Part Two

On the road to Cavall

The next morning, Kel resolved not to let last night's progress fade. Usually, Kel preferred listening to talking, especially during meals. She had a sinking suspicion Wyldon was the same way, and she also had a suspicion Tobe would talk only to her. That in mind, Kel made a point of being especially talkative that morning. She shared several stories about the tournaments she'd attended as a squire, and even coaxed a few tales out of Wyldon. All too soon, dawn came and it was time to ride.

"When did you unseat Lord Raoul?" Kel asked while Tobe dozed in the saddle.

"A little over ten years ago at Stone Mountain. I had bested him earlier as a squire, he wanted to see if he could beat me as a knight. He couldn't," Wyldon said with a shrug.

"Have you ever jousted with His Majesty?"

"Three times," Wyldon responded. Kel raised expectant eyebrows. "The first time he unhorsed me when he was a squire. The next two times I unhorsed him." Kel tried not to look too pleased.

"Lady," Tobe yawned in greeting, stretching. He usually didn't have trouble waking up, but he'd stayed up late the previous night talking with one of the local girls. Kel didn't relish the idea of Tobe growing up, but she knew puberty had to strike sometime. "Your lordship," he said to Wyldon.

"Good morning, Boon," Wyldon said courteously. Tobe frowned, then decided he didn't want to know.

"Lady, where are we going today?"

"We should be at Bellfast by sunset, assuming the roads aren't too muddy. If we don't make it to Bellfast, we sleep on the road. Tobe made a generally discontented sound. Kel raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Sable doesn't like sleeping on the road, and he complains constantly and loudly," Tobe explained. Kel shook her head.

"I don't think he's ever going to be a war animal," Kel said to Wyldon.

"Throwback," Wyldon agreed. Lightning cracked across the sky and rain began to pour in chilled sheets. "Marvelous." Kel smiled wanly, pulling her hood up. So much for Bellfast.

"Tobe, how do you spell "splendid?"" Kel asked. Tobe groaned.

"A quiz in the rain? That's just cruel, Lady. S-P-L-E-N-D-I-D."

"Arachnid," Kel said. With a sigh, Tobe began spelling. After fifteen words, Kel pronounced him competent. Tobe smiled, then launched into a game of trading riddles, which degenerated into trading news about the social happenings of New Hope after lunch. Tobe knew much more than Kel by virtue of his ability to become almost completely unnoticed.

Wyldon rolled his eyes and ignored them. Women, he thought caustically, rubbing his bad arm with one hand. If women stopped gossiping, the sky would fall for lack of air to hold it up. Wyldon sighed inaudibly. Don't lie to yourself, Cavall, you're too old for it. You're just feeling sulky because Mindelan's resolution to include you in conversation predictably didn't last past noon. And you've only yourself to blame. Wyldon watched Kel and Tobe chat out of the corner of his eye for a few moments, then returned his attention to the surrounding countryside. I'll just talk to Mindelan when Boon is dozing.

"What do you think, my lord?" Kel asked suddenly.

"I beg your pardon?" Wyldon said.

"How long will King Maggur hold his throne?"

"With most of his hostages gone, Tortall strong, no killing devices, and only his armies to support him? A year at the most," Wyldon said. "That is assuming he doesn't take more hostages or do something drastic. It's the latter that worries me." Kel nodded. She didn't ask what Maggur could do. She had nightmares enough.

"Let's go," Wyldon said, standing. Kel nodded and rose, glancing at the falling rain. There was no way they'd make Bellfast, but they could possibly find a decent camp before sundown. Sable shied away when Wyldon tried to mount, earning him a sharp rap on the nose. The horse crow-hopped twice as soon as Wyldon urged him forward, then balked at the road. Wyldon sighed and dismounted. He led Sable under a tree and proceeded to have a discussion punctuated with firm jerks on the bridle with the animal. Tobe added his two pence and the group proceeded on their way without further disruption.

I'm going to see this brainless twit is sold to some pretty, brainless young lady who'll braid ribbons in his hair and never ask of him anything remotely resembling proper equine behavior," Wyldon growled. Sable snorted.

"He says that suits him just fine," Tobe said with a grin.

"On second thought, the quarries are always looking for new animals to haul the stone. Hard work, roads as often mud as not, harsh men with whips for masters - sounds just the thing for you, doesn't it?" Wyldon told the black horse, who whinnied his dislike of the suggestion. "Thank you for the translation, Boon." Tobe nodded.

"But don't horses usually die their first year there?" Kel asked, frowning.

"Yes, they do. I'd never send one of my standard horses there, only culls are sent to the quarries," Wyldon said with a shrug. Sable again registered his discontent. Kel shook her head.

"If I had told Yuki our horses were smart enough intimidation and threats worked as a training tactic, she would have called me mad," Kel remarked.

"Who's to say we're not?" Tobe asked.

Several soggy hours later Tobe and Kel made camp while Wyldon checked over the two mules and three horses. The two surprisingly well-behaved mules showed their first signs of difficulty - they were too busy nuzzling Wyldon to hold still for inspection. Peachblossom behaved while his hoofs were inspected, but the instant Wyldon finished the last hoof and started to stand, the warhorse clamped his formidable teeth down on Wyldon's shoulder. With a snarl, Wyldon jerked himself free and, to Kel's shock, grabbed Peachblossom's ear and returned the favor.

"You bit him!" Tobe shrieked as Peachblossom whinnied in surprised pain.

"Once they learn you bite back it takes all the fun out of things," Wyldon said with a shrug. Kel stared, then turned back to her cooking.

"You bit Peachblossom. You!" Tobe said again in shock.

"After breaking enough of the creatures, you learn how to fight by their rules and yours," Wyldon said calmly. "War and training have more in common than most people believe."

"Don't say that to Neal. He'll take it as justification for every bad thing he's ever said about you," Kel muttered.

"Queenscove doesn't need justification. It takes too much thought," Wyldon retorted. Kel refrained from comment.

It rained all night, but when Kel woke up it was Spring. The air was clean and crisp, a hint of warmth to come in the breeze.

"Good morning," she said cheerfully to Wyldon as he emerged from his tent. Wyldon growled a reply, scratching irritably at the morning's stubble.

"Never chirp at a man before he's shaved, Mindelan."

"Not a morning person, my lord?" Kel asked sympathetically, following him to the stream.

"I am. After I've scratched the fur off my face." Wyldon knelt by the stream, dipped his soap in, and began working up a lather. Kel washed her hair, glancing sidelong at Wyldon as he applied the lather to his face and dipped his razor in the water. Making certain not to look directly, Kel watched with fascination. While she'd heard about shaving from her brothers, friends, and even her father, she'd never actually observed the process. She finished scrubbing her hair at the same time Wyldon finished his right side. Kel squeezed her short locks dry and began washing her face, still watching from the corner of her eye as Wyldon scraped the hair off his left side, starting at the sideburns and working toward his chin.

"You get a better view if you look directly," Wyldon said in the same measured tones he'd used to tell her her sword was too low when she was a page. Kel blushed a deep crimson, looking down at the stream in embarrassment. "You act as if you've never seen a man shave before."

