"To honor his Highness Prince Terian and his escort, who will be staying
for a week and a half, there will be a tournament next Saturday, in exactly
one week! My knights will be participating, and, I'm sure, so will His
Highness's, and anyone else who has jousting or sword fighting skill may
take part!" There was a huge cheer at this piece of news, and Tayli turned
to Melanie, who was left by her side, as Rafe had gone back to the Duke.
"Is the Prince going to take part?"
"Oh, no," Melanie assured her. "Since its in honor of him he can't participate. And they wouldn't allow him to anyway-he's not old enough yet." Tayli nodded, satisfied.
"Rafe will be, though," Melanie added almost as an afterthought, and that was when Tayli got her idea.
"Melanie-" she started, but Melanie broke in.
"Call me Mel."
"Mel, then. Would you help me with something? You see, I was thinking . . ."
^^^^^^^^^^^
William chuckled at Terian's momentarily peeved expression, and then glanced around, trying to spot a certain woman in black. It was obvious that she knew Ster better than the rest of them combined-Michael hadn't been the only one to notice the strange bows, each varying just a little bit. She'd used one of these on Ster, and he'd mirrored her, sending a small ripple of shock throughout the Hall. When flirting women beset him, he'd managed to notice that Ster had gripped her arm and steered her off somewhere . . . but where?
Speaking of flirting women . . . he turned his attention back to the heavily made-up damsel at his side. She was pretty enough, but he couldn't help feeling, as always, that too much makeup made maidens look like jesters. Fiona, she'd said her name was. She was of a medium build, but incredibly skinny, with wispy blond hair curled on top of her head and blue eyes that looked becomingly up at him through her lashes. She was smiling at him each time she stopped chattering to draw breath, and William felt like backing away slowly, half convinced she'd suddenly stab him, all hidden by that fake smile.
"And I just know you'll do amazing in the tournament," Fiona was saying, batting her eyelashes, "because you just look like the best knight to win . . . you know, the strongest, most able." William mentally sneered at her pathetic attempts to win him over (and, he suspected, seduce him), but kept a polite face and simply nodded. He'd do well, but many of the older knights had more experience-Willy was still just a face in the crowd.
Suddenly Fiona gasped. "Oh, that I did not think about it before! I will give you something to wear in my honor, then you will certainly win, what say you?" She laughed a fake, high-pitched little laugh that made William want to cover his ears.
"I-I-Well," He stammered, repulsed by her spontaneously ill-placed offer of something that was normally asked for. It was then that the doors opened, not creaking but still loudly, so that everyone in the room stopped talking to look at the entrance to the Hall. William saw Luke beckoning over and hastily bowed to Fiona, incredibly relieved.
Weaving his way through the people assembled, William went to stand next to Luke. Everyone had cleared out of the center of the room, and Duke Bruno had taken a seat at the table, with Ster, Terian and the knights ranged out behind him.
"Well, Willy," his best friend leaned down to whisper, in the lingering hubbub, "it looks like you've already found someone." William shuddered, hissing back,
"Don't even speak about her to me." Luke chuckled softly, then glanced out to another side of the Hall. William followed his gaze and saw one of the ranged damsels suddenly blush as Luke winked.
"Luke!" he said, aghast, "You're supposed to be courting someone at home!"
The older man smiled and patted William on the back. "I know, Willy, I know, but there's no harm done! I need someone to take my mind of things here!"
William frowned but said nothing, watching a squire come in to announce a petitioner. Everyone in the Hall had gone still, all eyes on the door.
If there was one thing that William didn't like about his friend, it would be his tendency to be a ladies' man. Luke seemed to be courting a different damsel every week or so, and would suddenly move on to a new one, as if changing his mind. All of these were the typical court flirts, who were used to this way of things and accepted it, basking in the flirtation while it came and letting it go when it went. William didn't even want to think about what Luke did with the women when they both weren't to be found.
And he didn't like it. He stuck to the idea that one day, Luke would break a lady's heart, and not even realize it. Also, the younger man didn't believe that Luke's real partner lay within the groups of socializing aspirers for power that Frell held. A more down-to-earth type was what his friend needed. But would he listen? No. Of course not. Luke liked his life- though William was convinced that at least half was a charade-and William knew that he also liked, well, there was no other term he could use . . . sleeping around. Secretly, he knew that Luke also attracted a lot of the whores in the castle, as well as pretty maids or other servants.
William hated the other life his best friend led, and never hesitated to try to convince him to live otherwise. But Luke still went through maiden after maiden without looking back . . . and William had an unpleasant suspicion that Tayli was next.
