-a/n- -sheepishly- So, well, there is this thing, it's called university, and it takes over your life.

You spend the mornings in laboratories and dissection rooms, the afternoons having horrific amounts of science thrown at you and then most of the evening scribbling out poor imitations of essays. You then go out partying, get very little sleep and do it all again the next day and the next etc. You spend all weekend playing hockey and any other spare time doing fitness training for the aforementioned sport. You develop strange eating habits, have near-death experiences on your bike and generally have a fantastic time. At least this has been my experience so far.

The last few months were a complete write-off due to exams I'm afraid. Most of this chapter has actually been written since April, but if you've read the note on my profile then you'll have seen that I stupidly left my beloved copy of Squire at home and therefore couldn't finish off the final few details.

Thanks to all who've messaged/left a review. I love you dearly. I also love this story and I hope to get some more chapters up for you soon ;D

Confusedknight xxx

Despite the bitterly cold wind Kel was sitting up straight in her saddle, gazing around at her Knight-master's lands with interest. The ground varied between the green of vegetation hard enough to survive the winter and large expanses of mud where rainwater pooled on top of the saturated earth. The sky was grey and the day, though still young was dim.

As they topped a gentle ridge Kel could see down the rolling valley to Goldenlake itself, a choppy expanse of grey that stretched long and wide ahead of them. There was a sturdy stone castle built halfway up one of the more gently inclining hills with three proud towers and a flint-studded outer wall.

‛The sun rises directly between those two hills,' Raoul pointed to the eastern end of the lake. ‛And the whole lake turns gold. It's not much to look at in weather like this I'm afraid.'

‛Well hopefully this will blow over soon,' replied Kel, gesturing to the squall, cloud and wind. She was getting thoroughly fed up of miserable weather and the inconveniences it posed. She wanted to go for runs and practise her sword fighting under a warm sun, dressed in only a shirt, rather than all of the bulk she currently wore.

Ahead of them an envoy from the castle could be seen riding towards them and Kel drew herself from her musings and focused on the five men making their way forwards.

‛The one in the lead is my brother-in-law,' Raoul informed Kel, ‛and to his left is Charley who does most of the day to day running of the estates. I think the others are manservants.' Raoul squinted through the gloomy day, ‛Mithros! Even old Jock has ridden out to meet us. He used to be weapons-master here, taught me how to use a sword that man did.'

Kel's mind flickered to the man who had truly taught her her how to handle a blade and felt a familiar stab of anxiety. But no, she must not think of that now.

Raoul signalled the company to a smart halt and dismounted easily, his weight pushing his boots several inches into the mud. The welcome party dismounted also, a short distance away and made out to greet Raoul. Kel clambered down too, although the rest of the own remained in the saddle. She took hold of both Prince and Drum's reigns although neither horse showed any sign of going anywhere. The greeting ahead of them was done with deep booming voices and much slapping of backs and shaking of hands.

Raoul turned and beckoned her forward. Still holding the reigns of both horses Kel squelched with difficulty over to the six men.

‛My squire, Keladry of Mindelan,' introduced Raoul.

Kel bowed politely and Raoul rested one ham-sized fist upon her shoulder as he finished talking to the men.

‛We've cleared the grand hall of tables so your men can set up their bedrolls inside,' explained a whiskery-faced man. ‛There are also hostlers on hand to care for the horses and the bathhouses are ready for a lot of tired cold men. We've also opened up ten bedrooms for your officers. We weren't sure where you wanted your squire put...'

'Is there not an antechamber for a squire off of my room?' asked Raoul in surprise, trying to remember the home that he obviously didn't visit very often.

'Well there is, yes, but she's-'

'Kel can sleep there then.' Replied Raoul, closing the matter.

It took less than fifteen minutes for the officers at least, (and Kel appeared to be included in this party) to be relieved of their horses. Kel watched from the corner of her eyes as Dom pushed his sodden hair from his handsome face and began to call out instructions for the collection of their dry possessions from the supply wagons.

