Squire (18 page)

“This is the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Kel heard Neal remark. “May I play?” He stepped among them to catch the fan. There was no time to stop him. The women gasped - and Neal caught the shukusen base down. He nearly dropped it, not expecting the weight of steel.

“What is this thing?” he demanded, staring at the fan with wide green eyes.

Yuki walked over to him. “There is a saying in the Islands,” she told him stiffly. “Beware the women of the warrior class, for all they touch is both decorative and deadly.” Taking the fan, she went to a pile of tent poles and picked one up. She carried it back to Neal, unfurled the fan with a snap, and slashed the open edge across the pole. A piece of wood dropped to the ground. She folded the fan with another snap and entered the princess’s tent.

Shinkokami and Lady Haname followed her, bowing politely to Neal as they passed, their eyes crinkled with hidden laughter. Neal still had not recovered from the sight of the pretty fan slicing the pole like sausage.

Kel patted his back. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Yuki cools off pretty quickly.”

Neal looked at her. “She’s angry?”

“I think you frightened her,” Kel replied. “You frightened me. Meathead.” She cuffed him lightly. “Didn’t your mother teach you not to grab things? You could have lost all of your fingers. I doubt your father, good as he is, could put them back on.”

“What was that?” Neal demanded.

“A shukusen - a lady fan,” Kel told him. “If a lady thinks she’s in danger, but doesn’t want to complicate things by openly carrying a weapon, she takes a shukusen.”

“I want one,” the queen said. Kel looked around. They had gathered an audience during their game. It included her majesty, Buri, some local ladies who looked appalled or fascinated, and a stocky female a head shorter than Kel. She wore a dark blue silk tunic over a white linen shirt, full blue silk trousers, and calf-high boots. A sword and dagger hung at her belt: they looked expensive and well used. Coppery hair brushed her shoulders; she regarded Kel with violet eyes.

Kel swallowed. Alanna the Lioness, King’s Champion, Baroness of Pirate’s Swoop and heir of Barony Olau, gave her the tiniest of nods, then walked into the crowd.

Kel took a breath, remembering Queen Thayet’s comments. “I’m sure the princess would be glad to have one made for you, your majesty.”

“I’m going to ask right now,” the queen said. She entered the princess’s tent.

“You could have said the Lioness was here!” Kel whispered to Neal.

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I? And I didn’t exactly have the chance,” he pointed out dryly. “We just rode in. Since when do you call me Meathead?”

“Since you act like one,” retorted Kel. “Let’s find something to drink. I’m parched.” She dragged him to the food vendors’ tents as the crowd broke up.

eleven
CLEON

The progress crawled south, then east. Kel discovered far more was planned than the introduction of the heir’s foreign bride-to-be and the production of noble spectacles. At the heart of every camp was a complex of tents where work was done: a new census, a survey of roads for a new, up-to-date map, and a study of local laws and medicines.

The progress also gave the Crown a means to discipline noble houses that had proved troublesome in the past. Fiefs Tirragen, Malven, Eldorne, and Sinthya all were invited to host the monarchs at extremely expensive banquets. Raoul, Kel, and two squads of Third Company got to carry those invitations to less-than-happy recipients.

On the road to Eldorne to deliver one such message, Kel asked, “Why do these fiefdoms have to pay? I thought the king’s careful not to burden the people he visits.”

“Except to create an example,” Raoul explained. “Gary - Gareth the Younger - calls it ‘obedience through poverty.’ See, Jon’s grandfather, King Jasson, started it when his wars doubled the realm’s size. He let most conquered nobles keep their lands. To make sure they would be good boys and girls, he went on progress and made them pay for everything. When he was done, they couldn’t afford handkerchiefs, let alone raise money to rebel. Jonathan is being restrained. He hopes that with just the knowledge of these four draining their treasuries to host us, others who might try the same thing will reconsider.” He glanced at Kel. “It isn’t just that a girl is a squire or that Joren got a fine for kidnapping a servant. We’re all part of a quiet war that’s taking place across the Eastern Lands.” To Lerant on his other side he said, “If your grandfather Eldorne waxes too outraged, tell him Barnesh in Maren is cancelling all of his nobles’ royal land grants. They have to petition him to retain their titles and estates, and they get to pay through the nose.” Lerant winced.

