"I've heard enough," Reynardus said.
"And I." Partis's tone was cheerful.
Urvey stood and awkwardly bowed to the Marshalls. Bastien would need to teach him how to bow too. Lessons to Urvey and lessons to Alexa. He'd become a preceptor. Who would have thought it.
Bastien clapped a hand on Urvey's shoulder. "Good job."
The teenager reddened, then grinned. He ducked his head. "I'll be in our suite."
Alexa's suite. Bastien hadn't felt her in the back of his mind lately. "How is she?"
"She sleeps. Umilla watches over her."
"Testing is in progress," Reynardus reminded him.
As Urvey left, Luthan opened the door and walked in. "Is Urvey's testimony, along with the other witness rolls, enough, or do I need to testify?"
"You have tales of Bastien's compassion too?" Thealia asked wearily.
"Many." Luthan beamed. "And I will be glad to spend all night in the telling of them."
Mace rolled his eyes. "I don't want to hear every instance."
"But," Luthan continued, "I need only remind all of you what happens to your old volarans, too wounded or too old to fly with the wild herds, and who aren't welcome on the lands of the nobles they've served. Or those volarans who have lost a human friend and don't wish to return to the wild. They go to Bastien. And Bastien supports them. What is that if not compassion?"
"Well said." Faith made a note on her paper, set her pen aside and folded her hands. "I accept that Bastien Vauxveau has shown a history of acceptable compassion during his life. Any objections to passing the applicant on this Test?"
Reynardus grumbled under his breath. No one else said anything.
Luthan said, "As Representative of the Singer, I will stay." He slid into his chair.
Faith glanced down at the last item on her Testing chart. "Let us proceed to the greatest Test for you, Bastien—teamwork."
A bitter retort rose in his mind on how he'd cooperated with independent Chevalier Pairs, landowner units, noble corps. He stopped them on his tongue.
His emotions roused Alexa. She felt the cost of his control. Bastien, do you need help? A wave of sleep threatened to pull her under, her body and mind demanding more rest.
Sleep, Bastien urged.
It's just a dream, Alexa said.
Sleep. You would be awake and here if I needed you greatly, but I sense your mind and body need more time to process the shock of fighting the dreeth, and creating the blood-bond.
You make no sense.
Sleep! It was more than a suggestion, it had push behind it. She didn't want to face the memory of being crushed, so she gave in to the tide.
Bastien faced the Marshalls with a half smile. Just the brief exchange with his sleepy, supportive, pliable woman made him feel better. He wished he was back with her in bed.
He thought of the next Test, teamwork. Merdel Alexa would have passed that one with flying colors, while he'd always preferred individual fighting and only Paired temporarily and when absolutely necessary for the battle.
"Do we have your attention again?" asked Reynardus in mock courtesy.
"I was sending my lady back to sleep. We are Paired. She knew of my nerves and has been with me thus far."
Mace snorted. "Nerves, ha!"
"I will do anything for my mate. It is the sole reason I am here before you now, Testing. She is a Marshall and you will not recognize me as her equal, even if she does, if I am not one, also. To be most effective we must be in harmony and removing the distraction that I am not a Marshall will do that." He'd have more status, more influence when he was a Marshall. He could protect her more.
He loved her. He hadn't known what a true, loving Pairing wasbefore, didn't think anyone who hadn't experienced it could understand how deeply it went. He straightened his shoulders, knowing what he had to do to pass this next Test. He walked over to the table and offered his hand to his father.
"The best Test of teamwork would be to act as Shield to the Swordmarshall with whom I have the most problems. That means you."
Reynardus's eyes widened in shock as he stared at Bastien's offered hand. Bastien knew if they teamed together the blood-bond between them would kick in—a bond that would be unusual and strange since it would be the first time in many years, the first time since Alexa had removed the constriction of his Power.
Bastien smiled easily. "There are always lesser monsters creeping into Lladrana through Sly Pass. It is close enough for this Test. Shall we go, Father?"
His father stood, face stony. "No. I will not bond with you."
