Part 17 (2/2)
”I didn't!” Kel protested, shocked.
”Hush, Kel,” Raoul ordered. To Burchard he said, ”One more chunk of spew and you answer me by the sword, understand?”
Burchard said nothing, only rubbed his throat. Raoul looked at Joren's mother and uncle.
”We understand,” Joren's mother told Raoul. She tried to pull her husband to his feet.
”We understand our realm has strayed so far from tradition that the G.o.ds' gifts fail,” Joren's uncle snapped. ”The Chamber is breaking down. What more proof do we need that we have lost divine favor? What have you people left untouched? You school the whelps of farmers, let women make war, intermarry with foreigners - ”
”I make allowance for your grief.” Kel had never heard that tone in Raoul's voice. White-hot rage seem to smoke off his skin. ”Go. Bury your boy.” Raoul hauled the lord of Stone Mountain up one-handed and thrust him at his wife and brother. ”While you do, ask yourselves where he learned to be so rigid that he shattered under the Ordeal. Get out.”
They left. Kel shut the door, trembling.
Raoul rubbed his face with both hands. ”G.o.ds,” he whispered, ”I need a drink.”
”Shall I get you one?” Kel asked, unsure.
”Not the kind I meant, if you don't mind,” he replied. ”Juice, water - no liquor.” He smiled crookedly. ”It turns me into someone I don't like.”
”I'll find something,” Kel promised, looking for her clothes.
”Kel.” Raoul grasped her shoulder. ”That was bile, pure and simple. You had nothing to do with Joren's fate - you do understand that?”
Kel thought about it. ”Yes, sir,” she said at last.
”Raoul, maybe you're not entirely right,” said Buri, leaning on the door to his rooms. ”You heard Lord Fart-face. Joren was a golden boy before our Kel arrived. Maybe the Chamber just found the selves that Vinson and Joren revealed around Kel.”
”I thought only Alanna was lucky enough to be the tool of the G.o.ds,” Raoul commented.
”Don't the G.o.ds say when they choose you?” Kel asked. ”I've never heard from them.”
”Oh, maybe I'm just giddy,” Buri said with a shrug. ”Who goes tonight?”
”Garvey of Runnerspring,” Kel replied. ”One of Joren's cronies.”
”He'll have an audience tomorrow,” said the K'mir, walking into Raoul's study. ”And I am going back to bed.” She glanced at Raoul. ”Well?”
He grinned, then looked at Kel. ”Don't let them poison you,” he told her. ”Your coming was a fine thing, for the realm, for all those girls who come to watch you tilt, even for an old bachelor like me.” He went into his rooms and pulled the door shut after him.
Quite a few people visited the Chapel the next morning as Garvey of Runnerspring entered the Chamber. Kel did not, though she heard about it from Owen. The watchers had a long, quiet wait. When Garvey emerged, weak and shaken but otherwise fine, a sigh of relief went up.
The next morning Zahir ibn Alhaz, another of Joren's friends, entered the Chamber. He too walked out alive, sane, and confessionless.
Prince Roald's year was larger than the previous one: eleven squires awaited the Ordeal. The court remained at the palace as every squire entered the Chamber. There were no more upsets, and the departure of the progress was announced the day of the last Ordeal. Kel was packing Raoul's things when someone knocked at his door. She opened it to find the king and several of his chief councilors: Sir Gareth of Naxen, Alanna the Lioness, Sir Myles of Olau, and Lord Imrah of Port Legann, Prince Roald's former knight-master. Raoul stood at his desk, frowning. ”Sire, to what - ”
The king said flatly, ”Wyldon of Cavall has resigned. He won't reconsider.” He looked at Kel. ”I don't want your friends to hear this before the official announcement,” he ordered. Kel nodded and brought chairs for everyone.
”Resigned?” demanded Raoul. ”In Mithros's name, why? He's done a cursed fine job!”
The king looked meaningfully at Kel. She read his expression: he did not want her there. She fetched cups, brought a pitcher of cider in from the window ledge, and poured drinks for everyone, then left.
