Lady Knight

by Tamora Pierce

  They crossed the Greenwoods on a sturdy wooden bridge. It was the only one Kel saw in either direction. She looked at it before they crossed. Flat black disks called mage blasts were fixed on the piles and underside of the bracing planks. Even a non-mage could make the things explode by snapping the thin, flat piece of wood that was the key to the spell. The blasts would then drop the bridge, and anyone on it, into the river.

  As a moat, this was fairly good. No enemy would be able to cross the Greenwoods within miles of the camp as long as the spring floods continued. Kel had spent the previous night studying the maps of her new command. In summer the river could be forded, but only ten miles upstream and thirty miles downstream. She devoutly hoped the army could stop the enemy by then.

  Their company rode up the sloping road around to the north face of the camp: the river-moat protected the gateless eastern and southern sides of the enclosure. Rocky, inhospitable hills gave some protection to the west. North toward the forest was a squad of ten soldiers guarding a sledge piled with logs. The sounds of hammers and saws grew louder as the riders reached the top and the large gates swung open. Remembering her last encounter with a hammer, Kel winced and entered the camp.

  The great expanse of open ground inside the walls was a mess of churned mud, crates, plank walkways, and equipment in between raw wooden platforms that looked to be floors for future barracks. Kel noted a well on her left and another on her right, both covered with wooden lids. Near the right-hand well stood a barracks with the army’s flag hung over the door and a large stable behind it. Beyond those stood two complete long, wooden two-story buildings and a third that was nearly done. These would house the refugees.

  On her left, beside the gate, was the guard shack. Beyond it, in front of the other well, stood a two-story headquarters that would serve as office and residence for her, Neal, Merric, Tobe, and, for now, Duke Baird. She checked the half-finished building behind it on her camp map. It would be the infirmary, big enough to serve their sick or wounded. Behind that was a second low building, a woodshed for the infirmary and the mess hall and cookhouse near the center of the camp. Against the rear wall, Kel noted storage sheds and what was unmistakably a latrine. According to her map, this one could seat ten at a time.

  Ground space for future buildings was marked by pegs and ribbon or, in some places, complete wooden floors. The flagpole rose at the very center of the camp, with four sets of double stocks at its base. Kel looked up at the flags and shook her head. Her flag looked very brave. She wished she felt the same way. She sensed the men’s eyes on her as they worked and couldn’t help but wonder what they made of her.

  A man in army maroon who wore his gray hair cropped short trotted down one of the wooden staircases that led to the walkway that lined the upper wall. He strode briskly along planks laid on the mud to halt before Lord Wyldon. Kel noted the newcomer wore a yellow band on each arm, embroidered with crossed black swords, a regular army captain’s insignia.

  He came to attention before Wyldon and saluted. “My lord.”

  Wyldon returned the salute and began the introductions. “Captain Hobard Elbridge, I present his grace Duke Baird of Queenscove, chief of the royal healers.” Elbridge bowed. Wyldon continued, “Here is Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan, who will relieve you here as commander, Sir Nealan of Queenscove, who will be camp healer, and Sir Merric of Hollyrose, in charge of camp security.”

  The captain bowed to each of them. Looking around, he found a man who wore a sergeant’s black circle and dot on his armbands and beckoned him over. “Your grace, my lord Wyldon, sir knights, Sergeant Landwin here will take charge of your things and show you where you’re to sleep.”

  Kel watched the men follow the sergeant, wishing she didn’t feel so bereft as they disappeared into headquarters. “Lady knight, what would you have us do here?” Elbridge inquired. “Will you address the men? Tour what we have? Review the country? I have keys to give you, of course, and I must familiarize you with the state of affairs here. The camp is unnamed. We thought to leave that to you.”

  Kel dismounted from Hoshi to hide her confusion. Wyldon had given her no advice about how to actually take command, and this man seemed determined to dump everything into her lap at once. “How long are you with us, Captain Elbridge?”

  “It’s my hope to ride on to the new fort in the morning, milady,” he said, his face unreadable, “but of course I’ll stay as long as you have need of me.”

