by CJ Brightley
Lani was bright red, the print of Lady Grallin’s hand standing out white on her cheek. She glanced at me for one instant, and I knew Lady Grallin had seen what I hadn’t. Lani… I should have seen it earlier. I should have known.
I grabbed Lani’s sleeve and jerked her toward the door. “Go to the kitchen. Now!”
“But,” her eyes were wide, her lips trembling and puffy on one side.
“Go!” I pushed her toward the door.
Lady Grallin was shaking, pulling her arm away from Lady Ilara, who was trying to calm her.
“I believe General Sendoa has the right to chose whomever he wants, Lady Grallin.” I tried to keep my voice from trembling, holding my chin high. Servants don’t talk back to nobles.
She drew in a quick breath. “I suppose it’s you, then.” She smiled disdainfully. “You’re not even pretty.”
The crowd shifted. The king himself was striding toward us through the crowd, and in front of him was Lord Grallin, Lady Melora Grallin’s father. She hadn’t seen them yet. I didn’t mind the insult, but I wanted the incident over. I wanted her gone and I wanted to speak with Lani.
I curtsied. “I don’t aim to please you. If General Sendoa is pleased, then I’m pleased. I assure you, I’m just as baffled as you are by his choice.”
Her eyes widened. It felt like everyone had fallen silent, though the musicians were still playing; the conversations had all faded and stuttered into a tense silence.
The king was close behind her, and I spoke loudly so he would catch every word. “But it isn’t wise to speak against the king’s favorite, a man of such standing and honor. Perhaps you set your sights too high, Lady Grallin.”
She was white with rage, trembling, and the king paused a few steps behind her to hear what she would say. “He is a dog and a son of a dog! If he spends his life for the kingdom, it is his highest use and no great loss. He was honored by my attention and too stupid to realize it. I gave him a chance, willing even to look past his Dari filth, but I was wrong.” Her voice was shaking, and she twitched her shoulder away from Lady Ilara’s restraining hand.
The king was almost as pale, his jaw tight, and his gaze flicked to me for one moment.
Lord Grallin reached his daughter’s side then. “Come, Melora.” He took her arm firmly and began to pull her away.
The king spoke then, his voice falling into the tense hush. “Lord Grallin. Lady Grallin. I would like to see you in my office. Now.” He glanced at me and nodded toward the door.
The king might have done any number of things, and from his pale cold anger he appeared to consider them all. Lady Grallin waited for his decision, white and trembling and suddenly tearful, and her father Lord Grallin scowled at the floor and at his daughter alternately. I waited, wondering whether I ought to feel sorry for her. I didn’t, although I did feel a bit sorry that her father had been pulled into the issue.
In the end, the king was very lenient, but when he pronounced his decision his voice showed his fury. “Lady Grallin, perhaps you are unaware that Ambassador and General Kemen Sendoa, whom I am very honored to call a friend, was gravely wounded some months ago and is only now recovering. His death would have been a national loss as well as a personal sorrow. I would not suggest wishing for such a tragedy in the future. Such a wish ventures perilously close to treason.”
He let his words sink in, and Lady Grallin seemed to sway a moment. Her father closed his eyes and bowed his head. The penalty for treason is death.
“This time I will forgive your unwise and impetuous words. I understand that perhaps you have been disappointed because Ambassador and General Sendoa did not recognize your many charms, and disappointment sometimes results in foolishness. It is the decision of the crown that you will not attend any court events until General Sendoa returns from the north again and personally expresses his wish that you be pardoned.”
Lady Grallin gasped. Absent from court, she would not be eligible for marriage by any titled lord. But she didn’t understand that Kemen wouldn’t care a whit about what she’d said, and so she would be welcome in court again in a matter of weeks or at most a few months, if he were delayed on his way back. The king knew it, and I knew it, and I think Lord Grallin at least guessed.
He knelt and bent his head in quick gratitude. “I thank you, Your Majesty. You are exceedingly generous, and I express my most humble appreciation on behalf of my daughter and family.”
