and should have the skill, had been difficult. But Theo clutched at the bow and watched his brother and constantly shifted and modified his stance to emulate Gavriel.

"You're improving," he said when Gavriel had finished off his quiver. Theo started and blinked, holding the bow and looking guilty. "And you," Alick said, making himself smile. "Do you think you'd like to learn to shoot?"

Theo stared at him. Just stared. His green eyes were slightly narrowed, his head cocked slightly to one side, as if he thought it might be a trick. "Yes?" he finally said. He clutched the small bow so tightly his knuckles were white, almost afraid it might be taken from him if this was not the right answer.

Alick nodded. "Come with me," he said. He was about to tell Theo to hand the bow to the weapons master, but changed his mind. "You can bring it with you," he said. For the first time in… well, years Theo's face lit up with a genuine smile and he ran to keep up with his father.

They ended up back in Alick's office. Alick sat behind his desk and Theo glanced at the chairs, but remained standing. He looked everywhere but at his father. "Brother Madron showed me your schoolwork," he began, and the smile began to fade. "It's good," he said quickly. Maker, he had to make an effort. "You're a smart boy. But he says you don't say very much. Does he mistreat you?" Theo shook his head. "Do you dislike him?" Another headshake. "Well, he likes you and thinks you have some promise."

"Really?"

It was so soft Alick almost had to lean forward, and at first, he wasn't sure he'd actually heard it. He stared down at his youngest son, shyly glancing up from under a mop of dark hair and still clutching the little bow with both hands the way a younger child might hold a blanket or cherished toy.

"Really," he said. "A learned child is a blessing upon his parents and unto the Maker," he quoted. "If you keep up with your studies, and you start talking with Brother Madron, maybe we can start you with some proper archery lessons. Would you like that?"

"Very much, sir," Theo said. He flicked his gaze up at his father, and then back to the bow in his hands. "Did… did he really say my work is good?"

"He did. Can you keep working hard and learn more?"

Theo nodded; his hair flopped over his forehead and he was actually smiling. Alick had forgotten what it was like to see that smile, and realized that Theo was missing a tooth, while others had grown in and looked too big for his mouth. His stomach twisted with guilt. His boy was growing up, and he'd turned a blind eye.

But Theo was not really his boy. He was on loan from the Maker, and that made his stomach twist even more. "Finish this week with Brother Madron; he will report your progress to me, and we will see about getting you started with the bow next week," he said in a sterner voice, turning away from Theo so he didn't have to see his son's beaming face. "You may go."

He heard Theo's footsteps as he made it to the doorway. "Um, thank you, Father," he said in a shy voice before scurrying away.

There was a moment of silence. "Don't say anything, Cordelia," Alick said with a sigh.

Cordelia slipped into the room and took a seat. "It was just nice to hear him talk again," she said with a smile.

"But bribery?"

"He's eight. He sees his brothers training and learning and being given opportunities while he sits with a tutor all day. It's not a bad thing to encourage him." She twisted her skirt in her hands. "If I only have another few years with him here I'd rather he be smiling, to be honest."

Theo was certain Brother Madron had more work for him. The Chantry tutor always had more work; Theo often wondered where it came from, how the man could just pull lessons and lectures from his head the way the fishermen pulled nets of fish during the migration seasons. It didn't matter how much work Theo did accomplish—there would always be more, and now that he knew it, he didn't quite care as much as he had two years ago.

Because he also knew now that none of it really mattered.

While his mornings and early afternoons were occupied with lessons, his late afternoons and any other time he could find were spent with his archery teacher, or just practicing on his own. In just two years he'd learned to outshoot his brothers, and even his teacher would laugh nervously if Theo shot too close to his own mark. It was the first time he felt he stood out in his family, like he was more than an afterthought.

And then he overheard Brother Madron talking to his father.

"I thought you wanted him to talk with you and learn from you," Bann Trevelyan said.

"I did, but he goes through material almost faster than I can produce it, all so he can run off and play at archery!" The brother paced the study, clearly agitated. Theo peered through the crack in the secret passage door, holding his breath lest anyone catch on that he was listening. "You want him to be a Brother. We are an academic order, not a martial one."

"I know this. But what harm does it do to let the boy enjoy himself?"

"There is but one Truth. All things are known to the Maker and He shall judge their lies," Brother Madron quoted. Bann Trevelyan glared at the man with such anger that Theo nearly fled. But he remained; it was kind of nice to see the tutor so uncomfortable. "I don't accuse of you of lying, Bann Trevelyan. I simply suggest that it's doing more harm than good in the long run."

"He is my son," Bann Trevelyan finally said. "The consequences of my choices for him will be my responsibility. Your responsibility is to teach him. To train up a learned child."

"Yes, Serah."

And with that Theo slipped away through the secret passages he knew so well, and out into the glorious afternoon. He kept moving quickly, quietly, like a thief; though he'd stolen nothing but time. He did not stop at the boundaries of his family's property. He found the road and ducked into the trees along the side, and kept going until he was in town.

But once there, he wasn't sure what to do. He was ten; he hadn't exactly planned out his escape very well. He glanced down at his jerkin, embroidered with the sigil of the Trevelyans. Many of these people would probably recognize him from the weekly Chantry services, and those that didn't would recognize the house colors and sigil. He stripped it off and stuffed it behind a barrel and then stepped out into the main thoroughfare, just another kid in a gray tunic. It was a start.

So much of his life was spent trying to stand out, trying to get his father's attention; but now he was grateful that he blended in. He made it through the open market with its stalls of fruit and grain and various trinkets for sale, and then up toward the craftsmen's shops. It was harder to blend in here, but luckily the fletcher and bowyer's shop was one of the first he came to. Maybe he could pretend to be an orphan, ask to be an apprentice. Hope luck was on his side.

He pushed open the heavy door and found himself facing Master Blain. His archery teacher.

Theo's heart leapt into his throat and choked him. He tried to back out into the streets, but the door had closed behind him. He silently recited every curse word he'd learned from his brothers and from the servants, and thought maybe he should pray to the Maker for the repose of his soul…

"I wondered when you'd find you way down here," Blain said with a grin.

Theo blinked and tried to catch his breath. "Is this a trick?"

Blain shook his head. "No trick. But there's only so much I can teach you with the equipment you have up at the manor, and let's just say I've been discouraged from doing too much to encourage your skills," he said with a grin. "You have natural talent, but without the right equipment, that will only get you so far." He waved for Theo to follow him.

"What do you mean?"

"It may be time for you to learn to make your own bow and arrows."

A learned child, my arse, Theo thought, following Master Blain deeper into the shop. This was the kind of learning he could get behind.