Raoul cleared his throat and Kel's attention swung back to her knight-master, who was beckoning to her, smirking ever so slightly. Kel fought a blush as she obeyed, knowing that Raoul knew exactly what had distracted her.

Knight-master and squire entered the main castle for a more private greeting. Raoul's mother, a tall, lean woman with iron-grey hair descended upon her mud-covered son, taking his head in both hands and pulling him down so that she could kiss him soundly on the forehead.

She then held him at arms length, examining her giant of a son with beady, coal-black eyes in a way that only mothers will.

'It's been too long Raoul,' she scolded. 'You must make more of an effort to come and visit your old mother.'

Raoul didn't reply but instead kissed her on the top of her grey head. As he went to greet the others gathered in the hall, presumably his sister and her children, his nephews and nieces, it left the formidable Lady of Goldenlake scrutinising Kel.

'So, you must be Keladry of Mindelan.'

Kel bowed deeply and smoothly. 'It is an honour to meet my Lord's mother, my Lady.'

'Scrawny thing, isn't she?' remarked the lady to Raoul as though Kel were not even present.

Raoul looked up from his crowd of eager nephews, smiling, 'Scrawny or not, I wouldn't be stupid enough to challenge Kel to a fight.'

Kel was tramping through slush, gazing around with enquiring eyes. She didn't recognise this place; the terrain and landscape were unfamiliar. As she cleared the next ridge a terrible scene lay before her, bodies strewn like abandoned dolls on a nursery floor. Her dream-legs carried her forwards although her body was tossing and trying to leave this nightmarish scene. She could now see their faces, their wide expressionless eyes and slack mouths. Nameless villagers slaughtered and left to rot. Turning slowly she could see Alex, walking slowly into the distance. Kel tried to run and follow but her legs wouldn't cooperate, the hands of the dead were wrapping around her ankles, trapping her there, pulling her down... Kel wrenched herself from the dream, breathing hard.

Opening her eyes, she started and sat bolt upright, hands reaching for the weapons she'd positioned within arms reach.

'Hey it's only me' whispered Raoul in alarm, pulling back the light curtain that separated Kel's antechamber from the rest of the chambers.

Kel pushed the hair out of her eyes shakily, feeling the damp sweat on her forehead.

'You were muttering,' said Raoul, explaining why he was half way across the room and not tucked up in his own bed.

Exhaling, Kel shuffled backwards until her head rested against the cool stone wall. Images still swam in front of her eyes, magnified in the unshed tears pooling there.

Raoul sat down on the end of Kel's low bed, careful not to sit on her legs. Kel drew her legs to her chest, partly to create more room for her knight-master but really craving the security of having something to hold on to.

They shared the silence for a few minutes, Raoul squinting at his small squire who was determinedly looking anywhere but his face.

Now that Kel's heart rate was slowing once more, her surroundings certain, she began to feel the beginnings of shame creeping up on her. Raoul, although one of the kindest people she'd ever met, was also one of the realm's most respected knights and her commanding officer. She didn't want him to see her like this, scared and vulnerable, exposed by her darkest memories. He couldn't understand what she'd been through in Scanra. He couldn't hold her until the shaking subsided. He wasn't Alex.

'I'm sorry for waking you Sir,' Kel muttered.

Raoul looked away rather than replying, staring out in to his gloomy chambers, lit only by glowing embers that resided in the grate.

'We all have them Kel.' He said unexpectedly. Pausing for a second he blundered on, 'Men are notoriously bad for talking about things that frighten us, things that haunt us. We're expected to be invincible warriors, taking life day after day. We're courageous on the battle field and yet at the same time not brave enough to admit, when asked, that really we're not fine. You're not the first comrade who's woken me. And,' he swallowed, 'I daresay that I've woken my fair share of people too.'

'I want to forget them, forget their faces,' Kel croaked, 'sometimes I want to forget it all. But then I wonder if it's not the gods way of reminding us of what must be done.'

'Whose faces?' asked Raoul quietly.