Why was this blow harder than the dreeth's? Bastien hoped his humiliation didn't show. He set his hand on his belt, curled his fingers around tough leather until the edges nipped at his hand, grateful for the small pain.
The rest of the room seemed as shocked as he.
Reynardus said, "I am not sure this whole business is true." He gestured widely. "All his life, Bastien has been a rebel, he has fought me, fought any rule that bound him, is one of those Chevaliers loudest in his condemnation of us, the Marshalls. And I do not want his black-and-white mind touching my mind."
"He does it for his lady," Partis murmured into the silence. "He is Paired. But you know nothing of that, do you? You can't comprehend that?"
Angry streaks of red showed under the skin of Reynardus's cheeks. "I don't have that weakness."
"And I think it is a weakness to believe Pairing a weakness," Thealia said.
Swordmarshall Johnsa, Paired to Faith, stood. "Bastien Vauxveau and I are distantly related through his mother's line. I don't recall that we have ever linked to work together. Since I believe we all expected Reynardus's sons to be Swords, whenever we might have trained with them as Marshalls, we would have Paired them with Shieldmarshalls. I will team with Bastien." She glanced at the windows, now red with sunset. "Since night is falling, perhaps we should use the Castle training grounds." She dipped her head in Bastien's direction. "With your consent, of course, Chevalier Vauxveau."
Bastien matched her nod. "I agree." Hurt tightened his insides, but he'd had a lifetime of plodding on through emotional hurt inflicted by his father. He wouldn't think about it. Couldn't afford to. This evening he would survive the Testing. Tonight he would curve himself, body and mind, around Alexa, and they would smooth this clash of chords into a melody that would ease the pain.
"I and my Shield will take the field against you," Reynardus said, not even glancing at Ivrog for acceptance.
Ivrog's mouth opened, then he shut it. His face went impassive, but Bastien sensed he was displeased.
Teamwork. When had his father ever truly worked as an equal partner? Never. He'd always been the controlling partner of the Pair. That was not teamwork, and surely the Marshalls knew it too, but they'd ignored it all these years. If it weren't for Alexa, Bastien would walk out of this room in disgust and leave the Marshalls to their fate.
Since he couldn't, Bastien wondered if he could exploit Reynardus's need for control in the coming Test.
"Why don't we take to the air—a volaran skirmish. With dreeths appearing again, flying skills will be vital." Bastien smiled.
Reynardus froze. Bastien's volarans were superior to anyone else's.
"A good idea," Thealia said. She was giving him an edge.
Johnsa's face lit up. "It will be a pleasure working with Bastien on volaran-back."
"Above the Landing Field, then—it's the largest area," Thealia said. "I'll broadcast word that all volaran landings this evening should divert to Horseshoe courtyard until Testing is done."
Bastien nodded at Johnsa. "I'll meet you in Horseshoe Stables."
He turned on his heel and left, fingers curling in excitement. He'd won! There was no way Reynardus and Ivrog could best him and Johnsa. Not when he and Johnsa were distant kin, not when his magic rolled through him, free but steady. Not when he had the best volarans in Lladrana. He laughed.
Something thunked on the door behind him.
&n
bsp; 22
"Please return, Bastien," called Mace from the other side of the Marshalls' Council Room door.
When Bastien reentered, he found Mace holding the atomball, looking irritatedly at new holes in the door. "This ball carries your blood. It is connected to you. It is yours."
Bastien took the ball. It hummed loudly in his hands, almost like a purring cat. He hoped his flush didn't show. This was a little embarrassing. On the other hand, whatever the consequences of his making the ball rested squarely on the Marshalls' shoulders.
"Do you want the chain and club attached again?" asked Mace.
In no scenario could Bastien imagine using a shooting-star. "No."
"Very well. Remember that it is your weapon now," Mace said, and opened the door wide.
As Bastien walked, the ball lifted from his hands to trail behind him. At first it felt awkward, knowing something followed himlike a pony. Then, when people he met flattened themselves against a wall, a swagger entered his steps.
A few moments later, Bastien and Johnsa stood ready to mount at the southern edge of the Landing Field. She patted his shoulder.