Lady Grallin curtsied low, though she still frowned in confusion.
The king smiled solemnly. “Lord Grallin, you and the rest of your family are still welcome. Your daughter’s foolish tongue does not lessen the honor of your family.”
Lord Grallin knelt again.
I smiled inside. Lady Grallin was suitably subdued. Her face was white and she was biting her lip, apparently trying not to cry. When she passed me on the way out of the room, she didn’t look at me, and her shoulders were a little slumped. I curtsied to the king when I left, and he met my eyes with a quick, small smile.
36
Kemen
It took a week to get back to Fort Kuzeyler. The men could have gone faster, but the women were tired and ill-fed. I didn’t want to push them too hard. The second day I was saddling Kanti when one of the women came to me. She was perhaps twenty-one or twenty-two years old, with a fading greenish bruise over one eye.
“Sir, are you really General Kemen Sendoa?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Minu. I wanted to thank you again. I didn’t ever expect…” tears welled up in her eyes.
“I’m sorry you had to wait so long. The border should never have been left unprotected.” I had to wait for my stomach to settle then. I desperately needed a drink, but I knew it wouldn’t stay down long.
“Thank you.” She had a nice smile, genuine gratitude lighting her face. “Are you ill, sir?”
“Aye.” I couldn’t help it, I had to lean over and take a few deep breaths with my hands on my knees. Nothing. There was nothing, had been nothing for two days. “You’ve a stronger stomach than I if you survived on that food.”
“It wasn’t good. But they didn’t give us that milk drink. They call it alamaa, which means drink of gods and kings. It’s only for those they want to honor.” She smiled, and I nearly laughed.
“I feel honored, and I will feel it for another few days, I imagine.”
She grinned. I turned back to finish tightening the girth on Kanti’s saddle, and she stood for a minute in silence. Finally, she spoke almost tentatively. “Could I ride with you today, sir?”
I looked at her in surprise, and she dropped her eyes to the ground.
“If you like.”
She looked slightly embarrassed. “I just haven’t spoken to anyone kind in months. If you’d rather me not?” she looked up at me a little apprehensively.
“‘It’s no trouble. You’re ready?” She nodded, and I boosted her up. I made sure Elathlo was ready to go. He was a good rider, but he had difficulty saddling his horse because he wasn’t tall enough to lift the saddle high easily. I helped him and mounted and we were off in a matter of minutes.
I was tired, but I was intensely aware of her arms around me. I wished she was Riona, but I couldn’t help but note every innocent touch, every shift of her body. I wondered if I was wrong to ride with her, whether Ria would wish I had not. She was nothing but proper, sometimes only gripping the sides of my tunic. I know now my worry was foolish, that Riona would not begrudge her that small kindness, but at the time I wondered whether I was wrong.
Despite all that, I dozed in the saddle. I’ve had plenty of practice at it; every suvari learns the trick. She rested her head against my back at times and perhaps she dozed too. I offered her water and drank after her, but it came up again only a few minutes later. When I straightened, I felt a small hand rub between my shoulders gently. Comforting. It was simple human kindness, but it made me smile. When we went over uneven ground, her arms would tighten about me. She was nervous, and I c
ould tell by her seat that she was not an experienced rider.
I dozed again and dreamed she was Ria. I would love to ride with her. I would take her to the edge of the forest to the south. From the top of the hill we could look north over the palace and see the graceful symmetry of the gardens laid out before us like a painting. It would be early autumn there when I arrived again, and not many of the flowers would still be blooming, but the white walls of the castle would shine like pearl in the sun.
My thirst woke me, and again I drank only to heave it up a moment later. It was dizzying, and I blinked at the spots that seemed to fade in and out. I tried again and managed to keep a little bit down. A swallow, only a swallow, but it was a start. Minu leaned against my back again.