They delivered their remaining letters, then rejoined the progress near Fief Eldorne. Once again the train had set a proper camp under the Seneschal’s direction: they would be there for several days. Kel could see that preparations for a new tournament were underway. Riding to their part of the camp, she and Raoul wove in and out of a seemingly endless stream of servants, workmen, and vendors, all carrying burdens.

Raoul reined up to let a group pass them in wagons loaded with wood for building grandstands. “Kel, when do you want to start taking part in tournaments?”

The griffin snapped at Kel as she absently preened him with her fingers. “Wo,” she said firmly, smacking him rightly on the beak. “My lord, it seems a waste of time. Let’s face it, I haven’t beaten you, and I know your work in the saddle better than anyone’s. If I’m going to risk breaking my neck, I’d like to do it when I have a chance to win.”

Raoul began to chuckle. “Kel, I haven’t been unhorsed in, Mithros, a decade.” He grinned at her. “I was born with lead in my behind, I know what I can do and what I can’t, and every buck who thinks he knows the lance comes to try me sooner or later. Before you start thinking you’re no good, get some other opponents.”

It occurred to Kel that after her father, Raoul was the nicest man she’d known. He did his best by her, spoke honestly, and never treated her as anything but an equal.

“Maybe so,” she replied. “But I’ll pick my time.” The griffin looked up at her and shrilled. “Hungry again,” Kel said wearily. “He eats more than I do, and at least I’m getting bigger.”

“So will he,” Raoul told her. “Wait till you see an adult up close.”

“If it’s not trying to kill me, I’ll look all I can,” Kel replied.

They settled into the life of the progress. Kel practiced her weapons with her knight-master and other squires at stops. In camp she resumed glaive training with the queen, the Yamanis, her mother, and Buri. On tournament days she tended Raoul’s armor and weapons. She also made sure Lerant beat her in races to tend Drum after jousting, though she never let the jealous standard-bearer know that she let him win or that she liked the help. It never seemed to occur to him that with a griffin to mind, it was to her advantage to let him cover some of a squire’s traditional jobs.

She continued to refuse offers to compete. Raoul did it because he was challenged to fight at every stop and didn’t mind showing people that his reputation was well earned. Kel was happy just to assist him and cheer when he rode Drum onto the tilting field.

The weeks of social engagements were blurring together in Kel’s mind when the progress reached Fief Sinthya. She had already been here to deliver the monarchs’ “request” that its master, a boy of nine, and his mother, who had been spared the old lord’s fate when his treason was uncovered, put a lavish meal before their hosts. Kel was so used to the banquet routine that her mind was on other things as she carried the finger bowl and towel to Lord Raoul’s table. As she offered them to his female companion, she looked into violet eyes.

Kel dropped the bowl, splattering Lady Alanna’s indigo skirts and Lord Raoul’s spruce green hose. “I’m sorry,” Raoul said wickedly as Kel mopped up the spill. “Should I have warned you?”

Kneeling on the ground, Kel saw Alanna kick Raoul in the shin. “Don’t tease,” the Champion ordered. “Yes, you should have warned her.” To Kel she added, her voice barely audible, “Relax. It’s the only way I can say hello without a hundred people saying I put a good-luck spell on you.”

Kel mumbled something; she didn’t know what. Bowing, she retreated to the service room for a fresh towel and bowl.

“What’s this?” demanded Master Oakbridge, pressing cool, dry hands to her cheeks and forehead. “You are warm, and unusually clumsy. Are you ill?” Kel shook her head. For someone who fussed over the problems she presented, being neither a proper young lady or a proper squire, Master Oakbridge could be irritably kind. “If you are ill, tell me. You have no notion of how a summer cold can travel in a group of people like this.”

“Thank you, sir, I’m fine.” Kel accepted a new bowl and towel from a servant. “I was just surprised by my lord’s dinner partner, that’s all.”

“But surely you’ve met,” Oakbridge said, tugging her tunic until it was straight. Kel shook her head. “Well, she’s not demanding, so relax,” he ordered her. “At least no one can claim she’s magicking you to succeed, not with half the folk here being mages. Go. They’ll bring the first course up before you know it. Don’t forget you have four people to wait on.”

She did, Kel saw as she returned: Harailt of Aili, dean of the royal university and one of Kel’s favorite civilians, shared the table; Lady Haname was his companion. “Forgive me, Master Harailt, Lady Haname,” Kel said, presenting the bowl to them in turn. “I don’t know what came over me.” - They assured her that no offense was taken, and returned to an enthusiastic discussion of Yamani farming.

