CHAPTER NINE

Runt of the Litter

December-January, 460-461

Carthak and Tortall

Two weeks before Kel was to leave on Report, a very extraordinary thing happened: Baron Piers and the Imperial Speaker agreed on something. They were past the point of settling the backstage issues, and now the second act could begin. Princess Kalasin of Conté would be returning with the Report to Carthak.

"And meanwhile," Piers ended his speech that evening, "the Emperor will do everything in his power to see that this 'underground rebellion' is obliterated."

As soon as Carthak was out of sight, Kel changed into breeches and tunic before going topside of the Tortallan ship that was bearing them home. The wind was cool, but without the severe bite of northern winters, and she shrugged off the chill without effort.

As she breathed in the salty air, a lanky green blur flew past her and leaped up onto the rigging to hang off the ship facing northward. Kel shaded her eyes against the sun and looked up at him.

"Hello Neal. Enjoying the freedom to be yourself?"

"Very much, Lady Knight," her friend replied, somehow bowing from the waist. "You sure that fellow Jerreth won't suddenly fling himself off and swim to shore to spill all our secrets to his milord?"

"Quite certain," Kel answered dryly. "Even if he did, he'd probably drown halfway there. Can you see the shore?"

"Um… if I pretend I have the sight… Ow! Don't hit me, Kel, it's not nice."

"I never claimed to be 'nice', did I?"

"No, and you've certainly proved it - OW! Stoppit, you!"

"Speaking of 'the prisoner', where is he?" Kel asked, leaving off torment for a while.

"Dunno," he shrugged, "in the hold somewhere, being eaten alive by rats or some such… oh, there his is. Ship's boy now."

Squinting against the brightness of the day, Kel made out Jerreth's slender silhouette running from quarterdeck to first mate, giving the captain's orders to the be relayed in the man's booming voice. "Good. At least he's not twiddling his thumbs, apt to get up to some kind of trouble."

"Do you suppose Yuki's been alright without me?" Neal asked, changing the subject abruptly.

"I… suppose," Kel answered hesitantly. "She didn't say anything to negate that fact in her last letter."

"I've been worried for her," he admitted, buoyancy suddenly gone. "You didn't… you know, say anything to her?"

"Of course not," Kel said indignantly. "That's between you and her. There is a line, you know, that a friend can never cross. Why so nervous all of a sudden?"

"I dunno." He shrugged, cheerful again. "Enjoy this while you can, though. Just to warn you."

"Enjoy what?" Kel asked suspiciously.

"You know. Wearing a man's clothes. Cause when we get to Tortall, there's going to be ball after ball after -"

"I'll hide with Raoul in the weaponry or something," Kel dismissed him.

"And endure his smooching with Buri? Yuck! I don't think so," Neal predicted with relish. "With your luck Alanna will be dragging you all over creation for gowns and such just so she can spend 'quality time' with another female knight."

"Well, I certainly don't envy you," she returned smugly. "You'll be at Yuki's side the whole time, dealing with morning sickness, cramps, mood swings, cravings…"

Neal's response was a wail akin to that of a dying warthog.

Unfortunately, her friend's predictions came true. Alanna, unwilling to spend hours with the queen and her ladies getting fitted, stole Kel and made her go with her to Lalasa's dress shop. Although it was packed to the gills with ladies coming to place orders, get fittings, and purchase cloth, Lalasa somehow found time to get Kel and Alanna into an empty fitting room and take both their measurements while an assistant jotted down notes and numbers as the brisk young woman fired them out. Moments later, the two lady knights found themselves standing in the street somewhat bewildered at what had happened.

In the end, however, Kel spent most of her time with Kalasin, preparing to become her primary guard while in Carthak. However, spending time with the older girl was not as tedious as she had feared. In fact, it was rather exciting. In between excursions into the forest on horseback (a guard following behind at exactly twenty paces), Kel found herself roped into training master duty, as Buri was too occupied with her eight-month-pregnant self and had been for some time.

