by CJ Brightley
“Go on. You’ll feel better afterwards.” I gave him a hand and pulled him to his feet.
“Aye, sir.” He nodded and trudged away wearily.
The night air was cool but I did not put on my tunic. I washed it in the river and hung it to dry outside my tent. It would be mostly dry by morning, and the air was pleasant and fresh after my exercise. Elathlo was waiting and I led him to the mess tent. We ate with Akio and a few other officers. Elathlo of course was very quiet, but he listened carefully and watched everything. It was a pleasant dinner, and I was gratified to find that I could stomach most of it. I was glad Elathlo had had no such problems with our food. When we reached my tent I lit the lamp and spread my blanket on the floor, then sat down to study the map. Elathlo sat down on his pallet and I felt his eyes on me.
“Sir?”
“Hm?”
“Will you really make them run for two more days?” He looked a little worried.
“Yes.” I smiled to soften my words. “We’ve all done it in training. They can do it. It’s not supposed to be enjoyable.”
“You don’t look tired though. My father thought you weren’t really human. Are you?”
I blinked in surprise. “Yes, I’m human. I’m Dari.” Maybe he hadn’t seen one. But Dari are just as human as Tuyets. Or Tarvil. What a question. I certainly felt tired. I wondered if he thought I was some immortal monster, gifted with superhuman strength and lacking a conscience. No wonder he was terrified to go with me to Stonehaven.
“I’m sorry.” He smiled awkwardly. “What happened to your shoulder?”
“It was an arrow last winter. I had surgery on it more recently.” It did not need to be said that it was a Tarvil arrow.
He stared at the ground. “My father was an archer.” Then he looked up, his eyes sad, a little confused, and quite apprehensive.
I don’t know what he expected, whether he thought I would hold it against him. I felt awkward and very ill-equipped to handle a boy’s emotions. “I’m sorry. I imagine you miss him.”
“Yes.” He kept staring at me, as if he expected something else. Finally he asked, “Why did you agree to take me to Stonehaven?”
“You don’t want to go, do you?” I reached over to pat his shoulder in sympathy when he shook his head. “If you succeed your grandfather, it will benefit both Erdem and your people for us to be on better terms.” He still watched me. “Besides, your grandfather looked as though he wouldn’t be particularly happy with you if I’d refused.”
“No.” He smiled suddenly. “No, he would’ve been very angry that I’d disappointed you. My father saw you fight once. He said you were a demon or a god, he wasn’t sure which. After he died, Otso-ka said you were my best chance to learn kestan. If you didn’t take me, he would have presumed you judged me incapable of ever learning it.”
“What’s kestan?” I leaned back on my hands. I had never heard the word, but he spoke of it as if I should know exactly what he meant.
At my question he stared back at me. “Kestan?”
“Yes, what is it?”
Again he stared at me as if he couldn’t believe I was asking the question. Finally he licked his lips. “It’s the quality of being a leader. A warrior. A king. Strength. Courage. Ferocity. Bloodlust. It comes from the gods and the earth. The alpha wolf has it. A hunger for power and the strength and determination to keep it at all costs.”
He looked down then. “I went through the training, but Father said I was still too weak and soft to lead men, that no one would respect me even when I came of age. When Father died, Otso-ka said I was hopelessly soft and would never be fit to rule, but when you offered the peace treaty, he hoped you would take me. If anyone could teach me kestan, it would be you, because you breathe it like air.”
We stared at each other in silence. I struggled with the words in my head, discarding them one after another. Finally I spoke quietly. “It seems your father and grandfather have a very different view of what makes a good leader than I do.”
He stared at me, eyes wide in the flickering lamplight.
“Bloodlust does not make a man fit to lead, nor does strength. I serve a king who rules with wisdom, though he’s still young, and mercy for his people, not a desire to dominate them. I knew he was fit to rule when I realized he would give up his crown if he thought his people would be best served by another.”
“That’s stupid!” His exclamation was soft. His eyes widened when he realized what he’d said.
“Is it?” I smiled.
He dropped to both knees, bowing his head to the floor. He spoke very clearly, though his voice was slightly muffled by his sleeves. “Sir, I await your just punishment.”
I waited a moment, expecting something else, but he remained motionless. “Get up.” He raised his head cautiously before jumping to his feet and standing at attention, his eyes on the floor.
“Sit down. Look at me. What was that all about?”
He raised his eyes to mine reluctantly, as if he could not believe I was demanding it of him. “Sir, I am awaiting your just punishment of my unwise and disrespectful words.”
“What punishment do you expect?” I was curious, for this was an area of Tarvil culture I knew nothing about. But the boy was clearly very frightened, and I wished I knew how to reassure him.
He dropped his eyes to the floor again. “Whatever you choose, sir.”
“I’m not going to punish you. I just want you to answer my questions. If I were a Tarvil man, what would you expect?”
Again he fell to his knees and bowed his head to the floor. I put a hand on his shoulder and he flinched. “Sit down. Don’t be afraid.” He sat again, biting his lip. I repeated my question.
His voice was very quiet when he answered. “I would expect at least a beating, sir. But you might choose more.”
