DISCLAIMER: Tortall and its inhabitants belong to Tamora
Pierce, and used with her (indirect) permission.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank God, the battle ends in this
chapter! Now I can let the fun stuff
begin: the Yamani court, character development, romance, squire-hood, etc. Some stuff will be similar to Tammy's--for
example, I won't describe Progressives and Conservatives as
"traditionalist" and "non-traditionalist," as I did in my
original posting of Chapter One (before I read Squire).
Chapter Nine: Integrity (or lack-thereof)
Kel trotted up the stairs, running her left hand along the
wall to keep her balance. In her right
hand she carried her practice glaive, ready to wield. At the top of the staircase she paused, peering through the
dimness in hopes of spotting Joren.
There were only three torches lit along the walkway and a
sentry was looking over the wall. Kel
had been undetected.
She crept over, trying to figure out who he was. He was much too large to be one of her
fellow squires. His shoulders were
broader than Sir Nualt, so she guessed it was Sir Jerel.
She pressed her chalk-covered glaive to his back. "Drop the bow," she hissed. "You're dead, Sir Jerel."
He gave a wry grin as he looked at her over his
shoulder. "Well done, Squire
Keladry. I see that Lord Wyldon as not
exaggerated about your skills."
"Thank you," Kel said, unsure of what else to
say. She saluted quickly and headed
along the walkway.
The next sentry post was empty. In their last Strategy and Tactics lecture, Lord Wyldon had
stressed that defense lines in castles or forts, or even camps at the tops of
hills, didn't need an excessive amount of archers, as long as they had a clear
view and good range. So Joren's
still a fairly good student, Kell thought, even if he doesn't care for
the Code of Chivalry.
At the next post she saw Joren. He was sitting on a merlon, book in hand. His bow was on the floor--clearly he had not
been expecting an attack. His piercing
blue eyes flicked up from his book as Kel stepped out of the shadows.
"I deserve some explanations," Kel said
forcefully, wielding her glaive.
"YOU deserve?" Joren asked incredulously. "What, Keladry, do you deserve other
than punishment for defying the Gods and acting like something you're
not?" He set his book aside and
unsheathed his sword.
Kel fought to keep her face Yamani-smooth. "Is that why you tried to kill me with
that arrow? Because I've defied the
Gods?" She took a step closer to
him. "Then why did it not strike
me dead, if that's what the Gods wish?"
"Don't try to play logic games with me," Joren
snapped. "You've been spending too
much time with that idiot scholar."
Kel bristled at the unfair description of Neal. "And you've been spending too much time
with rigid, conservative knights who are so wrapped up in tradition that they
refuse to acknowledge that women are capable of protecting the realm!"
Joren smiled with mock sweetness. "Did I strike a nerve? I can't recall you ever having yelled
before." He brought his sword up
quickly in a crescent-shaped arc. Kel
was lucky to block it with her glaive.
Joren scowled fiercely.
"You're going to die, bitch."
Kel pushed back with all her strength, knocking Joren too
the floor. She stood over him, glaive
blade resting on his chest. His tunic
was now marked with chalk, but Kel could hardly believe it. How could he give in so easily?
Before she could throw a final insult his way, he knocked
her legs out from under her. Kel found
herself on the ground, and Joren scrambled to his knees, crouching above
her. Her glaive had been knocked aside
and the cold blade of Joren's sword was flat against her neck.
"Dishonorable wench," he growled, leaning low
over her. His eyes flashed angrily as
he pressed his sword and his body against her.
She could feel blood trickling down the side of her neck.
Kel's eyes grew wide with fear. There was no telling what her was capable of doing. His breath was hot against on her cheeks but
his eyes were cold and icy.
"You're as worthless as a whore.
You're a liability in battle because all the men will want to bed you
rather than fight. They'll protect you
instead of the realm because they'll fall under your spell, the same way those
Progressive knights have with the Champion."
Kel pushed futily against him, but her strength was no
match for Joren's quiet rage. "Get
off of me, Joren," she hissed.
