by Mindy Klasky
“What are you going to do?” Maida asked, suspicion filling her voice.
Reade started to say, “I’ll drop it in the bushes, the next time I piss,” but he didn’t want to fight with her about the dirty word. Instead, he just said, “I’ll get rid of it. That’s all you need to know. Promise, though. Say you won’t call me a coward.”
“That’s easy to say. You’ll never get rid of your Great Mother.”
“Say it!” Reade insisted, but Maida only frowned at him. “Say it!”
“Fine, Reade. If you get rid of your Great Mother, I won’t call you a coward.”
“Ever.”
“Ever.”
Reade nodded, pleased that he had won. Now he just had to figure out a way to get rid of the charm, a way that would make Maida remember forever that he was brave.
Before he could come up with a plan, the duke’s man, Donal, walked over to him. “Come along, Sun-lord. You shouldn’t keep the duke waiting.”
Donal always said “Sun-lord” like he didn’t mean it. Reade wanted to tell the soldier that he should be nicer. Reade wanted to say that he had heard Donal talking with Duke Coren that night, back in the tavern. Donal had been bad. Donal had made the duke angry.
Every time, though, that Reade started to talk back to Donal, he saw the anger in the man’s own eyes. And when Donal was angry, he was much scarier than Duke Coren. He didn’t just fold his hand into a fist. He reached for the hilt of his dagger.
Reade decided not to explain that he wasn’t keeping Duke Coren waiting. Instead, he tucked his Great Mother back inside his golden robes and let Donal hoist him up on the duke’s tall stallion. Reade settled down in front of Duke Coren and reached out to grasp the pommel on the high saddle.
The first day that he had ridden without the duke’s sweet water, he had regretted his oath. The horse had gone on and on without stopping, each step jarring until Reade could not keep tears from streaming down his face. Duke Coren had kept such a tight grip around Reade’s waist that the boy thought his back would always be dented from the metal studs on the duke’s armor.
Reade was stubborn, though. He remembered Duke Coren’s stern warning. No matter how sore he was, no matter how long the afternoon lasted, Reade had not asked for the golden cup. After all, the Sun-lord would not have complained. Da would have been proud of him.
Besides, Reade had not wanted to back down in front of Maida. That first morning, when the duke prepared to let Reade ride without drinking, Maida had thrown a tantrum. It was funny to watch his sister, screaming and kicking and biting, all because she wanted to do what Reade was doing.
It was funny, that was, until Duke Coren knelt down beside Maida. Reade couldn’t hear what the duke said, but Maida certainly did. She cut off her scream mid-wail. Casting a tear-sharpened look at her brother, she said, “It’s not fair! You call him Sun-lord, and you call me Sun-lady. If you don’t make him drink, then why should I have to?”
The duke had gazed at her for a long moment, his brown eyes as dark as Da’s. Reade got a twisty feeling in his belly, and he thought that he should step forward, that he should help his sister. He should try to explain things to Duke Coren. Maida was always trying to copy Reade. She had wanted to be the huer. She had wanted to go out fishing with Reade and Da. She had wanted to do all sorts of things that girls shouldn’t do.
Before Reade could explain, though, Duke Coren straightened up and put the golden cup in his saddlebags. “Fine then, Sun-lady,” he said, and his voice was as serious as when he spoke to Reade. “I’ll tell you the same thing that I told your brother, though. I won’t let you change your mind. If you make this decision, you can’t go back.”
“I won’t if Reade doesn’t.” Maida had glared at him as she settled into the saddle in front of Donal.
Reade wondered if Maida regretted her decision now. He knew that he did. Not only was the ride painful, but it was boring.
Well, it had been boring. Today would be different. Today, Reade would prove that he wasn’t a coward, no matter what Maida said. No matter what names she called him.
The duke kept them riding very fast. Reade heard one of the soldiers say that they were only seven days from Smithcourt. Sometimes they passed people on the road, walking or riding toward them. Those people always stepped to the side, giving lots of room to Duke Coren and all his men.
