The captain whispered, “Gods Below,” and released a gusty sigh. “Lieutenant, don’t tell anyone else all of that. The Royal Guard is made up of younger sons and daughters of Chosen families, but I doubt any of them have access to the riches you just described. For that matter, I doubt many of the major lords have that much in liquid assets available to them. Ask Dahvin to take you to a tailor tomorrow. Five or six gold crowns will see you outfitted as befits a young lord.”
“I am not a lord, Sir,” Stavin pointed out.
“You have the king’s favor, and you’re known as a hero of the kingdom. You’ll also be in the company of lords and ladies every waking moment for the next twenty or so days. You need to dress as they do to fit in.” The captain smiled and shook his head. “I’ve dealt with some of the other young Warriors who joined our ranks. You’re not much different, except you’re much higher ranked. You’ll be fine.”
The room Captain Zel’Astel led him to was large by Stavin’s standards. Ten cubits square, it held two mirrored sets of furniture: bed, desk and chair, bookshelf, wardrobe, foot locker, and armor stand. The room was neat and clean, and the captain directed Stavin to the left side.
“Dahvin has the right side. He shared this room with Lieutenant Zel’Coral until a moon ago when the lieutenant resigned to go home. His father and both brothers had been killed, and he was suddenly Lord of Zel’Coral.”
Stavin looked at the captain and asked, “North, near Andaria, Sir?”
“Yes. Stay here until Dahvin comes for you. His watch will end soon. You know where the officer’s privy and bathing room is?” After Stavin nodded, he continued. “Because of our proximity to the lords and ladies of the court, every royal guard must bathe and shave every day.”
Stavin squirmed a little. “Yes, Sir.”
“I didn’t mean that as a slight in any way, Lieutenant. Just by looking at your hair I can tell you bathed before you came to the palace. Just keep clean.”
The door opened and Dahvin stepped through. He smiled as he said, “I knew it was too good to last.”
“You want a private room, get married or make major,” the captain replied with a laugh. “If I have to share, you have to share.”
“Yes, Sir. Stavin, welcome to my little corner of Evandia.” He bowed slightly, and Stavin returned the bow deeply.
“Thank you.”
“Who took your place watching Lord Sarvan?” the captain asked, all business.
“Sir, Lieutenant Zel’Varlin relieved me early at Lord General Zel’Kordil’s request,” Dahvin replied after snapping to attention. “He owed me one.”
The captain nodded his understanding and turned away. “Very well. Carry on, gentlemen.”
After the door closed, Dahvin turned to Stavin and asked, “What’s going on?” in a puzzled tone.
Stavin raised both hands to shoulder level and shrugged. “The king wanted me to stay around, and Charvil wanted to get out and about for a while. He hasn’t been out of the valley in six years. He and the rest are taking a caravan to Barren’s Bridge. They shouldn’t be gone more than twenty days.”
Dahvin tilted his head to the side as he asked, “And while you’re here?”
Stavin grinned. “I’m supposed to see if I can teach the Royal Guards how to defend against staff weapons like my Dragon’s Tongue. The king also said I’m going to be questioned more thoroughly about what I remember from last year about those traitors.”
“Looks like Sarvan was right about you not leaving any time soon.”
Stavin nodded, then said, “Dahvin, I have a favor to ask.”
“Ask.”
“Captain Zel’Astel said I need clothes to wear off duty. Do you know where any tailors are?”
Dahvin chuckled. “I do indeed. You and I are officially off duty right now, so let’s change into something else and go out on the town. I’ll take you to the Dancing Swan after we see the tailors. How are you set for funds? Have you been paid yet?”
Stavin was openly embarrassed and squirmed a little as he answered. “Dahvin, I don’t have anything to change in to. That’s why I need a tailor. As for funds,” he reached into his armor and pulled out a purse, “I have about twenty-three gold crowns. Is that going to be enough?”
Dahvin asked, “Twenty-three gold crowns?” in a stunned whisper.
“Yes.”
Dahvin cleared his throat. “Yes, twenty-three gold is more than enough. I’ve heard stories about you, all of us have, but I didn’t think they could be true.”