"I haven't," Kel said softly, once again watching sidelong as he shaved his upper lip. Wyldon lowered his razor to look at Kel.

"All those brothers and friends and you've never seen shaving?" He asked incredulously. "You jest."

"I'm not," Kel protested. "I was never in their bathrooms in the morning." One corner of Wyldon's mouth twitched.

"No, I suppose not." Wyldon tilted his head back and shaved the last bits of stubble from the underside of his chin and neck. "It's really not that interesting," Wyldon said, then splashed water on his face.

"Not to you," Kel said, her shyness fading. "You do it every day."

"True. And so will Tobe, eventually."

"You don't need to remind me," Kel said as they began walking back to camp. They met Tobe half-way, who gave them an odd look before proceeding to the stream to begin his own ablutions.

"Spoken like a true mother," Wyldon said. Kel raised her eyebrows. "No mother wants her children to grow up," Wyldon explained. Kel blushed again and finished cooking the breakfast Tobe had begun.

"How do you spell "postulate?"" Kel asked shortly after they started riding. Tobe looked up from flicking small, hard nuts at Peachblossom. His aim had improved, no one was struck by botched shots but Peachblossom. With a sigh, Tobe spelled the word and put the nuts away. After reviewing spelling, they covered math, geography and grammar until mid-morning.

"Education is important," Kel replied when Tobe sighed in relief at the lessons' end.

"I know, Lady, but you're a hard teacher," Tobe replied.

"You learn that way. Don't complain," Wyldon said. Tobe scowled at Wyldon's back. "Crown Tournaments are run differently than Progress Tournaments," Wyldon said to Kel. "Namely, they're organized. The top three placers receive honors, the top placer receives a purse of 1,000 gold crowns, a sum the Crown pays, thank Mithros." Kel nodded. Raoul had told her of Crown Tournaments. "For the first two days all the jousting and sword matches are competition rounds. By the third day enough people have been eliminated that the grounds are open for Free Rounds in the afternoon. Free Rounds are challenges and sparring."

"And here I thought I'd be getting a break from fighting," Kel murmured. There was no reason to assume she'd be challenged any less now as she'd been as a squire.

"You only get to play after you've done the day's work," Wyldon said sternly. "Each round is prepared the night before and posted that morning. The Free Rounds are run just as they were on the Progress. Neither you nor I will have time for them." Kel wasn't certain if she was happy about that or not. On one hand, she liked jousting, on the other, no one would be trying to run her through.

"Everything at a Crown Tournament is recorded. The rounds' pairings are written down, each contestant's points, the brackets for jousting and swordplay, all of it. Jousting and swordplay are both elimination; those who win both their matches go on to the next day, those who've only won one match are dropped into the loser's bracket. Archery is decided by points. Each hit is given so many points - zero for a bullseye, one for a hit in the first circle, two for the next, and so on. The person with the fewest points wins. We eliminate the competitors with the highest points each day until the top ten face each other the final day, all day.

"There are five rounds per day, every competitor competes two rounds a day. Each day's rounds are scripted, everyone knows who they'll be facing. Each event has its own pseudo-stadium. The stands can be disassembled for transport, Cavall carpenters will see to the stands' assemblage. The Lord Provost will provide guards to keep the crowds in hand, and there should be some of the Own there. We'll be spending most of our time in the Tabulation Tent, where scores are totaled up and the next day's rounds determined.

"Both competitors and spectators will be camping on Cavall grounds. Cavall has to provide food for the competitors and sell food to the spectators. We also have to see that the latrines function without polluting the aquifer nor creating too much of a stench. And, of course, all of this must be done without angering my vassals."

"Do they like you?" Tobe asked with a trace of sarcasm.

"They tolerate most of what I do. That won't last long if I allow people to camp on their crops, though." Kel smiled lightly. Wyldon's humor was wickedly dry, so much so his jokes were often missed or misunderstood. Tobe snorted.

"Lord Raoul told me some of what went on at an official tournament, but he didn't mention all the details. Running one of these must be a nightmare," Kel said, awed.

"This is a fact. The Tab Tent is always pure chaos, but the Rules Committee is worse. The Rules Committee sees that everyone follows the rules and establishes those rules. The Committee consists of the Tournament host, the Prime Minister, the training master, the Lord Magistrate, and the High Priest of the Mithran Temple in Corus. That is to say: myself, Sir Gareth the Younger, Padraig haMinch, Duke Turomot - who usually sends a representative - and currently a man named Cedric Smithwise, who doesn't know which end of the lance to hold." Wyldon's last words were almost bitter. "Last year Smithwise proposed that jousting be judged like archery, based on points, not whether one wins or loses. The year before that he proposed adding dancing as a tournament event. His first year he proposed the use of wooden swords in swordplay, not steel. This year I predict he'll want to add pattern dancing to the tournaments," Wyldon said tersely. "No non-knight should ever be allowed to propose new rules." He glanced at Tobe, who was watching squirrels play in the trees. "I must be boring you terribly."

"Not at all, my lord," Kel said, interested. "What else has happened?"

"Well, at the Stone Mountain tournament, a man tried to compete with a spelled bow. He knew the Lioness would be attending, but he tried it anyway."

"The emberstone," Kel guessed.

"First round. I don't know why he bothered. Everyone and their dog knows the Lioness can see magic. Though that wasn't the worst that happened that tournament. One of the archery judges that year was Porthos of Legann. After the round, he tried to show the competitors where they'd erred. This was against the rules, so the competitors tried to leave. In response, Porthos snatched one of the bows and proceeded to hold the competitors at arrow-point until he'd finished his lecture on archery."

"Why!"

"Senility. I would argue that was what motivated Burchard to call me before the Rules Committee that year, but he's only five years older than me. He accused me of putting lead in my armor so I'd be harder to throw from the saddle. All rubbish, of course, but I had to go to the hearing all the same. It's somewhat common at Tournaments for unskilled competitors to call skilled ones before the Rules Committee in order to eliminate them. For a group sworn to chivalry, knights are a dishonest lot." Kel nodded in agreement, remembering Joren and Vinson.

"I had jousting mishaps even without the committees. When Raoul first taught me how to joust, he suited me up and had me try it. Jump and the birds didn't wait to see if the impact had hurt me. The birds flew at his eyes and hair, and Jump grabbed a chunk of Raoul's leg." Wyldon's mouth twitched in amusement at the image.

"Jump is a good dog, provided he keeps away from my es." Wyldon looked sidelong at Kel. "I have a litter of ugly white wardogs at Fort Mastiff now."

"Jump's only a foot tall!" Kel protested.

"That has never been an obstacle to any dog. They… manage."

"Do you want me to pay for the pups?" Kel asked. Jump was her dog, and Wyldon had most likely had plans for that litter that hadn't included mongrel blood.

"No, you don't have the money to reimburse me a litter of Cavall dogs. They should be trainable and intelligent - I'll be able to find good homes for them."

"I'm still sorry."

"Keep a better eye on him next time. I keep the es in heat in cages against this sort of occurrence. Jump opened Whitestar's cage."

"I'll keep him away from the cages, sir, I promise."