Once, Reade saw a giant farmer knuckling his forehead, just like he was a child, just like he was honored to be near the riders. The sight made Reade want to laugh aloud, and he glanced up to see Duke Coren eyeing him with an open smile. Just by sitting on the stallion, just by wearing the Sun-lord’s golden robes, Reade made the duke proud.
No, Reade wasn’t a coward. He wasn’t a frightened little sheep. Maida didn’t know what she was talking about. Reade thought about the farmer, staring in awe at the Sun-lord, and he sat even straighter in front of Duke Coren.
Throughout the long morning, he watched and waited, knowing that many of the soldiers would fall back as the afternoon dragged on. Duke Coren even loosened his grip around Reade’s middle, and Reade leaned forward to catch the stallion’s reins. He had a plan, now, a plan that would prove that he was brave. He glanced back at the duke, but the nobleman did not seem angry or alarmed. He was no more watchful than he ever was along the road.
Reade thought about how strong the horse was, and he realized that he was being foolish. Foolish and bad. Duke Coren would be furious with him. Donal would glare at him, and the duke might even say that Reade would get no supper.
Maybe it would be wiser just to hold on to his Great Mother. Let Maida say what she wanted. Reade knew that he wasn’t a coward. He knew that he wasn’t afraid. It was just that following Duke Coren’s rules was the right thing to do. The safe thing. The thing that the Sun-lord would do.
Uncertain, Reade leaned back against Duke Coren’s chest, resting his head against the armor. Afraid to touch his Great Mother, afraid to remind Maida of what he had promised to do, he shifted his hand to his bavin instead.
The woodstar was prickly beneath his fingers. He turned it over and over, running his hands across its points. Maida didn’t have a woodstar. She had a Great Mother, but she didn’t have a woodstar. Duke Coren had given the bavin to Reade. He could have given it to Maida, but he gave it to Reade instead. Duke Coren liked Reade better than he liked Maida. That’s why he let Reade ride in front of him, instead of making Reade ride with Donal.
Duke Coren had chosen him. Duke Coren wouldn’t have chosen a coward. As Reade repeated that thought, he looked down at the woodstar in his hands. The sun was high in the sky, and the bavin picked up the bright light. In fact, the woodstar seemed to glow with a light of its own, a bright whiteness that leaked around Reade’s fingers.
The white light didn’t frighten Reade, though. Oh, no. He wasn’t a coward. He could do anything he wanted. He was brave enough to be the huer, on the very edge of the cliffs. He was brave enough to go out fishing in the nighttime. He was brave enough to walk to the Guardians’ Sacred Grove all by himself. He was brave enough to take Duke Coren’s reins and pull the horse from the road. He was brave enough to throw away his Great Mother, now that he was a big boy. Now that he didn’t need the Great Mother’s protection.
Before he even knew that he was ready, he let the bavin fall back on his chest. He was distracted for just a moment as the woodstar flashed white against his golden robes. Then, he leaned forward, jerking half out of the saddle. He pretended that the horse had caught its foot in some unexpected pothole. As he fell forward, he pulled hard on the reins, jerking the stallion from the smooth road.
For one instant, he felt the horse hesitate, not quite turning from the road. Reade knew how to make the stallion move, though. He leaned forward as far as he could across the beast’s neck, screaming like the wind in one of the great Land’s End storms. After one scary moment, when Reade thought the horse would rear up, the stallion leaped across the rough-plowed field, tossing its head.
The horse jumped again, and Reade was slammed down on his tailbone. He opened his mouth and gasped like a fish caught in a net, unable to breathe in air. Duke Coren swore and leaned far forward to grab the reins. The horse was even more frightened by the duke’s motion, and Reade was certain that he was going to be crushed. Duke Coren would smash him from behind, and the horse would jump up from below. Reade shut his eyes, terrified by the commotion he had made. His hands flew up, closing over his bavin.
The woodstar reminded him of the Great Mother that also swung around his neck. The curved iron burned against his hand like a brand. Before he could think, he pulled the charm off his neck. He cocked his arm back and threw the Great Mother with all his might, the breath grunting out of him as he let it go. He could not see it land.