'I don't even know,' Kel whispered, a lone tear streaking down her cheek. 'Just a village we found. Dead and rotting. Blood in the snow, blood everywhere...Killed as an example of what happens when just one person opposes Maggur. Children, women he didn't care, they were all slain and just left there.' By now Kel's voice was slightly hysterical. 'And we gathered up their bodies. Just the two of us to clear up the thirty seven bodies. The pile was so tall...' She brushed angrily at her eyes.

Raoul was shaking his head sadly and made almost to reach out and grasp her knee, but then withdrew his hand as though he thought better of it. After several more minutes of silence in which Kel struggled to keep her breathing steady, he finally said.

'I was eighteen before I fought in my first war, Kel. A fully trained knight. And even then I didn't sleep easily for months. You've seen things that would give even the oldest veteran fighters nightmares.'

'It's this waiting,' admitted Kel quietly, voicing some of the frustration and confusion that she'd been feeling for the past few months. 'I feel that I should be doing something more. That we as a country should be doing more.'

'The war is coming Kel, and whatever some fools may say, the important people know it. We do things quietly, so quietly that only a handful of people realise what's happening so that there is no possibility that any spies could report anything back to Maggur.' He scratched his chin absentmindedly.

'For the last five years, the requisitions for supplies such as arrows and armour have been eight percent more than we strictly need, the excess being quietly stockpiled. The university and other healing centres have increased their accepted intake by nearly thirty percent recently, making sure we have no shortage of healers. The commanders, Buri, General Vanget and myself have been slowly drilling our men in formations useful to battle as well as pushing the realm's fighting forces into shape. The old fort of Northwatch is being renovated slowly by a handful of craftsmen as well as architects planning and surveying for several other strategic sites where forts can be created. Horse breeders are being encouraged to produce war horses to sell to the crown, who are again training them quietly ready for the casualties war will bring.' He sighed, 'It's not much yet Kel, but it's a start. We won't be caught unawares. And I can almost guarantee you that this time next year we'll be fighting the enemy directly.

Kel nodded quietly and Raoul stood up. Squeezing her shoulder briefly, he hunkered back to bed and pulled his quilts up around himself. Kel settled down but found that she was not remotely sleepy anymore. Her brain was busy processing what she'd just learnt. She was also aware that her knight-master was not sleeping either. For though his breathing was deep and even, it was a little too regular, none of the semi-snorts and snuffles that usually accompanied the large man's slumber.

They tallied in Goldenlake for no longer than two days before setting out to join the Progress. The journey had been going well until several men in Qasim's squad were struck down with a sickness that began with vomiting and progressed into a fever that required a healer's attention. Despite near-isolation of those infected, the disease spread through the Own like wildfire until the healer's were overwhelmed and Raoul called a halt to their journey. A day later he himself, looking extremely pale and shivery, was near forced into bed by Kel.

Healers from nearby villages were sent for to help speed the recovery of nearly forty men since the Own's healers had long since been drained of their Gift. To many people's surprise, Kel was one of the few who hadn't been affected. Privately Kel had a sneaking suspicion that it was the same virus that had hit the slave plantation three and a half years ago, rendering her immune. The symptoms certainly looked similar. Except unlike the starved, exhausted slaves, these fit and healthy men of the King's Own had each received treatment from healers and no one had yet reached a stage of hallucination.

Kel found herself not only fetching things and running messages for Raoul, but also in charge of cooking for several squads all "recovering" from the sickness. Fed up of the standard rations being cooked the same way night after night; potatoes and stew, Kel jogged down to a nearby village and bartered for some cream, herbs and spices.

She then set about making a simple meal, learned during her spell in Marthea's kitchen. Kel boiled the potatoes until the point that they began to disintegrate, drained the water from the massive cooking pot with difficulty, and set about mashing the potato with cream and spice. Kel had also taken several rabbits that a couple of other healthy men had caught with the aid of the Own's hunting falcons, and stripped the meat clean off the bone. She then fried the chunks of meat with herbs including rosemary. Dishing up no less than twenty-one plates Kel hurried to serve the food before it got cold. Kel was well praised for her efforts and was warned that she might be forced to cook for them all more often.