^^^^^In the meantime^^^^^
"So," Tayli asked once she'd finished explaining her plan, "how did you get Rafe to tie himself down?"
Mel blushed slightly. "Well, it . . . um . . . just happened." Tayli gave her a mock glare and Mel hastened to explain more. "You'll probably think I'm crazy for saying this, but, for me, it was love at first sight-I knew from the beginning that it wasn't the same with him. It was . . . indescribable," she finished, with a dreamy look on her face.
And Tayli looked at this girl, who was younger than she was, and wondered slightly at the amount of things Mel knew that the young Kiin had never experienced before. Then she shook of the feeling and smiled. "I never would have thought that Rafe was capable of settling down. I never really thought about it, you know, but now it just seems like the most natural thing in the world for him to do." She was rewarded with a beam from Mel.
Tayli liked Mel, she really did. And she knew that, because of that and because she was going to marry Rafe, she was making more of an effort to be friendly, being more open, talking more. It was strange, and half of her was screaming that she should cut down on the flow of words, with the other half arguing that this made sense-she had to get to know this girl, to make Rafe happy.
It was then that the large double doors opened, and Tayli glanced quickly at Mel, who nodded to her, before making her way to stand ominously behind the seated Prince, a blank, serious look on her face, one hand on her sword. It was her job, and she loved the job itself, but Tayli couldn't deny that she got a little amusement out of astonishing the people-they were all so soft! She couldn't envy anything about their easy lifestyle.
After a short pause, in which the tumult in the room stilled to a quiet murmur, a squire stepped in to announce, "The farmers Jackson and Herbert to see you, milord." The Duke nodded, and the squire showed two men, presumably Jackson and Herbert, into the Hall.
They were stoic men, with close-cropped beards and kind faces-if it hadn't been for the death glares they were sending each other. Each had put on his best clothes, though the simple, dyed cloth wasn't much compared to the fabrics some of the guests had donned. They marched stiffly to the Duke's table, obviously uncomfortable in the crowd of finely dressed aristocrats. Once there, they bowed to Duke Bruno, and then bowed even lower to the Prince. When their eyes swept across Tayli Jackson, a blond-haired, blue- eyed man, gaped while Herbert sneered a little. Tayli stiffened, though she could tell that no danger would come from these men.
"Yes?" the Duke inquired. "What is the problem? I presume it is an argument between you two?"
"Yes, milord," Jackson replied, his warm tenor voice bearing the characteristic Lubranier farmer's drawl. "Herbert and I are both farmers from families of farmers, though we stuck to plantin' rather than breedin' livestock. Herbert an' his family owned a fine black bull, used to do much of the heavy work on the farm-pulling the plow and so on." Herbert, obviously not a talkative type, only nodded. "I, on the other hand, own two cows-one young, the other still fertile, but old all the same. Herbert, being worried about his farm once his bull died, wanted to come to a matin' agreement. I had no problem with it."
Here Herbert cleared his throat and started talking, casting a dark look at Jackson as he did so. He had a deep, scratchy voice. "We agreed that we would mate my bull to both of his cows. Then, if both had a calf, we'd each keep one. If only one had a calf, we'd mate her to my bull agin after a while, and we'd each take a calf. It worked out well for both of us-it got me another calf and Jackson would have a new calf when his old cow died."
"But," Jackson said, and here Herbert began to look a little upset, while also angry, "it didn't work out the way we planned-Herbert's bull died from an accident shortly after we mated it to my cows, and only one of them was pregnant-the older cow. We still hoped that they would be twins, but we got only one calf a few weeks ago. And we've been fightin' about who should get the calf ever since."
"I should, milord," Herbert interrupted. "It was my bull that fathered it, and now I don't have any workin' beasts left, while he," he shot a glare at Jackson, "still has two. I need that calf to work on my farm, and I have more right to it because of that and because I owned the father."
"No, milord, I should. It was my cow that bore the calf in the first place, and it's gonna be sucklin' for a while. And, it's been livin' off of my costs in hay and cares, plus the milk I've been missin' from the mother. I have more right to that calf than he does."
The two farmers stood, facing each other in the fancy Hall, exchanging arguments and insults in their rough accent. The Duke tiredly leaned his face on his hand, letting them argue while the people around them murmured softly. The Prince, too, at the Duke's right hand, seemed deep in thought, and Tayli could only infer that he'd offered help. The Duke mumbled to himself once in a while, and Tayli caught the words 'buy', 'eat', 'offer', 'pride', and 'money'. After each bad idea he shook his head, disheartened. Often, he conferred in whispers to Rafe. The knights were murmuring amongst themselves, as were the rest of the guests. Tayli didn't think about the problem-that wasn't what she was there for.