"You don't know what you're talking about!"
Joren let out a low hiss.
"Don't I?" With a
disgusted sneer, he lowered his mouth to hers in a forceful kiss. Kel continued to press against him to no
avail. Finally she bit down on his
lower lip as hard as she could. Joren
yanked back away from her, holding his hand to his bleeding mouth. "You bitch!"
"Get off of her, you miserable cur!" Kel heard
Neal shout from the direction of the stairs.
Had he followed her? She was
alarmed to know that she hadn't noticed his footsteps behind her.
Neal launched himself across the walkway, attacking Joren
with a wide swing of his sword. Joren
moved quickly to defend, slicing Kel's skin further. He took no notice of Kel's bleeding neck, his fierce eyes locked
on Neal as they dueled.
Kel felt someone lift her into an upright position and
place her a piece of cloth along her neck.
"If you sit up and hold this handkerchief tight you
should be okay." Conal's voice was
reassuring and calming. Kel was a
little grateful that it was Conal helping her, rather than one of the more
intimidating knights.
Kel said nothing, holding her brother's handkerchief
against the wound as she watched Neal and Joren fight. Joren was good--he'd always been one of the
better fighters--but Neal had a few years of experience. He was fast. Kel feared, however, that Joren's fury would be great enough to
give him the duel.
"Help him," she urged Conal, who had not
loosened his protective hold on her shoulders.
He shook his head sternly. "It will be over soon.
We sent Sacherell to locate Wyldon.
He's about somewhere, overseeing the rest of the battle. I volunteered to look after you,
Kelly."
Kel winced at the childhood nickname. "What will happen now?"
Conal shrugged noncomitally. "You know what mother says.
'Ichigo ichie.'"
Kel nodded. 'Live
in the moment'--the Yamani phrase usually associated with the art of tea. But it meant so much more than the
translation allowed--it meant to enjoy the fullness of life without the worries
of what the next moment would bring.
Kel heard Lord Wyldon's familiar stomp along the walkway
just as Neal knocked Joren's sword out of his hand. "Give up," Neal said darkly.
Joren looked at Neal, his eyes full of rage. "What a waste of talent you are,
fighting to defend everything she is."
He spat at Neal before pushing past him.
"Stop right there, Joren of Stone
Mountain." Wyldon's voice was
lower and colder than Kel had ever heard it before. He appeared out of the darkness with Sirs Sacherell and
Paxton. Kel found a bit of happiness at
the site of Jump trailing behind the Training Master; she had missed him during
the scenario. "You're coming back
to my office quarters."
The training master glanced at the chalk smeared across
Joren's chest and then looked at Kel, nodding slightly. "Well done, Mindelan. And for the love of Mithros--Queenscove!
Start healing!" With a sharp turn
he walked backed toward the staircase.
Paxton followed, one hand tightly gripping Joren's arm.
Neal scurried over, removing Kel's hand from the
wound. "The wound isn't too bad,
but the bleeding hasn't stopped. I can
at least take some of the pain away before you go to the healer's to have it
cleaned and mended, though."
Kel felt the coolness of Neal's Gift entering her
body. It was soothing and it made her
drowsy. Her eyes drooped and her mind
slipped into silly, lucid dreams about Neal.
"Someone should take her to my father," she
vaguely heard him say. There was a shuffle
of sounds and Kel felt herself being lifted into someone's arms. There was a slight brush against her
forehead--a kiss? "Be
careful," she heard Neal say.
"She's pretty weak from the healing."
In her dreamy state Kel wondered if the kiss had been from
Neal. She sighed happily, feeling silly
and girlish--but content.
*****
When Kel woke up the next morning, she was in the
infirmary. Healers shuffled about,
helping the few patients sharing her ward: a page who had broken his wrist in
hand-to-hand combat, a sentry guard with a cough, a Mithran priest with a
headache. One of the healers came over
to Kel to talk to her about her injury.