They traded a few more tales before stopping for lunch. After the noon meal, Kel and Tobe began trading riddles. Kel invited Wyldon to join in, but he predictably refused. They weren't close enough for games or first names yet. Nevertheless, Tobe practiced his spear against an invisible enemy that night while Kel honed her skills against Wyldon.

The next morning dawned as clear as the last. Kel slipped the bits into Wyldon's pack while he shaved. She spent the morning talking with Tobe, and the afternoon conversing with Wyldon. Tobe refused to carry on a conversation with Kel's commander.
If I didn't know better, Kel thought, chewing her bread and cheese sandwich, I would say Tobe is jealous of my lord. Tobe's never been jealous of any of the children or adults at New Hope, and he gets along with Dom fine, yet he will not get along with Lord Wyldon. Curious. A hard clink against her teeth snapped Kel from her thoughts. She looked down. A copper point was sticking out from between her bread. Kel opened her sandwich knowing what she'd find. The five copper bits shone brightly against the cheese. I'm going to have to watch my food the entire trip.

Passing the bits became something of a game between Kel and Wyldon that week, as well as a testament to each knight's stubbornness. The hiding places became ever more creative; from tying the bits to Kel's sword hilt, to tucking them into the hem of Wyldon's cloak. Neither knight had any prior clue as to where the bits would appear next. Kel even enlisted Peachblossom's help in the most creative return method. Wyldon said nothing about the clever hiding place - he acted as if it was perfectly natural for a warhorse to spit copper money at you in a mucous froth.

The troupe traveled at an easy pace. Since they had left Mastiff early, there was no need to strain the horses. They camped at twilight and practiced weapons and hand-to-hand combat, keeping their skills sharp. Kel divided her practice time between Tobe and Wyldon, as she did all day. Tobe would no more practice against Wyldon than he'd chat with him. Kel wasn't happy about this new quirk in her boy's behavior, but she couldn't find the privacy to discuss it with him on the road.

Part of the answer fell into Kel's lap during a game of "I Spy."

"I spy with my little eye something that is brown," Kel said.

"Hoshi," Tobe guessed. Kel shook her head.

"It has a black center." Tobe thought for a while, then gestured for another clue. "It absorbs light and reflects it," Kel said, smiling. Tobe frowned in thought, trying to remember anything the mages at New Hope had mentioned. Absorbs light and reflects it, that's magic… but magic wouldn't be in the woods.

"Are you sure you see this now?"

"I'm looking at it right now," Kel said. Tobe looked around, then shook his head. "It can be warm, cold, and nothing at all." Tobe gave Kel a dirty look.

"A paradox?" Tobe asked after several moments.

"You can't see those," Kel said, teasing. "Though what I spy is part of one."

"Very helpful," Tobe said, staring at Hoshi's saddle horn in thought. Brown with a black center, it absorbs light and reflects it, it's part of a paradox, it can be two temperatures and not have one, and it's right in front of my eyes- "His eyes," Tobe said in surprise, pointing to Wyldon. Kel nodded proudly. Tobe didn't look happy at solving the riddle. Instead of smiling, he edged Hoshi as close as he dared and hissed a demand at his mistress.

"Are you getting a crush on your training master?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Kel scoffed softly, slowing Peachblossom. Tobe searched Kel's face, then nodded. Kel frowned at the look of satisfaction in Tobe's eyes. "Tobe, are you worried that I'll be…"

"He's married, Lady; that's No-No Land in capital letters. I don't want to see you pining for something you can't ever have," the little old man in Tobe said seriously. Kel ruffled his hair, smiling.

"I can take care of myself. I'm no little girl to moon over her leader," Kel whispered, and urged Peachblossom to catch up to Sable and Wyldon. Tobe's brows knit together, not entirely certain.

"That may be, but you've got a habit of picking up strays in the oddest places, milady."

That night they found the most likely campsite already inhabited by a band of gypsies.

"Nonsense," the caravan leader, a man named Eric, said to the knights' offers to camp elsewhere, "there's room enough for all. There's an open space for your tents between Sadry and Brandon's wagons, right over there." And that had been the end of the matter. Camp set up, Wyldon donated part of their food to the general whole and took a place by the roaring fire the gypsies made for the evening meal. Kel sat next to Wyldon and Tobe sat next to her. The gypsies, like the Bazhir, were a gregarious people. They shared food and company equally, keeping the knights up much later than they had anticipated. At last, around ten o'clock, Eric turned to the knights.

"You have shared our hospitality. Our custom dictates that you give us a part of your people in return - a dance, song or tale." Wyldon, Kel and Tobe exchanged looks. Wyldon nodded his assent.

"One each, or as a group?" Wyldon asked politely.

"As you are a small group, one per person, if you please," Eric said with equal courtesy. Tobe went first, singing a beautiful rendition of "Briar and Thorn" in his perfect treble voice. Kel told of her mother's rescue of the Yamani Gods' Swords from Scanran pirates. Wyldon finished their offering with the old ballad "Shadow Lover." Kel shivered during the last verse. The song itself was disquieting; it was about a suicidal woman welcoming Death's embrace. Wyldon's rich voice only lent it more power.

"You've quite the voice," Kel murmured softly. Wyldon flushed and thanked her for the compliment. Tobe scowled.

Wyldon cleaned his tack shortly afterwards. Tucked inside a fold of each stirrup he found the bits.

"Is that a game?" a nearby gypsy girl asked curiously.

"As close to a game I've come in years," Wyldon responded softly, rubbing off the last of the dust.

"The more complex the mind, the greater the need for play," the girl said simply and skipped off to join her friends. Wyldon blinked several times, snorted, and rested the clean saddle on a branch. He climbed into his tent and fell asleep almost immediately.

At dawn a party of Scanrans attacked the caravan. Kel tumbled out of bed, jerking breeches and boots on over her nightshirt. She quickly donned her mail shirt, sword and helmet before dashing outside with her glaive. Eric's voice roared orders Kel, Wyldon and Tobe followed. Scanrans swarmed the camp, trying to break the circle of wagons, archers and fighters surrounding the livestock and tents. Tobe stayed with the horses, keeping them calm. Kel and Wyldon took up positions between a brilliant blue wagon and a lavender one.

Two burly Scanrans advanced on Kel, deciding the woman would be the weakest point. Kel parried the first man's downstroke with her glaive and kicked the other. The Scanran blocked her kick and attacked with his sword as the other renewed his offensive. Kel ducked and rolled, coming up with a perfect broom-sweeps-clean. The second Scanran took a gash to the arm. Kel reversed her move, using the iron-shod end of her pole arm to knock the Scanran's shield from his grasp. The men moved back, reevaluating their previous assumption. The men moved away from each other, trying to outflank her. Kel took a careful step back between the wagons, keeping both men in her sights. They tested her with their blades, working as a team to keep her almost overextended. Suddenly Kel lunged at the man on the left, moving her blade over and down, catching his sword and flinging it aside, then using the flat of the blade to render him unconscious. The scrape of blade on mail made her teeth hurt - the other Scanran had landed a blow.