Terian was staring into space and had a curious expression, as if he was watching something take shape in his mind. She kept him in the corner of her vision as she continuously scanned the hall, and saw when his face lit up-Prince Terian had found the answer.
"Is the Prince going to take part?"
"Oh, no," Melanie assured her. "Since its in honor of him he can't participate. And they wouldn't allow him to anyway-he's not old enough yet." Tayli nodded, satisfied.
"Rafe will be, though," Melanie added almost as an afterthought, and that was when Tayli got her idea.
"Melanie-" she started, but Melanie broke in.
"Call me Mel."
"Mel, then. Would you help me with something? You see, I was thinking . . ."
^^^^^^^^^^^
William chuckled at Terian's momentarily peeved expression, and then glanced around, trying to spot a certain woman in black. It was obvious that she knew Ster better than the rest of them combined-Michael hadn't been the only one to notice the strange bows, each varying just a little bit. She'd used one of these on Ster, and he'd mirrored her, sending a small ripple of shock throughout the Hall. When flirting women beset him, he'd managed to notice that Ster had gripped her arm and steered her off somewhere . . . but where?
Speaking of flirting women . . . he turned his attention back to the heavily made-up damsel at his side. She was pretty enough, but he couldn't help feeling, as always, that too much makeup made maidens look like jesters. Fiona, she'd said her name was. She was of a medium build, but incredibly skinny, with wispy blond hair curled on top of her head and blue eyes that looked becomingly up at him through her lashes. She was smiling at him each time she stopped chattering to draw breath, and William felt like backing away slowly, half convinced she'd suddenly stab him, all hidden by that fake smile.
"And I just know you'll do amazing in the tournament," Fiona was saying, batting her eyelashes, "because you just look like the best knight to win . . . you know, the strongest, most able." William mentally sneered at her pathetic attempts to win him over (and, he suspected, seduce him), but kept a polite face and simply nodded. He'd do well, but many of the older knights had more experience-Willy was still just a face in the crowd.
Suddenly Fiona gasped. "Oh, that I did not think about it before! I will give you something to wear in my honor, then you will certainly win, what say you?" She laughed a fake, high-pitched little laugh that made William want to cover his ears.
"I-I-Well," He stammered, repulsed by her spontaneously ill-placed offer of something that was normally asked for. It was then that the doors opened, not creaking but still loudly, so that everyone in the room stopped talking to look at the entrance to the Hall. William saw Luke beckoning over and hastily bowed to Fiona, incredibly relieved.
Weaving his way through the people assembled, William went to stand next to Luke. Everyone had cleared out of the center of the room, and Duke Bruno had taken a seat at the table, with Ster, Terian and the knights ranged out behind him.
"Well, Willy," his best friend leaned down to whisper, in the lingering hubbub, "it looks like you've already found someone." William shuddered, hissing back,
"Don't even speak about her to me." Luke chuckled softly, then glanced out to another side of the Hall. William followed his gaze and saw one of the ranged damsels suddenly blush as Luke winked.
"Luke!" he said, aghast, "You're supposed to be courting someone at home!"
The older man smiled and patted William on the back. "I know, Willy, I know, but there's no harm done! I need someone to take my mind of things here!"
William frowned but said nothing, watching a squire come in to announce a petitioner. Everyone in the Hall had gone still, all eyes on the door.
If there was one thing that William didn't like about his friend, it would be his tendency to be a ladies' man. Luke seemed to be courting a different damsel every week or so, and would suddenly move on to a new one, as if changing his mind. All of these were the typical court flirts, who were used to this way of things and accepted it, basking in the flirtation while it came and letting it go when it went. William didn't even want to think about what Luke did with the women when they both weren't to be found.
And he didn't like it. He stuck to the idea that one day, Luke would break a lady's heart, and not even realize it. Also, the younger man didn't believe that Luke's real partner lay within the groups of socializing aspirers for power that Frell held. A more down-to-earth type was what his friend needed. But would he listen? No. Of course not. Luke liked his life- though William was convinced that at least half was a charade-and William knew that he also liked, well, there was no other term he could use . . . sleeping around. Secretly, he knew that Luke also attracted a lot of the whores in the castle, as well as pretty maids or other servants.
William hated the other life his best friend led, and never hesitated to try to convince him to live otherwise. But Luke still went through maiden after maiden without looking back . . . and William had an unpleasant suspicion that Tayli was next.
^^^^^In the meantime^^^^^
"So," Tayli asked once she'd finished explaining her plan, "how did you get Rafe to tie himself down?"
