Part Four
Fief Cavall
The next morning began early with a cold breakfast in Wyldon's office. The office was located in the north tower, two rooms beneath the sentries' platform. There were two arrow slits on the far wall that provided light and a fair view of the town. Inside were two sets of bookshelves, a desk, and a map table. The office was as orderly as Kel expected, though the desk was piled high with royal missives.
"Those are papers detailing tournament procedures, what supplies the Crown will give, and lists of competitors' names," Wyldon said coolly. "Late registers will arrive in one or two weeks. That sack by your foot contains the registration fees and what money the Crown provides. We'll probably spend about two or three times that."
"Cavall makes up the difference?" Kel asked. Wyldon nodded.
The rest of the day was spent reading those missives and mapping where the latrines, campgrounds, and competition stands would be. Kel's primary task was logistics - King Jonathan had estimated a group equal to the population of Corus would descend on Cavall in a little over a month. When the sun set, most of the paper work had been completed. Kel welcomed the long walk to the dining hall as a chance to stretch muscles unused to sitting at a desk for hours on end.
"Does your family always eat this late?" Kel asked.
"Only during the harvest, when there's work until sunset and sometimes after, and in the summer, when it's too hot for anyone to enjoy their meal until eight o'clock," Wyldon said. Kel nodded.
"Do you have many problems with Immortals?" Kel asked, looking up as a winged horse flew over.
"Not really. We have a herd of winged horses and a herd of unicorns living here, they give us no trouble beyond occasionally eating someone's garden. There is a herd of centaurs in southern Cavall that's had some trouble keeping its young stallions in check. Most of the spidrens have been killed, and the Stormwing population has moved north. Our main concern is the merfolk population in the Golden Lake. They're getting too big for that lake, so some of them want to settle in the Rippled Moon Lake ten miles southeast of here. The villages on Rippled Moon that depend on the fish in that lake - they won't be able to compete if the merfolk obtain royal permission to settle there."
"You've told the King this, haven't you?"
"I and every other noble adjacent to Goldenlake lands. The merfolk husband fish as we do cattle, so humans can only catch those fish the merfolk don't want. That isn't enough. Four villages on Golden Lake have been virtually abandoned because of the merfolk," Wyldon said. "No lord wants that to happen to his vassals."
"Can't the humans pen and care for the fish as the merfolk do, so the population won't be fished out?" Kel asked. Wyldon shook his head.
"Those villages are used to drawing on the entire fish population of the lake. They would catch about half and leave the other half to breed. They can't subsist on a quarter of the fish in the lake. And even if they could get by for the three years it would take to build the surviving quarter up to count they're used to, there are only so many fish the lake can support." Wyldon looked at Kel, his brown eyes troubled. "Nor will the peasantry take kindly to buying fish from the merfolk they used to catch for free."
"Isn't there an uninhabited lake they could use?"
"The merfolk like human jewels, and they've developed a taste for cinnamon, citrus, and ale. They want to be able to trade," Wyldon said.
"The traders will come to them. Merpeople's jewelry, hair, and rust-proofing sell for high prices in Corus, more than enough to make hiking through the backwoods profitable," Kel said. Wyldon nodded, thinking.
"There is a nameless lake a few miles east of Rippled Moon. It's smaller, but there are fish in it. There is a village nearby, but they're not dependent on the lake," Wyldon mused. "I'll propose the idea to His Majesty when he arrives. The merchants will scream bloody murder, of course, but who cares about them?" Kel covered her mouth to hide a smile of amusement.
"Not fond of merchants, my lord?" she asked wryly.
"Some of them are a good sort, but the ones that deal in Immortal goods… some of them can be pretty dodgy." Wyldon looked down at Kel, his eyes glittering with amusement. "I spent my first two years as a knight guarding trade caravans. At one point, the caravan leader wanted to cut across the Great Southern Desert. Raoul and I told him that we'd be heading right through hostile territory, but the leader didn't listen. He said shaving the extra time off the trip would cut his costs by 20 and thus increase his profits. He ended up losing two wagons completely, the rest barely escaped. The resulting injuries laid me up for a week and a half." Wyldon shook his head. "It was the same with almost every caravan I worked with - I'd warn them of danger, they'd spout off about profits and cutting costs and ignore my advice, and we'd be attacked just as I said. After my comrades and I saved their lives, we'd be blamed for any property loss. I was so happy to be transferred off caravan duty I burned incense at every temple to Mithros on my way to my next assignment."
"They sound like Idrius Valestone," Kel commented.
"You did say he was a fur merchant, didn't you?" Wyldon asked. Kel nodded. "There's all the explanation you need." Kel was grinning at the joke when they entered the dining hall. They separated to go to their seats. Kel sat between Mirelle and Ferhan, Wyldon's second son.
