An enemy generally says and believes what he wishes.―Thomas Jefferson
Socially ostracized by his peers, Kensie's main distractions at the Palace were riding Blood, attending classes in the Collegium open to the children of the nobles and training in the salle. He could only groom and ride his horse for a few candlemarks in a day. As the heir to a County, his tutoring by Master Raab had covered most of the basic subjects offered to the highborn and many of the advanced classes were reserved for the Herald and Bardic trainee, so even the most devoted study left Kensie with plenty of time on his hands.
To fill his day and out of gratitude to Alberich, Kensie threw himself into the training at the salle with a zeal that bordered on the fanatical.
Alberich, he soon discovered, was as implacable and demanding as Hwyl Fian had ever been. The principal difference was that, where Hwyl Fian had made his disdain for Kensie obvious and deliberately sought to humiliate the young man, Alberich's sole focus was on finding weaknesses and correcting them.
For his part, Alberich was quietly impressed with Kensie. The boy had a drive to prove himself and would work himself to exhaustion practicing exercises Alberich set. Kensie's previous instruction was sound, though Alberich could read the signs of Hwyl Fian's sneering in the set of Kensie's face any time Alberich criticized a fault.
But Alberich's criticism was always to the point. The Weaponsmaster's remarks dealt with the problems in Kensie's weaponswork; he never spoke for the purpose of injuring the self-esteem of Kensie or any other student. Kensie soon ceased to fear Alberich's critiques, however blunt, and would listen intently to get the full meaning of what the Weaponsmaster said.
Alberich placed Kensie with his advanced students. Not only was Kensie very good with swords of all sorts, but his archery skills were well above average. Kensie could work with a mace, but did not have the upper body strength to become more than adequate with it. While Kensie would never rise to the level of 'master', Hwyl Fian had drilled a battle-sense awareness into Kensie so that no surprise or unexpected move caused him to hesitate before reacting. Kensie's reactions were not always correct or effective, but he did not freeze.
Alberich was surprised that Kensie was good with a quarterstaff – most nobles considered it a 'peasant's weapon' – and questioned Kensie about why he had trained with it. Kensie explained that Hwyl Fian had constantly reminded him that 'anything can be a weapon' and insisted Kensie be prepared to fight with anything that came to hand. "If you get killed by someone stabbing you with a pen, you are just as dead as if they did it with an axe." Kensie quoted one of Hwyl Fian's favorite aphorisms.
Alberich quirked a momentary smile at the remark. "We will leave killing with a pen for another day. For now, work with Harrow on the quarterstaff."
Kensie blinked in surprise. Had the remorseless Weaponsmaster actually made a joke?
Kensie's determination to satisfy the Weaponsmaster sometimes led him to overwork: He would drill himself with a movement to the point where exhaustion made his repetitions increasingly inaccurate. When Alberich noticed Kensie's control deteriorating, he would tap the boy on the shoulder. "Enough for today. Go and rest. You cannot practice if you are too tired to hold your position."
Alberich knew that, if it came to battle, there would be times when his students would have to fight to the last of their energy and beyond. In the salle, however, the impetus of desperate fear was lacking and failing coordination merely meant that the muscles were learning the wrong moves. When he wanted his students to push the limits of their endurance, he did so with exercises that were more physical than skilled.
Unlike the other high-born, Kensie did not resent the blue uniform in the least. It made him less visible among his peers, most of whom scorned him as a coward, whether or not they had ever faced battle themselves. Fortunately, there were few of Kensie's fellow highborn Blues among the advanced students, who were mostly Heraldic and Bardic trainees. The few highborn in the class , like Urson Felthan and Lovat Astey, were dedicated to mastering weaponswork and could not be bothered to sneer or denigrate others. Only Meria Tewkes, the heiress presumptive to County Tewkesbury, engaged in any sort of mockery and that was freely bestowed on everyone she could best with a sword or other weapon, not just Kensie. A brilliant armsmistress, all of the other students feared her; if she were not an heiress to a major title, Alberich would be training her as his assistant.
Outside of the advanced weapons classes, whether practicing on his own, riding or in classes, Kensie was subjected to the disdain and taunts of his peers. Kensie said nothing in reply to the sneers and outright insults of his peers; his silence and refusal to challenge those who demeaned him confirmed their low opinion in their own eyes. The scorn wore at Kensie, who tried not to let it show. He rightly divined that Alberich would not approve of him challenging his tormentors and was determined that he would not disappoint the one man who believed his word.