We stopped for lunch. Elathlo had ridden beside me all morning, quiet and apparently content. I found a spot a little removed from the group, lay on my back, and pulled the hood of my cloak over my face. It wasn’t dignified, but neither would it be dignified to pitch face first from my mount. Elathlo sat by me to eat. “Do you want me to bring you something, sir?”
“No, thank you.” A good boy. I wasn’t being much of a host.
In the afternoon we crossed rougher ground, and Minu’s arms tightened about me again. I shifted uncomfortably, and she pulled back. “What’s wrong?”
“My shoulder, on the left.”
“I’m sorry. Are you hurt, then?”
“I’m healing.”
She adjusted her arms and leaned in to my back carefully. “What happened?”
“It was quite a while ago, an arrow. It’s healing well, but slowly.”
We rode in silence most of the afternoon, but it was pleasant. I dozed again and dreamed of Ria, and wished fervently that it was her arms around me. Minu was kind, and I liked her, but she was not Ria.
She slept against my back, and once she jerked awake with a small cry.
“What’s wrong?”
“A dream. I’m sorry.” She sounded very subdued, and I patted her arm around me. After some time, she whispered a quiet thanks into the back of my tunic.
A year before, I would have been breathless at her arms around my waist. I should have been then; Ria and I had hardly been so intimate yet, at least physically. But my heart was with her, and it left only a comfortable companionship between Minu and me. Though we scarcely knew each other, the day felt warm and pleasant, and when I bid her farewell after dinner, I did so with a smile.
We left them at the fort. Kepa would make sure they were conveyed safely back to their homes. Then we were off southwest toward Stonehaven.
We had only one incident on the journey back to Stonehaven, the first morning after we left the women at Fort Kuzeyler. Elathlo had gone out to relieve himself before breakfast one morning. I was speaking to Akio when I heard a sharp crack and a sudden surprised cry followed by some laughter. Normally I would have thought nothing of it. Soldiers tease each other, and they can take care of themselves. But I had a sudden thought that perhaps this was different, and I ran toward the sound, Akio right behind me.
Elathlo had his bootknife in one hand and was trying to buckle his belt with the other, eyes flicking nervously between the three men before him. One had his sword out.
“Attention!” I barked.
They bowed immediately and straightened. The center one sheathed his sword, and all three looked at me with suddenly wide eyes.
“Elathlo, put your knife away.”
He complied, eyeing them warily.
“What is going on?” I stalked before them, noting the men swallowing nervously.
“Nothing, sir.” The one who had answered was the one who had held the sword. I couldn’t remember his name; he hadn’t been with us long. None of them had. They were under Shui’s command, new recruits not long out of training.
“That is obviously not true. I did not know we taught Erdemen soldiers to lie. Is that a new lesson?” I kept my voice more scornful than angry, though my fury mounted when I saw Elathlo biting his lip in an apparent attempt not to cry.
“No, sir.”
“Perhaps you would like another chance to answer my question. Note that I am being lenient. You will not get a third chance. Now, what is going on?” He flinched when I turned to him sharply, meeting his eyes. In times like this, I appreciate the value of my green eyes. They make people sweat, and lose their thought, and often I get the truth.
“We were only teasing him, sir.”
“And how were you doing that?”
“I hit him with the flat of my sword, sir. We didn’t hurt him.”
I glanced at the boy, who stood with a set face, flushed and unhappy. He did not appear injured.
“Apparently you misunderstood my order from a few days ago. I seem to recall making it quite clear that Elathlo is my personal guest. I don’t believe this is how Erdemen treat guests. Or did you think I didn’t mean it?”
That would be tantamount to calling me a blusterer and a liar, a terrible insult, and all three blanched at the thought.
“All three of you will be docked one week’s pay, and you will not ride for three days. Your horses will carry your gear, but you will keep pace on foot.”
Again all three paled, and one even seemed to think of protesting, but thought better of it at my stern glance.