She spent most of the meal talking with Ferhan, who was a brilliant mage and the single most scatterbrained person Kel had ever met. While discussing the magic behind the Scanran killing devices he unintentionally tried to eat his soup with a fork. And while describing the auxiliary eating habits of a colddrake he spread butter on his pasta and poured sauce on his bread. Kel was both amused by his antics and fascinated by the detailed information he imparted. Kel imagined that he'd be a master soon, if he didn't die in an accident of his own making.
During dessert Mirelle took over the conversation, asking Kel about the challenges of running a refugee camp as a female knight. Kel talked politely but guardedly, not wishing to provoke Mirelle into reprimanding her husband as she had the night before. Nevertheless, Kel noticed that when Wyldon covered his wife's hand, Mirelle jerked her hand away then wiped it with a napkin. It worried Kel - surely the lady couldn't still be angry. Or did she think Wyldon had put Sarah up to placing Kel in his room? If so, she wouldn't be the first colleague's overly-jealous wife Kel had dealt with. However, jealousy didn't explain Mirelle's enigmatic comment when Kel first arrived, nor Mirelle's odd behavior the night before. She's confusing and flirtatious, Kel wondered, remembering Tom, two qualities my lord most despises in women. Why in the name of the Goddess did he marry her?
Kel's reverie was interrupted by Mirelle offering to take Kel to her new guest quarters. It was an honor Kel could not in courtesy refused, though she wasn't certain she wanted to spend any more time in her company. To Kel's relief, Mirelle kept to polite talk during the walk. Kel's new quarters were very nice, and more like what she had expected. The main door opened into a large room appointed with a table and chairs, a book shelf, and in the corner was her bed and armoire. To the left was a smaller door that led to a dressing room and bath. Across from the door was a shuttered window that looked down into a small courtyard with roses and benches in it. The rooms' decor was in green and burgundy like the roses below. The lady knight's belongings had already been moved and unpacked. Kel rearranged a few things before cleaning her teeth and turning in.
After twenty minutes of staring at the ceiling, Kel admitted defeat. She was tired, it was time to sleep, but every time she closed her eyes thoughts filled her brain. With a sigh, Kel got up and took her practice glaive from its corner. Her body was used to physical activity, perhaps the sedentary day had left her with excess energy that was disrupting her sleep. She began the most complex pattern-dance she knew, starting slow and speeding up until her glaive was a blur. When that dance finished she did another, then practiced Shang blocks, punches, and rolls until she was breathing heavily and soaked in sweat. Kel stretched to cool her muscles. She used the wash basin in her small dressing-room to clean away the sweat and set her sweat-soaked nightshirt out to dry. A knock at the door startled her. Kel hastily pulled on her other nightshirt.
"Yes?" Kel asked, wondering who would visit her this late. Her guest was Wyldon, clad in a nightshirt and breeches. He didn't look happy.
"What are you doing?" Wyldon demanded.
"Exercising," Kel said hesitantly.
"At midnight? For an hour?"
"I couldn't sleep," Kel said, blushing. "If I may ask, why do you- I mean, how do you know?"
"My room is beneath yours. The floors don't have soundproof spells."
"Oh," Kel said sheepishly. "I'm sorry, my lord, I didn't mean to wake you." Wyldon grunted, then rubbed his face with his hands.
"What does exercising have to do with insomnia?" he asked.
"I thought since I hadn't done much physical activity today, I had extra energy to burn that was keeping me awake. I thought that by exercising, I could use up that energy and fall asleep."
"Did it work?"
"I don't think so," Kel said. Her body was tired, but her mind was still restless.
"May I come in?" Wyldon asked. Kel nodded and belatedly stepped aside. Wyldon entered and gestured to the table. "Turn the chair around and sit in it backwards, straddling the back." Kel did so, not knowing what he was planning. When Wyldon's hands touched her shoulders, Kel stiffened. "Hush," Wyldon commanded, rubbing the tense muscles in slow circles. She quieted. Soon, her eyes closed and her head dropped. His hands were warm and comfortable, she could feel his calluses through the thin material of her nightshirt. She arched to their touch, stretching to give him more room, then tilted her head back in pleasure when the hands stopped kneading and started caressing. His fingers gently reached up to stroke the sides of her neck, and were soon replaced by soft lips. Somehow, it didn't seem abnormal, not even when he nuzzled his way up her cheek to lick her hair.
Lick her hair?
Kel woke up with a groan to wet, smelly dog kisses. Her neck and cheek were covered in dog slime. Kel gently shoved the animal aside and rolled out of bed. The dog in question was a young wolfhound who happily stole Kel's place in the bed.
"What's your name, hm?" Kel asked softly, disturbed by her dream. The dog wagged its tail. Kel pulled on her breeches, and the wolfhound vacated the bed to beg affection from Kel, who granted it. The details of the dream the wolfhound's licks had provoked were already fading, leaving a vague unrest. Kel pushed the feeling from her mind, drowning it in canine affection.