Alberich was aware of the slights to Kensie but did nothing to stop them. Kensie's silent endurance reminded Alberich as his own days as a Cadet in Karse. In his own way, Alberich gave Kensie support, not in the way of praise, but as patient tutoring. "You tend to over-extend your lunge, so." Alberich would say. "This is how you correct that." Demonstrating both the error and the small adjustment Kensie needed to make.
A little over a moon after Kensie arrived, Lord Evan Aitken called Kensie a coward when they encountered each other in the salle. Though the weather had warmed slightly, the day was stormy and the heavy rain could be heard on the roof as the wind drove it along. Alberich had brought the class inside for now; they could learn to work in the rain another day and the wind would make it difficult for him to be heard.
Lord Evan, one of the Blues who fancied himself superior with a sword, was attending one of the regular classes in the salle. Lord Evan was not one of the advanced students, so he had not actually seen Kensie working out. Kensie was doing extra practice by himself in a corner of the salle where he would not interfere with the class being taught.
"Womanish coward! What are you doing here practicing with real men?" Lord Evan shouted across the room. The room fell silent.
Though Kensie knew Lord Evan was talking to him, he ignored Evan.
Evan persisted. "I called you a coward, Poldara. What are you doing here?"
Kensie turned and faced Evan. "I am practicing the exercises the Weaponsmaster set for me." Kensie said. He kept his face as expressionless as possible, though his eyes flicked to Alberich, silently asking if the Weaponsmaster wanted him to leave.
"Demonstrate your fighting skills to Lord Kensie, you should." Alberich interrupted before Lord Evan could say anything further. "Here, both of you, face each other." He pointed to a spot before him. "All shall see how well you fight." The Weaponsmaster indicated an area in front of him which was as far from the mirrors as possible.
Lord Evan posed himself in a 'classical' stance. Kensie, who had seen Evan practicing, knew Lord Evan was good, but Kensie also knew he was better than Evan, even in the strictly 'classical' style that Evan repeatedly proclaimed was the only 'proper' style for gentlemen.
Kensie saluted formally. "I don't salute cowards." Evan retorted. A few of the onlookers snickered.
The two touched blades. After two quick movements out of one of the basic lines, Evan threw in a flourish. Kensie did not hesitate. Following the movement of Evan's blade, Kensie twisted his arm to send Evan's blade flying. The next instant, Kensie's blade was at Evan's throat.
"Point." Alberich said, though Kensie had obviously earned a 'kill.'
Kensie said nothing and returned to his starting spot. When Evan retrieved his blade, Kensie saluted him once more.
This time, Lord Evan was more cautious. The two exchanges thrusts and parries for a sunwidth, still in the classical style. Kensie took the time to study his opponent more carefully. Lord Evan moved too much, wasting energy. From Alberich and Kensie's fellow advanced students as well as Hwyl Fian before that, Kensie had learned to be economical and save energy for later. Should he simply allow Lord Evan to wear himself down before going on the attack? No, he decided. He would play on Evan's vanity.
Lord Evan would make a lunge soon. Kensie backed off slightly, extending the distance between them.
Evan grinned "Running away coward?" He taunted Kensie, then launched a furious series of blows. Kensie parried them quietly and efficiently, all the time moving slightly further back while conserving energy.
When Evan's lunge came, he over-extended as Kensie had hoped. Kensie beat Evan's blade down and again placed his point at Evan's throat.
"Point." Alberich said.
The two returned to the start. Kensie saluted once more and went immediately on attack. Evan was caught unprepared and Kensie disarmed him with three quick moves, finishing once more with his blade just below Evan's adam's apple.
Now Evan was becoming angry. Kensie let Evan's anger work against him. Evan did not wait for Kensie to finish his salute, but attacked in his turn. Kensie defended efficiently, moving as little as possible to counter his opponent, allowing Evan to wear himself down.
Kensie noticed that Evan was making more mistakes now as his anger made him lose control. Kensie saw several opportunities to score on Evan using the more advanced methods that Alberich and Hwyl Fian had taught him. Instead, Kensie hewed to the classical style. He was, he realized, enjoying humiliating Evan Aitken; the revenge for Evan's insults would be sweeter for adhering to Evan's own preferred style.