  Kel looked around. The soldiers had come to take charge of the horses and supply wagons, leading the free mounts toward the stable and directing the drivers of the wagons to the storehouses. Only Tobe remained with Peachblossom and the packhorse assigned to Kel by the Crown. The sparrows and Jump rode on the packhorse, watching Kel and the captain with almost human intensity.

  “Is there any time during the day when the men are all assembled?” Kel asked. “Suppertime, perhaps?”

  “Aye, milady. Lunch most of them take where they work.”

  Kel passed Hoshi’s reins to Tobe. “You may as well tend the horses, Tobe, and bring my things to my quarters.”

  “Very good, my lady,” he said, bowing in the saddle before he accepted Hoshi’s rein.

  Somebody gave him lessons in manners, Kel thought, amused, before she looked at Elbridge again. “Why don’t we tour the camp and you tell me how things are,” she suggested. “Let the men work unhindered—there’s time enough to talk at supper.”

  Elbridge fumbled at his belt until what looked like a small bundle of sticks came free in his hand. Bowing, he offered them to Kel. “Lady knight, I surrender this camp to you. Here are the keys to the mage blasts.”

  She blinked for a moment, then accepted the keys. Each was strung on a leather thong, secured to a ring, and labeled with the location of its mage blast. Now she alone could set off the blasts that would explode and drop the bridge into the river.

  “And here are the keys to this place.” Elbridge gave Kel an iron ring. More conventional keys dangled from it. “Allow me to show you where they are used.”

  She had not expected the place to be so big, or that so much work would already be done. She said as much to her escort.

  “They did it inside, most of it,” the captain explained as they walked through the soldiers’ barracks. “Cobbled the floors together in sections in a barn at a homestead nearby—the house was burned, but we could use the barn. They worked all winter, planing boards, whittling pegs, cutting shingles, making nails. These northmen are the fastest woodworkers I’ve laid eyes on. They say they’re used to it, just not so much at one time.”

  Outside, he led her toward the flagpole. “That long key’s for the stocks,” he said, pointing them out. They framed the pole, with room for two men on each. Two yards beyond them was a flogging post. “Here’s another symbol of your office,” he explained, handing over a cowhide whip. Kel nearly dropped it in her distaste but hid her feelings behind her very best Yamani mask. She didn’t want to feel the leather in her hand, so she hung it from her dagger hilt.

  “These convict guards, they need a touch of the lash,” the captain informed her. “It’s the only thing they understand.”

  “Will they fight?” Kel asked as they walked on.

  “If they don’t want to end up collared and on the march back to Scanra they will,” he replied. “They know it. I trained them and the builders on weapons this winter, same as my own men. The convicts’ weapons are locked up in headquarters unless there’s need. I don’t know about Sir Nealan as a healer, but tell him he can’t let them come whining to him whenever they’ve a scratch. These prisoners take any excuse to get off work, and they love it when the healer’s a soft touch.”

  With every word Kel disliked the man more and more. Obviously he was good at his job. The proof was everywhere she looked. His manner itched her, though. He didn’t talk about others as if they were human, only animals to be driven.

  “There’s so much room,” she commented as he pointed out
the pens where livestock was kept and the ground that would serve the cookhouse as a small garden. “I didn’t understand from the map just how much space we have.”

  “It’ll fill up soon, with civilians bringing their clutter and animals,” the captain replied. “But it’s true we’ve more to work with than we thought last fall. That’s Master Salmalín’s doing. My lord was showing him this place, saying how it was the best location for a camp. Master Salmalín opens his mouth and says—something, I don’t know what.” The captain shuddered. “It—it made my bones ache. The ground close to the hills, it dropped about fifty feet. And the ground here starts rising up like an inchworm crawls. Suddenly we’ve twice the high ground to build on as we had before. Mages.” Elbridge shook his head. “Very well, you can see we’ve storage sheds enough, and the latrines beyond.” He led her through the rest of the camp. Stopping at its rear, he asked, “Have you questions?”

  “Not really,” Kel told him. “I would like to go over the walls, if you don’t mind.”

  Elbridge looked at her, his face impossible to read. “These northern woodsmen know what they’re doing, lady knight.”

  “I’m sure they do,” she replied politely. “I just want a full view.”