Kel swung to the side, using the teak staff to take the man's next blow. The two fighters parried for several minutes before Kel dived low and buried her blade in the man's armpit. The Scanran screamed. Kel jerked her glaive free and ended it. Another Scanran leaped at her almost immediately, his first blow catching her by surprise. Kel fell, the left side of her face numbed by the impact. Kel rolled to the side, dodging the man's stab. Kel got to her feet, using her weapon's long reach to keep her enemy at bay. A cool trickle down her neck told her she had more than a bruise. She braced herself, this time paying attention to her back. The Scanran feinted left, Kel blocked right. The Scanran swore at her, and moved forward with a series of lighting strikes. Kel stopped and lunged, watching her opponent's torso for an opening. A pained shout from behind Kel did the trick. The Scanran glanced at the source. Kel didn't.

Kel pulled her weapon free in time to pull a Scanran raider from his horse. She slit the throat of another rider and gutted a third, taking a numbing impact to her left arm. The three remaining Scanrans retreated. Gypsy archers crept into the woods to insure they didn't make it back to the Vassa. Tobe brought Kel water. Kel drank one full canteen and half of another, looking around. Her ribs, arm and face were all protesting loudly, most especially her ribs.

"Where's my lord?" Kel asked, accepting bandaging from a gypsy woman. Kel placed the cloth over her cut cheek, stemming the blood.

"Healers' wagon," Tobe said, pointing to a pale green wagon on the other side of the camp. Kel nodded and strode across the camp, weaving her way between trampled tents and dead. Gypsies were already cleaning up the mess, piling the dead outside the circle of wagons.

"What happened?" Kel asked Tobe, coming close to the crowded healers' wagon.

"I don't know. He was pretty gray when they took him in," Tobe said. Kel frowned, then caught the attention of a small man in healer's white.

"Do you know anything about the welfare of Lord Wyldon?" Kel asked. When the man shook his head curtly, Kel offered her assistance. Tobe was set to work fetching and boiling water. Kel was given a roll of bandages and pointed to a row of wounded men. After she'd bandaged the last man, Kel put some bruise balm on her ribs. Her face had a small cut that would heal easily, and her arm was also only bruised. She'd been fortunate.

Tobe brought Kel breakfast. Kel forced the food down, worried about her comrade. She wasn't foolish enough to interrupt healers at work, but she did wish someone would see fit to tell her what had befallen Wyldon. Shortly before noon her wish was granted. A small, dark man in pale green approached Kel, who was then assisting the burial detail. He had laugh lines around his eyes, but his eyes weren't laughing now.

"You're Keladry?" the man asked. Kel nodded.

"I am Patric, the chief healer's assistant. Wyldon is in the wagon. He was hurt fairly badly. You may see him now. We've repaired the damage, but he will require another day's rest at minimum before he can travel. You are welcome to stay with us until he is ready. We also have wounded who must rest before we can continue."

"Thank you. What happened?" Kel asked.

"He was sliced from his right collarbone to his mid-pelvic region, most likely with a halberd. You will be assured to know we managed to save his manhood," the healer's assistant added softly. "He will suffer no deficiencies in that area, though you will most likely want to wait a week for the gash to heal fully."

"Oh, no," Kel protested, blushing furiously, "we're just knights."

"Then you understand. Good. He's in there, right on your left." With that Patric walked away. Kel looked after him in dismay, then walked to the pale green wagon. By the time she entered, Kel had her expression under control. She had no desire to explain the cause of her embarrassment to her commander.

Kel paused in the doorway, letting her eyes adjust to the dim interior. There were two beds inside, both filled. On the other side of the beds were cabinets that most likely contained the healers' supplies. There were other cabinets above the beds, all securely anchored to the walls, Kel noted with satisfaction. On one bank of cabinets was a carafe of water. As Patric had said, Wyldon lay in the left-hand bed. He was asleep, one hand resting gently on his stomach. His chest was bare save the bandages, which stretched from collarbone to breastbone, then covered his torso completely from his armpit downward and burrowed beneath the blankets covering his lower body. He'll insist on paying for those, Kel noted absently. She tip-toed quietly across the wood floor, trying not to wake either occupant. The man on the right stayed asleep, but Wyldon's brown eyes peeked open.

"Water," he croaked. Kel nodded. She filled a cup set behind the carafe, then helped Wyldon drink it. He consumed the entire carafe before his thirst was slaked.

"Healing makes me thirsty," Wyldon whispered almost sheepishly. Kel nodded, then gave the carafe to a nearby boy to refill.

"Healing always makes me tired. How do you feel?" Kel asked, sitting on the bed gingerly. Wyldon shifted with a grimace.

"Lousy," he growled softly. "How badly am I hurt?"

"The healers repaired the worst of the cut, but you have to rest at least a day before you can travel. The gypsies have to wait for some of their wounded to recuperate. They said we could stay with them until you're healed. What happened?"

"Two of the Scanrans had swords, one had a halberd, then a Scanran with a mace joined in. I couldn't protect all the lengths at once. He cut through my mail," Wyldon whispered.

"The mail kept you from being cut in two," Kel said. "We might be able to buy more on the road, if the gypsies can't sell us some."

"I killed the mace-man and the swordsmen," Wyldon said randomly.

"Why didn't the halberd-man finish the job?"

"I… did… something completely unworthy of a knight and killed him." Kel frowned. "More water, please." Kel helped him drink another cup of water, gently holding him up while steadying the cup in his hands. "Hate being wounded," Wyldon murmured. Kel nodded sympathetically, holding the cup while he breathed. Wyldon sipped a few more times before pillowing his head on her shoulder and falling asleep. Kel carefully set down the cup and laid Wyldon down. She pulled the covers up over his chest and stood. Kel blushed at Patric's knowing look.

"He'll sleep now for several hours. You should go eat."

"We're not lovers," Kel said softly.

"Of course not," Patric said patronizingly. "Your reputation is safe with us. We're not as stuffy as farming folk." Kel gritted her teeth and thanked the man for his time. She ate lunch and took a nap. She checked in on Wyldon at mid-afternoon, but he was still sleeping. Wyldon slept the rest of that day, waking only to request water, food, and to use the chamber pot.

The next morning he was feeling well enough to drink some soup on his own. Even though Kel knew she was only feeding the rumors, she still checked on Wyldon often.

"Cluck, cluck, cluck," Wyldon said in greeting when Kel brought her supper to the healers' wagon that evening.

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

"You're being a mother hen."

"I'm merely showing appropriate concern for a wounded comrade," Kel said, blushing. Wyldon snorted his skepticism. "My lord, I have no motherly feelings for you whatsoever, I swear on my shield. I'd do the same for Raoul," Kel said, answering the silent question in his eyes. Wyldon nodded and sipped his soup.

"I can't wait to eat solid food again," he said, changing the subject. Kel nodded. They ate silently for an awkward stretch. "This is an odd request, but could you scratch my back?" Wyldon asked softly, flushing. "I can't reach with these bandages on." Kel smiled in amusement. She reached back and gently scratched the cotton bandages. "A little to the left please... up a bit… right there… ahh." Wyldon arched his back as much as his wound would allow, closing his eyes in contentment.