A few moments later, Evan came in with his blade too low and to the right. Kensie stepped inside his reach and scored again.
The duel continued. Evan became flushed with both anger and exertion as he attacked Kensie furiously. Kensie scored twice more, though he hardly broke a sweat.
After the last point, Evan did not even allow Kensie to return to his starting position. He attacked wildly with all pretense of style gone.
"When your opponent becomes desperate, that is when he is most dangerous." Hwyl Fian had warned. "He could do something suicidal just to take you down with him."
Kensie countered Evan's furious attack, ignoring opportunities to score, hoping Evan would soon wear himself down to the point where he would have to stop.
Evan closed with Kensie so they were breast to breast. Kensie jumped back, pulling Evan off balance, then put all his weight into a shove. Evan stumbled back. He raised his sword over his head. Grasping it with both hands, he chopped down at Kensie.
Kensie leaped aside and brought his practice sword down hard on Evan's wrists. If the sword had been real, Kensie would have severed Evan's arms. The shock of the blow made Evan drop his sword.
With a roar, Evan charged Kensie bare-handed. He batted Kensie's arm aside and reached for his throat.
Alberich had covered this possibility. As Kensie twisted aside, he blocked Evan's right leg, tripping him. Kensie raised his right arm and banged the pommel of his sword against Evan's temple.
Evan crashed to the floor, unconscious.
"Point." Alberich said into the stunned silence.
Alberich went to the fallen Evan and turned him over. As he did so, the boy stirred and opened his eyes. Evan groaned.
Alberich helped him to his feet. He waved a couple of Evan's friends over. "See the healers, he should and rest for a day." Alberich placed Evan between his two cronies. With their arms linked, they took Evan from the salle.
Alberich looked at Kensie, who flushed. "Weaponsmaster, perhaps it would be better if I left… Kensie began.
"I am the Weaponsmaster and I say who trains here." Alberich said. "I have given you exercises. Go and finish them."
Kensie nodded and returned to his corner. Alberich resumed his lesson.
When Kensie finished his exercises, he went outside. The rain had stopped and sun had broken through the clouds for a few sunwidths. Heavy clouds to the west promised more rain within a candlemark.
The wind still whipped across the grounds and Kensie sought shelter on the south side of the salle, which was leeward. Kensie sat on a bench against the wall and enjoyed the brief sunshine. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. Gods, how he hated this constant scorn.
He heard the sound of a horse cropping grass. Kensie opened his eyes. Kantor was also taking advantage of the break in the rain and grazed in the lee of the building.
Kantor was one of the few Companions that Kensie could recognize without his Herald beside him. The muscular Companion appeared much more powerful than the others of his kind. Though no less elegant than his fellows, Kantor was built more like a warhorse, which Kensie found attractive. Kantor was nearly as massive as Blood, though Kensie suspected that the Companion could outfight his beloved stallion.
At the moment Kensie had that thought, Kantor made a sound that could only be described as a chuckle.
During a moon at the Palace, Kensie had watched the Companions. At first, he watched as they were breathtakingly beautiful when viewed as horses. (Kantor pinned his ears momentarily.) Then, he noticed that they went everywhere on the grounds, with or without their Heralds or Trainees. Even when they were with their partners, they never wore a halter or lead rope. (Kantor pinned his ears again.)
Despite this freedom of movement, the Companions never left messes anywhere. (Kantor lifted his head and gave Kensie a very dirty look before going back to grazing.)
Paying closer attention, Kensie watched the interaction between the Companions and their Chosen, especially between Kantor and Alberich. It was plain that there was real communication between Companions and their partners. (Kantor nodded.) It must be true, Kensie thought, that the Companions were as intelligent as humans. (Kantor nodded vigorously once more.)
Kensie laughed. "Isn't it rude for you to listen to the thoughts of others?" He asked.
Kantor looked at Kensie, then lifted his head and bellowed loudly; he looked back at Kensie with one ear cocked.
"Oh. Not when I'm shouting my thoughts for all to hear?" Kantor nodded vigorously once more and Kensie laughed.
Kensie's thoughts took a more serious turn. Perhaps because Kantor looked like a horse, even though it was daily becoming clearer to Kensie that Companions were not horses and were fully as intelligent as their riders, it was easier to talk to Kantor than a human.