Stavin laughed a little. “If they’re outlandish and sound like gross exaggerations, they are probably true.”
Dahvin paused and hummed a little as he stroked his chin. “We’ll both wear armor then. Let’s go get Glora and go to the tailors.”
“Lady Glora? Why?”
Dahvin sighed and shook his head. “You know nothing about women, Stavin. Glora would never forgive me if I didn’t bring her along. Besides, she has much better fashion sense than I do. She’ll be much more helpful in picking out your clothes.”
Stavin groaned. “She’s going to dress me like you peacocks, isn’t she?”
Dahvin’s grin was as wide as his face when he answered, “Yep.”
Chapter 8
SHARINDIS WAS AT HOME ON HER day of rest, at the table under the south window of the Kel’Aniston home, but was having a hard time reading. Something was reducing Arandar’s light to the point that she couldn’t make out the words on the page in front of her, even with the stronger crystal Stavin had brought her. Probably Omalaha sending someone a storm. She sighed and put her crystal and book away.
“What’s wrong, Mistress?” Sallin asked. She was sitting near Shari with a child’s book of letters. It hadn’t taken long for her to ask to be taught to read and write.
“There’s not enough light for me to see my book,” Sharindis said as she pushed back from the table.
Sallin looked outside and saw wispy clouds in the sky. “Could we light a candle, Mistress?”
Sharindis smiled and shook her head. “Not even a good oil lamp provides enough light, Salli. I have to have Arandar’s light. I’ll have to wait until the light comes back.”
Sallin put her book aside as well and went to the kitchen with Sharindis. As they worked, she hummed softly to herself and looked around at the supplies in the kitchen. She had a satisfied smile on her face when they had finished preparing the mid day meal.
After the dishes were done, she approached Marinis. “Mistress Marinis, may I disturb you for a moment?”
“Yes, Sallin. What do you need?” Marinis asked. Sallin rarely approached her unless there was something that she needed and couldn’t find for herself.
“Mistress Marinis, may I borrow some of your kitchen goods?”
Marinis sat up straight and gave the girl a curious look. “What do you need from my kitchen?”
Sallin swallowed and bowed before she spoke again. “Mistress, I wanted to borrow the deep copper bowl and the empty bottle of elderberry wine.”
“My wine?” Marinis asked.
“The empty bottle, Mistress.”
“What are you doing, Sallin?” Marinis asked suspiciously.
“Mistress, at home, before the plague, my nanny and mother and all of my aunts made lace in the winter to sell to the Chosen ladies. They needed bright light indoors, but candles were expensive, so we just used one for everyone.” She used her hands to demonstrate. “What we did was fill round bottles like that one with fresh melted snow and put the candle behind it. It made all the light go to one spot. Granda Haffen used a copper bowl behind his lamp to make all the light go into the room instead of on the wall behind the lamp.”
“Like a mirror,” Marinis prompted.
“Yes, Mistress,” Sallin answered with a vigorous nod. “I thought that since Mistress Shari needs really bright light to read by, I could try both ways and see if it made enough light.”
Marinis was nodding slowly as she considered the notion. W
ithout another word she went to the shelf and brought down the bottle of wine. There was just a nip left, and she finished it before handing the bottle to Sallin.
Sallin bowed quickly, then went outside looking for fresh snow. She was gone for a long time and came back to the house rosy-cheeked and breathing hard. “I had to go a long way away from the town to find clean snow, Mistress,” she explained when Marinis cocked an inquiring eyebrow at her.
Marinis brought out the big copper bowl that Karlit had brought home from his second expedition and joined Sallin at the table. Sallin put the bottle of water down, then lit the lamp that was normally only used at the evening meal. Marinis leaned forward as Sallin slid the bottle closer to the lamp. A spot of light was on the table that was far brighter than the lamp. Then Sallin took the bowl and put it behind the lamp, moving it back and forth slowly until Marinis gasped. The spot on the table was as bright as the mid day sun.
“Shari, bring your crystal to the table,” she called out, not looking away from the spot of light.
“What is it, Marinis?” Sharindis asked as she entered the dining room.
“Shari, see if you can read by this light,” Marinis commanded.
