Crown of Renewal (Legend of Paksenarrion) (37 page)

Once they were seated in the small back garden, Lady Serrostin said, “Galyan tells me you want to talk about Daryan’s squire contract. Is something wrong?”

“The king has given me a task that requires me to be away from my domain for a considerable time,” Dorrin said. “I will not be able to fulfill my part of the contract. Daryan has done nothing wrong—he has, in fact, done everything asked of him.”

“So—you think he should come home?”

“I think he needs another year or two as a squire before he enters knightly training,” Dorrin said. “Though he has matured greatly since he came to me, he is still the youngest of the three and has not reached his full growth.”

“Do you think he can make knight, with … with everything?” Serrostin asked.

“In time, certainly. His sword-hand has strength now to manage a light blade and in time will be stronger. As I wrote, his left hand has grown a thumb, though it is still rather sticklike and not as strong as the other. He walks, rides, and dances with grace and no pain. He wants to continue his training.”

“I don’t know,” Serrostin said. He looked at his wife.

“I had an idea,” Dorrin said. “Duke Arcolin might agree to take a squire who could serve under his recruit captain in the north. Daryan’s not old enough to go to Aarenis—”

“Certainly not!”

“He could learn skills with Arcolin—or Arcolin’s recruit cohort—that will serve him well as both a knight-candidate and a lord.”

“Duke Arcolin had a squire with him when his son was confirmed as his heir,” Serrostin said.

“His son?”

“His wife’s son, really. She was a widow, you know,” Lady Serrostin said. “Duke Arcolin adopted him and brought him down to be formally named his kirgan.”

“So he has a squire already,” Serrostin said. “Will he want another?”

“His lady might find one useful up at the stronghold,” Dorrin said. “You might ask. I will be glad to give Daryan a good name.”

“I like the woman he married,” Lady Serrostin said. “Calla, her name is. Very sensible, very sociable. I might write her.” She glanced at her husband.

“I suppose the Marrakai girl will go home,” Serrostin said. “They’ll send an escort for her.”

“I brought her with me when the king summoned me,” Dorrin said. “She is with her mother now; she wants to enter the Bells.”

“Is she ready?”

“I think so. It will be up to her parents, of course, to decide. If the Bells won’t take her, she could go to Fin Panir.”

“Well,” Serrostin said, leaning back. “I’m glad to hear the problem wasn’t of Daryan’s making. I don’t suppose you can tell us what the king’s task is …”

“Forgive me,” Dorrin said. “I don’t have his permission.”

“Something to do with the war in Aarenis, no doubt,” Serrostin said. “I suppose you heard about the Kostandanyan soldiers marching through here on their way to Valdaire?”

“No … I had not. Why did they want to come, and why did Mikeli let them?” And why had he not told her, his Constable? But it no longer mattered. She would not be Constable or duke by the time she left Vérella.

“We have your friend Arcolin to thank for Mikeli letting them come, though his reasoning made sense to me.” Serrostin repeated what he had been told. “And now, it seems, Rothlin Mahieran and not the king will marry that Kostandanyan princess.”

“Ganlin? She’s …” Dorrin searched for the right words. “Very attractive. I met her in Lyonya when I went to King Kieri’s wedding there.”

“So I hear, through Roly. He says Roth talks about little else these days.” Serrostin leaned forward again, elbows on the table. “But what will you do about Beclan? He’ll need a guardian unless you’re coming back fairly quickly.”

“The king advised me to find a guardian,” Dorrin said.

“Hmm. The king’s given up that absurd notion of keeping Beclan from his family, hasn’t he?”

“Yes. Though he doesn’t want him at court yet.” She hoped the king would change his mind on that, too.

“Well, then, why not ask his father to be his guardian?”

“The king will wish to decide; I’m supposed to find several possibilities. I was thinking of you.”

“No,” Serrostin said without hesitation. “I am not stepping in that wasp nest between Beclan and Lady Mahieran. I would not be able to keep my temper.”

“He should go for knight’s training soon,” Dorrin said. “He would rather the Bells, and the king has said he’ll think about it. There’s always Falk’s Hall. I have already spoken to the Knight-Commander.”

“In Lyonya, that would be,” Serrostin said. “If he’s with the Bells, he’ll be expected to visit his home.”