The wolfhound, a female, followed Kel to breakfast, where it was greeted with a call of "Cossette" by Nadin.
"She's mother's favorite, so she gets to sleep inside. I hope she didn't disturb you," the boy said courteously.
"No, not at all," Kel said as Cossette abandoned Kel in favor of the children.
"Completely undisciplined," Wyldon's voice commented behind her. Kel turned to greet him as Wyldon continued, "that dog has some of the finest blood in Cavall in her veins, yet despite all my training she's useless for hunting. Mirelle has spoiled her, she's little more than a pet, now."
"I thought your wife helped train the dogs?"
"She helps train the sheepdogs and the wardogs, not the hunting dogs. She thinks they're 'cute.' Once a dog knows you think it's cute, it will walk all over you."
"I'll remember that, my lord," Kel said, pausing to look for a seat. She decided she didn't want to talk with Mirelle, she looked like she was up to something. Kel chose a seat farther down the table between Little Kel and Wolor, Kida's youngest child. He was only a year younger than Little Kel, and wanted to become a blacksmith.
"An' I'm the littlest, which means Derrim, he's the oldest, will inherit everything when he becomes of age here in six years after he's done training to be a knight," Wolor said with typical childish enthusiasm. "Which means I'll be able to work for a living." He paused. "Not to say you an' Grandpa don't work."
"I understood," Kel said, chuckling. "That's an unusual ambition, but you'll always have work, especially if you work with the Riders or the Own."
"Own what?" another child asked.
"The King's Own, dummy," said the girl who'd first greeted Wyldon when he had first arrived in the castle. Her light brown hair was in blue ribbons that matched her skirt. She was introduced by Little Kel as Para.
"It's s'posed to be Sara, but the healer spelled it wrong," Para explained crossly.
"That happens," Kel said soothingly. "I know a Frank Willow who was supposed to be named Tranquilo: Frank Willow of haMinch. He has a hard time convincing people he's a noble, with such a common name." The children all laughed. Kel spent the rest of her breakfast telling various stories of her training and knighthood. The children were a wonderful audience, gasping and laughing in all the right spots. Kel regretted it when she had to leave them to get to work.
Compared with the paperwork of the previous day, clearing rocks from the camping and the competition areas was a relief. Wyldon and Kel did not labor alone - Wyldon saw fit to hire the castle and village children to collect the rocks, then he and Kel built the fire pits. At noon the crowd stopped for lunch, which ended up a picnic for most of the village and castle. It was a beautiful, cloudless sky, too good to let pass. Around two the crowd returned to clearing rocks. By twilight mere pebbles remained in the grass. Only those nobles hopelessly soft-skinned would have difficulties sleeping.
Kel went to her rooms and washed her hands, then took her sword down to the practice grounds, where many of the off-duty guards and provost's men already were.
"Hey, the kitchen's that way, little lady," one of the provost's men remarked, to the amusement of his colleagues. Kel ignored him, striking the ready pose and beginning her first drill.
"This ain't woman's work, missy. Just because you can lift a sword doesn't mean you're worthy to practice here with us," the man continued. Kel sniffed delicately, and smelled alcohol in the air. "I'm talking to you," the provost-man said belligerently, reaching for Kel's shoulder. Kel pivoted, grabbed his wrist and flipped him over her hip. The drunk man landed hard, and Kel stepped away.
"Please don't do that again," Kel asked politely.
"Wench!" he growled, jumping to his feet, "I'll teach you!"
"Whoa, Boromir," one of his friends said. "That's Yamani fighting." The new man motioned for two others to grab the drunk. "I'm sorry, milady knight," he said to Kel. "Boromir's had too much ale tonight; he meant no insult. I'm sure if he was sober he wouldn't have said anything about your skills or your virtue, lady."
"It's all right," Kel said. "Just see he's taken home." The man nodded, and the two others took Boromir away.
"My name's Vesperian," the new man said. He offered his hand to shake, realized he should bow, and tried to do both. Kel caught him when he stumbled. "Everybody calls me Perry, though."
"Nice to meet you, Parry. I'm Kel."
"We all know who you are, Lady," another guard said. The other men clustered surreptitiously, curious.
"I'd be honored to practice with you, if you need a sparrin' partner," Perry said, beating four other men to the question. Kel blushed at being the center of so much attention, but accepted Perry's offer. She practiced more than she had intended, many of the guardsmen felt the need to polish their skills against Kel. Wyldon showed up shortly after Kel did, also with a sword. Kel practiced for a little over an hour before she was interrupted by Mirelle.