"What did you do to the halberd-man?" Kel asked, pausing in her scratching. "I've puzzled on it for nearly two days, and I can't figure it out." Wyldon muttered something as Kel resumed her movements. "What was that?" Kel asked. She moved up his spine and across his shoulders, then back down to his waist. She knew how much bandaged skin itched, even if it wasn't healing. Wyldon muttered something incomprehensible again, his ear tips turning red. "'Warriors are to report clearly,'" Kel said, quoting his own words back to him.

"He sliced me and knocked me down. I couldn't stand and he was about to spear me, so I… distracted him and stabbed him."

"How?" Kel persisted.

"I… kicked him where no man should kick another," Wyldon said uncomfortably. "You're turning me into a girl."

"I am not," Kel said, stopping her ministrations and picking up her spoon. "I have never kicked a man in the groin to win a fight. Ever. Besides, he deserved it. If he'd been wearing a codpiece as he should have, he wouldn't have been "distracted," would he?" Kel said matter-of-factly.

"No," Wyldon admitted.

"He was trying to kill you, and you kicked him as a last resort. I'd say that makes it fair," Kel continued. "Nor does it make you a girl - you don't have the correct plumbing." She blushed deeply, realizing how insubordinate she'd been. "Meaning no disrespect, my lord," Kel apologized.

"None taken," Wyldon said, turning his head to hide his smile. "Gender is only "plumbing" to you, then?" Kel thought before she responded.

"Half and half, I think. If a woman thinks she's a man, she's not a man. She's not a woman, either. Something in-between, I'd guess. If a man thinks he's a man, he's a man. It doesn't need to be "proven." I don't know how you could prove your gender. You either have it or you don't."

"A man is to prove he doesn't think he's a woman by being tough. Men don't cry, they suffer in silence, and they face things alone. We don't break, we're always strong enough for those around us to lean on."

"Like a knight."

"Without the "protect the weak" and "be honorable" parts," Wyldon said.

"Sir Myles believes that's rubbish. He said humans weren't made to stand alone, regardless of gender," Kel said, remembering Sir Myles of Olau's frequent lectures against chivalry.

"Sir Myles adopted the Lioness. That fact alone proves he's mentally unstable," Wyldon said. Kel's lips curled upward at the edges in spite of herself.

"You should be more careful," Kel said, standing. "If you keep mellowing, Neal won't call you "the Stump" any more."

"If I hear that name on your lips again, I'll see you get latrine duty for a month," Wyldon said. Kel gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder in farewell before leaving the healers' wagon.

"Yessir," she said. Wyldon watched Kel leave.

"My life used to be so simple," he said to no one in particular.

"Women is like that," the other patient said enviously, startling Wyldon. "But imagine how awful life'd be without 'em."

The next morning Wyldon was well enough to walk. He purchased a mail shirt from one of the gypsy smiths and arranged payment for his healing, as well as the food given to both Kel and Tobe. Wyldon found himself in the odd position of trying to raise the price while the caravan leader kept insisting on a lower one. Finally the two men were able to barter a cost of two gold nobles. That evening the Matriarch of the caravan asked the knights to join her before the fire.

"You fought well to protect us, taking wounds yourself. We are grateful. My grandmother was Doi, so in repayment I will tell your fortunes," the old woman said. She was thin and fit, with long, gray hair woven in a braid. Her blue dress was simple, but of excellent cloth. The Gypsies treated her with great respect.

"Thank you," Wyldon said politely. "I would bow, but…" Wyldon gestured to his still-tender chest.

"I understand. It pleases me you obey Assistant Healer Patric's instructions. I would not hear the end of it if I were the cause of a patient re-opening his wound." The crowd laughed. "Your respect for common and Gypsy blood is rare."

"Too rare," Wyldon agreed. The Matriarch pointed to Tobe, then gestured for him to sit. Tobe did, swallowing nervously.

"Give me your hand," the Matriarch instructed. Tobe held out his hand, palm up. She took it, carefully examining his palm. "You will stay as you are until you are as she is - you will have your own strays, and a mate beside. The Gods reward those who serve them." Tobe nodded and thanked her. Kel sat down next, and offered her hand. The matriarch's touch was warm and dry, like ancient paper. The old woman's eyes were a clear, bottomless gray. The woman's eyes searched the lines of her hand.

"There is much work ahead for the Protector of the Small," the Matriarch said. "Do not grimace, it is your name until those who know of it are dust." The woman paused, tracing a scar. "Many duties I see before you. You will have to chose between them as you have chosen before, but the price will be both less and more dear. You will have to chose between your duty to the Voice of the Tribes, your King, and your duty to your friend, lord, and lover; in your choice will rest the border."

"Thank you," Kel whispered, taking her hand back.

"Your turn, Wyldon of Cavall." Wyldon said and offered his right hand. The Matriarch took it, poring over it as she had the others' fates. "I am sorry. You will be free from your burden soon, but not in the way you hope. You cannot change the Vassa, nor hope to change its flow. There are other rivers for you to sail."

"My thanks," Wyldon said politely, standing.

"You don't believe me," the Matriarch said calmly.

"It's not that. I merely don't understand."

"Between the future and me there is a veil. The shapes I see through it are misty, but they are there. You will understand my words soon enough," the Matriarch said. Wyldon bowed his head in respect, but said nothing.

The next morning, the Gypsy band headed north and the knights rode south-east.

"Patric is right, you know," the Matriarch said in farewell. "Not now, but he will be." Wyldon's brows snapped together in confusion, but he kept silent. Kel blushed.

"What do you think she meant about the Vassa?" Kel asked once the gypsies were out of sight. She understood her fortune well enough - as the Matriarch had said, she'd faced the choice between her orders and saving those under her protection before. Tobe's she understood as well. Wyldon's, though, was a complete mystery.

"I don't. The gods-touched sometimes receive visions from Mithros or the Goddess, but fortune-telling is charlatanism at worst, guesswork at best. The future isn't set in stone," Wyldon said firmly. Kel remained silent. After her experience with the Chamber, she wasn't so certain.

"What was it that Patric thought?" Wyldon asked.

"It was nothing," Kel said, looking away.

"If it was blush-worthy on your part, it wasn't nothing. I taught you to report precisely and honestly," Wyldon said sternly.

"He thought we were lovers," Kel said uncomfortably.

"See? Her predictions are rubbish. Fairies will carouse in my woods before you and I will bed each other," Wyldon said contemptuously. He's right, Kel thought, a knot of tension between her shoulder blades unwinding. She shook off the creepy feeling that had hounded her since the Matriarch's prophesies. That'll never happen.

Three days later they stopped in a small city to refresh their supplies. As they shopped in the open-air market, they also traded news with the locals. Kel found the copper bits tucked into the corned-beef and egg sandwich she bought for breakfast.

"Where did you learn sleight-of-hand?" Kel asked, breaking the unwritten rule of silence. The crowd was large enough to be noisy, but small enough Kel didn't get jostled much.

"I had… disreputable friends when I was young," Wyldon said, examining some travel bread and spice packets. "It comes in handy, especially when dealing with George."

"Lady Alanna's husband?" Kel asked, purchasing some dried meat and packing it into one mule's saddle bag. Wyldon nodded and bought the bread, spices, and more meat. He also purchased something new called "dried milk." "Why don't you call him by his surname?" Kel asked.