Lady Serrostin shifted in her seat. “Parlan, if he’s not with his mother—”

“Is she still so …” Dorrin let that trail off; she had no polite words to describe Lady Mahieran, now confined to the Mahieran country house.

“According to Sonder, she’s a very angry, bitter, and confused woman,” Serrostin said. “He thinks she will never recover. The younger children are still living here in Vérella, in the Mahieran house. Sonder says he’s afraid to let them be around his wife unless he is there.”

Dorrin left shortly after, and spent the afternoon in the same kind of tedious business as the morning. She was glad when it was time to go to the Marrakai house for dinner. The Duke had indeed arrived and explained to Dorrin about his errand.

“Aris and Camwyn were close friends, as Juris and the king are. He was first into the scene and did his best to treat Camwyn’s wounds. Camwyn’s injuries and then his absence have been hard for him. He’s continued to do his duty as a senior page, but he’s struggled. Juris suggested it was time to let Aris raise and train his own horse. I agreed. So I brought up a mare near foaling, and she’s in the royal stables now. We Marrakai are all horse-mad. If anything can help Aris over this, it’s a horse. But come into my study. What’s this about Gwenno leaving your service?”

Dorrin explained again. Marrakai nodded.

“I understand. Yes, of course you can cancel the contract. And if you’re sure she’s ready for the Bells, I’ll talk to the right people—though she would be the only girl at present.”

“What about the Company of Gird in Fin Panir? Aris was there, wasn’t he?”

“In the junior school, yes. But I’m not sending any of my family to Fintha. Too dangerous. I don’t suppose you’ve seen any mage-hunters over where you are.”

“No, none. But surely not in Fin Panir itself. The Marshal-General spoke out against it, didn’t she?”

“She did. She’s been physically attacked—seriously wounded is what I heard—in Fin Panir itself. Riots in the city. Children taken, tested for magery, and the ones that the mage-hunters believed are mages killed.” He shook his head. “No, no daughter of mine is going to Fintha. It’s the Bells or nothing. She won’t like it if they refuse, but I can send her down to the country, where she can ride horses and play at being a soldier without causing talk.”

Dorrin opened her mouth to say that Gwenno was far beyond “playing” at being a soldier, but … it was not her concern anymore. This was between Gwenno and her parents.

At dinner, Gwenno appeared in a dark green gown with her hair up: a proper daughter of the house. She did not look happy, but neither was she openly rebellious, as the Gwenno of two years before would have been. With none of the younger children there—all were at the country house for the season—the meal was quieter than the one Dorrin remembered so well, the day Gwenno had become her squire.

After dinner came the ceremony: the salt, the tearing of the original contract, the token gifts back and forth. “I have one gift I did not expect to give you at this time,” Marrakai said. “But you say you are going a long journey. I have seen your horses, of course. Good horses, well-trained, useful mounts for an officer. But not Marrakai-bred. Next to the Windsteed’s foals, I would place Marrakai horses best. Will you accept one? Not just for the care you have given my daughter while she was your squire but as a friend?”

“I may have to journey by sea,” Dorrin said. “I cannot risk a Marrakai-bred on such a journey. But I thank you for the offer.”

“Ah. I understand. If by chance you should travel by way of Lyonya, you might do me a favor, then. Kieri Phelan favors Marrakai-breds, as you know. He has with him two stallions, but he has bought a mare. I brought her along with the one in foal and was going to ask Juris to take her to the border at Harway. But if you are going that way, you could deliver her for me.”

“That I could do, and gladly,” Dorrin said.

“When are you leaving, do you know?”

“Tomorrow I have another meeting with the king, so at the earliest, day after tomorrow. Perhaps even a day or so longer.”

“Good. Send me word tomorrow if I do not see you.”

That night, Dorrin’s ride back to her house was uneventful. The next day’s conference with the king completed all the official business of transferring her title to Beclan and freeing her from her ducal oath to King Mikeli. On the matter of guardianship, the king surprised her with his decision: he would give Beclan the choice of returning to his own family name while remaining Dorrin’s heir or staying a Verrakai, and in either case he would appoint Beclan’s father, Duke Mahieran, and two other dukes as guardians of the estate until Beclan reached majority. They could not refuse him, he said with a smile.