A day and a half later the Own was on it's feet again and set off at a fearsome pace to make up for lost time. Prince seemed to enjoy the chance to stretch out his neck and loped easily alongside Raoul's enormous warhorse, Drum.

It was a nice feeling, Kel decided when they rode up between the rows and rows of knights and other warriors who'd spent the last few weeks doing no more than enjoying the festivities, knowing that at least she hadn't been cooped up with the Progress the whole time. She saw respect in the eyes of many, and despite their dust-covered, inglorious appearance, they were greeted with applause nonetheless.

Despite the ongoing tourney's of the Progress, Kel fought only with her friends, knight-master and men of the Own, preferring to train in an environment without having insults flung at her between every stroke.

Indeed Kel had not even been paying attention to the current victors, and when Merric and the others started to talk in awed tones about Hans Quickfeet, Kel had no idea to whom they were referring.

'The one who's been beating nearly every Knight fool enough to challenge him,' said Owen impressively.

You should fight him,' puffed Seaver, continuing his efforts to find a gap in Kel's defence.

Kel blinked twice at the mention of 'Hans'; Alex had once assumed that name whilst undercover in Sekholm. 'What does he look like?' she asked casually.

'Blonde and muscly, like he's got some Scanran blood in him. Plainly dressed, only a commoner but, like his name suggests you've never seen quicker footwork anywhere.'

Kel's heart began to beat rather fast. Her brain was telling her that it couldn't possibly be him; what business would Alex have drawing attention to himself in Tortall? And yet her heart knew that she wouldn't quite believe it until she'd confirmed with her own eyes that it was not in fact Alex undercover.

Tingling with excitement, Kel made excuses to break up the practice session at the earliest opportunity and hurried to the lists. There it was over and over, Hans Quickfeet. She scanned the results, victory, victory, victory, it went on and on.

According to the curled writing, Hans Quickfeet would be fighting a knight of Mandash that very afternoon and Kel decided to go along and watch. And watch she did. When Kel first saw the man it became plain that it was not Alex, and disappointment welled inside her. This man was far too broad, and indeed slightly older than Alex. He was however, unmistakeably Scanran. And not only of Scanran lineage, but someone who had grown up and learnt the skills of the sword in Scanra.

His footwork was impeccable, but even so she reckoned that Alex could best him. But, like Alex, this man had obviously grown up with the sword almost permanently in his hand and that led Kel to believe that he must've been someone high up in the clan, if not on heritage, but skill alone. The question was, which clan and what was he doing in Tortall? Fleeing from Maggur? Or trying to judge the strength of the Tortallan arms?

That evening, Kel was mending a pair of breeches with a hole when Raoul stumped in, not looking happy.

'Sir?' Kel asked tentatively as Raoul slammed a pile of paperwork down on his desk. 'What did the King want?'

'Apart from me to complete this wretched pile of paperwork,' Raoul replied scowling, 'He's entered you to fight against that Hans fellow tomorrow.'

'What?' asked Kel before she could help herself. 'But why?'

'It doesn't make the realm's warriors look good when defeated by a northern commoner,' said Raoul, flinging himself into a chair that creaked dangerously under his weight.

'Why me?' asked Kel, stunned that the king had picked her.

'Because you're bloody good that's why, and if you do lose people will say it's because you're just a squire.'

This made sense to Kel; the King wouldn't want to risk someone of a higher profile, like Raoul to defeat at the hands of the unknown.

'Well...uh...what time am I fighting?'

Raoul's head snapped up, 'You're alright with this? He didn't even ask you first, he didn't even have the decency to ask me!'

Shrugging Kel replied, 'I'm meant to be a soldier, I fight when I'm told.'

'Whilst that is true on a battlefield it is normally polite to discuss something like this beforehand.' Raoul grouched.