During her free time, Kel made the rounds, checking up on Neal (who was constantly at Yukimi's side) and Raoul (who avoided his snarling wife as best he could). This consisted of much time in the practice courts, toning up with Raoul in all manner of combat for the Midwinter Games. It was there that Wyldon found her, locked in a rather precarious position with Raoul, whose superior body mass was beginning to win out on her sword and arms.

"Keladry! Can you come here a moment?"

Kel blinked at Raoul, a drop of sweat rolling down her temple. The giant man nodded and stepped back with a sigh, wiping his own forehead with the back of his hand. "I swear, a few more seconds and you might have had me."

"I was about to cry quits myself," Kel admitted as she sheathed her sword. "What do you suppose Wyldon wants me for?"

Raoul snorted. "I know that look on his face. One of his bitches is probably birthing." He raised his hands defensively. "Don't yell at me! That's what you call them, I swear. Go ask Wyldon."

"Fine, I will," Kel retorted, waving goodbye and strolling over to where Wyldon was leaning against the rail that separated the court from the empty ring of spectators' seats.

"Female dogs are technically called bitches, Raoul has recently informed me," Kel announced. As she drew closer, she noticed a thrum of excitement buried under the relaxed lines of his body, and that he was holding onto rational thought by a very slim thread indeed.

"That is true," he agreed, throwing a very un-benign glance over her shoulder to where Raoul leaned on his sword, chortling. "It seems he knows me to well. Do you mind coming to see the newest additions to the palace?"

"Not at all," Kel agreed, following him out of the ring and to the kennels. "I didn't know you kept your dogs in Corus."

"Usually I don't. Last time I was in Tortall, I moved them here, since there was no one I trusted at Cavall to take care of them."

This was said with a flat tone of voice, and Kel instantly wished she hadn't said anything. Trying to smooth over the rough moment in their conversation she asked, "How many pups?"

"There were eight when I left, and she was doing fine - at this point eight might be all or there might be more. This is her third litter, and they produce less as they get older. Last time she only had seven."

"Only?" She made a face. "Seems like an awful lot to me."

Wyldon chuckled. "It probably seems like a lot to her, too. But there were eleven in her first litter."

As they entered the kennels, Kel instantly noticed the silence. She gave her guide a questioning look.

"Since Daine's arrival here, the dogs have become especially intelligent," he murmured. "They are silent out of respect for the new lives that are coming into the world today."

This simple statement took Kel's breath away, and she was thankful when he opened a fairly low gateway and led her gently by the elbow into the room. Inside, a female dog – Kel still couldn't call her a bitch – lay on her side, seemingly tuckered out. Her long silken hair was the color of ripe wheat, her tail a full plume of soft gold as it thumped the floor upon Wyldon's arrival. Her amber eyes gazed up at him in complete adoration, and he knelt at her head to stroke her floppy ears with his callused hand.

"Shut the door," he whispered, not taking his eyes off the new mother. Kel obeyed, and when she turned she focused on the pups instead. They were tiny little things, their short hair various shades of gold. Nine were lined up in a wiggling, whimpering row at their mother's teats; Kel's face broke into an instinctive smile at the sight. Wyldon examined the mother first, and then each pup after her, his face both pleased and proud as he felt their wriggling little bodies clamoring for food.

As she watched the methodical procedure, Kel caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye. Further away from the rest of its family, struggling to move towards the feast that awaited it, was a pale blond puppy. Its ears and eyes were squinched tightly shut like its fellows, but something about the way it moved its mouth in an imitation of suckling and how its tiny legs stirred anxiously on the floor told Kel it wasn't healthy.

Finally moving farther into the room, she knelt and picked the laboring thing up into her arms, only to be stopped by a hand on her arm.

"There was bound to be one in a litter this big," Wyldon said gently. "There were two in her first."

Kel shrank away from his possessive touch on the animal she held. "What do you mean?"

