Part 31 (1/2)

”They didn't attack Thirst. Who is spreading that tale?” Thum replied. ”But it was bad enough, by what I've heard. None of us fosters were allowed in the battle, thanks to you and Mierre.”

Dain frowned. ”What do you mean? Am I to be blamed next for lightning striking the tower? For the sky turning dark? For the rain that's falling? What else?” ”Do not turn your bad temper on me. You asked what's amiss, and I am only telling you.”

”I am not angry at you,” Dain said by way of apology. Thum nodded, then sighed gloomily. ”What's all the practice and training for, if we're to be kept in the hold with the women and children?” ”Saw you none of the battle?” Dain asked in sympathy.

”Nay, not one blow.”

”Who gave such an order, keeping you home?”

”Sir Bosquecel. He said we were lazy, unprepared louts who couldn't bear arms any better than the serfs.”

Dain blinked in astonishment. ”But that's not true. Nor is it fair.” ”None of this is fair,” Thum said. ”You have no idea of how angry he is. Well, they all are. Squabbles and quarreling in all directions, for days now. And once the Lunt knights came, there's been trouble with them as well. They eat like horses and drink like fish. And gamble? Morde! But it's worst between Sir Polquin and Sir Bosquecel. They blame each other for what happened. It looked like they might come to blows on the practice field the day of the contest, and they are not speaking to each other still.”

Dain frowned, trying to make sense of all this. ”Because I left the contest?” ”Nay, because of Mierre.

Oh, I tell you, Dain, you and he both have caused more upset this week than I could think of to do in a year.”

”I wish you would tell your story straight and not jump from one thing to another,” Dain complained. ”I do not understand what happened.” ”Well, and while there was all the trouble over the contest and Mierre, you were discovered missing.”

”I left in plain sight with Lander,” Dain said defensively. ”Aye, so the guards said. But Lander told no one where he was going, nor did you. Lord Odfrey believed you would not stay with the smith but instead strike out on your own. And then Lord Renald rode in with news of Nonkind raiders. Lord Odfrey sent men out searching near and far for you. He was certain you'd be killed.”

”I've been dodging Nonkind all my life,” Dain said with a shrug. ”He had no need to worry.” ”Well, he did, just the same. And so did Sir Terent and Sir Polquin-and all of us.”

Dain frowned, feeling bad. ”I did not mean for anyone to worry. I was fine.” ”Lord Renald was angered that men were spared to search. He said everyone was needed for fighting, even fosters. That's when Lord Odfrey forbade any of us, from the prince down to yours truly, to leave the hold.” Uncomfortable, knowing he'd done wrong to cause them such concern, Dain changed the subject. ”Who won the contest?”

”Mierre, of course.”

Dain hissed through his teeth. He was not surprised, but the idea of that hulking bully serving Lord Odfrey infuriated him. From now on it would be Mierre who burnished the chevard's armor, Mierre who honed and polished his weapons, Mierre who fed his dogs, Mierre who rode at the chevard's flank along with Sir Roye. Dain had wanted that position with all his heart, for he craved Lord Odfrey's attention. He wanted to repay the man for his kindness this year by serving him better than any squire had done before.

But instead it would be Mierre, churlish and lazy, at Lord Odfrey's side. Before today's attack, Dain had always disliked Mierre, but now he hated him as much as he hated the prince. They were two of a kind, cruel and self-centered. How could Lord Odfrey stand to have Mierre in his service?

”And you, Thum?” Dain asked irritably. ”Couldn't you find a way to defeat him that day? I would have had the honor go to you.”

”Thank you, but once I was unhorsed by Mierre's lance, that finished me.” Thum touched his face proudly. ”That's how I came by this.” Dain admired his puffy and discolored eye. ”I have never seen a better one. Did it hurt much?”

”No,” Thum boasted. ”Well, not much. But you should have seen it the first night, swelled out to here. I couldn't open my eye, and Sulein thought I might lose it.”

”Like Sir Roye,” Dain said, both revolted and fascinated by the idea.

”I'm glad to have my sight as good as ever,” Thum said, betraying his relief. ”It would be hard to earn my knight's spurs with only one eye. I had no balance while it was swelled so, and I kept b.u.mping into things.” ”If you're going to lose an eye, it should be after you're knighted and happen while you're in a great battle,” Dain told him. ”Not in a small contest with padded weapons.”