"Esthetics. "Pirate's Swoop" is too unwieldy, "Pirate's" is bad, and "Swoop" is horrid. I also like my ears right where they are," Wyldon said dryly. Kel smiled. His humor wasn't laughable, but his wit was amusing. They moved on to the fruit stands. The pickings were meager compared to what they'd find in the summer, but there was still a lot to look at. "We should be reaching the Great North Road in two days. We can either take the Road west to Trebond, south to Port Cayann, then head east through Corus on the Great Road East and straight on until the Cavall border; or, we can cut cross-country to Goldenlake and head south. Heading to Goldenlake is shorter by 50 miles, however, we could easily make up that time on the Great Roads. Any particular preference?"

"You're consulting her?" Tobe, who held the mules' reins, said in surprise. Wyldon gave him a sharp look.

"It is polite to consult one's traveling partner," Wyldon said frostily.

"The best route would really depend on the weather," Kel broke in. "If it's going to rain for weeks, the Great Roads would be easier on the horses and faster. If the weather is sunny, then fifty miles is a good distance to cut. If you will finish shopping, I'll find a find a Temple of Mithros and ask the weather-mage, if it has one. I know Baldur's Bridge has a weather-mage we could ask."

"Good thinking, Mindelan. If there's no weather-witch here, we'll take the detour to Baldur's Bridge and decide there." Kel handed Peachblossom's reins to Tobe.

"Well, I don't believe I've seen y'ens hereabouts before," a drawling voice said before Kel could leave. The knights turned to see a tall, fat man with small, piggy eyes and a bulbous nose. He wore a long knife at his side over a gaudy red tunic, cream shirt, and cream breeches. His brown boots were sturdy and well-made. On his shoulder was the badge of a Chief Provost.

"We're traveling through," Wyldon said courteously, stowing the dried fruit he had paid for while talking to Kel. "I am Lord Wyldon of Cavall, this is Lady Keladry of Mindelan." The piggy man looked at Kel, his gaze starting at her boots and wandering leisurely to her face, then settling on her small breasts.

"I'm the Chief Provost, Master Quays. You, though, can call me William," he purred in what was supposed to be a seductive manner. "I've heard quite a bit about you." Quays expression went from stubborn to a lewd leer.

"Thank you, Master Quays," Kel said, feigning ignorance of the real meaning behind his words.

"You know, while you're here, you should give commoners a try." Quays stepped near to Kel, who took a step closer to Peachblossom. "Nobles aren't the only ones who can show you a good time," Quays finished with a pointed look at Wyldon, who shook his head at the other man's folly.

"I'm not interested in a good time," Kel said, frowning.

"Oh, you're interested in the good time I'm offering," Quays said and snatched at Kel's chest. Peachblossom took the opportunity to register his dislike, clamping the Provost's arm in his strong teeth.

"Watch out for the horse," Wyldon said smoothly, "he's fair temperamental." Wyldon finished buying a new belt knife and some nuts, then carefully packed them away while the Provost hollered and pounded Peachblossom's nose to no avail. "You really should let go of him," Wyldon suggested to the animal.

"Let him go, Peachblossom," Kel said just as evenly. Peachblossom held on for a few more moments to illustrate the point he wasn't tamed, then let go. The Provost waddled away at a quick pace, screaming curses at Kel and her company.

Kel made her inquiry at the temple, which did have a weather-mage in residence. The projected weather was clear, so they decided upon the shorter route.

"If the rumors were true, I'd be the easiest wench in the Eastern Lands," Kel remarked wryly shortly after she, Tobe, and Wyldon left the city limits. "I'm surprised he thought a leer and an invitation were all it took, though."

"That would be Esmond's fault. He's very conservative - he said that Joren did the right thing by making you miss your Examinations. He would see to it you had no reputation on his lands. I admit it's my fault as well, traveling alone with you. I should have had Sarrasri come along," Wyldon said.

"Daine is still needed in the North; Maggur might try something with you away. It's not like it matters in any case. Folk who believe things like that would believe them even if we had a chaperone," Kel said. Wyldon grunted in agreement.

"Cavall!" A man on horseback said as he came over the hilltop, surprising both Kel and Wyldon. "What are you doing here?" Wyldon reined his horse to a stop, as did Tobe and Kel.

"Traveling, Esmond. I've been summoned to Cavall by the Crown to host the Midsummer Tournament," Wyldon said calmly, as the man and his two companions drew close. All of the men wore falconry gauntlets and rich falconry wear. They were all older, with stern features. The man who spoke to Wyldon had a narrow, haughty face with a sharp nose. The other two men she recognized - Burchard of Stone Mountain and Sir Ansil of Groten.

"Mindelan, these are my friends Baron Esmond of Marti's Hill, Lord Burchard of Stone Mountain, and Sir Ansil of Groten," Wyldon said.

"I've met Lord Burchard and Sir Ansil," Kel said, remembering her years as Raoul's squire. Burchard had accused her of causing his son Joren's death in the Chamber of the Ordeal. Ansil had insulted Lord Raoul, for which Kel had challenged him - and won.

"Ah, yes, the "Lady Knight,"" Esmond said snootily. "Why is she with you, Wyldon?"

"She is going to help me run the Tournament," Wyldon said carefully, not liking his friend's tone. "Her logistics, penmanship, and command skills will be quite useful."

"I'm certain she's very useful to you, Wyldon, traveling in cool weather like this," Ansil said coldly. Kel's eyes widened and Wyldon's face flushed, in anger or embarrassment Kel couldn't tell. Tobe opened his mouth to make a retort and closed it when Kel gestured curtly for silence. Perhaps they're only teasing, Kel thought, but they don't look teasing to me.

"Will you allow it to compete?" Burchard sneered.

"She won't have time," Wyldon said with a subtle emphasis on the "she."

"No, I'm certain you'll keep her busy day and night," Esmond said, "earning her keep and the privileges you've given her."

"Friends do not speak to each other in such a manner," Wyldon said crisply. "Your teasing is starting to offend me."

"Who said we were friends any longer, Cavall?" Burchard sneered. "I don't make friends with those who've abandoned the traditions this kingdom was founded on. Do you, Ansil? Esmond?"

"No, I don't," Ansil said coldly.

"I'll see you at the Tournament, Progressive," Esmond finished and the three rode away. Wyldon stared after them, gaping speechlessly in pain. Kel swallowed numbly. She'd never heard a more thorough rejection of someone. Nor had she ever before been the cause of one.

"I'm sorry," Kel whispered, something she'd been doing a lot of as of late. It never occurred to me he'd have a price to pay for letting me stay and treating me fairly. Foolish me. Kel rested a comforting hand on his arm. "The loss is theirs, not yours. You're too good for their like. They are only honorable and courteous to their allies and superiors; you're courteous and fair to everyone. You're flexible enough you could still pass your Ordeal if you had to take it again. They'd take the same path as Joren."

"They are… were… my friends," Wyldon said softly.

"And you're not friendless without them. Not all of your conservative companions will abandon you. And Raoul's still with you." Kel paused. "You're my friend, in any case." Wyldon's gaze turned slowly to Kel, staring in touched incredulity. He slowly rested a hand on hers, giving it a fond squeeze.