There! Let Maida say that Reade was a coward now! Let her say that he was afraid of anything!
Before the horse could jump another time, Duke Coren gathered up the reins. He pulled back on the leather so hard that the stallion reared up. Reade whooped in surprise. He wasn’t a coward just because he was glad Duke Coren grabbed him around his belly. That was only smart, the way he clutched at the duke’s sleeve. Any smart boy would have done the same thing.
At last, the stallion stood still in the middle of the field. Its sides moved in and out like the bellows Mum sometimes used on the fire back home.
Duke Coren swung down from the animal’s back and tugged at Reade’s arm, pulling him off the horse so hard that the boy stumbled. “What in the name of the Seven Gods are you trying to do, boy?”
Boy? What had happened to Sun-lord? Duke Coren must be furious!
Reade could hardly explain what he had done. He barely understood himself. What a stupid idea, trying to leave the Great Mother in the field so that Maida would think he was brave! Duke Coren would never understand!
The duke’s fingers clawed into Reade’s arm, hauling him upright and pinching his flesh against the bone. Reade’s head was thrown back with enough force that his neck popped. When he looked up, he could see Donal riding across the field. The man was swearing as he pulled his horse to a stop. Maida stared at Reade, her eyes wide and frightened.
“I asked you a question, boy!”
“N—nothing, Your Grace. I wasn’t doing anything! The horse was running, and I slipped forward. I tried to grab the reins to keep from falling, and that must have scared him. P—please, Your Grace, I didn’t mean to do anything!”
The words tumbled over themselves, and Reade tried to swallow the sob that rose in his throat. This wasn’t fair! Maida had made him do this! She was the one who had said he was a coward. She was the one who had said he was a lamb!
She should be the one trying to explain to Duke Coren. This was all Maida’s fault, just like when Mum punished him for not finishing his chores when Maida had tracked dust across the hearth. He craned his neck about, trying to see if Maida was going to speak up. Before he could find her, though, the duke twisted his arm sharply.
“Are you lying to me, boy? You’ve never had any problem keeping your seat before.”
“Your Grace, I would never lie to you!” Before Reade could say anything else, he thought about the times that Mum had yelled at him, the times that Reade had gotten into trouble for hurting Maida by playing too rough. He knew how to make Mum forget the bad things that he’d done. He knew how to distract her. He made his voice sound all trembly, like he was afraid. “I—is the horse all right? I wouldn’t want him hurt because I was stupid.”
This type of question usually worked. He would sound frightened and sad and sorry, all at the same time. Sometimes, Reade was so good at asking the question that Mum didn’t even punish him. She would say he was a good boy for watching over Maida, for worrying about her.
Duke Coren was not as easily fooled. “I don’t know what you thought to do, boy. Every minute we waste in this field is one more minute you won’t sleep tonight. Nothing is going to keep you from arriving at Smithcourt.”
“I want to go to Smithcourt, Your Grace. I want to see the Service!”
“You act like you want to stay a peasant in the fields, boy. You can’t be part of the Service, if you’re going to shame me like this. You’re as willful as a cat, only not so well-mannered!”
The duke’s voice was hard and cold as iron. Reade’s heart began to pound with shame. “But—” Reade began, not even certain of how he would defend himself.
“But you obviously have no sense of what it means to be the Sun-lord, what it means to rule over your people. If I bring you to Smithcourt, it’s so that you can restore order to your people, not ruin their lives. Look at the mess you’ve made of this field! Look at how the horse has torn up the farmer’s careful rows! Do you think it fair that a hardworking man’s labor was destroyed by your games?”
“I didn’t think—”
“Precisely, boy. You didn’t think at all! You acted like some foolish child. If you’re going to be the Sun-lord, you must leave behind your silly games. You have your people to think about now. Your people will depend on you for fairness and justice. Perhaps I chose the wrong person; perhaps you aren’t truly the Sun-lord. Maybe we should just ride back to the Headland now.”
“Please, Your Grace, it won’t happen again!” Reade had been so stupid! Why should he prove to Maida that he was brave? He was riding to Smithcourt, by all the Guardians! That should be enough to prove to anyone that he wasn’t a coward. “Please, my lord, don’t keep me from going to Smithcourt!”
