Part 11 (2/2)

Kel had started something with the book room conversation. Others like it continued during the holiday parties. Raoul and Buri presided; s.h.i.+nkokami and her Yamani ladies and Prince Roald and his friends always came, though plenty of others took part. Warfare wasn't the only topic. The Tortallans were curious about Yamani customs and history; the reverse was true of the Yamanis. They could ask any question about the Eastern Lands and no one would laugh. Kel felt a little smug as she watched Roald and s.h.i.+nkokami lose their shyness with one another. It was nice to end the old year with a good idea.

During the festivities Kel thought of those squires who faced their Ordeals that year. Each night one of them held vigil; each morning one entered the Chamber at dawn. Did they have visions in the chapel? Kel wondered as she filled gla.s.ses and served food. Did they touch that iron door in the night, or were they content to face the Chamber only when the time came to walk into it?

Despite her curiosity she never joined the cl.u.s.ter of family and friends that waited for the squires to leave the Chamber. It didn't seem right, as if it were indecent for her to look on the squires' faces just then.

That year ten of them entered the Chamber, three more than the holiday had nights. Afterward Kel waited three days, to allow for cleaning, before she went into the chapel alone. She didn't think she broke any rules doing this, but she had to be alone in any event.

The chapel smelled of beeswax and cleansing herbs. The sun disk shone from a recent polis.h.i.+ng. Only the Chamber door looked the same as it had that summer.

Kel s.h.i.+vered: the room was cold. She blew on her fingers, then pressed her hands flat on the cold iron.

Something bound her from shoulders to feet, locking her arms against her sides and her legs together. The binding was tight, though she saw nothing but the clothes she wore. Another band lay over her mouth, gagging her.

She stood at one end of a long room. Next to her was a line of people who pa.s.sed - without looking her way. One at a time they advanced to a table nearly ten yards from Kel. She could smell them, it was so real: soap, damp wool, fear-sweat. She knew most of them: Lalasa's friend Tian, Bernin from Owlshollow, the girl whose doll she'd found at Haresfield, the girl's mother, s.h.i.+nkokami, Jump, Peachblossom, Lerant.

Kel twisted frantically, trying to get free, with no luck. She could not move or utter a sound. Fighting to catch her breath, Kel stared at the table. Duke Turomot, the Lord Magistrate, consulted a long sheet of parchment; Ebroin of Genlith, the steward for the lord of Stone Mountain, manipulated a large abacus as the duke spoke. They sat behind the table. Joren of Stone Mountain leaned on it, beautiful in black velvet, his hair pale gold against the dense black. He smiled mockingly at the people in the line.

”Lalasa Isran,” Ebroin said clearly, taking up his abacus.

Kel wrenched hard at her bindings. A muscle pulled in her neck, sending a white-hot streak of pain into her skull.

”Dressmaker,” Turomot said, drumming his fingers on the table. Ebroin touched a bead on the abacus. ”Breeding age, looks well when clean, strong enough for servant's work, rarely ill.” For each comment, Ebroin flicked another bead on the abacus. ”That is all of worth about her,” Turomot said.

Ebroin calculated a sum on the abacus and wrote it on the slate, which he pa.s.sed to Joren. The young man looked at it.

”Not interested, ”Joren said. ”Cull her.”

The centaurs Gray streak and Iriseyes walked out of nowhere to grab Lalasa's arms. They dragged her to one side. There another centaur clubbed her with a spiked mace. Lalasa fell into a pit in the floor.

”s.h.i.+nkokami, Yamani princess,” Turomot said, reading from his parchment. ”A good bride price, connections, and an alliance with the Yamani Islands. Embroiders, dances, knows the use of weapons.” Ebroin flicked abacus beads and wrote a new total on his slate.

Joren inspected it. ”Fifty gold crowns. Not a copper more. It's risky, taking a woman who uses weapons.”

Turomot nodded. Graystreak and Iriseyes took s.h.i.+nko's arms to lead her out.

Bernin stepped up. ”Bernin of Owlshollow,” Turomot read from his parchment. ”Trained shepherd, a guide - ”

Joren raised a hand. ”I have no need of shepherds or guides,” he said. ”Cull him.”

Kel fought her bonds to stop this, whatever it was, without success. Joren kept Haname and Kel's mother, sending them to some unknown place, then ordered that the Haresfield girl, Yuki, and Jump be culled. They were clubbed down as Kel fought to do something, anything. She was trying to scream to Peachblossom to run when she fell.

She was in the Chapel of the Ordeal, pouring sweat, her throat raw from smothered screams. Her body ached furiously.

Trembling, she staggered to her feet and stared at the Chamber door, fists clenched. You won't beat me this way, she told it silently. You will never beat me.

She stalked out, letting the door slam behind her. Only when she reached her room did she allow herself to cry. The sight of those familiar bodies in a b.l.o.o.d.y heap would haunt her for weeks.

ten.

THE GREAT PROGRESS BEGINS.

Third Company took to the road just two days after Kel's encounter with the Chamber door, to escort the outgoing Tyran amba.s.sador to his own border. They rode south on a trip Lerant mockingly described as ”departing the land of snow and sleet for the land of rain and sleet.”

