The clerk had written that I was unable to sustain regular practice. I rested one finger beneath the sentence.
"Who supplied this?"
"The room-use record, young master."
"The room gave you an opinion?"
He adjusted his spectacles.
"The attendant records when you enter and leave. Several intervals ended early. One was canceled."
Both were true. I hadn't realized truth would look quite so bad in someone else's handwriting.
The clerk stood beside the bench in the practice room. My attendant waited near the open door. Along the opposite wall, the maintenance woman was putting away a tool she had brought to check a loose fitting.
Three people. None of them needed to hear me explain why I spent so much time sitting down after moving almost no Aether.
"Does the schedule specify how long an exercise must last?" I asked.
"It reserves two hours."
"That's the room reservation."
He glanced at the page again.
I could have crossed the line out and told him to write something else. My name would probably manage that much.
But the report would still reach my father's office. A neat correction beside a sentence about weakness might make him more interested, not less.
I needed a version the clerk could support when someone asked him how he knew.
I rose from the bench. My hand was wrapped beneath the fingers. The cloth looked ordinary enough. An injury from practice wasn't the problem. An heir who couldn't continue was.
"The intervals are short because I'm ending them before the release becomes uneven."
"I see."
He said it carefully.
He didn't see anything yet. He had a timetable and an irritated employer. I couldn't blame him for preferring the timetable.
I walked to the low rack and checked the control on the practice disc.
Off. Good. I didn't intend to prove the strength of my damaged hand for a man who was only here to collect paper.
"What was replaced after the last session?" I asked the maintenance woman.
She straightened.
"Nothing, young master."
"Was anything left running?"
"No."
I turned back to the clerk.
"Record what you have. An interval ended early. The equipment was put away. No damage was reported. You weren't present for the exercise."
He looked at the sheet, then at me.
"The office asks for progress, not simply attendance."
There was the limit. He wasn't going to send an empty report because I disliked the full one.
I had expected him to retreat after the first correction. That had been stupid. His instructions came from someone with a better claim on his obedience.
"Then record the method," I said. "Short releases. Rest between them. I stop the session rather than force an uneven flow."
"Controlled intervals?"
"Exactly."
The word was his. I hoped that helped him believe it.
He crossed out the original sentence with one neat line. I could still read every word beneath it.
"You'll use a clean copy?"
"For the summary. This record remains attached."
I looked at him.
He held the pen still above the page.
"The office retains changes," he said. "Otherwise, the totals and observations in the daily book wouldn't agree with the final report."
There would be no tidy disappearance of the inconvenient sentence. Someone could see where it began and where my explanation changed it.
I considered telling him to remove it anyway.
Then I pictured Cassian asking why the record had been replaced. The clerk would answer. There was no reason for him to protect my version from the man who employed us both, however differently.
"Then attach the reason for the change," I said. "You inferred an inability from the duration. The duration is correct. The inference wasn't observed."
He read what he had written.
"I can specify that the method was described by you."
Not independently confirmed. Not a clerk promising my father I was healthy.
I disliked the qualification. I also knew it was the most he had a reason to give me.
"Do that."
From the wall, the maintenance woman lifted her closed tool case.
"If the intervals are shorter, young master, should I return to the second morning hour?"
The room went quiet for a moment.
I had taken that hour from her when I wanted privacy. Now I had explained, in front of the clerk, how little of the reservation I used.
"After the examination," I said.
"The whole second hour?"
"Yes. Until then, keep the current arrangement."
She nodded, and the clerk added the change beside the schedule.
I hadn't planned to surrender part of the room. There it was anyway, fixed to a date beneath the report I had wanted improved.
For now, I kept the mornings I needed. After the test, hiding two hours of failed practice would require finding a different place or using less time.
I couldn't challenge that consequence without arguing against my own explanation.
I watched without allowing myself to sit. Standing wasn't difficult yet. If I leaned on the rack, however, he might decide to put the old sentence back.
"Will these intervals continue until the examination?" he asked.
"Yes."
The answer left my mouth before I considered tomorrow morning.
His pen moved.