In a flash, Reade realized that his words sounded like a grown man’s. He sounded noble! Reade knew how noblemen acted; Mum had told him stories. Nobles knelt down before people who were more important than they were. Reade sank to his knees in the muddy field, ignoring the squish of water through his golden robes.
From the ground, he could see his Great Mother. She had fallen in the mud, far to his right. Her head and the top half of her body stood up out of the earth, just like she’d been planted. Reade quickly looked away. Duke Coren must not realize that Reade had intended to ride into the field. Trying to distract the duke, Reade said quickly, “Your Grace, I didn’t think of the farmer who works this field, or the people who ride with us. I’m sorry! I’ll do anything to show you that!”
“Anything?” Reade swallowed hard. Duke Coren’s voice was shivery, like when he’d spoken to Donal in the small tavern room. Reade was afraid to look at the duke’s face, but he managed to nod his head once. The grown-up waited for a long time, so long that Reade thought he might have decided never to speak to Reade again. Finally, though, he said, “Very well, Sun-lord. Your words are spoken like those of a nobleman, and so you shall be treated as one.”
Sun-lord! That was better than “boy”! Maybe Duke Coren would forgive him. Reade kept his voice very small as he asked, “Please, Your Grace, what are you going to do?”
“No more—and no less—than Culain himself. When the Sun-lord wronged Culain, he was treated as a grown man. The Sun-lord chose his own punishment.”
“Ch—chose his punishment, Your Grace?” Reade dared to sneak a glance at Duke Coren’s face. He couldn’t read anything there, though, couldn’t tell if the duke was really angry, or if he was just angry like Mum was when she thought Reade needed to learn a lesson.
Choose a punishment. There were lots of horrible punishments. He could be forced to give back his golden robes, give back even his smallclothes and walk around naked. After all, he had acted like a baby, breaking rules, so he should be treated like a baby. He blushed as he thought about how all the soldiers would laugh at him.
Or he could be kept from eating dinner. Duke Coren could make him go to bed that night, without any food. But Duke Coren had done that
before, when Reade had just said bad things. This punishment would be worse, now that he had done something wrong. Reade realized that his hands were trembling, and he clenched them into fists.
He could be forced to feed Crusher. Duke Coren could make him cut up pieces of raw meat and hold them out to the dog. The dog might even decide that he wanted fresher meat, that he wanted to chew on little boy bones instead of his own food. Reade swayed on his feet, imagining Crusher’s hot breath, and he curled his arms across his belly.
His lips started to quiver. Before he could actually begin to cry, though, Duke Coren’s stallion snorted at a fly, stomping one mud-covered hoof in the muddy field. Reade felt almost weak with relief as he thought of another punishment. “Tonight, when we reach our camp, I’ll brush your horse.”
Duke Coren shook his head firmly. “I have a groom to tend my horse. You would gain nothing for the beast, for me, or for yourself.” Reade wasn’t going to gain anything for himself, no matter what punishment he chose. He shouldn’t say that to the duke, though. Choose his own punishment—this was the type of thing that Mum would think up.
“I’m waiting, Sun-lord.”
Reade shook his head, pretending that he could not think of any other punishments. “Please, Your Grace. What punishment would the Sun-lord choose?”
Duke Coren’s lips curved into a hard smile. “The Sun-lord would have recognized that his punishment should fit his deeds. If he played with the reins frivolously…”
Reade felt the words pulled out of him. He could not raise his head, could not lift his eyes from his muddy knees. “Then the reins should punish him. He should be struck with the reins.”
“How many times?”
How many? If Duke Coren asked, then once would not be enough. “Twice?”
“The Sun-lord would have asked for five.”
“Five.” When Reade said the word, he got a bitter taste in his mouth, like he’d been sick. He wanted to spit out the taste. He wanted to spit at Maida. This was all her fault. She was the coward! She should have spoken up by now. She should have told Duke Coren that it was her fault Reade had ridden out into the field.