Part 14 (1/2)

Kel looked down. ”Sir - ”

”n.o.body makes men surrender private life when they take up arms, Kel,” Raoul said, filling their cups. ”We only ask that such lives happen off duty. It's more complicated for women. It's not fair, but I think you already know the world isn't.”

Kel nodded, sipping grape juice. How many knight-masters would have done this differently, even hurtfully? How many would have said nothing until Kel was so deeply in a mess that she would never get out of it? Only Raoul would treat it as another lesson in the intricacies of command.

”I understand, sir,” Kel told him. ”I do know there could be problems.”

Raoul fiddled with his cup. ”As for issues of the body - s.e.x, pregnancy, and so on - perhaps you should discuss those with a woman.” He cleared his throat. ”If you want to discuss them with me, it is my responsibility - ”

”No, no!” Kel interrupted, alarmed. She didn't know which of them would be more embarra.s.sed. She didn't want to find out. ”I'll ask Mama, truly I will!”

Raoul grinned at her, his cheeks redder than usual. ”Oh, good. I'd probably make a botch of it. I've talked with young men, of course, but even that's been rare. Usually by the time I get them they know where babies come from.

Now, Ansil of Groten. He's a hesitater. Right when he should set for his impact, he flinches. You can use that.”

After that night's service Kel visited her mother. They had talked about lovers and pregnancy, how these things happened, and how important it was to decide if she wanted children when she chose to bed a man. Still, then it had been all theoretical. With Cleon looming in her mind's eye, she wanted her mother's practical advice.

The G.o.ds were with her: Ilane of Mindelan was alone in the tent she shared with Kel's father, Piers. She looked up from the book she was reading and smiled at her youngest daughter. ”This is lovely,” she said as they kissed one another on the cheek. ”I haven't had you to myself in ages. How goes all?”

Kel feared that if she didn't blurt the problem out right away, she might lose courage later. The story spilled from her lips in a muddle, one that Ilane needed a few questions to straighten out.

”Well!” she said finally, sitting back in her chair. ”You're in a unique position, I'd say.”

Kel had thought of several descriptions for her problem, but ”unique position” was not one of them. ”How so?” she asked.

”Why, most young n.o.blewomen don't have your freedom,” replied Ilane. ”Our families are so determined to keep their bloodlines pure that they insist their daughters remain virgins before marriage, poor things. You don't see that nonsense in the middle and lower cla.s.ses. They know a woman's body belongs to herself and the G.o.ddess, and that's the end of it.”

Kel was trying to remember if she'd ever heard the matter put in quite this fas.h.i.+on. She hadn't.

Ilane leaned her chin on her hand. ”I've often thought the n.o.bility's handling of s.e.x and marriage in their girls is the same as that of horse breeders who try to keep their mares from being mounted by the wrong stallions.”

Kel sat bolt upright. ”Mama!” Hearing such things in her mother's deep, lovely voice made them even more shocking. She expected this kind of phrasing from her male friends, not her mother.

”You can't say this to n.o.blemen, of course.” Ilane got up and went to the small fire that burned in front of the tent. ”Tea?”

Kel automatically stood to get the cups. Before she realized she didn't know where they were, her mother had placed a small table between the chairs and was setting out all she would need. Kel sank into her chair. ”Why can't this be said to men?”

”The good ones are too romantic to like it, and the bad ones don't care. My papa was the don't-care sort. I overheard him once describing me to a potential suitor. Even though I had small b.r.e.a.s.t.s, he said, my hips were big enough that I should foal with ease. It would be easy to find a milk nurse once I dropped a healthy son.” Ilane deftly put a tiny scoop of powdered green tea in each of the large, handle-less cups, then added water from the iron Yamani pot. She took up the whisk, beating Kel's tea, then her own, into a green froth. They bowed to one another Yamani-style, then sipped.

Kel sighed with grat.i.tude: she loved freshly made green tea. She enjoyed another sip, then asked, ”So what's my unique position?”

”Since you've decided against a n.o.ble marriage, you may bed whoever you like,” Ilane replied. ”You can choose, Kel. If you and Cleon want to go to bed, you can.”

Goose b.u.mps rolled down Kel's arms. ”But I don't want to choose anything like that! I want my s.h.i.+eld - I've given up everything for it. And - ” She remembered how it had felt, knowing that she cared about Cleon. It had thrilled and frightened her. ”I don't want to be distracted,” she admitted, feeling small with guilt. It seemed selfish, put that way. ”I don't think I want to bed anyone, Mama. We were just kissing, that's all.”