“Take note of this. You are volunteers, and recent ones at that. If you had more experience, your punishment would be more severe, but I am lenient today because you are new and young and foolish. Such conduct is not fitting for Erdemen soldiers. I, and you, should hope that I do not hear of such misconduct again.”
“Yes, sir.” They bowed deeply, thoroughly sobered.
“Akio, tell Shui I’d like to speak with him at my tent.”
“Yes, sir.” He bowed as well.
“Come, Elathlo.” I put my hand on his shoulder as I walked him back to my tent. He was tense and cautious, and I ushered him inside the tent and let the flap fall before speaking to him.
“Sit.” He sat on the lone folding stool and I knelt in front of him, so that I didn’t tower above him. “Did they hurt you?”
He shook his head. “No, sir.”
“You’re not hurt?”
He shook his head again.
“Have they bothered you before?”
“No, sir.”
I studied his face a moment longer. I liked him more than I’d expected to, and I didn’t want him to be afraid. I put one hand on his shoulder again. “Tell me if they do, or anyone else does.”
He nodded, eyes on the floor. “Thank you.” His voice was very quiet. Embarrassed.
I stood. Best to let him have time without eyes on him. Outside I spoke with Shui about his men. He would take care of the necessary reductions in their pay and keep a close eye on them. There would be no grumbling about the punishment; a soldier respects the judgment of his officers. In this case, these three would have little sympathy from the others. Every military has these problems; giving young men weapons does sometimes unveil a streak of cruelty within them. I had seen that already, and I was glad this time it was no worse. But Erdem’s strength was not built on barbarism or needless cruelty. Anyone who had served more than a few months would have known that such behavior wouldn’t be tolerated.
We were packed in a matter of minutes, the tent broken down and packed on the horses. I had the horn blown to gather the men.
“This morning we had an incident of misconduct. Let me remind everyone that Elathlo is my guest and will be treated with all due courtesy. Consider this a warning. If I hear of further misconduct or discourtesy to my guest, the consequences will be severe.”
Rumors would soon enlighten those few who hadn’t yet heard what had happened. Most of the men bore no love for Tarvil, but they wouldn’t make one boy pay for the deeds of his entire people.
I alternated our pace between a quick walk and a trot, hardly a brutal pace but one guaranteed to tire them quickly. By noon they had been jogging for over four hours, and wh
en we stopped for lunch they collapsed to the ground. I don’t think of myself as cold-hearted, but no doubt they felt I was at the time. Endurance is of value in training; it would do them no great harm. A punishment must be unpleasant to be effective.
Elathlo seemed very subdued when he saw them, and I wondered if he thought I was too harsh. I let the group rest for an hour, which I thought was generous. Normally we would stop only long enough to water the horses and let them snatch a quick bite to eat. The men would eat while riding if necessary. After that, I let them walk for an hour before increasing our pace again.
In midafternoon I dismounted and ran. Though I was eating again, my stomach was still rather cautious with any sort of food, but my shoulder was healing well and I missed the exertion. Wounded and ill, I’d been soft on myself for months, and, at least for a while, the emptiness in my stomach made me feel light and strong.
Despite what the three may have thought, I did feel some sympathy for them as they struggled to keep up. I fell back to run with them, but I’m not sure whether it was helpful or not. I meant for it to be encouraging, since I didn’t have to share their punishment, but I thought later that perhaps they saw it differently. In any case I enjoyed the run, the pleasant burn in my legs and the feeling of flying over the earth, though my shoulder still bothered me at times.
I called a halt not long before dusk beside the Brightling, which is a tributary of the Silvertongue River. Some of the men set up my tent, one of my favorite perks of being an officer. I stripped and bathed in the river. Most of the men did eventually, though one of the three who had run lay on the ground in exhaustion. I let him rest until it was nearly dark, but when he still didn’t move I approached him.
“You’d best go bathe. I don’t want you stinking up the camp.” The words sound harsh written down, but I didn’t say them harshly.
He looked up at me towering over him and groaned as he sat up. I knelt to speak with him face to face.