DISCLAIMER: Tortall and its inhabitants belong to Tamora
Pierce, and used with her (indirect) permission.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: After year and a half year hiatus, I
managed to pick up my old papers and start writing again. I’m also going
through and editing the previous chapters, the ones that weren’t beta-read.
(bad idea.) I don’t know what kick-started me this time, but I’m thanking The Dancing Dove. Haven’t been there? You really should give it a try. Intelligent conversations, fun people, and a
wonderful fanfiction challenge. This
chapter’s dedicated to them, with thanks.
Chapter Eleven: Knight-Master
When Kel woke the next morning, surrounded by the sparrows
she had spent far too little time with during the battle scenario. They cluttered around her, perched on her
pillow and chirping angrily. Jump was
on her bed--something he usually reserved for the cold of winter. Kel wondered if leaving them behind had been
a good idea after all. With her
healing, she had neglected them the days after the scenario; last night she’d
barely managed to get into night clothed.
She felt as though yesterday had been some kind of dream. Did she really have a knight-master?
She rose from bed and dressed slowly. As she donned her breeches, her eyes fell
upon the row of Yamani cats that rested on the windowsill, one paw raised. Perhaps she would give one to Neal as
congratulatory present, for obtaining the King’s Champion as his instructor.
Neal.
Her mind seemed to halt and she absent-mindedly brought
her fingers to her lips. Had he
really…? Had she…? Her face burned with mortification. Yes, she had liked Neal for longer than she
cared to admit. But now she understood
his usual preference for pining secretly.
It was safer.
Had his kiss meant anything?
Certainly not, she decided as she buttoned
her shirt. He’d just been teasing. Everyone knew how much Neal liked to joke
around. He hadn’t really been in a
teasing mood, though, she reminded herself. Maybe he was sincere.
Kel grabbed her glaive and began her patterns. “Of course it was in jest. Neal never confesses to girls he
likes.”
She ignored the sinking feeling in her stomach and focused
on her exercises. There were more important
things to think about, after all.
****
She reported to Sir Sacherell immediately after
breakfast. He was staying in the wing
of the palace reserved for guests of noble Tortallan lineage. It was lush and comfortable, decorated with
velvet and gold leaf, but Kel suspected it as less lavish than the rooms
intended for foreign dignitaries.
Sacherell sat in the small study, writing rapidly at an
ornate mahogany desk. “I’ll be done in
a moment,” he said absently. “Have a
seat.”
Kel sat in one of the overstuffed chairs and glanced at
the stack of books resting on the table next to her. They were the Books of Diamond, Gold, Silver, Bronze, Copper,
Glass, and Amber--the seventh and most recent appendix of noble lineage. Kel knew that her family appeared in the
book of Amber, having only recently become part of the ruling class. Her mother’s line traced back to the Book of
Bronze.
She picked up the Book of Diamond and flipped through
casually. These were the very oldest
and most noble families of the Eastern Lands.
Very few Tortallan names jumped out at her. Conté, of course, was listed.
Ha Minch. Queenscove. Wellam.
Her eyes darted over to her knight-master. His boots were worn, his shirt rather out of
style. He hardly looked like he would
be a descendant of one of the most prominent families on the continent. Perhaps, like in the Yamani family Ajikuro,
one’s assets were not in the form of money, land, or palaces, but in marriage
politics. If the Wellams survived
through marriage to wealth, the family itself needed only its name.
“Those books are rubbish,” he said finally, sealing his
letter. “My blood is supposed to be so
pure and wondrous, but my family has little to show for it. Meanwhile the Merons of Persopolis have
control of the Great Southern Desert, and a name that appears in the Book of
Glass.”
“Then why do we keep them?” Kel asked.
Sacherell shrugged.
“Tradition.” He waved the letter
in his hand. “I send this note to
Gareth of Naxen that says I have taken on a squire from the Book of Amber, and
it is marked in your favor. Maybe,
years down the road, a clerk will see all of the various positive marks given
to the Mindelan line, and your fief will be granted another seat in the King’s
Council.” He snorted. “Never mind that my blood cannot determine
that I’m a good person, or that I have made good judgment in choosing you.”
Kel nodded, remembering yesterday’s conversation with
Neal. “The most nefarious villain of
our time was a Conté, after all.”
Sacherell glowered.
“Not to mention the sorcerer who raised him, who was from the Book of
Gold,” he said darkly, making the sign of evil on his chest.
He picked up a large box from the desk and carried it with
him to the ornate sofa opposite Kel.
“There are many things about Tortall that are unjust,” he said, sitting
down. He rested his hands atop the box
and gazed at her intently. “It is our
duty to recognize then and challenge them.