  She circled the camp once inside the wall on the ground, testing the trees that formed it, finding them hard and sound. The gate was also very well built and would take plenty of battering, if it came to that. She went to the first set of stairs and climbed to the top, not looking at the open air outside the rail. At the end of her page term, she had conquered her fear of heights, at least as far as being able to climb without either freezing or vomiting. Still, she would never like them.

  On the walkway, she inspected its boards. They were as sound as the wall itself and placed low enough that the top of the wall would give her soldiers protection from enemy archers.

  Since the guards were there, the captain introduced them. Kel shook hands with each man, looking him in the eye. Whispers ran the circuit of the wall but Kel refused to try to hear what was being said. She had been through this before, too. These men would respect her, or not, over time. There was nothing she could do now to win them over. She didn’t even try, beyond a smile and a firm handshake. She was responsible for their lives, not their affections. Did it scare them to know a green girl was in charge here? Or did they feel safe this far from the border?

  She did not feel safe, for all that this was a well-built refuge. She knew the heavy forests that ranged on either side of the Greenwoods River north of the camp. Last summer had taught her just how many of the enemy could sneak by in such forests. This strong camp might not be enough.

  It all depended on the Scanrans, their numbers, their allies, and their strange magic that turned chain, iron-coated bone, and iron sheets into killing devices. Kel wouldn’t be able to guard hundreds of civilians with the forty soldiers Wyldon had promised her. The refugees had to be trained to fight, not just the men, but the women, even the older children. Her next shipment of supplies had to include weapons if the refugees had none of their own.

  In a day or two she’d start riding the country until she knew it like her palm. She’d make sure the refugees and soldiers knew it, too. Standing over the gate, she stared blankly into the distance as she made plans. They’d have to know the roads and trails to Forts Mastiff, Steadfast, and Giantkiller, and their escape routes to the south. She was lucky to have local people inside her walls. They’d know the hidden and not-so-hidden trails, bogs, pitfalls, and canyons around here, as well as the best hunting and fishing areas.

  She realized the captain was speaking. “What? I’m sorry, Captain Elbridge. I was thinking.”

  A corner of his mouth twitched—in amusement or scorn? wondered Kel. “I was asking if the lady knight had chosen a name,” Elbridge repeated.

  “A name for what?” Kel asked, looking at him blankly.

  “This place. We call it ‘this miserable mudpit,’ but my lady will be living here. It’s your privilege to name it as you like,” explained the captain.

  Kel turned, her hands jammed into her breeches pockets, and surveyed her command. Men crawled over beams, hammered, sawed, unloaded wagons, called out to each other, visited the latrines. Wyldon, Baird, Neal, and Merric were emerging from headquarters. She glanced at the road below: here came the sledge with its military guard and its load of cut trees.

  “I suppose ‘Mudpit’ is a little depressing,” she admitted. “I’ll have to think about it.”

  The captain bowed. “Very good, milady.”

  They descended the stairs near the guard shack as the gates swung open. The sledge made its slow way inside the walls.

  “I see you’ve conducted your first inspection,” Wyldon said to Kel. “What do you think?”

  “Captain Elbridge has done far more than I could imagine,” Kel said honestly. For a hard, cold fish, she thought. “I’ll be hard put to keep up his good work.” As soon as I’ve thrown his whip into the compost heap, where it’ll be of use, she added silently.

  “We’ve plenty of work to do in the infirmary,” Duke Baird said. “But I’ve seen the plans. It looks good.”

  Elbridge shrugged. “It’s these northern woodsmen. If they could find a way to eat trees as well as work them, they’d be rich men. Still, I confess, I’ll be pleased to be working only with soldiers again. These civilians are too contrary for my taste.”

  He, Baird, and Wyldon turned away to discuss matters relating to the new Fort Mastiff while Neal and Merric automatically looked at Kel. “I feel as ready for all this as a babe who picks up a sword,” Merric said with a twisted smile. “Of course, Neal is ready—”

  “Mithros save us, they’ll allow just any freak of nature up here, won’t they?” a familiar male voice proclaimed. Kel, Merric, and Neal turned to see the speaker. One of the sledge guards, a tall, broad-shouldered young man, dismounted from his horse. Bright blue eyes blazed and a broad grin flashed in a face splattered with mud. Under other mud Kel could see the familiar tunic, chain mail, and arm-band of a sergeant in the King’s Own. “Meathead!” he called, handing his reins to a guard. “They sent you out with no keeper?”