Kel was relieved to be away. She hadn't seen Cleon privately since that astonis.h.i.+ng kiss. She couldn't decide if she wanted to see him or never to see him again. She didn't know which would be worse, finding that he'd done it on a dare or that he'd done it because he'd wanted to. Either reason meant a rat's nest of problems.

At the Tyran border they said farewell to the outgoing amba.s.sador and welcomed the new one. Third Company got ten days to recuperate before they escorted the new amba.s.sador and his lady to Corus. Kel, seeing all of the goods in the Pearlmouth marketplaces, did some of her shopping for next Midwinter. The way things went with the Own, she wanted to do such tasks when she could. An emergency might interfere later.

In February after they returned to Corus, Third Company headed down the coast. They were accompanied by Baron George Cooper of Pirate's Swoop, a man people both pitied and looked down on for marrying Alanna the Lioness. Kel watched him intently. She wanted to know why the Lioness had married this man, who wasn't even handsome, for all that he was well muscled for someone in his late forties. The only attractive thing about him was a pair of humorous hazel eyes. Nice eyes hardly seemed to Kel like grounds for marriage.

The baron had heard of pirates who spent the winter near a town called Bay Cove. He led Third Company there over a series of goat trails. It gave them a good vantage point from which to scout the pirates' nest and plan their attack. There was a short, pitched fight, which Third Company won easily. Kel did little more than stand by Raoul, listening to the orders he gave and the reports he got. With pirates in tow, they sought the Port Legann magistrate. That meant another series of trials, another set of executions. More than once she wished there were a different way to handle murderers.

In March they stayed with the Bazhir. Kel, Lerant, Dom, and some of the others raced against the Bazhir, though Kel seldom won. Hos.h.i.+ was fast and strong, but she was no match for the dainty-boned Bazhir horses, called by their proud owners ”children of the wind.” Raoul gave her more jousting lessons, something that puzzled Bazhir men and amused Bazhir women. They would gather around Kel afterward to put balm on her bruises and tease her.

They spent April on the banks of the Drell River, which flooded when the winter snows melted. Kel's back was a solid ache as she labored with Raoul and the men to sh.o.r.e up the flood walls.

In early May they returned to the Bazhir and helped the headman of the Sunset Dragon tribe celebrate the birth of twins to his wife. After that Raoul led them back to the palace.

There wasn't a n.o.ble in sight. The immense parade of the Great Progress, designed to introduce Tortallans to s.h.i.+nkokami and to renew the people's ties to the monarchs, had departed. With it rode courtiers, maids, hostlers, clerks, barbers, huntsmen, guards, cooks, errand boys, and anyone else who might prove useful. The palace was not deserted: while the n.o.bles might be gone, hordes of workmen had arrived to fix anything that needed repair, apply fresh coats of paint and whitewash, and pursue other loud, dusty tasks. The kingdoms administrators still worked at their desks. The courts still met; the officials who ran the kingdom's tax collections and postal service labored here. Still, compared to the palace at Midwinter, Kel found the place sadly empty.

”Peace and quiet!” Raoul said as his company rode into their courtyard. ”I revel in it!”

”But we will be catching up?” prodded Flyndan.

”When we're rested,” said Raoul gravely. ”I myself feel quite tired.”

”And every time you get the bit between your teeth and decide you don't care what the king wants, you two end up b.u.t.ting heads. One day you won't be able to charm your way out of a royal reprimand.” Flyn kept his voice low - only Kel heard him, though she pretended she didn't.

”He wouldn't b.u.t.t heads with me if he didn't keep using us like a garland of pearls to dress up his majesty,” Raoul said, keeping his own voice down. ”We're a combat unit, not a dance troupe. We leave when we're rested.”

Flyndan shook his head and dismounted.

They had two lazy weeks before a firm message arrived from the king. Third Company packed and rode slowly for six days. At last they topped a ridge that overlooked the city of Whitethorn, tucked into a delta formed by the rivers Olorun and Tirragen. There they watched the fat, glittering serpent of the royal progress come into view. The local people had the same idea: they lined the road in their festival best, all wearing some bit of royal blue ribbon. More people flooded onto the road through Whitethorn's open gates, eager to see the realm's notables.

The city was swathed in banners and garlands. Tortallan and Yamani flags waved atop every tower. Grave town fathers in long robes and elegant hats stood on the wall over the main gate. Little girls in white bearing flower garlands stood with them.

The procession came on. With her new spygla.s.s Kel could see the riders behind the heralds. The king and queen rode with Roald and s.h.i.+nkokami between them. Prince Eitaro scowled on the king's right - Kel knew his arthritis must be bothering him - as his wife serenely guided her mount on the queen's left. Behind Thayet rode her ladies, fourteen young women of good family and education, who could grace a party and ride and shoot well enough to keep up with Queen Thayet in an emergency. Yuki and Lady Haname rode with them. Kel smiled: her Yamani friends had been adopted.

”Don't be greedy,” Dom said, elbowing her. ”A chivalrous knight shares.”

His nearness still did mad things to her emotions, though lately she kept thinking about Cleon, wondering what it would be like to kiss him back. Kel handed over the spygla.s.s. ”Try not to steam it up looking for pretty girls,” she ordered. The griffin cawed and flapped from his post on the placid Hos.h.i.+'s saddle horn, as if he echoed Kel.

”You just don't understand a fellow's interest in females,” Dom murmured, glued to the spygla.s.s.

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