"Kantor, it is just so tiresome. Almost everyone calls me a coward. They sneer at me and slight me. I even see some of your Heralds giving me that look. Is it ever going to end?" Kensie flushed, realizing he sounded whiny.
Kantor looked at him and tilted his head slightly. He heaved a heavy sigh.
"Yes. That's how I feel. I can't tell you how much it means to me that you and Alberich believe me. I hope I didn't disappoint him today."
If a 'horse' could be said to look befuddled, that was the expression that Kantor now gave Kensie.
"I'm sure that the Weaponsmaster doesn't want me to have duels or go around challenging the other highborn. I mean, I know I am better with a sword than most of them, especially pretentious twits like Evan. And I realize that Herald Alberich ordered me to fight Evan. But I don't think he wanted me to humiliate him."
Kantor snorted and nodded his head slightly. Then he made the chuckling sound he had made before.
"He did?" Kensie said. Kantor lowered an ear and nodded slightly. "Oh, he wanted Evan Aitken taken down a peg. He has been a bit of a pain lately, hasn't he?" Though not in the same training group as Lord Evan, Kensie had seen him harassing others of lesser rank and filling the salle with his braggadocio.
Kantor nodded again.
"Still, there are others who could have taken him down more thoroughly. Lovat Astey, for example. He is really exceptional with a sword. He ranks Evan though, so Evan doesn't dare bother him. And I guess Evan knows Lovat could take him apart any day and twice on Rest Day." As Kantor nodded once more, Kensie went on. "So Alberich wanted Evan taken down by somebody he looked down on?" Kensie asked.
Seeing Kantor agree once more, Kensie asked. "Still, why me? I'm not the only one Evan has been ragging on."
Kantor stood square and puffed up his chest. The stallion arched his neck and flagged his tail slightly. He flicked an ear at Kensie.
"Oh." Kensie said. He got Kantor's message: Alberich had wanted Kensie to have a moment to shine and to pick up his spirits. Maybe, Kensie thought, the others might sneer at him a little less.
Kantor nodded once more.
Kensie smiled quietly. "I think Master Alberich would be embarrassed if I thanked him in person. Would you let him know I am grateful?"
When Kantor faced him and winked, Kensie laughed. "I am sure that Alberich saw plenty of mistakes in my duel with Evan. I bet he drills me on every single one of them tomorrow."
Kantor nodded vigorously and chuckled once more – Kensie was now absolutely sure the sound was exactly that.
"So, who is talking to horses now?" A familiar voice said.
Kensie turned to see Bredin sitting bareback on a Companion. He bristled at the sarcasm in Bredin's tone. "I seem to remember some dog barking that Companions aren't horses. Even the meanest cur bays at a true scent occasionally."
"And the finest pedigree does not mean that a hound won't tuck its tail." Bredin shot back.
"A puppy on a pony yaps that it rules the world, when it is only its mount's forbearance that keeps him where he sits."
Lacaral pinned his ears and flared his nostrils towards Kensie. His tail lashed angrily. Kantor lowered his ears as well.
Kensie became aware how deadly a creature the size of a horse could be when possessed of human intelligence. He turned to go. "I see the Companions will defend their lapdog." He said. Both Lacaral and Kantor flicked their ears irritably.
"I see you have decided to run again." Bredin lashed out.
"At least I don't look like a sack of potatoes when I am riding." Kensie called over his shoulder as he stalked away.
Bredin slid down from Lacaral's back. He hugged his Companion. "I can't stand his snobbery. He is a pain in the ass. No wonder they made him sweep the streets in Bransat for ten days." Bredin had learned of Kensie's punitive service in a letter from his mother. "Why did he have to show up here in Haven?"
::You started it.:: Lacaral said.
"What do you mean?" Bredin was surprised that Lacaral did not take his side.
Lacaral looked down his nose at Bredin. ::You made that taunt about talking to horses. He has managed to figure out that we are not horses, which nine out of ten of his peers never do. Kantor was helping him understand his training. Why didn't you just acknowledge Lord Kensie and move on?::
"I don't know." Bredin said.
::You were frustrated and wanted to take it out on someone.:: Lacaral said. The two had just come from Companions' stable, where Bredin had had another confusing lesson. He hadn't fallen today, but nothing had gone truly right, either.
Bredin hung his head slightly, acknowledging the truth of his Companion's statement. "I'm sorry." He said.
