13 Ash, 121
It had been with a sense of relief that Rivin had felt his mind wandering away from the disturbing memories and back onto other tracks. He had finished the book he'd picked up and taken two more with him back to his room. He hadn't stayed in there for the evening with them though, preferring to take his dinner outside in the garden if he wasn't to be allowed to take it with Dr. Ilex and whoever he was dining with. Rivin had not seen the doctor since they had arrived and while it was not unusual to go without for long periods of time the usual cause was the doctor being absent. Rivin being brought along and then ignored was uncommon, for, what was the point of bringing him along and housing him if not to make use of his skills?
Perhaps the doctor had been inundated with social engagements he did not wish to neglect as soon as they'd arrived in the city. It was a city, not a country estate. Rivin could hear the street sounds from the part of the walled garden where he ate. Horses and people on cobbles, the echo of hawkers, he even heard a passing busker once as he sipped at the glass of wine he'd requested. He wasn't always granted alcohol when he asked for it, but the doctor seemed pleased with him, despite whatever preoccupied him. It was good, a full-bodied red, the color of airless blood, with hints of coffee and plums in the swallow. When the food was gone he held the wine between both his hands, warming it in them as he tucked his feet onto the table and leaned back. Rivin basked in the last of the sun on what was probably one of the last days of the year that would be warm enough to be out without a coat.
He drowsed comfortably, sipping at the drink and thinking about nothing in particular. His thoughts wandered free, slipping between passages of the history he'd devoured, connecting fragments of information from the empire that was lost. Letting his fancy play as it willed, with a little wine to lubricate the way, it sometimes felt like he could feel the course of history. Like voices from the past whispered to him their secrets just beyond his ability to hear them.
When the sun was fully down and the sounds from the street had changed to those of the night he stood stretching, placed the winecup, now down to the dregs, on the tray with the crumbs of his supper, and made his way back into the house before the night's wind could blow away the last of the warmth and leave him shivering. In his room he picked up the first of the books he'd borrowed and flopped down onto his bed to consume yet more of his favorite fare. More than fine food or wine, Rivin hungered for knowledge, and here it was, at his fingertips.
The last thing he remembered clearly was a soft rain beginning to fall outside the window, sound moving over the roof from east to west overhead. He woke a few times, or, perhaps the memories were part of his dreams. Thunder crashing, the candle on the bedside table guttering out, the wind whipping past hard enough to shake the window casement. Then he slipped deeper into dreams and the restless monsters of the memories that had tried to pull him into their embrace earlier in the day rose, shook out their manes, and thrilled to the hunt.
~~~~
The days in the sun continued and the boy grew used to the sky, wide and blue above him. Even began to think of it as almost friendly. His skin darkened from the pale of paper to the healthy, pinker tones that found a middle ground between the grey of his mother and what he assumed was the dark tan of his father. Sometimes there were other children to play with, always boys with their mothers. When he had asked his mother why there were no girls she had answered that she assumed they were housed in a different place. Ideas of separation of the sexes came into his head and he asked later if it was common in societies to do so. The conversations that followed, about the differences in social expectations along lines of gender in the different races and societies kept his mind occupied when he wasn't playing outside or learning to read until it was too cold to go out anymore. Seasons were also a new concept and he tried, more than once, to climb up to the little window to peek out at how the world was changing. His mother did not try to stop him, unless it looked as if he might break any of the furniture, but he was too small to make it up twelve feet of blank wall without anything to stand on.
With the cold weather came a return of his mother's physical training regime. The movements were new but they built on what had already been taught, so his body took to them more easily than it had the first set. It had been long, almost half a year since the doctor had explained the use of the surgical tools to him by the time he was called for again. His mother waved him on without her when the guards came, and though the change unsettled him he knew she would be disappointed if he threw a fit like a baby, so he followed the guard sent to fetch him without complaint.
His clever plan from the first days he'd began to learn to read had not left his mind, only been held for the day when it might be used. As it came back to him along the hallways to the doctor's examination chamber he realized it would be easier to accomplish without his mother's ever-watchful eye on him. A thrill came over him, as he'd never felt before, and something moving in his chest, an awakening of subtle guile and self-awareness.
The examination went as the others had, with the exception of the doctor noticing the absence of his mother. The guard was asked if anything was wrong with his mother, and the man answered that she was well. The doctor made a dismissive expression, a movement about his shoulders to imply it did not matter. Rivin was getting better at reading such things. The study that had started with his mother had continued with the guards, the serving woman who brought their food and emptied their waste, the other boys and mothers. Now he could see things on the doctor and, for reasons he did not know, the seeing increased the sly feeling now moving in his belly.
When the scrapings and clippings had been finished the doctor extracted his blood, and, as he always had before, he turned his back for a longer period of time to place the tiny clear container away properly. Rivin waited for this moment, placidly answering questions when asked them, trying his best to behave as he did at other times that he must sit still and wait; a little impatient, but accepting.
As soon as Ilex turned to secure his blood Rivin reached over, quick and silent, and picked up one of the little black books that sat on the table beside the exam bench. Slipping it into the back of his pants he put his hands back at his sides and swung his feet a bit, schooling his mind to go over the path back to his room so that his actions would not show on his face. When Ilex turned back he asked Rivin a new series of questions, about how he felt, how he was eating and sleeping, how much exercise he got. Thinking this a new test, one he had not yet passed, Rivin forgot that he had something that was not his secreted on his person and tried to give answers that were thorough and honest. Who knew if the guards had reported all the answers to the doctor already or not.
When the questions were done, all written down into a small black book identical to the one he had taken, the doctor asked if Rivin had any questions of his own. The boy asked what the questions were for and the doctor's amused-impressed smile shone from his aging face. He explained that information about his health was being gathered, that soon he would begin to see a healer, to determine if he was entirely healthy. It was the first time he had been warned about a coming test, and it felt as important as the test himself. He had nodded, thoughtfully, without looking away from the doctor. The look the human had given him had contained more of those expressions that Rivin did not know yet. It felt as though both were examining the other for something that could not be seen by looking alone. What was found, by himself or the doctor, Rivin did not know. As though a part of his mind were gathering up secret knowledge to tell him later.
After a long moment of this Ilex waved for the guard and turned back to the samples he'd collected. As he walked away, Rivin realized he could have asked what the things the doctor took from him were for. He would remember, for the next time.