"Thank you, Mindelan," Wyldon said, his voice smooth as wine even then, but deeper than normal. Her surname was softened to almost a nickname. He released her hand and turned Sable to the road. He rode silently the rest of the day, and Kel let him alone. That night they came upon an inn, brightly colored and filled with music. Kel dealt with the innkeeper. It was a testament to Wyldon's black mood that he didn't even protest as Kel paid for the entire group.

The music and cheery company at dinner brightened Wyldon's mood somewhat. As he finished his salad, though, his expression changed to one of alarm and he gripped his throat.

"What?" Kel asked. Wyldon searched quickly through the half-mound of greens, producing four copper bits.

"I swallowed one," Wyldon said softly. Kel snorted, then quickly turned her laughter into a coughing fit. Tobe showed no such tact. Wyldon's scowl did little to discourage Kel's humor and much to encourage Tobe's.

"Just remember I know where both of you sleep," Wyldon promised grumpily. His threat utterly failed to produce any reduction in mirth.

Wyldon stayed quiet for the next few days. He came out of his shell suddenly, startling Kel as she took a bite of rabbit.

"Trebond is going to challenge you at the Tournament."

"What?" Kel demanded, dropping her fork.

"To test your skills. She's going to want to spar with you, nor will she take no for an answer. Would you like me to show you some advanced sword techniques, so you aren't humiliated?" Kel, always eager to learn and wary of fighting her idol, readily agreed. "And Mindelan," Wyldon said, leaning forward to rest a hand on her arm, "do try to win, won't you? I'm not saying you will, but if you lose in two minutes, both Raoul and I are going to hear about it for years." Kel told him she'd try, but he'd best not get his hopes up. "True. I can't even best her regularly, but there's no sense giving up before you've started."

"Yuki and Shinko are going to do the same thing," Kel said, Wyldon's comment reminding her of things said in her friends' recent letters. Wyldon asked her what she was talking about. "I told them how good you are with a halberd, and they're planning to try you with a glaive at the Tournament." Kel did not mention she would be teased mercilessly if her favored training-master couldn't hold his own with a woman's weapon. "Would you like to practice?" Wyldon thought about Kel's veiled offer to teach him a "savage pigsticker," as he'd once called it, for several moments. He decided the loss to his pride would be greater if two noblewomen routed him than if a former student taught him.

Thus, in addition to evening practice, an hour or two was spent in lessons. Wyldon taught Kel the advanced swordsmanship he'd promised, while Kel taught him to adapt his halberd skills to the glaive. Though he'd rather have been dipped in oil than admit it, Wyldon found the natural grace and balance of the glaive very appealing. He also proved to be as eager and apt a pupil as Kel. Tobe watched the weapon-work with mixed feelings. Kel enjoyed learning and teaching, practicing her new skills at every lunch break. Tobe was also glad Kel's commander was finally acknowledging his mistress's favorite weapon was as practical as any Tortallan device. What he did not like was the further closeness between Keladry and Wyldon these lessons fostered.

Despite her usual common sense and pragmatism, Tobe decided, Kel had a noble's completely impractical stupidity about love. From what he'd learned from Kel's friends, her first crush had been on a man she'd dared not try to take and her first affair had been with a man engaged to be married to someone else. Kel picked men she couldn't have, and the Lord of Cavall was as unavailable as it was possible to be and still be breathing. No, any form of bond between them was bad news as far as Tobe was concerned.

However, Tobe saw no way to stop Kel from liking Wyldon. He'd tried monopolizing her time, only to be forcibly shoved aside when Kel decided it was time to talk with Wyldon. Tobe also tried refusing to talk or practice with him, only to find Kel merely divided her time equally between them. He had tried disparaging Wyldon to Kel, but that had only lasted two sentences. Half-way through his second sentence, Kel had vigorously rebuked him, defending her new friend's honor with the same zeal she defended Raoul or Neal. To Tobe, this was a very bad sign.

Tobe's worries aside, the routine of breaking camp, riding, lunch, riding, making camp, practice, lessons, sleep and watch continued virtually unbroken until on May first they arrived at Farsight, the city that marked the northernmost edge of the Cavall border.

The first person the crew met was the Farsight crier, who promptly launched into shouts of "my lord's home!" This call was promptly relayed throughout the market square, precipitating a waterfall of well-wishers and curious vassals. Kel noticed a sharp similarity to the way New Hope's citizens greeted her return to the town in the way the Cavallese treated their lord. In the first fifteen minutes Wyldon settled three disputes, met four new births, and lifted a basket of puppies out of the way of trampling feet. After about half an hour, the crowd found other things to occupy their time, and the greetings slowed to a trickle.

"That answers the question if your vassals like you or not," Kel remarked. "Tolerate what you do, indeed." Wyldon shot her a dirty look. They led their horses down the main street through town, leisurely looking in shop windows and greeting those who said hello. Kel, though not normally a jewelry person, had to stop an admire a beautiful necklace in a jeweler's shop. It was four teardrop rubies suspended from a silver chain, elegant and perfect. Kel wished briefly she could wear pretty things like that and not look foolish.

"Every time I forget you're a girl, you do something like this," Wyldon said.

"Just a passing wish," Kel said. "It's lovely, but far too expensive for something I'd only wear one or two nights." Wyldon's mouth twitched in amusement.

"Better."

As they rode toward Cavall Keep, they passed fields and orchards, all in neat order. Workers in the fields waved, and often stopped work to talk with their lord. Much of the talk was greeting and gossip, and just as much was complaint.

"My lord Wyldon, will you tell this heathen to stop stealing my head of water every week!" one woman snapped.

"I don't steal it, it's my turn by rights. Lord Wyldon, this one's been harping on my constantly, never a rest," the man responded, red-faced with anger.

"And who is to have the water according to the ditch-rider? He is, of course, the only one who is supposed to be changing the head-gates at all," Wyldon asked in his measured voice, face unreadable. The man's flush took on a different shade.

"That's what I thought. Do not interfere with the ditch-rider's duties again, Fealeron, or I will be most displeased. Such as it is, I will see you pay the fine, either in funds or service." The man bowed his head and muttered an abashed "yes, my lord" and stood aside. The woman smirked and turned to go.

"And Seanna," Wyldon said, "next time, take your grievance to the ditch-rider." The woman's smirk disappeared.

"Ditch-rider?" Kel asked as they rode on.

"And idea of my own invention. I got tired of dealing with such disputes, so I appointed specific men for each area to regulate the irrigation. He sees that each person gets their share of water. He's the only one with the authority to change the head-gates, and anyone else who does so must pay a fine," Wyldon said.

"That's fair clever," Tobe said in surprise.

"Thank you," Wyldon said, waving to a pair of tenants. A while later, another man came to say hello. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with black hair and blue eyes. Silver glinted in his hair.

"Welcome back, my lord. Will you be here long?"

"Just long enough to organize the Midwinter Tournament, hold it, and take it down. Then I have to return north," Wyldon said.

"So we've got the tournament. Lovely," the man said, "I'm sure you'll see them nobles stay out of our fields?"

"They'll stick to the roads," Wyldon assured him.

"Your squire's grown. And changed. He's not bouncin' all over everywhere," the man said approvingly.

