Noble Beginnings (10 page)

Dorran's stomach plummeted and began to tie
itself in knots. After a few seconds to recover from his shock he
was surprised to find his mouth opening on its own, not giving it
anymore thought he decided to follow its lead. "Myriel told me to
meet with you," he confessed. "I was asking her why you turned down
Edith's petition."

Thea nodded slowly, her gaze calculating. "I
see. Why do you think I made such a decision?"

"I honestly have no idea," Dorran admitted.
"It's true that we can ill afford the muster, but there are many
women, including Edith, who are more than willing to fight…..and
frankly, without them, it would appear that we have no way to meet
muster."

"I see," Thea said slowly. "Can you think of
no possible explanation?"

"Well..." Dorran frowned. "When I put it
together with your other responses.” Dorran’s eyes widened and pain
started to swirl through his body as everything began to slide into
place. “You can’t be thinking that disobeying the king's orders is
the best course of action. Admittedly, I don't know much about what
the consequences of such an action might be, but..." He trailed
off, then concluded, "I just don't know what to think about it, to
be honest."

Thea regarded him for a long moment before
speaking again; when she did, her voice was distressingly final.
"Dorran, you have trained in fighting so long that it would seem
you have learned to think as a soldier. Soldiers are invaluable and
important, of course, but one of their frequent failings is that
they forget to view the world as it stands outside the orders they
are given. That is not to say that disobedience is advisable in
some, or even most cases but sometimes it is the only course of
action that makes sense.”"

Dorran considered this, then shook his head.
"I see the beginning of the meaning in your words, Mother, but I am
not sure I understand fully." He took a deep breath. "You're caught
between two clashing blades. I understand that, but there are ways
in which you might be able to pass this muster, and you don't seem
to be making a full effort to do so. I cannot see the benefits to
what appears to be your current course of action."

The words were some of the most difficult he
had said in his life. He adjusted the grip of his hands behind his
back, looked at the floor, and waited for his mother's reaction,
however reproving it might be.

"You seem to have a healthy fear of the
King's opinion," Thea said pensively, startling him into looking up
at her. She was looking at him appraisingly, with no hint of anger.
"But what of that of the people? After all, they must comprise our
soldiers, not to mention the hands that feed and provide for
them."

Dorran considered this carefully before
answering. "I think I'm worried about that most of all," he said.
"Undoubtedly the King's muster poses great difficulty for many
people, but the people keep sending their reports of their
inability to meet requirements, and you have yet to address how the
discrepancy will be met. Atop that, you deny women like Edith, who
would be happy to volunteer to lessen the strain on the dwindling
male population, the opportunity to fight. I know that I cannot
make sense of it, and I fear what conclusions others might
reach."

"I see," Thea sad, sitting back in her chair.
Then, "what you have yet to understand is what exactly it will mean
if this muster is met."

"What do you mean?" Dorran asked.

"Well, consider it for a moment. What would
happen were I to do as you suggest, to send female soldiers and
scrape together every last resource to outfit them? Even if we were
to meet the King's every specification and beyond, where would we
be?"

Dorran considered this for a moment, but Thea
answered the question for him. "We would be relieved, of course.
And the King would continue to be pleased with us. Indeed, he would
believe us a worthy and valuable resource perhaps even, among the
struggling duchies, the first to contact in the event of the need
for another muster."

Dorran stood silent for a long moment,
absorbing her implication. Finally, he began, "Do you really
think…"

"The King is also in an impossible
situation," Thea interrupted him smoothly. "And, unlike us, he has
no reason to see Farlan as a prime concern. Can you see, then, why
I must consider options that the King does not when he sends his
orders?"

Dorran nodded.