"The Test is for a half hour only, before total night. Soon this will be over and you'll be Choosing your baton. You've been very patient, more than I expected." Her eyes sharpened. "You've matured, young Bastien."
He grunted and checked his harness again.
She sighed. "We need more Marshalls. Perhaps having you will prompt more Chevaliers to Test."
Since he wasn't done with the Test himself, he kept rash words behind his lips.
His battle mare, Inqui, stamped and lifted her wings, restless to fly. Bastien ran a hand down the arch of her neck. His main battle volaran rested in the best stall of Horseshoe Stables. The best stall for the best volaran. Inqui was for Alexa, when Bastien could get her on the mare—which might not be for years. Now the flying horse would serve him well in the duel with his father and uncle. She'd be as essential to the team as Johnsa and her volaran.
Just outside the stable doors facing the Landing Field, he and Johnsa mounted. Bastien swung up on Inqui and she stilled, flicked her ears. He hadn't been atop her since Alexa had fixed the flaw that had made his magic wild. Inqui seemed to sense the change in him. At one time part of him would merge with her, the animal inside him flow with and amplify the animal in her. It had been strange and oddly exciting, but now it wasn't necessary. They could touch the surface of their minds, him guiding her with a light thought.
Johnsa looked at him and grinned, her teeth bright in the dim evening light. "Ready?"
"Yes. I have good night vision, always have had."
"Me too." She grinned back.
"Ivrog doesn't," Bastien said.
"I know. Let us link physically to establish the connection." She held out her square, calloused hand.
Inhaling and tempering his Power, Bastien placed his hand in hers. Her grip tightened and her mind brushed his. He opened to her. A small latent tune, a distant-family tune, rose to the fore.
"Fancy that," Johnsa rasped. "A connection I didn't know we had."
"Me neither."
She dropped her fingers and laughed, drew on her gauntlets. "We are very much in accord this evening, young Bastien." Her eyes gleamed. "Let's ground Reynardus into the dust."
The hurt and humiliation he'd tried to suppress surged at the thought. "Yes."
They took off and circled the Landing Field a couple of times, stretching volaran muscles, testing their link. As they flew together, their hesitation at the new mind-touch vanished and the connection strengthened. They moved well together, Bastien first to one side, then slightly behind and to Johnsa's left.
Well done, Shield. This feels right to me, Johnsa hummed in his mind.
He didn't answer, watching Reynardus and Ivrog take the field, swing into the air.
First strike, I think, Johnsa said, lifting her knotty wooden baton and firing a stream of brown Power at Reynardus.
They caught Sword and Shield off guard, but both had fought together too long to be completely unprepared. Ivrog's Shield snapped into place, but a second too late; Reynardus took a hit. The volaran pair wobbled, Reynardus flicked his baton in riposte and ivory light speared to Johnsa, flowing around the egg-shaped Power-Shield Bastien molded.
Gasps came from the ground.
Very powerful Shield you have there, Bastien. All that fighting stood you well to become a Shieldmarshall. I am as safe as if I were behind a dreeth.
Just the thought of the dreeth made Bastien shudder. Inqui neighed and zoomed upward. Johnsa laughed.
All four volarans circled around each other, the Swords throwing magical bolts, then nipping in to engage with weapons. Each moment drew observers.
Bastien concentrated on protecting Johnsa. It was easier for him than fighting, though in a fight he could enter a mind-space that slowed time and his body reacted—he didn't think. This was different. Here he could stand ready—even nudge Johnsa, who was in the fight-react mind-set, in a direction that was strategically better for her, for them. He shifted his shoulders. This felt right, the rhythm and the energy flow, the Power. Finally, he was doing what he'd been created for—he was a natural Shield.
The thought still pinched, that his woman would be actively fighting while he stood back, but he sensed that the Power itself would soon cure him of the niggling blow to his ego. He'd be protecting her, even as he protected Johnsa; he'd send her additional energy. There were all sorts of advantages to being a Shield he'd never considered.