::It's not me you should apologize to. You should apologize to Lord Kensie.::
Bredin gaped at his Companion. "How could you say that?" He felt betrayed by his friend. Wasn't a Companion supposed to understand his Chosen?
::I said I would not misunderstand you. But that doesn't mean you are right.:: Lacaral reminded him.
"But…" Bredin began.
Lacaral interrupted. ::You accused him of running. He did break once, but he recovered. His story of the battle is true. He also defended himself in a fight to the death against a man sent to murder him. His only defense was a brass lamp. He is no coward.::
"You believe him?" Bredin asked his Companion incredulously.
::Alberich does. So does Kantor. So do I. But most people don't and their doubt and scorn eats at him. Alberich and Kantor had just been working on lifting his spirits when you came along and mocked him.::
"Well, I am tired of his sneers." Bredin said. The comment about his poor riding had stung. He and Kensie had seen each other at the stable from time to time. Bredin was envious of Kensie's poised and seemingly effortless position as he rode his stallion. Bredin had also noticed Kensie's amused and contemptuous looks when he saw Bredin's awkward attempts to ride Lacaral. The young lord's scorn only heightened Bredin's embarrassment.
::Yes. The two of you seem to have a genius for hitting each other's sore spots.:: Lacaral said. He nudged Bredin with his head. ::You better get in. The others are waiting for you.::
Bredin hugged his Companion once more and went into the salle.
Alberich said nothing about Bredin's exchange with Kensie, but the weaponsmaster seemed to make a point of catching Bredin's every mistake during the practice. He also set Bredin against the best of the Trainees in unarmed combat, who Bredin could no longer tumble as easily as he had at first.
During the breaks in the class, Bredin learned how Kensie had outmatched Lord Evan. Since Bredin shared no classes with Evan Aitken, he had seen him rarely. Evan, for his part, had deemed the low-born Bredin as utterly beneath his notice and ignored him completely. For Bredin, Lord Evan was just another name in the long list of highborn who inhabited the Palace; Evan's humiliation at the hands of Kensie meant little to him. In Bredin's estimation, Kensie's 'victory' would only make him more insufferable.
After a gruelling workout, Bredin returned to the Collegium very tired and soaked so long in the tub that he was almost late for dinner.
The weather was too foul for an evening ride on Lacaral, so Bredin had another session with Kyril. Bredin's focus was much worse than usual and he quickly showed signs of starting a reaction headache. Kyril dismissed him after only a quarter-candlemark with instructions to spend the evening with his yearmates.
Bredin joined his yearmates in the midst of their studies. He got out his books. After doing his law assignment and geometry problems, he finished three chapters on the reign of King Kiril. Bredin was fascinated by the tale of Herald Mags, who had gone from a life of slavery to being one of the closest friends of King Sedric.
After they were done, Bredin and his yearmates chatted and played together. To Bredin's irritation, Jan was thrilled with Kensie's humiliation of Evan Aitken. The noble-born young trainee talked about it through most of the evening. Jan had known Evan Aitken prior to being Chosen and, as Evan had ranked him, been subject to Evan's sneers and taunts.
Bredin's tried to ignore Jan's rehash of Kensie's triumph. At least Jan left off his usual monologue about Gadar. Jan was so intent on his account that Bredin won two consecutive games of chess where Jan generally won three out of four games.
Bredin's irritation finally surfaced. He looked up at Jan. "Broken yet upright, bloodless upon Blood, steel puts me to flight yet I will beat you with wood. What am I?"
Jan blinked. "Not another one of your riddles." He pondered a moment. "I can't get it, what is the answer?"
"I will tell you at the end of the next game." Bredin set the pieces up again.
Bredin's other yearmates had overheard. They made their own guesses as Bredin and Jan played their game. None got the answer and Jan was so distracted that Bredin won the third game handily.
"Alright." Jan said. "What is the answer?"
"Kensie Poldara." Bredin said.
Jan winced. "Ooh, that's nasty. You have some reason for disliking him?"
"You know where I am from?" Bredin asked. Jan nodded. "Remember that Kensie Poldara is Baron of…"
"—Bransat." Jan finished. "I gather there is some history between you?"
Bredin quickly told Jan and his other yearmates about his encounters with Kensie over the years, including the time Kensie had attacked him with his horse.
Jan nodded. So did the others. "I can see why you dislike him."
The 'lights out' bell rang and the group returned to their rooms. Bredin slept poorly that night.