"Good." Thea sat back in her chair. "One of
the things I have attempted to teach you recently Dorran, is the
way that leaders must listen to the concerns of the people below
them as well as the orders of those in command. You seem to have
learned the beginnings of this lesson, since you mention worry for
the opinion of the people," Thea remarked casually. "You're right,
of course it is important for a ruler to keep a close ear to the
ground, to hear what is said of them by their subjects. You have
met with the muster officials, which has informed your opinion so
far. I wonder how the opinion of those who are not warriors might
influence your opinion." She raised her hands and clapped three
times, and one of her guards hurried into the room. "See if you can
have Myriel brought here," she said to him, then sent him out
again.

It was less than a minute before the servant
in question appeared. Dorran thought her expression seemed faintly
apprehensive, and wondered if she had been waiting in the area of
the council chamber since he had entered.

"Myriel," Thea said shortly, "I want you to
take Dorran with you on your errand tonight. Disguise him so that
his identity will go unnoticed. This is for his benefit, not
directly for mine, so if you believe he will be an undue hindrance,
please feel free to refuse."

Myriel shook her head. "I am quite sure he
won't be, my lady. It would be my pleasure to have him."

Thea smiled briefly. "Good. You are
dismissed," she said firmly, and Myriel curtsied her understanding
before leaving the room. Thea looked back at Dorran and, to his
surprise, smiled softly.

"I believe you may find what you learn with
Myriel to be informative," she said, "though perhaps not so much as
you would wish. I can understand your frustration, my son but I
cannot tell you my plans in full yet. I am aware of how
unsatisfying this must be for you, but you must forgive me. I will
let you know when I believe you are ready to truly listen."

"Of course, Mother," he replied automatically
his voice tinged with both disappointment and confusion.

She smiled at him patiently, as though she
knew that he had answered without meaning the words. "Rest assured
that I will tell you more in time," she said. "For now, what your
sisters and Myriel tell you will have to be enough. You are
dismissed."

Dorran bowed and left the room, deep in
thought.

Myriel, unusually brisk and businesslike,
arrived at the door to his room a few hours later with a bundle
under her arm.

"First of all, my lord," Myriel said, "I'd
like to ask you to wear these." She offered him a neatly-folded
stack of clothing. Dorran set it down on the bed and lifted the
first item from the pile, then raised an eyebrow at her.

"You'll be too noticeable where we're going,
my lord," Myriel said in explanation, sounding matter-of-fact and
not the least bit apologetic. "You're a young, healthy male, and
those are rare enough that when people see you, they're going to
look twice. Being recognized will only draw us unwanted
attention."

Dorran looked at the long, beaded skirt in
his hands, and then back to Myriel. It only made sense for him to
be disguised, but...

Myriel gave him a slightly conciliatory
smile. "There's no reason you can't wear trousers… underneath."

In that case, he supposed, there was no real
reason to complain. Ten minutes later, he was dressed in the dark,
straight-cut women's garb and following Myriel down the hallway
with the hood of his cloak up, desperately hoping that no one would
see them.

Their walk ended up being a fairly short one,
but it was passed in silence. There were only a few passersby on
the roads they took, but Dorran supposed that there was no reason
to allow the possibility that his voice might draw attention to
himself. Myriel did not tell him what they were going to do,
however, and only by arriving at its front steps did Dorran learn
that their destination was the Silver Crown Tavern.

The only words Myriel spared him were "Be
sure to keep your hood up, and try not to talk if you can avoid
it." She said the words softly into his ear right before opening
the door and holding it for him. He tugged at his hood to pull it
down further over his face, took a deep breath, and ducked inside,
prepared to follow Myriel's lead for whatever was about to
happen.

What did happen was quite straightforward, at
least at first. Myriel found them a table and ordered two meals,
paying at the counter with a smile before walking back to the dim
corner in which she had deposited him.

"I don't know if you've eaten," she said to
him quietly, "but doing so will help us avoid drawing attention to
ourselves."

He nodded his assent he hadn't eaten yet,
anyway and ate quickly, keeping his head down. Due to the
rationing, the meal was actually more than he was used to.

