Part 7 (1/2)
”Jump, Crown, Freckle - stop!” Kel shouted. ”He's supposed to do that! I don't always need help, you know!”
Jump looked at Kel over a mouthful of quilted legging and let go, dropping to the ground with a thump. He trotted to Kel, his lone ear flat, rump and shoulders down, the picture of the apologetic dog. The sparrows hovered briefly, looking from Kel to Raoul, then returned to their perch on the fence.
Raoul, to Kel's relief, was laughing. ”Next time, explain it to them first,” he suggested. ”I think they scared poor Drum.” He patted his black gelding's neck. He looked at Kel. ”A bit different from the quintain, isn't it?”
Kel nodded fervently. ”It is, my lord.”
”Most squires don't get anywhere near the s.h.i.+eld, their first time,” he said with approval. ”That training Wyldon had you do with the wood circles paid off.”
”But what if I hadn't hit the s.h.i.+eld?” Kel asked, worried again. ”I might have speared you, sir!”
Raoul smiled. ”My dear squire, I'd be a poor knight if I couldn't dodge an off-target lance, don't you think?”
”Oh,” Kel said sheepishly. She hadn't thought of that.
”Ready for another go?”
Kel s.h.i.+fted her lance to her s.h.i.+eld hand, shook out her right arm, then transferred s.h.i.+eld and lance to her right hand and shook out her left. Both ached, but not too badly. ”Yessir,” she replied, settling s.h.i.+eld and lance again.
Raoul trotted Drum back to their place as Kel took hers. Qasim walked out into the center, looking first to Raoul, then Kel, to make sure they were ready. He raised his arm, dropped it, and dashed for the fence.
”Go faster,” Kel told Peachblossom, trying to grip her lance properly in her sore hand. She was grateful that she used an ordinary lance, not her practice weapon. That was weighted with lead. She doubted she could hold onto a weighted lance right now.
Grimly she lowered her weapon as Peachblossom raced down the jousting lane, headed for Raoul. There was the black target circle, jiggling with the beat of Drum's hooves and Raoul's movement. She stood in the stirrups and leaned forward, bracing herself for another clash.
Only later did the pain in her lance arm tell her that she must have struck Raoul's s.h.i.+eld. She didn't notice it right away because she had taken flight. As she watched the blue sky above, Kel shed her lance and s.h.i.+eld. She turned in the air to take her fall on the flats of her arms, as she did in hand-to-hand combat. Breath exploded from her lungs as she hit. She rolled onto her back, wheezing as she tried to breathe. Jump leaped onto her chest to lick her face frantically.
”Standing there does no good, Jump,” Qasim said. He moved the dog and helped Kel to sit up. Jump whined. ”Your wind is knocked out, my friend,” Qasim said, slapping Kel's back. ”Was flight as glorious as it looked?”
Kel gasped, then began to cough. Qasim offered his water bottle to her. She took a hasty gulp, coughed some more, and finally got her body under control. ”I tell you what,” she croaked, ”why don't you take the next run and see for yourself? I won't begrudge you.” She patted Jump so he would know she was alive.
”Do you remember how I did that?” Raoul had cantered over to see how she did.
Kel squinted up at her big knight-master. ”I felt it,” she said, marveling that she did remember. ”You hit - and then you popped me out, like - like somebody levers a clam from the sh.e.l.l.”
”Exactly,” Raoul said with approval. ”There's a trick to it. Often as not the other fellow knows, and nothing happens, but sometimes he's green or overconfident, and you can dump him on his behind. Ready for another go?”
Never again! cried her inner, sensible self. Her traitor mouth replied, ”Yes, sir.” She forced herself to stand, mount Peachblossom, and take the s.h.i.+eld and lance from Qasim. Running away would be far more sensible, she scolded herself as she guided Peachblossom to his place and settled her lance. But whoever said I'm sensible?
After two more runs, Raoul's lance shattered. Kel rested while Qasim secured a coromanel and padding to a fresh lance.
On the next run Kel struck the center of Raoul's s.h.i.+eld, but at an angle - her lance skidded off. His took her squarely, slamming her into the saddle's quilted back.
Kel thought over and over, I love my saddle, I love my saddle. In a plain saddle she would have flown over more ground than her birds. The high front and back of the tilting saddle kept her ahorse, and the quilting on it meant her bruises weren't as bad as they could be.
”You're done in, and I've worked up a sweat,” Raoul said. ”We've both time to soak before supper. I'll care for Drum, Kel. You can't see straight.”