Kel bowed and watched her opponent do likewise. She was pleased to see no confident, arrogant smile on his face; here was an enemy that didn't judge opponents before he saw them fight. Checking one last time that her hair was secure behind it's fabric band, that her wristguards were tight and that Courage was comfortably positioned in her hand, she took up her stance, ignoring the effects of the adrenaline coursing through her system.

When the signal was given the man advanced and brought a crushing blow down, which Kel skipped nimbly out of the way of. She flashed her own sword in to his left. Unsurprisingly Hans parried it and the two swords met for the first time. Kel put up resistance for a second to give him a brief idea of her strength and then whipped her sword away and around.

They exchanged a few more blows before Kel decided that it was really time to put 'Quickfeet' through his paces. Could he have kept up with Alex? She began to speed up the exercise, making her movements more dynamic and explosive but still keeping the sword flowing smoothly, a mark of someone who knows what they're doing with a blade.

Initially the man appeared a little off-balance at the change in speed but then he rose to the challenge and the fight flew along at an astounding pace.

If Kel hadn't been so focussed on the task in hand then she would've seen the crowd size swell, doubling, tripling. Word had spread of the fight between Hans Quickfeet and Squire Keladry and it seemed as though the spectators had abandoned the tilting and archery competitions in favour of the duel that was taking place.

Although not quite as tidy as Alex in regard to his fighting, the man was very strong and took every opportunity to press down behind his blade, tiring Kel's arms a little more each time. Kel had tried out a few more complex moves, which didn't faze the man and so she decided that she was going to have to be more sneaky about it. Gradually, very gradually she began to ease off on certain moves, not quite finishing them to the extent she normally would; the sign of a tired opponent. It was subtle, very subtle, but she hoped that a swordsman of Hans' calibre would soon spot this and try to take advantage of it.

Three minutes or so later it happened, Hans feinting and then driving back deep into the tiny gap that Kel had been leaving open. Lightening fast Kel drove her sword, up and around to wrench his away. Off-balance, Kel attacked in one last frenzied push, not letting Hans any opportunity to do anything more than hastily ward off the blows raining down on him.

A swing and a twist of Courage later and with the man's sword flung to the side Kel had him at the tip of her sword.

Kel was not aware of the roar of the crowd behind her, only the thumping of her heart in her chest, her lungs reaching out for the air her body so desperately needed and Hans sweat-dotted face, his blue eyes now looking straight up the tempered steel blade of Courage, to where the Scanran words were so elegantly carved.

Kel pressed upwards ever so slightly with the flat or her blade onto his chin.

'I yield,' he said in a Tortallan accent that held only a slight trace of his mother tongue.

Kel sheathed her sword before her arm started to shake. She needed to have a nice thorough cool-down and stretch, otherwise she'd be good for nothing tomorrow.

'Wait,' the man called, his accent slipping. 'That is, that blade, it is a weapon from the Kethlum forge.'

Kel nodded, knowing that it would be pointless to deny it. 'One of the last ever made,' she replied shortly.

'The Kethlum family does not export it's weapons, they are made exclusively at request from clan chiefs,' Hans said urgently dropping back into Scanran.

Kel started and glanced around to where the thronging mass of people all around the court were making a tumult of noise as they discussed the match and gradually started to fight their way out.

'Then I might also ask where you got yours?' Kel replied quietly, gesturing to the sword lying at the side of the court. Although she'd answered in Common Hans would know that she'd understood the Scanran perfectly.

'I was presented it as a reward for services to the clan of Tinei.'

'And I in return for services to the son of a Clan,' replied Kel, not divulging any further. 'What are you doing in Tortall?'

Hans looked at her without mirth. 'Scanra is not a safe place anymore. Tinei is not safe.'

'So you ran away?' asked Kel, struggling to keep the incredulity out of her voice. Alex needed fighters like Hans to stay and oppose Maggur.

'I have a family,' Hans replied simply. 'I do not care for the country I leave behind. With my winnings we will settle in the south. My children will grow up in safety.'

He looked nervously over Kel's shoulder. Kel turned to follow his gaze and saw Raoul walking towards her.

'Everything alright?' he asked, his tone mild, but eyes alert.