"You have guests," Duke Baird greeted her ten
minutes later, guiding a row of squired to her cot. "They've been waiting for you to wake up."
Kel sat up slowly, still feeling light-headed from the
healing. In addition to stitching her
neck, the healers had also fixed up all of her other bumps and scratches from
her training. Merric, Neal, Cleon, and
Roald approached her, expressions of relief on their faces.
"You're not in class?" Kel asked, confused.
Cleon shook his head.
"We're just supposed to draw up detailed reports of the events so
we can study them in Tactics and Strategy class. Lord Wyldon says he'll address the scenario in tomorrow's
lessons."
"He's waiting for you to get better," Roald
chimed in. "Well, that and Joren
finishing off his punishment work."
Merric snorted.
"Hard labor in the armory--all day," he answered Kel's
unspoken question. "It was Sir
Paxton's decision, and he's as much said that Joren isn't going to get off easy
for breaking the rules."
Neal sat on the end of the bed, inspecting Kel
professionally. "You're feeling
better, though, aren't you?"
Kel nodded, smiling.
"I was told that a young mage was pestering these healers all
night, making sure I was all right."
Neal ducked his head as the others laughed.
Roald pulled out a glossy white stone attached to a chain
around his neck. "This charm shows
me magic if I want to see it. Will I
see a dark green aura around our Kel to show that you've been stuffing her full
of your Gift?" he asked Neal.
"Go ahead and see," Neal sniffed
indignantly. "Your token will show
you nothing, because my father's Gift is nearly identical."
Duke Baird, who happened to be helping a patient in the
next bed, grinned wryly at the group of squires. "Rest assured, your Highness, that Keladry has been given as
much of Neal's magic as my own."
"Alas," Neal sighed dramatically. "A knife in the back from the man who
gave me life, I'm stricken to the
core."
"But where did you get this token?" Duke Baird
inquired, changing the subject.
"I've only seen one of its kind before."
Road's eyes grew wide and his face became flushed. "It was a present," he murmured.
Cleon, sensing his friend's embarrassment and discomfort,
changed the topic of conversation.
"So, Kel-darling, tell us what happened atop the wall last
night. The way Queenscove tells it, he
saved you from a long, suffering death at the hands of Joren, an ogre, and
sixty Scanran bandits."
Kel arched one eyebrow at Neal.
"I only said
that I came to your aid, and possibly saved you form a fate worse than
death," Neal defended himself.
A fate worse than death, indeed, Kel
thought, remembering Joren's sneer and his kiss. She swallowed thickly, looking at the overprotective circle of
squires around her bed. "No,"
she said in a low voice. "He
wouldn't have done anything that awful.
Why are you defending him? the reasonable part of her mind
questioned. Why do you still insist
that there has to be a shred of decency in him when he's proven otherwise so
many times?
Neal's expression seemed to mirror her thoughts.
"But it was terrifying, and I still have to thank
you," she said softly, taking Neal's hand and squeezing it. "So, thank you, Squire Nealan, for your
first heroic deed."
She won a smile from him, finally, and laughter from the
other squires.
Neal moved closer to her.
"Forgive me, everyone," he said to the other three, "but
I'm about to treat Kel like a girl."
Turning back to her, he leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Mithros, was I glad that I got there
in time."
Kel flushed, hoping Neal couldn't feel her racing
pulse. Her eyes shifted to the other
squires and she saw Cleon staring oddly at her.
"Kel!"
Owen burst into the infirmary, relieving Kel of her concerns about Cleon
and Neal. He flung his arms around her,
kneeling next to the bed. "I heard
what happened and came down as soon as I could! Are you okay? Is Joren in
trouble? Did you still take the
palace? Did you win the whole
thing?"
Kel laughed and answered his questions, making room for
him and the others to sit on the bed with her.
*****
The following morning Kel felt fully rested and refreshed,
which could not be said for Joren, who was cross from his hours in the armory
and the tongue-lashings from every direction.