"And a witnessed session? The office will require some measure beyond your own description."
I glanced at the attendant. He stared at the far wall with impressive dedication.
A witnessed session meant someone watching the part I had carefully kept private.
Refusing one now would make the entire exchange look like an excuse.
"A light contact exercise," I said. "No sustained output."
"With an armsman?"
"One."
The clerk consulted the schedule.
"The morning after tomorrow. The practice master can assign a man."
Two days before the Duke's examination.
I wanted to ask whether he had found the least convenient morning on purpose. Instead, I nodded as if it suited me perfectly.
"Have the time sent here."
He finished the new sentence, turned the page, and offered it for confirmation.
Regular controlled intervals maintained. Output deliberately restricted pending His Grace's examination.
My own words had improved considerably in his handwriting.
They also sounded like someone who didn't need to cancel tomorrow's session because his hand hurt.
"Leave a copy," I said.
"I'll have it sent to your rooms."
I handed the paper back.
The maintenance woman closed her tool case. I waited until she and the clerk had left before turning toward the bench.
The attendant moved to bring the chair closer.
I almost let him.
The corridor was still open. The clerk had stopped outside to speak to someone.
"Leave it," I said. "I'm going back."
I walked past the empty seat, through the door, and all the way to my bedroom without asking for help.
Then I closed the door and sat down so hard the chair complained.
My ribs ached. My hand had done almost nothing, but I had held my shoulders still through the entire conversation. Letting them drop was unpleasant enough to make me close my eyes.
I had successfully persuaded the household I was managing my recovery.
Now I had to attend my own performance every morning.
Something pale appeared at the edge of my sight.
I waited for my breathing to settle before looking at it.
[ THE VILLAIN'S LEDGER - ENTRY ]
────────────────────────────────────
CREDIT
+ VP 30 - DECEPTION, WITNESSED
WITNESSES 3 / HOUSEHOLD
BALANCE 30
NDI 0.0%
DEBIT
- CORE STRAIN - MINOR
- RECOVERY TIME - RESTRICTED
────────────────────────────────────
COMMENTARY: Familiar conduct is advised.
Thirty. I read the credit again, then the reason beside it. Deception.
I hadn't even lied about the length of the sessions. I had selected the parts that made my weakness sound deliberate and pushed the clerk into a better description.
Apparently, that was worth paying for.
More than sitting in front of a mirror trying to look unpleasant, at least. None of yesterday's practice had changed the balance.
I checked the deviation index. Still zero.
Earning points and changing the story were not the same thing. I could get paid for keeping Cedric's place without moving any closer to escaping one of his endings.
The thought wasn't comforting, but it was useful.
I copied the amount and the reason into my notes. Beside them, I added the three witnesses. The maintenance woman had heard the exchange even though she had barely spoken. The Ledger hadn't needed her to agree with me.
What mattered was that the report existed now.
I dismissed the entry before I started treating the reward as permission to feel clever.
A light contact exercise.
I knew what Null Touch did to a stationary ward. I knew less about using it when the ward moved toward me on the end of something heavy.
The practice disc had already offered an opinion on that.
I unwrapped my hand and checked the skin. Better than yesterday. Still tender under pressure. Two days might be enough for a controlled attempt. It would have to be enough to tell me whether any part of my demonstration survived contact with another person.
That was worth knowing before my father stood in front of me.
It would have been more pleasant to learn it without arranging the lesson in front of witnesses.
The attendant returned with the clerk's copy before lunch. He placed it beside the notice for the Duke's examination and waited while I read it.
The scheduled session had been added at the bottom.
"Will the practice room be required tomorrow?" he asked.
Yesterday, I would have said no. A full morning without circulation sounded better than most things I could imagine.
Today, the answer had already been written down.
"At the usual time."
"And the fixtures?"
I looked at my hand.
"Leave them off. I'll be working on posture."
He bowed, apparently satisfied.
I waited until he reached the door before adding, "Have the floor cushion brought back."
Standing in front of a chair had earned thirty points.
I didn't see any reason to make sitting on the floor cost me more.