'Fine,' said Kel off-handedly, 'we were just discussing swords,' she said truthfully.

'Well you'd better do some stretching before your muscles seize up,' Raoul cautioned. 'Come on Squire.'

Kel bowed briefly to Hans, before turning and leaving with her knight-master.

They discussed the fight briefly as she was stretching and then Raoul left her, telling her to have a nap since the evening was likely to be a long and arduous affair.

Following the advice, Kel lay down still fully clothed and quickly drifted off, barely having time to think about Hans' situation.

When she woke it was because of a whispering that filled her tent. Simultaneously Kel sat up, opened her eyes, and reached for her sword.

'Aah,' there was a squeal, and through her bleary eyes Kel saw three shapes leap backwards. Convinced that an attacker wouldn't squeal, or leap backwards, Kel lowered her sword and rubbed her eyes. Three young girls, three well-dressed young girls were all staring at her with a sort of horrified fascination.

The tallest of the lot curtsied, followed hurriedly by the other two.

'You disarmed Hans Quickfeet,' breathed one of the younger two girls, pushing her silvery-blonde hair from her face. 'It was beautiful.' She beamed at Kel.

'Beautiful is Yvenne's word for the week,' the oldest-looking girl informed Kel.

'Mama says, if me and Fianola still really want to, in a year, she'll let us try.' Spoke the smallest girl who, judging by their identical masses of curly brown hair was sister to the eldest.

It took Kel's sleep-fuddled brain a few seconds to work out what she was referring to. When realisation struck Kel, she discovered that she hadn't a clue what to say. Were they expecting advice? She hadn't exactly lasted long into page training, although Goddess-willing that would change if any of these girls were to try.

Kel leaned forward, stretching out her hamstrings with a slight groan.

'How did you learn to fight so well?' pressed the younger sister, 'Had you learnt from when you were small?' Her face was worried, 'We haven't had any weapons training.'

Kel looked up at the three eager, expectant faces.

'No, I only learnt the use of a Yamani glaive before I arrived at the Palace,' she replied truthfully. 'The key to being a good fighter is simply practise, and dedication. It means getting up before others and working for harder and longer. It means not giving up when people bigger and stronger than you beat you again and again. It means ignoring insults and tricks from those who believe that women have no business fighting.'

Kel reached for a shirt to replace the sweat-encrusted one she was currently wearing.

'So is there anything that we can do before we get there?' asked the eldest girl.

Kel considered this as she exchanged her shirts. 'Run,' she said, not missing all three pairs of eyes widening at her scarred torso. 'Hunt, climb, ride, practise archery, work on building up your strength by lifting heavy things and your stamina by exercising for long periods of time. Don't let anyone tell you it'll be easy, and at the same time don't let anyone tell you that it's impossible.'

Kel clambered to her feet.

'Do you know what time it is?' she asked Fianola, who in all actuality was only about four years younger than Kel herself.

'The sixth bell rang just before you woke,' replied the girl quickly. 'And we should probably be getting back, Yvenne, Victoire.'

All three girls curtsied beautifully and then turned and hurried away.

'Gods all bless,' whispered Kel, hoping dearly that at least one of the girls would have the courage and determination to try for their shield.

The progress rolled slowly onwards and it just so happened that Kel was able to spend her seventeenth birthday in Mindelan, her home fief that she hadn't visited since she'd first left for the Palace, all those years ago.

Kel barely recognised all of her nieces and nephews, and they certainly didn't recognise her. In fact, they were much more friendly around Cleon, one of Kel's old page friends who had stayed at Mindelan several times during his service as squire to Inness.

Anders, who ran the fief in his retirement from active service was pleased to see his once-lost sister. He watched from the sidelines as Kel practise-duelled men of the Own with a strange look on his face, he didn't recognise the woman fighting, his sister, any more than his children did.

Moving on from Mindelan, Kel wondered whether it would be another seven years before she saw her childhood home again. Kel felt it strange that she bore the title of a place that she visited so infrequently.