Mel blushed slightly. "Well, it . . . um . . . just happened." Tayli gave her a mock glare and Mel hastened to explain more. "You'll probably think I'm crazy for saying this, but, for me, it was love at first sight-I knew from the beginning that it wasn't the same with him. It was . . . indescribable," she finished, with a dreamy look on her face.
And Tayli looked at this girl, who was younger than she was, and wondered slightly at the amount of things Mel knew that the young Kiin had never experienced before. Then she shook of the feeling and smiled. "I never would have thought that Rafe was capable of settling down. I never really thought about it, you know, but now it just seems like the most natural thing in the world for him to do." She was rewarded with a beam from Mel.
Tayli liked Mel, she really did. And she knew that, because of that and because she was going to marry Rafe, she was making more of an effort to be friendly, being more open, talking more. It was strange, and half of her was screaming that she should cut down on the flow of words, with the other half arguing that this made sense-she had to get to know this girl, to make Rafe happy.
It was then that the large double doors opened, and Tayli glanced quickly at Mel, who nodded to her, before making her way to stand ominously behind the seated Prince, a blank, serious look on her face, one hand on her sword. It was her job, and she loved the job itself, but Tayli couldn't deny that she got a little amusement out of astonishing the people-they were all so soft! She couldn't envy anything about their easy lifestyle.
After a short pause, in which the tumult in the room stilled to a quiet murmur, a squire stepped in to announce, "The farmers Jackson and Herbert to see you, milord." The Duke nodded, and the squire showed two men, presumably Jackson and Herbert, into the Hall.
They were stoic men, with close-cropped beards and kind faces-if it hadn't been for the death glares they were sending each other. Each had put on his best clothes, though the simple, dyed cloth wasn't much compared to the fabrics some of the guests had donned. They marched stiffly to the Duke's table, obviously uncomfortable in the crowd of finely dressed aristocrats. Once there, they bowed to Duke Bruno, and then bowed even lower to the Prince. When their eyes swept across Tayli Jackson, a blond-haired, blue- eyed man, gaped while Herbert sneered a little. Tayli stiffened, though she could tell that no danger would come from these men.
"Yes?" the Duke inquired. "What is the problem? I presume it is an argument between you two?"
"Yes, milord," Jackson replied, his warm tenor voice bearing the characteristic Lubranier farmer's drawl. "Herbert and I are both farmers from families of farmers, though we stuck to plantin' rather than breedin' livestock. Herbert an' his family owned a fine black bull, used to do much of the heavy work on the farm-pulling the plow and so on." Herbert, obviously not a talkative type, only nodded. "I, on the other hand, own two cows-one young, the other still fertile, but old all the same. Herbert, being worried about his farm once his bull died, wanted to come to a matin' agreement. I had no problem with it."
Here Herbert cleared his throat and started talking, casting a dark look at Jackson as he did so. He had a deep, scratchy voice. "We agreed that we would mate my bull to both of his cows. Then, if both had a calf, we'd each keep one. If only one had a calf, we'd mate her to my bull agin after a while, and we'd each take a calf. It worked out well for both of us-it got me another calf and Jackson would have a new calf when his old cow died."
"But," Jackson said, and here Herbert began to look a little upset, while also angry, "it didn't work out the way we planned-Herbert's bull died from an accident shortly after we mated it to my cows, and only one of them was pregnant-the older cow. We still hoped that they would be twins, but we got only one calf a few weeks ago. And we've been fightin' about who should get the calf ever since."
"I should, milord," Herbert interrupted. "It was my bull that fathered it, and now I don't have any workin' beasts left, while he," he shot a glare at Jackson, "still has two. I need that calf to work on my farm, and I have more right to it because of that and because I owned the father."
"No, milord, I should. It was my cow that bore the calf in the first place, and it's gonna be sucklin' for a while. And, it's been livin' off of my costs in hay and cares, plus the milk I've been missin' from the mother. I have more right to that calf than he does."
The two farmers stood, facing each other in the fancy Hall, exchanging arguments and insults in their rough accent. The Duke tiredly leaned his face on his hand, letting them argue while the people around them murmured softly. The Prince, too, at the Duke's right hand, seemed deep in thought, and Tayli could only infer that he'd offered help. The Duke mumbled to himself once in a while, and Tayli caught the words 'buy', 'eat', 'offer', 'pride', and 'money'. After each bad idea he shook his head, disheartened. Often, he conferred in whispers to Rafe. The knights were murmuring amongst themselves, as were the rest of the guests. Tayli didn't think about the problem-that wasn't what she was there for.
Terian was staring into space and had a curious expression, as if he was watching something take shape in his mind. She kept him in the corner of her vision as she continuously scanned the hall, and saw when his face lit up-Prince Terian had found the answer.