The king had forbidden her only to talk to her friends, she thought as she headed for the pages' wing. The training master's door was open; Wyldon was inside, packing things in a crate. He looked up when she knocked.
Only then did she think that Wyldon might not approve of her coming when she wasn't supposed to know of his resignation. She was about to make a lame excuse and go when his mouth jerked sideways. ”I suppose they're with Raoul, trying to name a new training master,” he remarked. ”What brings you here?”
”My lord said it, and I agree - you're a wonderful training master,” she replied, worried for him. ”You can't go.”
”I can, and I will,” replied Wyldon. ”I must.” He sighed, rubbing the arm that had been raked by a savage winged horse called a hurrok. It always bothered him when snow was about to fall. ”Come in and close the door,” he ordered. ”Did you hear why?”
”No, sir,” Kel replied, doing as he bid. It felt odd to sit in his presence. She perched on the edge of the chair, a compromise between standing and being comfortable. ”I gave them something to drink and left.”
He wrapped a stone hawk figure in cloth and stowed it in his crate. ”Two failures in one year - it's never happened. I think my training, my approach, is flawed. Maybe I've done this for too long - fifteen years, after all. It's time for someone new.”
”But sir, you can't blame yourself,” Kel protested. ”Joren and Vinson...” She stopped, suddenly unsure. She had often thought that Wyldon ignored the bullying of first-year pages, encouraging boys to fight and to use their strength without thinking.
”You see?” Wyldon asked, sardonic. ”You aren't sure that I didn't help to create Vinson and Joren either. I told lads to be aggressive, to concentrate on the goal. Mindelan, it may be that the best thing said of my tenure is that you were my student. Should that be the case, I am the wrong man for this post. I did all I could to get rid of you. Your probation was wrong. You know that, I know it. I was harder on you than any lad. Thank Mithros I remembered my honor and let you stay when you met the conditions - but it was a near thing. Next time I might not heed the voice of honor.”
Kel watched him pack for a while, unable to think of a reply. He had confirmed what she had wondered about for years. Still, she didn't think he should go. ”Sir, I learned so much from you,” she said at last. ”You're the kind of knight I want to be.”
He regarded her with the strangest expression in his eyes. ”I am not,” he said. ”But that you believe it is the greatest compliment I will ever receive. Go back to your master, Kel. If they can't decide, tell them I said Padraig haMinch. He's old blood, conservative, and a Minchi.”
Knowing she was dismissed, Kel stood. Before she could leave, she had to ask ”Sir, what will you do?” Wyldon ma.s.saged his bad arm. ”Go home. Idle about until my wife threatens to leave me. I've asked for a post on the northern border come spring. Scanra is on the move. I'd like to do what I can.” He waved an impatient hand. ”Go, Mindelan. If you're going to snivel, do it outside my office.”
Kel nodded, unable to trust her voice, bowed, then went. She didn't snivel, but she did blow her nose.
Something occurred to her; she ran back to his open door. ”Sir?” she asked.
Wyldon looked up from a book. ”Weren't you leaving?”
”Sir, if you'll only consider,” she began nervously. She wasn't at all sure that her idea was good, but her instinct was to pursue it.
”Consider...?” he prodded.
Kel blurted, ”Owen of Jesslaw.”
”Owen?” he asked. ”That h.e.l.lion?” He folded his arms, looking thoughtful. ”All right,” he said finally. ”Tell Myles I would like a word when he's free.”
When she reached her room, she stopped to listen at the door. Should she tell them Lord Wyldon's suggestion?
”It's settled, then. Padraig haMinch.” That was the king's voice. Kel heard chairs sc.r.a.pe. ”Gary, take over with the pages - you've been complaining how your paperwork is backed up. I'll see if there's a scry-mage at haMinch. I'd like to give Lord Padraig word as soon as possible.”
As they emerged from Raoul's chambers, Kel stopped Sir Myles to relay Lord Wyldon's other request.
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