Part 26 (1/2)
”We'll come,” Arcolin said. ”But I don't know when-”
”Any time-give me a day's warning if you can.” With a bow to Dorrin, he left.
”Come upstairs, Jandelir,” Dorrin said. ”The old duke's study's safe enough now.” She led the way, and he followed up the broad stairs into a large room furnished with a few simple chairs and a plain table half-covered with neat stacks of scrolls and books. It didn't look the way he'd imagined an old family's study. ”It was more impressive when I first saw it,” Dorrin said. ”But everything was full of traps. Here-have a seat. These chairs may be plain, but they're safe.”
Arcolin stared at her. A thousand questions raced through his mind, along with a rush of fear; even when she seemed the old Dorrin, she wasn't. He cleared his throat and said the first ordinary thing that came to mind.
”I don't know anything about court ceremony. All I had to do was take and receive messages.”
”You're still ahead of where I was,” Dorrin said, chuckling. She had taken a chair across the table from him. ”Remember how I avoided any contact with the court, lest I meet my relatives?” Arcolin nodded. ”Then I had to come to the coronation and be confirmed there, as a duke no less. I knew nothing: the protocol, the people, the dress.”
”I'm sure you did well,” Arcolin said, still struggling with his mixture of relief in Stammel's recovery and fear of her power.
”Like a puppet,” Dorrin said. ”I wore what they told me, went where they told me, said what the others said. Falk's honor-it was terrifying at first, but then I realized more than half of them were scared of me. A Verrakai. Born magelord, using magery-they had to know that, just as I'd had the prince's permission to use it. And then the aftermath-” She explained about the attack she had foiled and the king's pardon. It did not make Arcolin any more comfortable. ”It's better now,” she said, ”You've noticed my senior squire; he's the king's cousin. The king's pressured them to accept me, but most are still so formal. I've missed you, Jandelir. The way we could talk, back north or in camp. I have no one like that now.”
”I've missed you and Cracolnya both-and at least I've still got Cracolnya. It's not good, your being so alone. Will you marry?”
”Marry! Falk's Oath, no! Why would I? I'm too old to bear a child, and don't want to anyway. Ganarrion-distant cousin, cleared of treason and now back with the Royal Guard-will be my heir. I don't want more complications, but I'd like someone-someone I can trust absolutely, who was never under Verrakai control-just to talk with. My people are improving, but they were ruled by blood magic for years. I have Selfer and my squires, but...”
”And I wanted to talk to you about that,” Arcolin said. ”Selfer and that cohort. It's rightly mine now, you know.”
She stared. ”I hadn't thought of that. You're right; if you've got the Company, then that cohort is yours. I've been paying-could I just hire them?”
Arcolin shook his head. ”I need more force in the south, Dorrin. The way things are down there, one cohort is too weak, and gives me too little flexibility. There's plenty of work, but for larger units. Trying to find and replace a whole cohort this winter? No. I need them back...unless it's critical for you.”
”No-though I trust them more than my own militia, my militia's improved by having their example. I'll miss...it's my last connection to my whole life, Arcolin.”
”If a veteran wants to stay with you, I won't argue,” Arcolin said. ”Except Selfer-I can't afford to lose a captain.”
”He wants to get back to the Company,” Dorrin said. ”He asked for leave to spend Midwinter Feast up north. You have lost Siger already, though. Once we got to Chaya, he told Kieri he wanted to stay. He came from Lyonya originally.”
”I knew that but hadn't thought of it in years. I'll miss him,” Arcolin said. ”He was with Kieri before I was. But there's still Hofrin. And Stammel's success with crossbows suggests to me that we could expand the archery units into the regular infantry.”
”Well, back to your court appearance,” Dorrin said. ”Let's see how well Kieri's things fit you, while I explain the ritual.”
”Do I have to bow to you because you're a duke?”
”No. But you do have to defer. And you do have to understand the argument that's ended with you being made a count instead of a duke.”
”A count? I thought I'd start as baron.”
”The North Marches are too big and too important to be a baron's grant. In fact, by size and position, it should be a dukedom, as it was. But because you're still an unknown quant.i.ty to most of these people, and the population's small, they're unwilling to go that far. Count's the middle choice. That means you won't have to take the sleeves off Kieri's count's robe. Be glad it's the Autumn Court, not Midsummer-I nearly suffocated in a ducal robe.”
”But-ribbons at the knee?”
”Kieri did it. You can too.”
The thought of Kieri Phelan in court dress with short breeches, ribbons at his knees, and those ridiculous court shoes...Arcolin wished he'd seen it.
His own appearance in court went more smoothly than he'd feared. As a ”count-nominate,” not yet confirmed in rank, he waited behind the others, as the n.o.bles-herded like errant sheep by the Master of Ceremonies-were urged into the right order in the procession. Dukes in front, then counts, then barons, the more senior t.i.tles in front of the more recent. He would be the lowest-ranking count, after his invest.i.ture.
Bells rang; trumpets blared; ahead of him the line edged forward. Another count-nominate-for the established county of Konhalt, whose count had been attainted as a Verrakai supporter-and two barons-nominate, both heirs of men who had died in the past year, waited with Arcolin. Behind each, a servant carried the court robe, carefully folded, and another held the staff with the nominate's pennant showing the mark and colors.