Kel returned to the service room and took up the first dish, leeks and ginger in almond milk. She served it to all four adults without spilling a drop. “I understand you have the care of a griffin,” Alanna remarked, looking out over the room.

“Yes, Lady Knight,” Kel replied softly. “Daine is trying to find his family now.”

“Doesn’t his care cut into your training?” asked the lady, tasting the puree delicately. “They need to be fed quite often, don’t they? And they are more like wild creatures than pets.” She nodded at Kel’s hands, which were a tapestry of scratches and scars.

“He’s wild, yes,” Kel admitted. “But we get along.”

They spoke of innocent things. If anyone overheard, Alanna’s questions were those anyone might ask. She was well informed about Kel’s weapons skills and training. She even knew about the morning glaive practice and Kel’s years in the Islands.

When Kel presented the last finger bowl and the Champion rinsed her hands, she smiled at Kel. “Once you’re knighted, perhaps you could teach me to use this glaive,” she suggested. “It sounds like a good all-purpose weapon.”

Kel walked to the service hall glowing. The lady took it for granted that Kel would win her shield. She wants me to teach her! Kel thought, elated. She picked up a tray with cups and a pitcher of cordial. Me, teach the Lioness - who could have dreamed? Alanna had gone when Kel returned. Now she sat with the king, talking to young Lord Sinthya.

“Was that so bad?” Raoul asked, pushing back from his chair.

“You could have warned me,” Kel said reproachfully.

“I should have,” he admitted, looking sheepish. “I’m just used to you taking whatever comes without a blink. It never occurred to me you might need a warning.”

Once they were released from banquet service, Kel ate a late supper with her friends among the squires, including Owen, Neal, Merric, and Cleon. Usually some of them walked her back to her tent to watch the griffin’s last feeding of the day. They kept a respectful distance as they looked on. None of them wanted to risk a griffin attack just because Kel’s charge might scratch or bite him. Instead they fed treats to the sparrows and played with Jump as they talked with Kel.

Another thing all of them did was try to keep Owen’s spirits up. “It’s terrible,” he said that night at Fief Sinthya as he scratched Jump’s tattered ears. “I had no idea most knights think having a squire is a pain. I just want to train as a bandit killer, but either the ones who like that have squires, or they say a squire will slow them down. Do you know what Master Oakbridge said?” he demanded, indignant. “He said Myles of Olau wants a secretary. A paper shuffler! And Sir Myles - well, he’s a good fellow, even if he’s forever saying chivalry is unrealistic and too hard on us, but honestly! I’ll never get any field experience with him, unless it’s in skulking and sneaking and invisible inks.” He looked at his friends, woebegone. “I have to take it. This business of being unattached is worse than shuffling papers. Master Oakbridge makes me run errands and draw seating charts until I think I’ll go mad.”

“At least Myles won’t bite your head off if you venture a comment of your own,” Neal said gloomily, tickling the queen sparrow Crown on the chest. “There’s a lot to be said for a good-natured knight-master.”

“Mine’s a decent sort,” Cleon remarked without looking at Kel. “Explains things, doesn’t expect you to read his mind. I’d best get back. He’s in the archery competitions tomorrow, and I think his bowstring’s fraying.” It was a signal for all of the boys to wander off into the night.

Kel settled the animals and changed into her nightdress, feeling low. And why? Cleon hadn’t tried to kiss her or get her alone. He hadn’t made excuses to linger after the others left. That was good. It saved her from hurting his feelings. Had he followed up on that kiss, she would have been forced to tell him that she was concentrating on her knighthood alone. That would be awkward, unpleasant, depressing.

I suppose the kiss didn’t mean anything to him, Kel told herself, not for the first time. Or he’s got a proper girl to admire, someone pretty and small, with big eyes, and hands not all clawed and scarred by an ungrateful immortal she dislikes.

It doesn’t matter, she thought as she lay awake that night. I didn’t like his flirting with me anyway.

“Yap all you like, dog.” That cold voice stopped Kel as she wound between rows of tents, returning from the ladies’ privy. “But a cur dog is all your house whelps. It’s only a matter of time before you turn on the hand that feeds you.”

“Lord Raoul doesn’t think so.” That was Lerant of Eldorne’s voice. Kel frowned.