The knights who joined them on the practice courts did not speak to him,
only to his knight-master. The squires
were back in the social groups again, telling stories about their own
campaigns. Kel noticed that Joren, who
had disassociated from his old group of cronies, was left alone. For a fleeting moment she felt sorry for
him. She had been happy to see Seaver,
Esmond, Neal, and Cleon back at her breakfast table. She wondered if Joren even regretted the actions that had
ostracized him.
The knights and squires grew quiet as Lord Wyldon
approached with the three advisors.
"I'd like to commend you on a job well done," he
said stiffly. "Your advisors told
me they were highly impressed not only with your understanding and intelligence
concerning strategy, but also with your adaptability. We were pleased with the cooperation among groups, and the way
most of you," his eyes rested sternly on Joren, "held to the Honor
Code, and removed yourself from the battle once you had been wounded.
"Without your knowledge," he continued,
"you were awarded points for your battle plans, camp behavior, and combat
sportsmanship. Surviving members,
successful tactics, and utilization of spies also affected your
scores." He paused, looking over
the class of squires. "In the
third place, after totaling the points, we have the infiltrating group under
Cleon of Kennan. Incomplete and
ill-thought plans ruined the chances for this group to lay siege to the
palace. However, their training
routines were solid, behavior was impeccable, and they fought as well as they
could, given the situation."
Kel glanced at Cleon, who looked mortified to have led his
group to a third-place finish. Kel felt
a little guilty herself, since the "ill-thought plans" were partially
hers.
"In second place," Lord Wyldon announced,
"we have the defensive group under Joren of Stone Mountain. Despite the poor sportsmanship of their
leader, these soldiers and their spy practiced good sportsmanship, clean
fighting, and overall excellent skill."
Kel felt Neal clap her on the back. She couldn't believe that her group of
knights and squires had earned the most points!
"Renegade group," Lord Wyldon called over the
murmurs and whispers. "You
displayed positive reaction to adversity, coolness under fire, productive use
of group members, and superior use of spies.
While your strategies were not always excellent, you managed to keep a
majority of your group in tact--and even added to your numbers by gaining the
loyalty of your allies. You succeeded
in the face of great odds, and for that you earned the most points."
The squires cheered, and Kel noticed Sir Raoul whistling,
two fingers in his mouth. Sir Sacherell
sent her a King's Own signal that he'd taught her--the sign that meant
"everything is all right."
"You have earned the privilege of a Market Day this
week," Lord Wyldon announced to Kel's group. "However, given that you were blessed with the misfortunes
of others for all the good you did yourself, I would suggest that maybe you
spend your time studying strategy."
Neal snorted.
"Leave it to the Stump to take away any joy you might have gained
from this," he muttered.
"Queenscove!" Wyldon barked.
"Yes, sir?" Neal responded lazily.
"You are making me regret that I am allowing you and
Esmond to take off half a day of studies as well, for your participation in the
final battle."
Neal's jaw dropped.
Kel was as shocked as her lanky friend.
Even during their final years as pages, when Joren was no longer about
and starting fights, Neal had been granted less free time than anyone else, due
to his sharp tongue and argumentative ways.
He'd rarely had a Market Day.
Kel grinned and clasped his shoulder. They were going to have a better time in the
city with Neal joining them.
Lord Wyldon moved aside and the king stepped up to the
semicircle of squires and knights.
"You have worked hard and have given me hope. Not since my years as a squire have we had
such a promising groups of young fighters.
And this week you have proven to me--to all of us--that you are capable
of utilizing the concepts that you learn off of the practice courts as well. I look forward to what this year will bring,
and how much more you will learn from your knight-masters."
Kel felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. She still had no knight-master, and she
wasn't sure how long her wait would be.
Why were the Knights being so slow? she wondered. Will they be more likely to choose me,
now that I've proven myself in a simulation battle? Will Sir Sacherell or Sir Geoffrey stand up for me, at least?
She had no time for more pondering. Practice was beginning.
Continued in Chapter 10