When she left the palace at last, nothing now held her to Vérella—or Tsaia—but a lifetime of memories and the people she’d known.

She and her escort set out for the Verrakai estate the next morning. Nostalgia sat heavy on her shoulders, reminding her at every turn that she might never see the city again … the familiar inns on the road south … the houses, the fields. The young Marrakai-bred mare she rode, a handsome chestnut, and the regalia’s palpable joy at being with her and on the way were all that kept her from an even darker mood. The mare was everything claimed about Marrakai-bred horses but inclined to spook at surprises for the first day or so.

Once back on her own land, the new-made road reminded Dorrin how much more she had planned to do. Even if Beclan chose to complete the work, she might never see it. Those fields and orchards would be his accomplishment, not hers. But it was a road where no
road had been for generations. A road with the signs of travel on it—footprints, hoofprints, even cart tracks.

By the time she arrived back at the house, she was resigned to leaving and ready to explain to her people—including her remaining squires—what she could of what the king had said and what would happen next. She gathered the household in the front hall, the only room big enough for all of them.

“Grekkan will remain as steward here, and Master Feddrin will continue to supervise the children. The rest of you will retain your present positions. All the plans I had made, the works begun for roads, quarries, and so on, will continue.” She paused; no one said anything, though Farin had gone red in the face, which meant she was about to explode into speech. Dorrin went on quickly. “The king felt it best, since the duration of the task he gave me is uncertain, to assume that my heir succeeds to the estate. I brought with me copies of the papers that complete this transaction.”

“But—” Beclan had gone as white as salt. “I’m not ready—” He stopped as she held up her hand.

“As my heir is indeed underage to manage all affairs, the king appointed guardians to oversee its management. When Kirgan Verrakai is of age and has become a knight, he will then be invested with a title and the guardianship will end. In the meantime, as I said, the situation will remain as it is, including the plans for improvements and the settling of incomers.” She took a deep breath. “I will speak to many of you individually. At this time, however, I will speak to my kirgan and to Daryan Serrostin in my office. Grekkan, please hold yourself in readiness. The rest of you should return to your duties.”

In her office, she handed Daryan a letter from his father. “He’s seeking another squire position for you, Daryan,” she said.

Daryan held the unopened letter and said, “I could go with you—I could be a help.”

“I cannot take you, Daryan. Nor would your father consent even if it were possible. Your father will send an escort for you in a few days, he told me. Go read your letter.”

Daryan left the office. Beclan, still pale, said nothing. “Your situation is more complicated, Beclan. Two of the people approached as
possible guardians suggested that Duke Mahieran should be named instead.”

“They must know I’m not supposed to meet my father,” Beclan said, shifting in his chair.

“They do. Not everyone was in favor of how your situation was handled, and after magery began to appear in others, including the king’s brother, more took the position that you were being treated unfairly. The king … made two suggestions.”

“You said he had decided—”

“He decided to make two suggestions. The most important, for you, is that you may choose to be restored to your family—and your name—”

“No!” Beclan jerked upright. “No, I will not!”

Dorrin stared. She had not expected this reaction whether he took that choice or not. “Why?” she said, folding her hands on her desk.

Beclan did not relax; he stood rigid, breathing hard. “They—he—threw me away. You saved me—
you
made my father bring you there the night they attacked; you saved my life. And then you accepted me as your kirgan and gave me your name. I could tell you didn’t want to, but you did. You didn’t hold it against me that the king forced you. You made it as easy for me as you could, and … I am
not
a Mahieran. I
am
a Verrakai. I am
proud
to be a Verrakai and your heir. You brought honor to this name, and I swear I will bring honor to this name.”

“Beclan—” She paused. What could she say, in the face of such vehemence, that would make a difference? What would calm him and help him come to rational thought? “Sit down, Beclan,” she said. “You’re shouting.”

“I am determined.” Beclan sat down. “I’m sorry I shouted. But I am determined. Unless you tell me differently, that you don’t want me as your heir now—or the king commands that I must not be—”

“You are my heir,” Dorrin said, “as long as you want to be; the king did not command you to give it up. But I could wish you were less angry with your family. And the king.”