As he ate, he was surprised to see Edith step
briefly up to them on her way to retrieve empty plates and bowls.
He almost didn't recognize her at first her hair, long enough to
look feminine but too short to pull back efficiently, was pinned
and strapped down to an inch of its life around her face by clips
and ribbons she never bothered wearing in the barracks. He'd known
she worked here, but he had never seen her working the few times
he'd stopped by. He wondered who had forced her to tame her hair he
would prefer to know anyone that intimidating ahead of time, so he
could avoid them in the future.

"Hello, Myriel," Edith said with her typical
straight-faced civility.

Myriel waved at her with a small smile.

"You two know each other?" Dorran
murmured.

Edith shrugged. "After a fashion," she said,
already walking away. "Keep your hood up," she said quietly,
unknowingly echoing Myriel, right before she walked out of
earshot.

Dorran stared after her, frowning, but Myriel
just gave him a shrug and a half smile. "I come here frequently,
and she does live here," she explained quietly. "She's not exactly
one for talking, but we do see each other on occasion."

That made sense. He waited until he had
finished eating and set his plate down at the corner of the table
before speaking again. "So, why did you bring me here?"

Myriel's face turned serious. "You'll find
out soon enough, my lord." She pushed her own empty plate away from
herself and stood. "Now follow me, and please keep your head
down."

Dorran nodded and followed her down a hallway
and into a back room. He thought it was empty at first, but then
realized that a woman was sitting in the corner not looking
particularly suspicious, but just happening to be still and
shrouded in low light.

"Myriel," the woman said in greeting,
standing and offering her a brief handshake. "It's a pleasure to
see you. I hope you are well."

"Alice. I am," Myriel said, following the
woman back to the table and taking a seat. A discreet gesture from
her encouraged Dorran to do the same. "How about you?"

"I'm doing all right." Alice paused slightly,
looking over at Dorran. "Ah, but if I may ask..."

"She's a friend," Myriel said firmly, and
Dorran was vaguely disturbed by the ease with which Myriel slipped
into talking about him as female. "I'm under orders to have her
with me though I can't tell you whose, of course. The fact is
though, that I trust her. She won't say anything; she's just here
to observe. Is that agreeable?"

"I suppose so," Alice said easily. "If you
don’t mind a third party, I certainly don't. Now, I've been
wandering Farlan north to south for the last month to see the
climate, and I only got word about the muster order after I'd
already left, so my information isn't anywhere near complete, but
what do you want to know?"

"Reactions," Myriel said firmly. "I've got my
ear to the ground here in the capital, of course, and I've heard
from some of the muster leaders, but that's nothing compared to
passing through the countryside as a guest. What have you
heard?"

"Plenty…Though I wasn't meant to hear all of
it." Alice smiled crookedly and pushed a lock of her auburn hair
out of her face. Dorran could see even in the low light that her
skin was thoroughly freckled, but couldn't make out the color of
her eyes it was too dark. "Not that the people are secretive, but I
was a newcomer. They wanted to give me the clean, straightforward
version when they could. Nice to know that there's still
old-fashioned hospitality about." Her smile faded. "Even the
straight-laced stuff's getting toxic this time around, though. I'll
admit it, I'm worried."

Myriel set her elbows on the table, folding
her hands together and leaning forward. "Explain?"

"Everybody's talking about how little they
can afford this next muster. Some of them are hoping the Duchess
will find some way to call it off, or at least lessen it. In some
areas, they just don't have the men to spare anymore, so they're
just talking about the burden of supplies they already know they
can't meet the quota for their area, so they've just given up."

Myriel frowned at this, but didn't look
surprised. Dorran was interested to hear that the hopelessness
towards the muster was stronger, not weaker, than the leaders he'd
met had communicated, and wondered who had the more accurate
picture of the situation.

"And the families that do have sons...there's
panic," Alice continued. "The oldest men everywhere are arguing
standards for fitness to try to spare the younger ones, but people
are beginning to suspect that even that is no use. There have even
been rumors of mothers poisoning their sons…not lethally, but
enough so that they won't be fit to leave for weeks or even
months." She shook her head. "Half the time the rumors say the sons
are in on it. It's getting bad, Myriel."