“When Skif mentioned Master Alberich—he—I—” she hesitated, looking shamefaced, but Dirk did his best to look kind and understanding, and his expression evidently encouraged her to continue. “You know about what happened—with Talia and me. I was still angry with her the next day, even though I was almost as angry with myself; well, that showed up in practice. Master Alberich made me stop, and took me out to the Field for a walk to cool off. You know, I never thought he was—I don’t know, understanding, I guess. Nice. He seems so hard, most of the time.”

“Perhaps that’s to mask the softness underneath,” Dirk replied quietly. He knew Alberich better than almost any other Herald, except for Elcarth and Jeri; and despite all the time he spent in the field, he had come as close as anyone was ever likely to get to the Armsmaster. “Being easy with any of us might be a quick way to get us killed in the field. So he’s hard, hopefully harder than anything we’ll have to face. That doesn’t make him less a human, or less a Herald. Think about it a minute. He’s the one teacher in the Collegium whose lessoning will make a difference whether we live or die. If he eliminates one little thing—no matter for what reason—it might be the cause of one of his pupils finding an early grave. You can’t say that about any other instructor in the Collegium. You might notice the next time the Death Bell rings that you won’t see him anywhere around. I don’t know where he goes, but I saw him leaving, once. He looked like he was in mortal agony. I think he feels more than most of us would credit him with.”