”Aye,” Thum agreed fervently. He placed his hand over his heart. Making a fancy bow, he said in falsetto voice, ”And now, dear maiden fair, let me tell you how I came by my scar. Neither in battle nor in king's joust, but only by riding full tilt into my practice opponent's lance like a dolt and unhorsing myself.” Dain laughed. ”Unhorsed by the quintain.”

Thum laughed with him. ”Aye! Mierre is stupid enough to be a practice dummy.” Dain puffed out his chest and spun about stiffly in an effort to imitate Mierre, but it made his arm hurt and he stopped the play with a wince. Thum sobered abruptly. ”But you have taken real injury at his hands. Is it true what little Hueh says, that both the blackguards fought you at once?” Dain hesitated, but he saw no reason to deny it. ”Aye,” he said grimly. ”They did. Pagans deserve no honorable treatment, I suppose.” ”Do not say that!” Thum said angrily. He scowled. ”The cowards. They are both bad to the heart. The day they leave this hold can't come too soon for me.” ”Leave?” Dain echoed in puzzlement. ”But if Mierre is Lord Odfrey's squire-” ”But he isn't!” Thum said. His hazel eyes danced with more news. ”I wish you had stayed to see it. The contest ended, with me on the ground and my mouth full of dirt, and Mierre wasdeclared winner. Sir Terent looked like he'd eaten sour fruit, and Sir Nynth would not applaud.”

Imagining it, Dain smiled. ”What happened? Did Lord Odfrey refuse to have him?

That's wise, for he-”

”Nay!” Thum said. ”Let me tell you. Lord Odfrey had his stone face on-you know how he looks at times.”

”Aye,” Dain said ruefully. ”I know very well.”

”He stood before us with Sir Polquin and Sir Roye flanking him, and he conferred the offer of squire on Mierre according to the rules of the contest.” Thum paused and gripped Dain's arm hard. ”Mierre turned him down.” Dain gasped. ”What?”

”Aye. Turned him down with cool hauteur, like Lord Odfrey was dirt to him. It's plain he's learned that manner from the prince, but it did him no credit. Sir Bosquecel was furious, and Sir Polquin more so.

Everyone witnessed the grave insult to Lord Odfrey, but we could not believe it. Had Mierre refused such an offer from a sentry-rank knight, I might understand. But no one turns down the chance to be a chevard's squire, especially a warrior of such valor and repute as our Lord Odfrey.”

Dain frowned, angry on Lord Odfrey's behalf, though relieved as well. Still, it made no sense. ”But why would Mierre refuse? Does he think another knight will offer him a better position? Where? Can his father provide-” ”Rumor has it. . .” Thum paused dramatically, his hazel eyes dancing. ”Promise you will not spread it, Dain.”

”I am the last person in this hold to know about the matter,” Dain said tartly.

”Where would I spread such news? Speak!”

”Well, the rumor in the guardhouse is that Mierre is hoping to be named Prince Gavril's squire.”

”That surprises me not,” Dain said. ”No one toadies to Gavril more than he does.”

”But it's an awful risk.”

”Why? Gavril favors him.”

”But the prince is not yet knighted. He can take no squire until he has his spurs.”

”In a month he'll have them,” Dain said. ”I see no risk if the prince has promised him-”

”But has he?” Thum asked.

Dain frowned. ”Has he not?”

”Nothing has been said officially.”

”What has that to do with anything?” ”Dain, don't you understand court politics at all?”

”No,” Dain said defensively. ”How could I?”

”Oh. When Gavril's knighted, he is going to be named Heir to the Realm. That means the n.o.bles acknowledge him as the official successor to the throne.” ”I thought he already was,” Dain said.

”Nay.”

”He gives himself enough airs.”

”Wait until he's knighted,” Thum said darkly. ”There'll be no holding him back then. But it's certain that his squire has already been chosen and will be the son of a duc or cardinal, someone of the first rank.

Gavril is far too important to be squired by an uplander of minor lineage.”

Dain thought of Mierre, a young oaf who clearly burned with ambition to better himself. ”There's been a promise made between them,” he guessed. ”And no matter what the custom may be, Gavril does what he wants.” ”Not in affairs of state. He can't,” Thum argued. ”Just as his marriage has been planned for him from birth to his cousin Pheresa. There is no official engagement as yet, for the Heir to the Realm must do his own choosing of a bride. But by custom it must-or at least should-be this lady. Everyone at court, especially the king, expects Gavril to ask her.”

”I hope she is a hag and her face sours his breakfast every morning,” Dain said. Thum laughed. ”Mierre is gambling heavily, but I think he will be the loser by aiming too high.”