“Like what?” I wished I looked less frightening.
“An aloka’s life is in his sponsor’s hands. If I displease you, you have the right to kill me however you choose.” He stared at the ground and his voice was a whisper. “The best for the aloka is beheading, because it’s fast.”
Phraa. No wonder he was terrified of me. “I can’t think of anything you could say that would merit death in Erdem. Don’t be so afraid. I’m not going to punish you.”
He stared at me, his eyes wide and confused in the flickering lamplight.
“No doubt I’m demanding, and I will expect you to work hard. But I’ve never beaten a thirteen year old boy, not since I was one myself, and I don’t expect to start now. Neither am I prone to beheading people for nothing more than words. Unless you threaten the life of the king, you have little to fear from me.”
He stared back at me, still silent. Finally he nodded, cautiously, as though he still didn’t quite believe me. I turned my gaze back to the map, more to give him time to think than because I needed to look at the map again. This would be more challenging than I had imagined.
“Would you like some imea, sir?”
“What is that?”
He opened a little packet. “Smell.”
The little pile of dried leaves with some brown powder underneath smelled spicy and a little sweet.
“Is it like tea? I’ll have some.”
He looked at me doubtfully. “I don’t think it’s like your tea. But you can try it and see.”
He took a tiny pot and two small cups from his pack and squatted by the fire outside after putting a little water in it. He boiled the leaves far past what I would have thought ideal, but finally wrapped a cloth around the handle of the pot and brought it inside to sit across from me at the low traveling table. He opened another little packet and carefully poured a lighter powder into the cups.
“What’s that?”
“Milk.” He was obviously concentrating. He poured the water, now a dark and grainy brown, into the cups and watched the lighter powder swirl around before disappearing.
“It’s ready now. It’s good luck too. The milk doesn’t normally flo
at.”
I raised my eyebrows and he returned my gaze very seriously.
“That’s what they say. I notice, if you warm the cups first, it always floats, and if you pour the imea in while the cups are cool, it doesn’t. My grandfather always has good luck when I make his tea.”
I laughed and he grinned back. “It’s good. What’s in it?” It was thick and rich, sweet, spicy, and with a slightly milky undertone, though thankfully not rancid.
“Imea leaves, sharwan, and milk. And a little sosta. My grandfather doesn’t like sosta, so I don’t use it normally. But I like it. What do you think?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know which flavor it is, so I can’t say. It’s good though.”
He sipped at his cup carefully. It was still very hot. “What is Stonehaven like, sir?” He ducked his head respectfully as he asked the question.
“It has perhaps fifty thousand people in and around it. Maybe thirty thousand are actually in the city proper.”
His mouth dropped open. “That many?” his voice was only a whisper.
“More or less. You’ll stay with me in the palace. There are servants to help keep the palace beautiful and running smoothly and to care for the horses and dogs.” I smiled then, thinking of Ria waiting for me. “I’ll probably be quite busy with work for Hakan. Your grandfather wanted you to serve as an aloka. What is that?”
He looked at me as if he thought I was testing him in some way, and answered formally. “It is a time of training to be a warrior. Serving you is a great honor. You might have asked for, and received, his whole treasure if you’d wanted. Serving the most renowned warrior is a great honor, and can be very expensive. An aloka works as a servant in return for tutoring and training. The best warriors have the most skill to offer, and so their alokas serve them diligently in order to earn their training.”
“What would you do?”
“Whatever you wanted. Shine your boots. Bring your dinner. Wash your clothes. Clean your weapons.” He still looked at me as if he could not believe that I did not know all this.
“Can you write?”
“In my language.”
“What weapons have you trained with?”
“The scimitar and the bow.”
“Have you done any fighting without weapons?”
He blinked. “Not much.”
“We will begin with that first when we get to Stonehaven. You will also need to learn how to bow.”
“Yes, sir. What is the penalty for bowing incorrectly?”
“You show a lack of courtesy.” He looked a little confused. “There is no penalty, not for someone your age. For a soldier to bow incorrectly to a superior is an insult. I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“What duties will you expect me to carry out, sir?”
“You can water the horses while we travel and give them their rubdowns at night. Just your horse and mine, not all of them. When we get to the palace things will change. We’ll see.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The proper way to address the king is as Your Majesty. I can’t say I abide by that very well, but I would recommend that you do so. I doubt Hakan would mind, but it would be better not to antagonize the others in the palace.”
He looked slightly confused. “Who is Hakan?”
“The king. Hakan Ithel.”
He stared at me. “You call the king by his name?”
I smiled at that. “We were friends before he was king. You will have a tutor to teach you to write in Common. How much arithmetic have you done?”
“Not much.”
“You’ll learn that as well. You can sit in on some of my meetings with Hakan, though not all of them. And you can ask questions. Things will no doubt be very different than you’re accustomed to.”
37
Riona
The next packet of letters for the king and queen contained a letter for me, sealed with a lump of red wax impressed with the tiny sword and shield emblem of his office, Minister of Military Affairs. I’d seen seals before, of course; one couldn’t work in the palace without having seen wax seals of many different offices and prominent families. But this one was addressed to me! I wondered if he had dictated a letter, and if so, how personal it would be. He was such a private person I couldn’t imagine it.