Sharindis walked over and looked. Even with her dim vision she could see the intense spot of light on the white linen tablecloth. She brought out her crystal and sat at the table, then put a slip of parchment under the light. When she positioned her crystal, she cried out in glee. “I can see it!” She looked up at Marinis and her smile lit the room. “Marinis, how did you do that?”
“This was Sallin’s idea, Shari,” Marinis replied, giving the girl a warm smile. “Something her people used to make lace.”
Sharindis had tears in her eyes as she looked up at the shadow of the younger girl. “Thank you, Salli. Thank you so very much.” You’re so much more help than Stavin thought you’d be.
Sallin bowed deeply. “It was my pleasure, Mistress.”
Chapter 9
MASTER TAILOR RANDAV FEL’HORDAN LOOKED UP as the bell on his door jingled, then all but ran to the front of his shop as a fine lady was escorted in by a pair of armored guards. Going to one knee and bowing his head, he asked, “How may I serve you, Lady?” as he studied the floor.
“Master Fel’Hordan, you come highly recommended by several of my friends. Friend Lieutenant Stavin Kel’Aniston is in need of clothes fit to wear at court.” She motioned Stavin forward and he stepped up to her side. “He is slightly built, so we must take that into consideration.”
Master Randav dared to look up at the short figure in the golden armor as his pulse raced. He replied, “Yes, Lady,” as he again bowed his head.
“Stavin, let the good Master Tailor take your measure,” Lady Glora commanded, and both Stavin and the tailor moved to obey.
Stavin’s armor was removed, and the tailor led him behind a screen to remove his mail and under-padding as well. Then the tailor measured him every which way as an apprentice wrote down the figures. In a matter of moments, a third of a span at most, the tailor and apprentice were helping Stavin put his armor back on.
“Friend Stavin, now that I have your measure, what clothing do you need?” Master Randav asked, but it was Lady Glora who answered.
“He’ll need seven sets of high court fashions,” she replied. “Something he can mix and match while he’s here.”
“And the particular fashions?” Master Randav asked, shifting his attention between Lady Glora and Stavin.
Lady Glora began rattling off a series of terms that left Stavin totally confused. Dahvin didn’t look much better off, but Master Randav and his apprentice were both nodding and writing down what she wanted.
When she finished, Master Randav nodded in satisfaction. “Is there any particular decoration or theme for the clothing? Anything that I should add?” he asked, looking at Lady Glora for a decision since she was obviously in charge.
Lady Glora reached over and dragged Stavin to her side, turning him so his left shoulder was toward the tailor. “Include this,” she said as she pointed at Stavin’s star.
“Oh, how attractive. Is there a particular meaning to it?”
Stavin looked at the tailor and said, “It is the symbol of a Warleader Fifth.”
“How lovely. I can have all seven sets done in three days, Friend Stavin.”
Stavin looked at Lady Glora, and she nodded. “Very well,” he replied, then asked, “How much is this costing me?”
“Friend Stavin, I must ask for seven gold crowns. I am going to have to set aside my other work to give you precedence.”
Stavin took a breath to begin haggling, but Lady Glora touched his hand to get his attention. At the slight shake of her head, he simply nodded and brought out his purse and counted the coins out on the tailor’s table. “Seven gold crowns.”
“Thank you, Friend Stavin. Your wardrobe will be given our undivided attention. I’ll send Geoff to the palace when it’s time for a final fitting.”
“A what?” Stavin asked.
Dahvin explained. “Once the clothes are mostly finished, you’ll have to come out here again and let them make final alterations with the clothes on you.”
“Oh,” Stavin said as he thought about it for a moment. “I hope you won’t stick me with pins the way my sisters used to.”
“We make every effort to ensure that fitting is a painless process, Friend Stavin,” Master Randav said with a trace of humor.
Lady Glora led them out of the shop with a smile on her face. “You did very well, Stavin, but you must remember that we do not haggle. It’s simply not done.”
Stavin sighed. “Next time, Master Trader Kel’Aniston is coming out here.”
Lady Glora giggled. “He’d faint. Really, Stavin, seven gold crowns isn’t a bad price for what you’re getting.”