It was an interesting duel, since all were connected through him by family. Orchestral chords sang between them all, in the sound of pounding hearts, crafty thought note-sparks, a clashing tune. Inqui rose and fell, spoke with Johnsa's volaran, leading the mare so Bastien and Johnsa had the advantage of better light.
Johnsa was slightly ahead of Reynardus in "touches" on his body.
Then Bastien's atomball, dark and unseen in the night, punched through Reynardus's shield, one spike grazing his temple. He swayed in the saddle.
Ivrog propped him up with Power, guided both volarans to the ground. "We yield!" Ivrog cried.
"No." Reynardus's whisper was amplified with the merest Power, but all heard.
Ivrog ignored Reynardus's protest. He jumped from his volaran and went to his brother, then plucked him from the saddle and held him upright with physical strength and Power.
Reynardus struggled feebly. "No."
"You be quiet. You can't see for blood in your eyes, your mind is dizzy. I'm not so stupid as to let you get us injured further, or worse, from stupid pride," Ivrog said.
Thealia glided onto the Field. "The duel is done as one of the Pair spoke for both and yielded. The victory goes to Swordmarshall Johnsa and Shield Bastien."
Faith joined Thealia, grinned at her mate, Johnsa, winked at Bastien. "The Testing is over. To the observers, the teamwork between Johnsa and Bastien was flawless. What say you, Swordmarshall Johnsa?"
Johnsa vaulted to the ground, left her volaran to her squire. "Bastien is very smooth, as many women know." Laughter floated from the watchers. "He is strong, capable, a natural Shield. I would work with him in any fight from duel to battle." Her gaze picked out the other Marshalls. "I believe he would be an excellent Shield for any Swordmarshall."
Faith clapped once. It echoed throughout the Castle. "This Testing is over. The applicant, Bastien Vauxveau, has passed and will receive Marshall status."
Thealia gestured to Mace. "Let us adjourn to the Temple where he will Choose his baton. Mace, please retrieve the unclaimed batons." Mace faded into the night. "Partis, is Reynardus able to attend the Choosing?"
"I think it would be best if he went to his rooms." Partis's toneswere as even as ever. A pair of Medicas came and helped Reynardus off the Landing Field. He stood straight, but walked slowly, as if his vision blurred.
A whirlwind of emotions swept through Bastien. He hated his father. He loved his father. He had always wanted, b
ut had never received, acknowledgment and pride for his accomplishments from the man. Reynardus had humiliated him just an hour past, yet Bastien still wished his father were well enough to attend the Choosing. His heart still felt that if Reynardus saw him take a Marshall's baton, the man would respect him. It was futile. It was foolish. But it was true.
Urvey hurried up. "I'll care for Inqui—what a noble volaran she is." His voice fell into the lilt of a true horseman as he led the volaran away.
Bastien eyed the teenager. He could very well make a Chevalier, win some land of his own.
Barking came from near Bastien's feet. He stared down at the strange little dog—a type of dog not known in Lladrana—that was the shapeshifter Sinafin.
I will accompany you to the Temple.
"Thanks," he said. She'd reminded him that it was time to move.
Alexa will be there too.
Bastien's gut tensed. "She shouldn't—the dreeth—"
The memory of the dreeth is fragmented. This moment she is very pleased and proud of you. She is dressing in the Gold Robe the Marshalls gave her, and fussing like a woman.
He liked that image, and smiled. As he walked, his muscles stretched, the stiffened aches from the morning fight easing. Alexa would be in the Temple to see his triumph.
She was so much more important to him than Reynardus. Bastien whistled.
As he drew near the Temple, he saw her dress gleaming in thelight, the pale smudge of her face and her silver hair. She stood to the right of the Temple door, calm and dignified. In her right hand, her baton glowed green, with muted flames flickering just beneath the metal ones.
On a woman of Lladrana, the golden gown would complement skin tone, but on Alexa it contrasted. She looked all silver and gold. He walked faster, and her features became clear—huge green eyes in a pale, pointed face, lips pink. She was his. His partner, his woman. His to fight alongside, his to protect. So many facets of her and him to mesh or spark each other. He wouldn't have it any other way.
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