But what I found inside made me smile more than a letter. He’d drawn the flowers of the north, the fort, the mountains, and a tiny bird’s nest. It shouldn’t have surprised me, but somehow I had not expected his artistic ability. He was not as practiced as the portrait-makers of the city, and the drawings were only sketches, but he’d captured a distinct feeling of the north. In his sketch, the horse was graceful, mane and tail blowing in the wind, head raised alertly. The flowers raised their faces to a pale sky, thin clouds skidding past. The mountains were sharp and harsh as knives, though distant. The tiny birds’ nest was more friendly and approachable. One chick with damp feathers nestled against two spotted eggs.
I thought of Kemen, busy with leading the men, training, and whatever other responsibilities he had. I imagined him staying up late, broad shoulders bent over the parchment as he focused on the sketches, the pen nib scratching softly in the lamplight.
I smiled all day.
38
Kemen
When we arrived in Stonehaven, we were greeted with great cheering throngs and waving banners. I had sent a courier ahead to let Hakan know that we were coming and that Elathlo was with me. We rode triumphant through the crowds. It’s an odd feeling. Though I’ve experienced it several times, it never fails to startle me. I don’t like crowds much, but their excitement was catching, and I found myself smiling despite my discomfort.
Elathlo was thoroughly disconcerted, his eyes wide, and he kept his horse close by mine. Everyone noticed him; his dress proclaimed him Tarvil clearly. Most simply ignored him and cheered for us, but I caught a few hostile looks. One man glared ferociously at Elathlo and pushed his way past the woman in front of him to be at the front when Elathlo passed him. I don’t know what he was planning to do, if anything, but I kicked Kanti forward a little. I caught his eye and he dropped his gaze to the ground.
At the palace, Hakan met us in the courtyard. It is an unnecessary honor, but he always honored me perhaps more than he should. I appreciate it nonetheless, and I dismounted quickly and strode to meet him. I dropped to one knee to give him appropriate honor before the men. I introduced him to Elathlo, who also dropped to one knee. Hakan smiled and welcomed him kindly. Sinta would show him to his room and help him prepare for the banquet that night.
“We’re having a banquet?”
“We are. To celebrate your success, of course, and to welcome Elathlo. If there’s anything you want in particular, you’d best tell Joran now. Preparations are well underway.” He was in an expansive mood. “I suppose you’ll want to wash first.”
I did. I was dusty from the road and hardly ready for a banquet, but I had a sudden thought as we walked through the hall toward my room. Bold, perhaps, but Hakan was a friend as well as the king. “I do have one request for the banquet tonight. But it’s not about the food.”
“Of course. What is it?”
I took a deep breath. “You know I’m courting Riona.”
He nodded.
“Well, I would like her to join us. As my guest. Not as a servant. It’s awkward having her serve me while we eat.”
He nodded. “Invite her then. She won’t have a suitable dress, I imagine. Tell her that she may speak with Kveta about that.” At my look of confusion he grinned. “Kemen, you will have to learn to think about clothes once in a while if you speak with women. Kveta will lend her a dress. They’re not that different in size. But you’d best ask her soon, because Lika will need time for alterations. Go on then.”
I laughed and bowed to him before going in search of Riona.
39
Riona
I was watching when he rode in. I couldn’t help it, though I knew I should have been working. He was sp
lendid, and the sight of him made me smile with pride. I wanted to speak with him, just to see him, but when they entered the palace, I knew I had to return to work. I was heading toward the kitchen to help with the preparations for the banquet when I saw him in the hallway.
I smiled. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t what happened. He smiled back, and with his eyes on mine, he kissed my fingers. Then, very tentatively and cautiously, he put his arms around me, as if he wasn’t sure I would allow it. I smiled up at him and embraced him in return. He was too tall for me to kiss comfortably, but somehow we would manage. I felt him flinch suddenly.
“I’m sorry!” My hand had brushed across his shoulder. “How is it now?”
“It’s fine. Healing well. Could I ask you something?” He looked down at the floor almost shyly, and I nodded. “Would you attend the banquet tonight with me?” His eyes were on mine.
I think I actually stuttered in my confusion. “I can’t. I have to serve. I’ll be in the kitchen. Besides, it’s for you, and the king and queen.”
“I already asked Hakan.” His voice was very quiet. “If you want to, that is.”
“The king said I could go?” I couldn’t imagine it, but he nodded, smiling tentatively now. “I don’t have anything to wear. Nothing nice enough.”
He smiled more broadly. “Hakan said you should borrow a dress from Kveta.”
My mouth dropped open in shock. From the queen? The king had said that?
He kissed my fingers again. “Please?”
I nodded wordlessly, and his smile deepened.
I did indeed ask Kveta for a dress. I thought it would be awkward, but the king had already spoken with her, and at my quiet knock on her door, she opened it and drew me in. She had picked out several dresses already and had me try them on right there in front of her mirror. I was a little shy about undressing before her. She is the queen, after all, and not another servant girl. She grinned at me though.