"So you came to me, because you thought you should, and you expect me to do—what? What do you think will happen now?"

Paks met his gaze squarely. "I think you'll send me away," she said. "If that's what all of you think—that it's unfair to spend the time when I'm not a Girdsman. And even if I were—he said it would be bad—you might still."

"Do you think we should send you away?"

Paks didn't know what to say to this. For a moment she looked away, but when her eyes returned to his face it held the same quiet expectancy. She thought the question over. "Sir, I—I don't know what your rules are—what your limits are. If I do what you don't want, then of course you have the right to send me away. But I can't think what is best for you—for the Fellowship. If it is best to, then you will. Otherwise—I don't know."

"Well, if you are convinced we will send you away, why come to me? Why not simply go pack your things and leave? Or tell us you're leaving, and not wait to be dismissed?"

"But—I couldn't do that. It would be—" She could not think of the right words; she knew it would be wrong, and somehow worse than wrong. "Discourteous," she finally said. "Ungrateful. It's my fault, and you have the right; I don't."

He shook his head slowly. "I'm not sure I follow your reasoning, Paksenarrion. You agree that we have the right to dismiss you, if you displease us—but you think you have no right to withdraw?"

"If I didn't want to stay—or if something happened, perhaps to my family or something—then I could, but it wouldn't be fair to—to walk out when it was my fault."

He pounced on that. "Fair. You're trying to be what you think is fair?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you said 'if I didn't want to stay'—does that mean you do want to stay?"

"Of course I do," said Paks, louder than she'd meant to.

"There's no 'of course' to it," he replied crisply. "Many who come here to train don't like it, and don't want to stay. Are you saying that even after Cieri's thrown you out of his class—in front of everyone—you'd still prefer to stay here?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why?"

Her hands twitched. "It's—it's what I always wanted to learn. These weeks have been the best of my life."

"Until today."

"Yes, sir." Then she looked at him again. "If I could stay—today is not much, really—"

"Oh?" His brows went up again; Paks's heart sank. "You call an axe wound, and having the senior weaponsmaster refuse to have you in his class 'not much'? We have different views, Paksenarrion."

"I'm—"