“I don’t want to be rude, Lady Glora, but seven gold crowns shipped two hundred bags of grain from Aravad to Kavinston. We’re talking about enough food to feed twenty families through the winter.” He shook his head slowly. “It’s a whole different world here, isn’t it?”
Dahvin said, “It is indeed, Stavin,” as he laid his hand on Stavin’s shoulder. “It is indeed. But remember, that will keep him and his apprentices going for quite a while. Tailor isn’t one of those businesses where they are always busy. He may only get three or four commissions like that a year.”
Lady Glora accompanied Dahvin and Stavin to the Dancing Swan Inn. It was still early, so the inn wasn’t crowded. A tall serving girl in the white blouse and black skirt that Stavin was beginning to recognize as the uniform of a higher-ranking servant led them to a table and took their orders. Glora had red wine while both Stavin and Dahvin ordered beer.
Lady Glora sighed and said, “I will civilize you one day, Dahvin.”
Dahvin chuckled in reply. “Even the king likes an occasional beer, Glo. Wine isn’t to everyone’s taste.”
Stavin was comfortable enough with Dahvin that he joined in. “We hardly ever get wine. It’s only for special occasions.”
“Why is that?” Lady Glora asked.
“It’s expensive. We can’t grow the right kinds of fruits in the valley. We have a brewer who turns last-year’s leftover grain into beer, but that’s about it. Oh, and Tiger Sweat. Dad and a few of the older men like that.” Stavin made a face. “I think it tastes like torch fuel.”
Dahvin chuckled as his eyes brimmed. “You should have seen his face when Ehrwan gave him some Draiger’s Tears. I thought he was going to spit it out.”
“I would never be that rude, Dahvin,” Stavin said with a blush. “Taking a second sip took an act of will, but my tongue was numb by then.”
The serving girl returned while Lady Glora was tittering, and Stavin reached for his pouch, but Dahvin raised his hand. “Place our order on my tab, Jaellan,” he said and the girl bobbed a quick bow before she left. “Few Chosen carry gold or silver, Stavin. Most of us just run a tab and pay at the end of the moon.” He leaned forward and spoke softl
y. “In regular clothes, most of us couldn’t defend ourselves against determined thieves. No weapons. Not carrying hard coin keeps the thieves from bothering us.”
Stavin took a sip of his beer and shook his head. “There is so much I have to learn, even if I’m not of a Chosen clan.”
“What’s this?” a deep voice interrupted, and Stavin glanced over his shoulder to find three men behind him.
“What do you want, Varil?” Lady Glora asked in a tight tone. From her expression, Stavin could tell she despised the man.
The man named Varil slapped Stavin’s shoulder and said, “I was wondering what this is doing in my inn.”
“This isn’t your inn, Varil,” Dahvin said as he stood. “As for Lieutenant Kel’Aniston, he is my guest.” Dahvin laid a hand on the hilt of his sword but remained in his seat. “Or would you care to issue a challenge?”
“Think you can face me, Dahv?” Varil asked as he laughed again.
“Friend Stavin,” Lady Glora asked in a honey-sweet voice, “what is your exact kill count?”
Stavin looked at her and shrugged. “Just forty-nine, Lady Glora.”
There was an island of silence around them now as she smiled wickedly at the three young lords. “Three more would earn you your second star, wouldn’t they?”
Stavin smiled and bowed his head deeply. “They would, Lady Glora.”
“You’re not seriously considering--” one of the other men said as he backed away.
Lady Glora was nearly snarling as she replied, “Friend Stavin is a Warleader Fifth of Kel’Kavin. He is also, as you should know, a Friend of Evandia. That means that there are only two people in the kingdom who can render a judgment against him.”
Varil’s two friends were backing away as Stavin stood and bowed. “Is there a problem, Lord?” he asked courteously. Dahvin had stood as well and moved closer to Glora.
Varil couldn’t keep his eyes off the hilt of the big knife at Stavin’s side, and the golden armor he wore. “No, Friend Stavin. No, I don’t think--” He stopped speaking as Stavin’s hand fell on the hilt of the big knife. Without another word the three men turned and walked rapidly away. A ripple of laughter followed them.
The Andarian Affair Page 7