  Neal laughed and strode forward to hug the slightly taller man despite the mud. Kel almost ran to the newcomer as well, remembering just in time that a commander couldn’t throw herself at an old friend. She knew Domitan of Masbolle, Neal’s cousin and a sergeant of the King’s Own, very well indeed. They’d become friends during her four years with the King’s Own. She’d had a terrible, unreturned, crush on him—he was handsome, mud or no.

  Neal pushed Dom away. “Insubordinate!” he scoffed. “That’s Sir Meathead, to you. What have you been doing, chasing mudhoppers?”

  “It’s a skin treatment. I’ve gotten so chapped here in the north,” retorted Dom. He turned to Kel and bowed. “Lady knight,” he said, and straightened with a wide grin. “You did it. We knew you would.”

  Kel reached out her hand; they clasped forearms, Dom squeezing hers tightly before he let go.

  Another voice sounded out. “Squire Kel— I mean, lady knight!” The other men who’d been guarding the sledge came over. Kel cheerfully shook hands with each of them, Dom’s squad in the King’s Own. One hot day the previous summer, at a place called Forgotten Well, she had commanded these men after an arrow shot had put Dom out of action. Both Wolset and Fulcher now wore mud-splashed armbands with the circle mark for a corporal. Dom had lost one corporal before he’d been wounded; the second was killed after Kel took command. She’d given Wolset a field promotion to corporal for keeping his head, and Dom had confirmed it. Two of the other six men before her she did not know. They simply bowed to her and stayed back, watching with interest.

  “What are you doing here, anyway?” she asked Dom when the greetings were over.

  “Lord Wyldon asked for one of our squads to work here till the place is finished, since we’ve been in the area almost a year. It’s just coincidence that my boys got tapped,” Dom to
ld her. “Have you seen Giantkiller? Just when we got the place all fixed up, the regular army kicked us out. I bet they ruined all of our chair cushions.”

  “I noticed a sad lack of taste,” Neal said in his usual drawl, “but I figured it was left over from when the King’s Own lived there.”

  Dom grinned, then looked at Kel. “Do you like your flag?” he asked.

  She smiled at him with all the gratitude in her heart. “I love it,” she told him.

  “He don’t get all the credit,” Corporal Wolset said. “It was me that thought of it.”

  “And you what nearly ruined the embroidering,” retorted Corporal Fulcher.

  Dom cleared his throat. “Here comes command. We’ll talk later, Lady Kel, Sir Meathead.” He waved his squad back to the sledge. They helped the civilians unload the logs.

  “That was friendly,” Merric remarked, folding his arms.

  “They’re from Third Company,” Kel said. “We rode together for four years.”

  “Dom’s squad fought one of the metal killing devices under Kel’s command.” Neal’s voice sounded clearly over the racket of nearby hammers and saws. His wry tone told Kel what he thought of her not mentioning such important specifics. “Dom got shot; they lost two men.”

  “And it took all of us to beat the cursed thing,” Kel retorted, wishing Neal hadn’t spoken. It seemed like bragging, even if it was Neal’s comment, not hers.

  “You fought one of those things?” Elbridge demanded, hard eyes fixed on Kel.

  She was starting to feel cross. She didn’t want to boast. Wolset had trapped the thing’s head as the other men roped its limbs. Still, she didn’t appreciate the captain’s disbelief, either. “Together with Sergeant Domitan’s squad, captain,” she replied, locking her hands behind her back as a reminder to keep her face and voice bland and polite. “None of us wants to repeat it.”

  “Mithros witness that,” murmured Duke Baird.

  Wyldon and the captain murmured the ritual reply “So mote it be,” Neal and Merric just a syllable behind them. Kel said nothing. She didn’t think anything she said to Mithros on the subject of the killing devices would stop the war god from allowing more of them to swarm over the border that summer.