"I'm not Owen," Kel said, suppressing a smile of amusement, "I'm Kel. I'm going to be helping Lord Wyldon organize the tournament." The man snorted.

"Better you than that "Lady Knight." Women have no place on the battlefield. Mark my words, that chit's going to get her men killed. I certainly wouldn't want her defending I me. /I Begging your pardon, my lord." Wyldon's eyes went cold at the man's words.

"She is the Lady Knight, you ninny," Tobe snarled hotly, forgetting all his grammar lessons. "She's defended peasants an' nobles, an' built up the whole refugee camp an' defended it with nothing but a few squads an' convicts! She even saved the refugees from Blayce an' Stenmun, rescuin' them from Scanra with nothin' but a few knights and some Own! So you pipe down 'till you knows what you're talkin' of!"

"I believe you owe Mindelan an apology," Wyldon said coldly, holding Tobe's shoulder to keep him from leaping at the peasant. The man flushed, but apologized. Wyldon nodded.

"The Chamber knows what kind of knight the realm needs, and it makes the correct decision."

"Yes, milord." Wyldon nodded, said farewell, and continued. Kel shook her head in disgust. Even after everything that had happened, people still thought she didn't deserve her shield.

"Don't let it bother you, Mindelan."

"I don't," Kel said. "I won't be able to win everyone, but maybe later, after more women become knights, the general opinion will change."

"The general opinion is changing," Wyldon said. "If I can be convinced, others can." Kel smiled in amusement, looking around. The land was green and rolling, divided by irrigation ditches bordered by high, lush grass. Some fields held only plants, animals grazed on others. The land was a picture of peaceful plenty. In the distance, Kel could see trees.

"It's beautiful land, sir," Kel said. Wyldon nodded.

"My Lord!" a woman called. She had gray hair and a broad frame. She hiked across the field as Wyldon halted. "How long are you back for?"

"Just a few months, and most of it will be spent working. Cavall is hosting the Midsummer Tournament." Wyldon held up a hand. "I'll see the competitors and spectators keep to the roads."

"And after that, milord?" the woman asked.

"I'm heading back north," Wyldon said politely.

"Back north. To fight the Scanrans. You're going to get yourself killed one of these days. Why don't you retire, my lord, manage your estates like anyone your age should do?" the woman demanded, putting her hands on her hips. Wyldon shook his head.

"The kingdom needs me, Nara. And I don't like the sedentary lord's life much. It gets boring too quickly," Wyldon said, smiling slightly.

"Hiking hell to nowhere isn't good for your health, especially the chill north. You," Nara snapped to Kel, "I suppose you're as bad as he is. If you like my lord so much, you'll talk him out of his mad desire to die miles from home on some enemy sword." Having said her piece, the woman turned and stormed away.

"Nara is rather opinionated," Wyldon commented. "She cares, but I'm not ready for a deathbed yet."

"Of course not, my lord. You can still beat almost anyone at jousting, and you can hold your own against four Scanran raiders. If you tried to retire… I'm not sure what I'd do, but I'd certainly protest," Kel said dryly. "It would be a waste of good material." Wyldon smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He covered it with his hand out of habit, trying to smooth it away to no avail. Tobe told him loss of emotional control was a sign of senility, earning a lighthearted buffet from Kel. Tobe scowled when Kel looked away. He hadn't been teasing.

It took them a full day to get to Cavall Keep, which lay at the center of Cavall. They rode through the main gate, then halted in the courtyard. Wyldon dismounted, and handed Sable's reins to Tobe. Tobe passed them off to a nearby groomsman, then untied the mule's leaders from his saddle. For obvious reasons, Kel kept hold of Peachblossom.

"Keep that bloody horse from shying," Wyldon ordered, just as a child's cry echoed over the grounds.

"GGGGGRRRRRRAAAANNNNDPAAA'S HOOOME! FROOONT GAAATE!" Seconds after this call, children boiled out of every nook and cranny and ran across the yard toward Wyldon. The first to arrive was a young girl of about eight with light brown hair and a dark red skirt. With her was a girl of four, with red hair and a blue skirt. Wyldon swept the girl of four up and set her on his hip as the eight-year-old threw her arms around his waist. After that the children came too quickly to identify, swarming around Wyldon, all chattering at once. Wyldon knelt in their midst, smiling and laughing, somehow managing to listen to everyone. The children ranged from thirteen to barely a year, too many of them to be just his grandchildren. Hot on the heels of the children came the dogs, and barking mass of black that descended on Wyldon with as much exuberance as the young ones.

I wish Neal could see this, Kel thought, grinning as she watched the horde maul Wyldon. After a few moments he calmed them, ordering the dogs down in a firm voice and calming the children. After this, the adults came to greet Wyldon. Two young women hugged him and he shook hands with the older woman and the two men. One man was older and dressed simply, the other was young and dressed in a mage's robes. The groomsman took Hoshi, Sable, and the mules from Tobe. Tobe took Peachblossom and followed the groomsman.

Wyldon came from the crowd with his arm on the shoulder of a girl of about ten. She had black hair and Wyldon's eyes, and her skirt looked like it had seen neater days; it was scuffed with dirt and other things. She was solemn, but with a pixie-like face.

"This is Kida's daughter, Kel," Wyldon said, gesturing to the first young woman who'd hugged him. The woman was fit, with premature crow's feet at her eyes. Kel guessed she'd seen a hard life, but she smiled at it. The woman had her father's wide mouth, but had not inherited his square, stubborn face. "And this," he said to the girl, "is Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan." The girl's eyes grew as round as saucers.

"No!" she gasped, looking from Kel to her grandfather. Wyldon nodded, and the girl erupted into shrieks of joy. "That's the Lady Knight, that's the Lady Knight!" She called to the others, on the off-chance they'd gone stone-deaf in the past forty seconds and hadn't heard.

"Kel!" Wyldon said sharply. Kel stood to attention. "Is that any way a young lady of Cavall behaves?"

"No, sir," the girl said, bowing her head. She turned to Kel and curtsied. "Welcome to Cavall Keep, Lady." Kel realized the little girl's name was Kel, too. Kel looked at Wyldon in shock, then blushed.

"Kida decided to protest your probation by naming her newborn daughter after you. She did not realize your nickname was "Kel," Mindelan." Kel the older looked down at Kel the younger.

"You can just call me Mindelan. It'll avoid confusion," Kel said stupidly. Someone had named a child after her. I Oh my goodness. /I

"I want to be a Lady Knight like you, Lady," Kel of Cavall said formally, "and defend the kingdom like Grandpa."

"It's hard work," Kel said, "very hard work."

"I know. Grandpa told me. I run all the time, though, and lift things. And I watch the guards and ask them about their weapons and how they do things. I'm going to make it. I just missed this year's training by a few months."

"Run all the time, what an understatement. Well, she's made up her mind and there's no stopping her. Don't think you'll get away from Kel, either, "Mindelan." She worships the ground you and Wyldon walk on," the older woman Wyldon had shook hands with said. She was small and beautiful, despite her age. She wore a simple but well-made gown of burgundy cotton that accented her striking green eyes. She must be the stewardess. I wonder where his wife is?