"Look at it, Keladry. It's small; see its nose? There's no pigment in its skin. Its legs aren't strong enough to move it to his mother's side. It's a runt, Kel."

"So you're going to kill it?" she nearly shrieked. A russet male canine in a pen across the hall growled deep in his chest at the noise that disturbed his wife and their young.

"It is incapable of surviving," Wyldon tried to explain, rumpling his thinning hair in agitation. "Even the parents know that there maybe one or more who will not live."

She gazed helplessly at the female; she blinked serenely as though acknowledging and agreeing with her master's words. Kel looked down at the pale creature panting and shivering in her arms and felt tears come to her eyes. "I will buy him from you."

There might have been a vague whisper of "female sentimentality" from Wyldon's direction, but she ignored it. In any case, his next words redeemed him beyond measure. "Dear girl, if you are that insistent, you may have it without cost," he told her. "I suggest you ask the mother to wean it before it dies, though. Then you can see about feeding it watered-down goats milk or some such."

Had she not been holding the puppy, Kel was sure she would have embraced him. As it was, she kissed his weathered cheek in thanks and leaned down to whisper to the dog. She was so intent on the one-sided bargain that she missed the way Wyldon raised his hand to touch the spot where her lips had been, and the bewilderment in his eyes as he watched her lovingly care for the disabled puppy.

The Midwinter Games were something that every knight and squire in Corus participated in. Kel had missed it three years in a row as Raoul's squire, as they had conveniently been away. Now, as she sat in the knight's dining hall listening to Alanna explain with relish the contests that they would be competing, she wished she hadn't been quite so busy. At least then she would have an idea of what she would be doing. Everything the older knight described sounded like a crazy racecourse of jousting, running, wrestling, riding, sparring, and other feats of strength and prowess rolled into one.

"You need some practice from the looks of you," the redhead added as she tore her small loaf in two and slathered it with butter and honey. "All that court life has made you whiter than a lily and just as feeble."

That stung Kel's pride. "That's as may be, Lady Knight, but I can still grip a lance better than most!"

The petite woman grinned recklessly. "Oh yes? Better than Lord Wyldon?"

"I haven't managed to best him yet," Kel admitted, glancing down the table to where her old training master sat talking dogs with Padraig haMinch. "But not for lack of trying."

Alanna leaned back on her bench, sizing up Keladry and Lord Wyldon by turns. "In that case, Lady Knight, I would like to make you a bet. I understand your little jaunt in Carthak is worth a pretty penny."

Kel's eyes narrowed. "Just because your King's Champion doesn't give you the right to nose into my monetary affairs. What are you getting at?"

The copper-haired woman could barely contain her wicked glee. "In the spirit of Midwinter, let us keep the stakes high. I will bet you one purse of gold and two purses of silver that you can't unseat Lord Wyldon at the jousting tournament in three days."

Kel paused. It had been a while since she'd jousted with anything more solid than a quintain dummy. Hoshi wasn't built for it, and jousting wasn't a Carthaki sport. However, since her training with Raoul, she was feeling more her old, muscled self. Besides that, the promise of winning one over on the older woman was hard to resist.

Spitting on her hand and holding it out for Alanna to shake, Kel gave her response.

"It would be my pleasure."

"You don't know what you've signed yourself on to," Raoul said later that evening as they mounted their warhorses and prepared their practice lances in preparation for the tournament – and Kel's bet. "Well, maybe you do. You've certainly jousted him before."

"He's had as little time to practice as I have," Kel replied, sounding more confident than she felt. Her old knight-master snorted.

"Jousting isn't something you forget too quickly. Now shall we stand here and jaw all night, or do you want to practice?"

In answer, Kel lined up Peachblossom – who was now being kept in the Palace Stables – and readied her stance. Raoul trotted to the other side of the ring and saluted. "Best of luck, Lady Knight!"