”Kissing may lead to more serious things, my darling,” Ilane said, cupping Kel's cheek in one cool, long-fingered hand. ”A girl may be carried away. It's not always love. l.u.s.t may feel wonderful enough to be mistaken for love.”

”I just want my s.h.i.+eld,” Kel whispered. ”I'll deal with the rest later. The - complications.”

”Perhaps you should see a healer,” Ilane suggested. ”Get a charm to keep you from pregnancy, until you're certain you'd like to be a mother. Then, if you do get carried away, you can surrender to your feelings.” Ilane grinned wickedly. ”G.o.ddess knows your father and I did.”

Kel gulped. She did not want to think of her parents getting carried away. ”Well, I certainly don't want babies,” she admitted when she could speak again. ”But if you think I should get the charm, I will.”

Ilane shook her head. ”Think about it for yourself. Then decide.”

They were finis.h.i.+ng their tea when her father strode into the tent. He was a short, stocky man who stood only as tall as his wife's shoulder, a man with Kel's own brown hair and dreamy hazel eyes. Just now there were no dreams in his eyes, but crackling awareness.

”Kel!” he snapped. ”You're jousting against Ansil of Groten?”

”What?” cried Ilane, sitting bolt upright.

Kel let a little sigh escape. More explanations - just what she needed.

twelve.

TOURNAMENT.

The night crept by. Kel lay awake, listening to the noises of the progress, until she finally dozed sometime before dawn. She slept late for one of the few times in her life. It wasn't Raoul's preparations for his day that roused her, or the activity of those neighbors whose tents were pitched on the same ”street,” but the searing pain of sharp claws digging into her head. Kel sat up with a yelp, wide awake, as the griffin clutched her scalp harder still. Jump barked, the birds shrilled, and Raoul shoved through the flap between their tents. ”Kel - Mithros help us,” Raoul said. Kel reached up and closed her hands on feathers and steely muscle. The griffin let go of the hair he gripped so energetically with his forepaws and clamped his beak on her finger. He kicked at her scalp with his hind claws.

”I'll get his breakfast,” Raoul said hurriedly, and ducked back into his tent. Kel gritted her teeth and patiently unhooked the griffin from her scalp. The bite on her finger wasn't so bad. The griffin had closed on muscle and bone, not a soft spot. She could endure that better than claws.

Once she had him captive, she got up and carried him over to his platform. The moment she let go, the griffin hissed and launched himself into the air, clumsily chasing sparrows around the tent. Kel swore under her breath. He had learned to fly at last.

By the time Raoul came back with food, Kel had created a leash from a strip of leather. While the griffin ate from his dish, something she had taught him several weeks before, she tied the leash around his leg. As soon as he finished, the griffin turned and bit the leather, severing it. ”Chain?” Raoul asked.

Kel shook her head. ”He'll rust it like he did the cage. Let's see how well behaved he is.” She felt the top of her head. It was tacky with blood.

Raoul took over, sponging away blood and applying the ointment Kel used on griffin wounds. She winced as it stung in the deep scratches, but didn't try to pull away. The ingredient that made it sting would clean the cuts. There was never any telling what was on his claws, so she scoured all the damage that he did to her with the strongest cleaning ointment she could find.

”He would pick today,” Raoul said as he finished and wiped his hands. ”Did you sleep at all?”

”Some,” Kel said with a shrug.

”Well, get dressed and we'll have breakfast.” Seeing she was about to refuse, Raoul shook his head. ”You need a big meal now and a small one at noon,” he informed her. ”What's the point to a joust if you're too weak to last?”

Kel bowed to his experience and obeyed. The morning crawled by. So did the noon break in the tournament proceedings. At last, clad in tilting armor, a visored helm under one arm, Kel waited for the fighters ahead of her to finish their match.

It's a beautiful day for it, she thought as she squinted at the cloudless sky. Autumn was in the mid-September breeze off Lake Naxen, carrying brisk air that made the flags and pennants around the field crack.

A beautiful day to fly into the dirt, she thought ruefully. That wasn't important. Even if she lost, she'd have protested Sir Ansil's poison-spreading. She had to try. It might force him to look twice the next time he bullied a young man, though Lerant must never know that. She had told him she would defend Raoul's name so she wouldn't hurt the irritable standard-bearer's pride.

The field was clear. The chief herald, who instructed the jousters, rode toward Kel. Sir Ansil was at the other end of the field with his friends. Kel had banished hers, including her animals, to the stands. She wanted silence before the fight, time to sink into her Yamani self and prepare.

”You still mean to do this, Squire Keladry?” the herald asked.

”I do, sir,” she replied calmly.