As the leaves turned from fading green into magnificent hues of red and gold, the Progress came upon a wide lake, it's surface glassy smooth. Massive floating pavilions, draped in white and gold cloth bobbed as people hurried around trying to complete last minute preparations. Kel was impressed despite the extravagant use of money.

Raoul chuckled, 'I've noticed that Alanna's ridden on ahead.'

'Why's that?' Kel asked absentmindedly, watching someone arranging vases of Yamani lilies as tall as an average person.

'Just seeing their gentle bobbing makes her feel sea sick.'

'You're not serious?'

'I am,' replied Raoul, 'I travelled with her once and she was green the entire way home.'

They were now so close to the coast that Kel could practically smell the saltwater on the air. Part of her longed to gallop Prince up the gently rounding hill and down the other side until they were on the long sandy beaches, but that could only be a wild fantasy; she had far too many jobs to do.

A great envoy of Yamani nobles was meant to be arriving any hour, having sailed across the Emerald ocean. It was their last tribute to a Princess who would soon become property of Tortall.

Kel knew that both her parents were in the thick of things, organising, directing, trying to host a Yamani party of suitable merit for their noble guests.

'It's going to be a long few days,' Raoul sighed gloomily. 'Jon's going to want me to meet every Yamani that comes off that ship, mark my words.'

'Well as long as you can slip away before the poetry Sir, you'll be alright.'

'Poetry?' Raoul gaped at his squire, horror-struck. 'Just exactly what kind of parties do our friends from the Isles host?'

'Well it all starts quite normal at first,' Kel explained, 'Making acquaintances, you know the like. Then follows a seated, traditionally seven-course meal, although if they're really making an occasion of it then it might be nine courses. And of course by this time everyone has consumed large volumes of rice wine,' she stated matter-of-factly. 'Yamani's are not rowdy drunks. They prefer to recite poetry and gaze up at the stars, philosophising on the exact...'

By this time Raoul was looking quite ill.

'Oh you'll have a wonderful time sir,' Kel informed him just a little too sincerely.

Raoul sent his squire a sideways look. 'Oh, but then I couldn't let you miss out on all the fun,' he said a smile forming on his face. 'No, definitely not. Besides I'll need someone to guide be through all the social niceties of our cultured friends, the great barbarian that I am. Yes, I think I'll inform the master of ceremonies that I am unable to cope without my squire for the evening.'

'Oh Sir,' said Kel, suddenly punished for her quiet smugness. 'It really won't be that...'

But Raoul had made up his mind.

'My lord, you are a bad man.' Kel muttered, drawing a chuckle from Raoul.

As soon as Ilane saw her daughter's name on the guest list of the party, she approached Raoul herself and requested that Kel could wear a kimono for the occasion. Grinning Raoul agreed graciously.

When Raoul relayed this information innocently to his squire, she muttered something very uncomplimentary in Yamani and stalked off to find her mother.

'What did that mean?' Raoul called after her.

'I wouldn't repeat it at the dinner table tonight,' Kel warned, calling over her shoulder.

Lady Ilane could not be persuaded and that evening saw Kel in full Yamani-garb; a pale green kimono embroidered with elegant tendrils of leaves, satin slippers, coiled up hair and light brushings of facepaint, and no sword, to her utmost displeasure.

She had given Raoul a quick lesson in Yamani etiquette and was now watching her knight-master trying to greet his acquaintances in very poorly-accented Yamani.

They accepted the words tolerantly, although never showing any emotion it was hard to tell. Kel was greeted warmly, either by people who had known her as a child and remarking how she'd grown up into a lovely young women. (At this Kel had wanted to snort, if it wouldn't have been the height of rudeness.) Or else it was simply as the daughter of the very honoured Lady Ilane.

Eventually the reception was over and everyone was ushered to their seats. The meal began by delicately cleaning hands and cutlery, first in lemon juice and then in lukewarm water. Raoul followed Kel's lead, one step behind.

They then struggled through the many courses, using different spoons, chop sticks and even fingers to help them consume the delicacies placed before them.