Kel didn't even have to tell Peachblossom to charge. Within the space of two breaths, Drum and Peachblossom surged forward. The speed and power of her gelding took Kel's breath away, and she squeezed her knees tightly, feeling the perfect balance of her body. The rolling motion of the horse, the clench and release of her muscles as she lowered the lace – all felt perfectly aligned. She grinned inwardly as the two horses thundered closer. I'm home.

They came together in an explosion of wood. Kel lurched to one side, but stayed in the saddle, feeling the bones of her hand ache with the jarring of the splintering lance. Raoul winced as they rode past one another, massaging his padded abdomen.

"Nearly popped me out, there," he called, grabbing another lance from the page that was attending them. "Let's have another go and see if you can't finish the job, eh?"

For all his advice, Kel knew that Raoul wasn't going to make it easy for her. She accepted her own lance, patting the dancing Peachblossom on the neck.

"Easy, boy. Let's take him."

This time Kel knew everything was perfect. Her breath surged with the horse, and unbeknownst to her, a reckless grin filled her eyes as they charged. Her lance caught him square on his shield, and she popped him up and over Drum's churning gray hindquarters to land in the dust.

The rush of victory overtook her, but only for a moment. Bringing Peachblossom back around, she slid to the ground and bent over her old knight-master.

"Sir? Raoul? Are you okay?" she asked, a little bit concerned. He had hit the dirt hard.

Raoul groaned, sitting up slowly and massaging his back. "This tourney stuff is starting to catch up with me," he wheezed. "Help me up Kel, that's enough for today."

Kel obeyed silently, startled. Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak rarely showed any sign of weakness. But the look on his face told her she'd better keep her mouth shut, so she took hold of Drum and Peachblossom and led them away, glancing covertly over her shoulder to watch him limp to the men's baths.

"I hope I didn't hit him too hard," she remarked to the horses, chewing her bottom lip. Drum grunted, nosing her hip. She flicked his velvety muzzle and clucked her tongue. "No apples for you m'laddo, until I get you wiped down. Peachblossom! Stop that, of course you're first. You're my horse, aren't you?"

Upon reaching the stable, she fastened Drum's reins to a hitch and led her own horse well out of the way to untack and groom him. She was halfway through the task when she realized Drum was also being taken care of. She peeped over Peachblossom's mane, and then ducked back down again quickly. It was Lord Wyldon.

Kel's brow furrowed slightly as she bent down to pick her gelding's enormous hooves, wondering what he was doing there. Or more specifically, what he was doing grooming Raoul's warhorse. But then Peachblossom shifted his weight lazily, planting nearly all his weight on her toe, and all thoughts fled her mind.

"Shite! Move off, you bloody stupid horse!" Kel shouted, leaning with all her might against the reddish-brown haunch. Her destrier eyed her without moving. Gritting her teeth against the pain – she could feel the bones in her foot moving ominously – Kel tried to push harder. For a moment she was certain he was going to break her foot entirely.

Then Wyldon had the reins, and was tugging the enormous destrier in the opposite direction. Peachblossom's mouth, though somewhat hardened, responded to the pressure, and he removed his hoof as Wyldon forced him to dance to one side.

"That was odd," the older knight remarked, backing Peachblossom down the corridor a short distance. "Usually he's very well-behaved."

Kel sagged against the nearest stall door, lifting her pulverized foot off the floor as she chuckled weakly. "I wouldn't say 'very,' milord. More like 'grudgingly.'"

Once the errant Peachblossom was affixed to the wall again, Lord Wyldon grabbed her arms and helped her to limp to a nearby bale of hay. "Sit," he ordered. "I'll be back with a healer."

Kel leaned back and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the waves of pain that radiated up her leg. Biting her tongue, she set her mind to complicated arithmetic. She had just solved 48π squared over e when Lord Wyldon returned, a female healer in tow.

"Let me have a look," she said, kneeling in front of her. The healer took the injured foot gently between her hands, and Kel promptly fainted.