But Tortallan politics do not allow for swift change. So, as much as I am loathed to do so, I have
to send this documentation of lineage to Gary’s clerk. Before I do, however, I want you to know
that I well never hold you in contempt for your recent nobility, your foreign
upbringing, your unorthodox knight training, or anything else that we have no
control over.
“All I ask of you,” he continued, “is that you work
hard. I want you to bring honor to me,
to your family, to your king. And to
Lord Wyldon.”
Kel looked at him strangely when he said Lord Wyldon’s
name. While he certainly had never been
disrespectful to the training master, she’d never heard him being respectful,
either. “Sir?” she asked, hoping for
some kind of explanation.
“I haven’t had a squire in years. My excuse has always been my work with the King’s
Own. However, Lord Wyldon and King
Jonathan both know that my real reason has been a matter of pride. Wyldon and I had both been in the running
for the position of palace training mater.
I have been known to disagree with much of Wyldon’s practices, but I
know he is a good and experienced teacher.
I don’t want my reputation as a rabble-rouser to rub off on you, so it
is important that you do your absolute best.
It was hard enough getting him to agree to let me take you on as my
squire.”
“Why did he agree, sir?”
Sacherell smirked.
“Because I come from the most Conservative family in Tortall. And while I side more strongly with the
Progressives, I am well known for my verbal oppositions to King Jonathan. And I’m known for preferring fairness and
justice and all the things that have put my family in charge of the courts for
the last century. My great-uncle, is in
fact the Lord Magistrate currently. You
know him from the examinations, I believe?”
Kel’s eyes widened.
“Duke Turomot?” The old man was
sour and disagreeable and easily the most conservative man she’d ever met. Nothing at all like her impression of
Sacherell.
He nodded. “Not
the nicest man in the world, but quite possibly the most fair.” He shrugged. “I’ve heard of your love of fairness, as well. I’m thinking we should get along well.”
Kel smiled at her new knight-master. Although he seemed to randomly volley
between jovial and serious, she found him all together agreeable.
Sacherell finally handed Kel the large box. “Here are the things you’ll need
immediately--tunics in the family colors, the Wellam shield. If you have any armor or weaponry concerns,
let me know and I’ll put in the order.”
Kel nodded, fingering the copper-orange tunic. “Certainly, sir.” She again noted the state of his boots, and thought a quick
prayer of thanks for her benefactor.
While there was plenty still needed, it was nice to know that some of
the burden would be taken from Sir Sacherell’s shoulders.
****
For the rest of the morning Kel worked with Sacherell,
going over weapons and a work schedule.
The squires, she had discovered, had much looser educational
standards. They were required to meet
with their teachers while they were at the palace, but assignments were
replaced with projects and essays--things that could be worked on while they
were away from the palace. Gradually
the number of lessons would decrease, as they neared their Ordeal of
Knighthood.
She did not catch up with her friends until dinner. Esmond dominated the conversation, talking
about his morning with Conal. Kel ate
in relative silence, occasionally stealing glances at Neal. His expression was impassive--almost
Yamani-smooth.
Kel’s meager appetite abandoned her completely when his
eyes finally met hers. He didn’t grin
or blush or indicate in any manner that something had transpired between them
the previous evening.
“Eat your vegetables,” he said with a smile. Kel tried to grin back.
It was nothing, She told herself firmly. You’re his pal, his little sister. And that’s all.
“Why so glum?” Merric asked her.
Kel was jolted out of her mantra, surprised to see six
pairs of eyes focused on her. “N-no
reason,” she stammered, her mind grasping at potential decoys. “How soon do you all leave with your knight-masters?”
“Aww,” Cleon cooed.
“She’s going to miss us!”
Roald snorted into his cup of juice. “She won’t miss you, of course.” His serious blue eyes focused on Kel. “I’m stuck here for at least another month.”
“I ship out when the Congress ends this week,” Seaver
announced.
“Me, too,” chorused Merric and Esmond.
Neal set his fork down, his dinner complete. “Tomorrow.
My knight-mistress insists that staying confined to the palace drives
her mad. I insist that we leave as soon
as possible, if that’s the case.”
Kel tried to smile.
“I should’ve got you to help me with my crescent strokes today, then.”
“You’re with a Wellam now,” Merric said with a snort. “Neal’s good, but the Wellams are a
sword-wielding family. You’re not going
to need this fellow anymore.”
Neal made a face.
“I would think that best friends come before knight-masters.”
Roald and Cleon grinned at each other. “Not for the next four years,” Cleon
smirked.
To be continued…