"Your swordsman-ship is very good, as good as Wyldon's was at that age," Mirelle said. Kel thanked her for the compliment. "Brains, brawn, and manners - everything Wyldon wants in a woman," Mirelle continued. Kel blushed furiously, all too aware of Wyldon's presence three feet to her left. "It's true, he thinks you're very pretty. He prefers tall, solid women." Mirelle patted her slim waist lightly, then turned and announced that dinner would be served shortly.
"I apologize," Wyldon said softly once Mirelle was out of earshot. "Mirelle's humor is… rather cruel."
"I'd noticed," Kel murmured. Still, Mirelle hadn't sounded like she was joking, no more than "thank you for keeping my husband busy" had sounded like a joke. On the other hand, why would anyone tell her husband's colleague he thought she was pretty, especially when it wasn't true? And it couldn't be true… could it? Of course not, Kel told herself. He's married. He can't think me pretty. Resolved, Kel walked into the dining hall and took her seat, this time between Wyldon and Kida. The smell of roast chicken filled the air.
"Did you have a good day?" Kida asked. Kel responded with an affirmative. "Kel told me that you told the children stories at breakfast. If she and the other children are bothering you, I can tell them to give you some space," Kida offered.
"No, thank you," Kel said. "I like children, and all of yours are very polite." Kida took this as a great compliment.
"Are you planning on having children of your own?"
"Someday," Kel said, "when things calm down."
"You could be waiting a while," Kida commented. "Father hasn't stopped moving since the Immortals War." Kel nodded. Two handles thrust themselves at the corners of her vision. Kel turned, to find Mirelle offering her the knife and meat fork. Kel took them, confused. She looked around. Mirelle had served everyone at the table but Kel and Wyldon, then handed the utensils to Kel. The implication was that Kel was to serve Wyldon, as though Kel had any claim to an favor that was Mirelle's alone. Kel blushed furiously and shoved the utensils at Wyldon, deeply embarrassed. Wyldon served himself, then set the fork and knife on the tray, where Kel could reach them if she desired. Kel filled her plate and ate mechanically, trying hard to keep her face impassive. I am stone, Kel repeated to herself. I am stone. It was a prank. She as good as told everyone in the hall I was Wyldon's lover, but it was just a prank. I am stone. It took Kel a full ten minutes to calm herself.
After dinner, Kel sought Mirelle out. She found her in her room, embroidering a tablecloth. Kel knocked, and was commanded to enter. Mirelle's rooms were as grand as Wyldon's, except that where he had a study Mirelle had a parlor. The room was center of the room was empty save for a throw rug with lavender hydrangea and irises. Around the rug were circled with cushioned chairs with a small table between each pair, and a small sewing couch that Mirelle sat on. There were two small chests in the far corners on the same wall as the bedroom door. The entire room was decorated in lavender and soft green, very becoming to the woman within.
"Could I have a word with you?" Kel asked.
"Of course," Mirelle said, putting her sewing basket on the floor to make room for Kel. She motioned for the lady knight to sit. Kel sat and collected her thoughts for a few moments before speaking.
"I noticed you like playing practical jokes," Kel said respectfully. "I don't mind that, one of my sergeants at home plays them all the time. But could I ask that the subject of the jokes not be so… personal?"
"What?" Mirelle asked. If she doesn't know she's giving the impression she's having an affair with Tom, she probably doesn't realize how embarrassing her humor is, Kel thought.
"Remember when you told me Lord Wyldon thought I was pretty while he was there, and when you gave me the knife tonight at dinner? Both jokes were humiliating, not funny - they made it seem like I was Wyldon's lover. All I ask is that you don't joke that that in the future, please." Mirelle's response wasn't what Kel had expected - she laughed.
"Is that what he told you?" Mirelle asked, controlling her mirth. "Those weren't jokes, Lady Knight Keladry! I was simply conveying a point to my exceedingly stubborn husband. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable."
"What point!" Kel asked, completely puzzled. She couldn't imagine any sane message Mirelle's actions could have conveyed.
"That I don't mind his philandering."
Kel couldn't imagine she'd heard that properly.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I know this is something of a surprise, you're probably used to dealing with jealous wives anxious to protect their territory. I'm anything but jealous - I don't care who's bed Wyldon is in as long as it's not mine." Kel stared incredulously. "Sleep with him all you like, Keladry, it keeps him away from me." Kel fled.
"Where's the fire?" Ferhan asked when Kel rounded the corner too fast and ran into him.
"She told me to- to bed-" Kel hissed, then stopped, not certain she should continue.
"Mother told you to sleep with Father?" Ferhan guessed. Kel nodded. "Oh, don't worry about that. She isn't mad, you know. It's just a failed marriage that didn't work out. And you know you didn't, so there's nothing to worry about." Content that he had sufficiently explained things, Ferhan clapped Kel on the shoulder and walked away. He opened his book on invisibility to the chapter he'd paused on and began reading where he'd left off.
Kel went to find Tobe. By now, Tobe would know all the gossip the servants knew. He would have a logical explanation.