”I ought to argue, but I won't,” she croaked. Her throat was caked with dust, and Qasim's water bottle was empty.
She looked up in time to see Raoul's grin. ”I knew when I took you on you'd learn quickly.”
She grinned back at him, pleased that he was pleased. Qasim tugged on her s.h.i.+eld. She gave it to him, then pa.s.sed her lance down as well. I can do this, she thought, gripping the saddle as she readied to dismount. It's how I got up here in the first place.
Gritting her teeth, she pulled one trembling leg over the saddle's back. She slid to the ground and gathered Peachblossom's reins in her hand. The sparrows fluttered over, cheeping as anxiously as if she were a fledgling they had misplaced. Tiny beaks ran through the sweat-matted hair that stuck out from under her helm.
When one of them stuck his beak into her ear, Kel sighed. ”Stop it. I'm fine,” she told them softly. ”Just... pounded. For hours. Like you pound salt fish before you can eat it.” She turned to lead Peachblossom to the gate and got a surprise. They had an audience: servants, men from the Own, and a few Riders, including Commander Buri.
I'm so glad to entertain people, Kel thought. She put on her best, most unreadable, Yamani Lump face and led Peachblossom to the gate.
Dom held it open, shaking his head. ”You're alive. Most people who go five rounds with my lord can only babble about funeral plans.”
”Their lances were padded, for Mithros's sake,” Lerant pointed out crossly. ”How much harm could they do?”
”Good,” Buri said. ”You get one and have a go.”
Kel ignored them as she and Peachblossom trudged to the stables. She wasn't at all sure that she didn't need to make funeral plans.
How she groomed Peachblossom she had no idea. It felt as if she simply leaned against him while he rubbed his side along the brush. Once he was settled, she fed him and Hos.h.i.+, then lurched outside. She knew she'd want to live after a soak.
The women's baths were empty when she sank her throbbing flesh into the hottest pool. She dozed briefly until a group of women, servants by their talk, waded into the far end. With them came bath attendants: one gave Kel a sponge and soap scented with lily of the valley. Kel scrubbed herself and washed sweat-sticky hair as the women talked of work and families.
She caught an attendant's eye and stood; the woman came over with a large towel. As Kel climbed out of the water, the conversation behind her came to a halt. The attendant took a step back. Kel frowned, puzzled, and reached for the towel.
”My dear!” someone called. ”My dear, wait!”
Kel looked behind her. Two women swam over and climbed out beside her. Everyone in the pool seemed shocked or frightened; the two who approached her looked worried.
”Your back is covered with bruises,” the older woman said as her companion touched Kel's shoulder. ”They look painful, and recent. And your arms and hands are scarred.”
Kel twisted to look behind her, wincing as her ribs protested. She could see only a large bruise covering one hip. The scars, tokens of the griffin's regard for her, were easy to find. The worst, the deep pockmark between her thumb and forefinger, was swollen after her afternoon's lance work.
”You don't have to bear this,” the younger woman said. ”The Moon of Truth Temple will take you in. They'll protect you.”
”They'll get the man who did it,” the older woman said. The younger one and the attendant nodded. ”Even if it's a n.o.ble. After the rapes last winter, they have a new commander for their troops. She's very aggressive.”
Kel suddenly realized what was wrong, what they were trying to say. They thought a man had beaten her. She began to giggle, then to laugh.
It took some time to convince them that her injuries were normal for a squire who was silly enough to joust with Lord Raoul and get stuck with a baby griffin.
Kel dressed, fed the griffin, and went to eat supper with the men of the Own. Raoul nodded to her as she came in, then returned to his conversation with Flyn and Glaisdan of Haryse. Kel knew better than to try to wait on him. When he sat in the mess hall with the Own, he was Knight Commander, and fended for himself. Only at banquets was she expected to wait on Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak. Kel usually thought it odd to calculate things for two different Raouls, but tonight she welcomed it. Sitting with Dom, Qasim, and their friends was as much effort as she wanted to make today.
After supper she walked back to her quarters and fed the griffin. All she wanted to do after that was lie down and read.
Looking around to make sure she had nothing else to do that was pressing, she saw that the connecting door to Raoul's study was open. She looked in. He sat at his desk, sorting through papers.
He grinned when he saw her. ”Kel, my squire, pull up a chair. Tonight we start lessons in calculating supplies for different numbers of men under your command.”
Kel looked at him, seeing unholy amus.e.m.e.nt in his face. He had to know how her body felt. Finally she said, ”Begging my lord's pardon, but you are a bad man.”