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Meredith's sixth birthday had come right after the High Masters' autumn quarterly, past the starting point for the autumn term, so he joined the students returning from the holidays. The seventh form was always the smallest class, what with students dropping out after sixth form if they weren't planning to attend university, and a handful of students being sent down for violations of school rules. Now, with most of the six-tri-years students gone, so few seventh-formers were left that the Head Master erased the distinction between the Lower Seventh and the Upper Seventh, allowing third- and second-ranked students to attend classes alongside first-ranked students.
The result of this was that Meredith found himself in all but one of the classes that were attended by both Rudd and Carruthers.
To Meredith's great relief, Carruthers never looked his way. He sat in the front row in each class, industriously taking notes, as though his being heir to the Second Landstead, as well as Head and Captain of the Second House, wouldn't be reason enough for the instructors to pass him with alacrity. Rudd, who had watched Meredith through narrowed eyes for the first week or two, gradually lost interest in scrutinizing the activities of his fag. After a while, Meredith managed to keep his mind on schoolwork during class-time, rather than on the explosive combination of himself and the two Heads.
The class that Meredith did not share with either Head was History of Astronomy, the closest that Narrows had to a science course. It was allowed onto the curriculum only because astronomical mathematics was mentioned by the ancient authors and was therefore deemed respectable. Most of the class consisted of mathematical proofs. Master Trundle, who taught the class, would have considered actually looking at the stars to be an activity beneath notice, while news of the latest rocket ships being launched into orbit from Yclau would have fallen under the category of Foreign Heresies.
Meredith had no great interest in foreign activities himself, but he was passionately interested in the history of the Dozen Landsteads, and it was impossible to study the history of the First Landstead without stumbling across pages upon pages of references to scientific matters. He had assembled at home – under his father's bemused eye – a respectable library of scientific textbooks, while the school library turned out to have a fairly good collection of scientifiction tucked away in the section for first-ranked students and their classmates. Since he had not previously studied alongside first-ranked students, Meredith had not been permitted to enter the first-ranked section before this term. Now he discovered, upon proudly presenting his Upper Seventh card to the librarian, that at least one other person at Narrows School shared his interest in scientifiction, for several of the books he had hoped to borrow were already off the shelves when he checked. All the other lads in his History of Astronomy class seemed to be sleeping through the proceedings, so Meredith assumed that one of the school masters had a taste for thrilling adventures in outer space.
It was not until the third week of term that he came into the nook that held the scientifiction books and discovered Carruthers there, carefully examining each spine, with a stack of scientifiction books already in his arms.
He looked up before Meredith could retreat. Meredith froze, staring at the book in Carruthers's hand, which Meredith had been planning to borrow. He blurted out, "You want to read Fantastic Voyages to the Moon and Beyond?" Then he felt himself turn crimson.
Carruthers said in an easy manner, "I've already read it, about twelve dozen times. Did you want to borrow it?" Before Meredith could think of what to say, Carruthers placed the book atop Meredith's stack of history books.
Meredith thought to himself that there must be a more graceful way of retreating than dropping his books and running. But every instinct in his body – the instincts that he had tried so hard to rid himself of – told him that he could not leave until Carruthers dismissed him.
The Head seemed to be expecting some sort of response; groping for words, Meredith said, "Master Trundle mentioned that book in class yesterday."
"Favorably?" Carruthers managed to hide any look of disgust at Meredith's inane remark.
"Er . . . no. He was making fun of it, actually. He said that it talked about planets around other stars, which Flaminius said couldn't exist."
Carruthers smiled. "And since Flaminius lived in the seventh tri-century, long before the invention of the telescope, of course he was the expert on such matters. . . . I wish my government class wasn't at the same time as Master Trundle's class; I would have liked to have taken it, if only for Trundle's entertaining commentary. What topic is he covering this term?"
"Astronomy in the middle centuries." It was becoming easier by the moment to talk to Carruthers; the Head Prefect seemed absorbed in the conversation, as patient as the Head Master would have been at what Meredith was saying.
"Is he, by all that is sacred? He'll never get the class to the twentieth tri-century at this rate."
"I don't think he wants to, sir," replied Meredith with a smile. "Then he might have to demonstrate actual knowledge of astronomy."
Carruthers actually laughed then; Meredith grinned, relieved. He had been sure, at the beginning of this meeting, that Carruthers was holding a grudge against him for never having turned up for the invited meeting, but now Meredith realized how ridiculous an idea that was. Carruthers had undoubtedly forgotten their conversation in the changing room within a day of its occurrence. No doubt, if Meredith had actually turned up at Carruthers's door, the Head would have found a way to politely quiz him as to his purpose there, and might even have humored Meredith by giving him . . . by giving him whatever it was he had offered in the changing room. But the idea that he should care whether or not Meredith came to his rooms was patently absurd, as was the idea that Carruthers had been using Meredith as a tool in his war against Rudd. Meredith simply didn't matter that much.
Cheered by this thought, and warmed by Carruthers's politeness toward a third-ranker from a rival House, Meredith opened his mouth to make another light joke . . . and at that moment he heard Rudd, talking loudly as he entered the library, just to show that he could.
Carruthers's gaze flicked toward the door, where Rudd was raising his voice as he spoke with the second-ranker librarian, who was timidly suggesting that he speak in lower tones. Then Carruthers said quietly, "I'm heading over to the tuck-shop to buy some sweets. Would you care to join me? The shop is usually deserted at this time of day, so we'd be able to hear ourselves speak for once." He gave a smile that did not quite reach his eyes.
That smile – the same one he had given in the changing room – made Meredith step backwards, as much as the vision of what Rudd would do if he discovered Meredith and Carruthers alone together in the tuck-shop. "No," Meredith whispered. "Thank you. Sir. No."
He fled then, his instinct to avoid pain overcoming his instinct to await dismissal. Yet even as he fled, part of him whispered, Failed as a master, and you can't even succeed as a servant?
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