“I won’t lie to you.” He looked down, frowning, and spoke to his blotter rather than to her. “There was some dissent among the faculty. But ultimately, the majority came down in Stephen’s favor. If he places alongside his peers, academically, and rectifies the … irregularities in his behavior, he’s welcome to return for the spring term. After all, he isn’t his uncle, is he?”

“No,” said Lillian, “he isn’t.” Nor am I my father. She wondered if Merritt had been one of the dissenters. From his embarrassment, she didn’t think so. He was ashamed of his colleagues. If he had been overruled, he would be angry.

“No. Of course. He’s just a child. And it’s this school’s job to see he fulfills his potential.”

Lillian did not remind Merritt that her brother had attended Cantrell at Stephen’s age, and certainly fulfilled some kind of potential.

“When do you think you’ll know?” she asked. Stephen was due to finish up with the proctor soon. Lillian would pick him up from the hall after this meeting.

“We should have an answer back to you within a week, I think. Perhaps two. Plenty of time to plan for spring. Whatever the results.”

“Thank you,” she said, and rose to leave.

Merritt shook her hand, and added, “Ms. DePaul, I do want you to know: I hope to see Stephen on the platform at commencement.”

She felt some satisfaction that she had read him correctly; she still had the knack for that, at least. “You’re very kind, Headmaster Merritt.”

He shook his head. “My elder brother was in Liso. In the Spice War. The way that he was treated, when he came home … I think for him it was worse than the fighting. As if spitting on a soldier could right the wrongs of nations.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, hovering awkwardly between the coatrack and her chair, unwilling to rush out on the one person in Gedda who’d shown her some sympathy. Or at least shown Stephen some.

Merritt shrugged. “He does all right these days. But there was a time … well. I would like to spare your son some of that, if I can. Not to say he will have an easy time here, or whatever secondary school you choose next year. You know how they are, at that age.”

And how they stayed, most of the time.

Glancing at the clock above his office hearth, Merritt said, “You’d better go—he’ll be wrapping up any minute. We’ll be in touch.”

She finally pulled her coat down from the rack and slipped it on. “I look forward to it.”