When the n.o.bles were all in place, ranged on either side of the hall, the nominates were led in by the Lord Herald in order of seniority. Duke Mahieran presented count-nominate Konhalt to the king and Council; when he had made his oath of fealty to the king, the king put on him the chain of office, kissed his forehead. When he stood again, the servant helped him into his robe, and Mahieran led him to his place in the row of counts, who moved aside for him.
Arcolin came next. Dorrin, as his sponsor, proclaimed him to the king and led him forward. He knelt, made his vows, received the chain of office and the kiss, and then felt the weight of the court robe on his shoulders. As he was the lowest-ranking count, only barons had to s.h.i.+ft position to give him room.
The barons-nominate went through their invest.i.tures without incident, and when the king declared the ceremony over, they all moved on to the reception rooms. Arcolin had expected to find himself isolated among the other counts, but the dukes he'd met while carrying messages from Kieri all came to congratulate him.
”We need someone strong in the North Marches,” Duke Marrakai said. ”Someone who knows the territory, who has troops already there. Of course we all have sons who might like a grant of their own, but you're far more qualified than any of my my brood.” From the emphasis, it was clear Marrakai thought his own brood more qualified than anyone else's. brood.” From the emphasis, it was clear Marrakai thought his own brood more qualified than anyone else's.
Arcolin felt out of place at first, but by the end of the day, being addressed as ”my lord Count” and chatting with other counts and dukes as if he were, in truth, a n.o.ble of Tsaia, felt normal. He sensed no real hostility. For all the opportunity the North Marches offered, the dangers of its position next to Pargun, the history of orc attacks and invasions, meant that second thoughts had cooled the interest of many of the lords and their sons.
He could not help but notice another factor: barons, counts, and even dukes introducing their families to him, particularly those families including daughters of marriageable age and sons who might benefit from a few years as someone else's squire. He was careful to give no immediate encouragement, but thinking ahead-Kieri had had squires, and they had been helpful. Dorrin had squires now, all dukes' children. He would need squires. A wife, though...he was not ready to consider that. Though the girls, in their best court dress, were certainly lovely, he could not imagine any of them being content in the north while he was away in the south every year. As well, he did not yet grasp the undercurrents within the court; a hasty alliance could be disastrous for him and for his land.
His land. He thought that now without hesitation, automatically. His land, his people, his Company...his king, in that palace. He wondered when Kieri had felt it normal for the first time...Kieri had been younger and perhaps had imagined it before, as he himself had not. And how was Kieri coming to grips with a change every bit as great as his own? Had Kieri chosen a wife?
In the next few days, Arcolin dealt with the necessary business: the banker, the judicar, a courier to ride south and tell Burek what had happened and where he was going, another to ride north at least as far as the Duke's-no, his his-south border and let his people know he was on the way. He and Stammel paid their visit to Tamis's grange; it was packed full that evening, and Stammel's story brought gasps and tears to many.
Finally, Arcolin and Stammel rode north, carrying with them the royal warrants of Arcolin's t.i.tle. At Burningmeed, his subjects gathered to hear the proclamation of his t.i.tle in the grange; they cheered him loudly. Vestin paraded the southern cohort for his inspection. The veterans stared at Stammel, but said nothing, and cheered Arcolin after the inspection.
The next day the two rode on into lowering clouds, a miserable cold drizzle sifting through the trees. Sodden leaves quieted the horses' hooves, and the bare fields of farmsteads, with cattle huddled together but still steadily grazing, suggested endurance more than abundance. Arcolin looked at each, noting the soundness of the buildings, the condition of fences, the apparent management of fields and orchards, the condition of the road itself. Here and there it was clear the cohort had done roadwork; and in some places he could see where work needed to be done. He let himself imagine how it could be in two hands of years...four...as he continued the work Kieri had begun. Sound roads, pa.s.sable in all seasons. St.u.r.dy houses, ample barns filled with grain and fodder, fat cattle, heavy-fleeced sheep, trees loaded with fruit or nuts...his horse stumbled a little and jolted him back to the present.
”Sir?” Stammel asked. He had heard the horse stumble, no doubt. He was sitting his horse upright as always and had no doubt felt the downward slope Arcolin had missed by daydreaming.
”I was thinking,” Arcolin said, ”when I should have been watching the road. We should reach Duke's East later today.”
As he came in sight of Duke's East, he reined in. A sharp wind blew from the north through trees bare but for a few stubborn leaves. They had ridden through heavier cold rain earlier, but those clouds were behind them now. Ahead was the hard blue of a winter sky.
”We're close, aren't we?” Stammel asked.
”Yes. Looking down at Duke's East-I can see Kolya's orchard-leafless now-her cottage-the bridge over the stream-” He glanced over at Stammel, who looked gray and pinched. ”Are you all right?”
”I can see it in my mind,” Stammel said. ”But what I see is not what other men see.” He cleared his throat. ”Does it look different, now that it's yours?”
”I was thinking how familiar it was,” Arcolin said. ”A comfort to come back and see this shape of land, those trees, the village...but yes, in a way it does look different.” It had been Kieri's worry, and now it was his.
”It will always look the same to me, if...sorry, sir. Let's get on.”
They rode down the slope. Kolya's cottage had a plume of smoke out the chimney, and several people gleaning late apples in her orchard turned to look at the riders. Waving, they ran toward the lane; Arcolin reined in.