Kel looked around at the stony-faced tables, all conversing in tones of mild-interest and felt a surprising pang of longing for the tables to be filled by laughing, joking men of the Own.

Standing up from dinner Kel bowed to the man opposite her, Raoul following only a beat behind.

'It was our good fortune to be seated with you,' Kel said formally.

'And ours also,' said one of the Yamani men, his dark almond-shaped eyes observing Kel and Raoul serenely.

Kel negotiated herself and her knight-master out the back and onto the floating pavilion to where they could rest for a few minutes without having to make painfully polite, forced conversation.

'I knew there was a reason that I took you on as my squire,' said Raoul, relieved at having survived dinner. Kel grinned and had opened her mouth to reply when she saw two riders galloping urgently around the far side of the lake, just visible in the gathering dusk.

From the way that Raoul straightened up, alert, Kel knew that he'd spotted them too. She followed her knight-master silently through the crowded tent. Raoul subtly alerted Lord Wyldon through a series of hand-signals and others, the King included, by whispers.

They gathered quietly in a tent, not wishing to cause panic. Kel was sent to greet the messengers and lead them to the tent. Although Kel wanted to stay and listen to what they had to say, it was her duty to care for their exhausted horses. She rubbed them down thoroughly, wincing slightly at the thought of her mother discovering that the beautiful green kimono was now flecked with foamy horse sweat, and gave each a large bucket of fresh lake water and generous helpings of oats and hay. With a final pat she scurried back to the tent. When she entered faces were serious and the tone of the conversation grave.

It didn't take long for Kel to cotton on; Scanrans had crossed the border in three places and General Vanget, in charge of the northern defences from the Northwatch fortress, was sending for aid.

Kel's heart thudded, feeling that at last, she was going to be sent back into the action. She was drawn back into the conversation by an exclamation of 'No,' from Raoul.

'Yes,' replied the King firmly, 'the First Company have been at court far too long.'

'Glaisdan is only fit to command the royal dance troupe,' exploded Raoul. 'Third Company would be of much more use, I'd be of much more use rather than trailing round after you two like an obedient pet.'

Kel winced, feeling that the King wasn't going to take kindly to this.

'You will stay with the Progress until I say otherwise,' said Jonathan, his voice deadly calm. 'The First Company and half of all our other fighters, Knights and regular soldiers alike, and about three rider groups will ride for Northwatch. A lesser number of fighters will ride for the coasts to help discourage scanran wolf-ships from attacking. And you will remain with us.'

'Fine,' growled Raoul standing up so abruptly that both the messengers jumped backwards. 'As you wish, your Majesty,' his voice was dripping with anger and sarcasm. Kel leapt up also, bowed hurriedly and followed her knight-master's leave.

Raoul was striding off into the night so fast that Kel had to hoist up her kimono and break into a jog to keep up with him. Neither of them spoke; only Raoul's heavy breathing and the rhythmic chirping of crickets broke the heavy night's silence.

They made their way around the side of the lake, the flickering candles from the floating pavilion growing smaller and smaller until they rounded the corner and couldn't see them any longer. The moon was bright and reflected brilliantly off of the lake.

'How can he be so stupid?' Raoul began to mutter, 'He's just being pig-headed, I know he is.'

Kel kicked a stone in her path angrily into the lake. The splash made Raoul look up and catch sight of his squire's stormy face.

'You're angry too,' he said in surprise, looking at his normally good-natured squire.

'It's more waiting,' exclaimed Kel angrily. 'It's all we ever seem to do, wait, wait, wait, and I can't stand it. It's like the quiet before a battle except that rather than days we've been waiting for years.'

Raoul sat down suddenly, leaning against a tree. Kel also sat, but closer to the lake, lying back so that her face was upturned towards the moon, her kimono gently ruffling in the breeze. She wondered if, wherever he was, Alex could see the moon, if he still thought of her, if he knew that Maggur had finally crossed the border, if he knew what would happen next...

I hope that was worth the wait...

As always, please review ;D

Confusedknight xxx