Disciple, Part I: For Want of a Piglet

by L. Blankenship

My face had only just cooled and it heated back up. “I only ask because it was so… different.”

  “Never been kissed, even?” Apparently, that was amazing. “I’m glad I fixed that, then.”

  “I kissed Harold, once,” I said in my own defense. “He stole one. I let him.”

  “If you get through this and the next, we’ll sing again.” She smirked and indicated my full glass. I turned back to it and I was listing. Or else the table was. Gripping the rim in both hands, I straightened us both.

  “You’re doing very well, Kate,” M’lady… she didn’t have the grey streak by her ear. M’lady Lorcana said. She held up her glass. “You’re being a great help.”

  She drank, so I had to. I could barely taste it anymore.

  “Five days you’ve been our guest now. Do you think a wedding ’twixt Caercoed and Wodenberg could be happy? Could your Prince Kiefan wed one of ours?”

  I leaned back in my chair again. Five days. I had watched m’lord Aed and Tiarnan run their house and kitchen, precise in their expectations but kind when need be. Never had I eaten so well or so much. My shift was getting snug. A chuckle burbled up out of my warm glow, jiggled me in my seat. “Don’t expect him to cook, m’ladies,” I managed to say.

  They chuckled, and there were some comments in Caer and laughs.

  “What?” I asked, looking toward one of the speakers. “What?”

  Captain Mohra told me, “Only that they’d be willing to cook, if one of those knights waited in bed.”

  “Dame Kate.” Lorcana pushed through the mirth. “Do you think the Caer too different, too… wild, to be wives? In Wodenberg.”

  “Wild?” I echoed.

  “Some have said that.”

  I looked to the uniformed guards again, their boots on the tables, not minding that their braies showed where their hose ended. That they wore braies at all would be odd, in Wodenberg. “Saint Woden does claim some women for knights, m’lady. The captain of the King’s Guard is Dame Aleksandra — I haven’t heard her family name. Ask Kiefan, he told us that she squired him. And that no man can question her courage.”

  We didn’t drink again, but we sang the song in any case. I tried to get out of my chair for the dance, but fell against the table and Mohra caught me. She put me back in the chair and kissed me again at the end. Then she helped me out to a horse and into the saddle, and rode close beside me while the margraves spoke with Elect Tannait.

  I hadn’t realized that saddles were so slippery. The captain had to keep a grip on my arm.

  The guards at the gate welcomed us back. My eyes hung half-shut, by then, and it was a good thing my horse stopped along with the others. I leaned on Mohra; she was solid and warm.

  “Catch her?” she asked, and I blinked as she slid away. I flailed but fell only a little, into a pair of strong arms. The stirrups caught on my feet and I kicked at them.

  “Hold still,” Anders told me, shifting me higher on his shoulder, and the stirrups were pulled off my boots. “You have the horses, Tana? Doesn’t look like this one should try walking.”

  “I can walk,” I protested, swinging my feet down to try it. A few steps went well enough, but then one foot tripped on the other and Anders caught me.

  As he half-carried me, by the arm and waist, toward my room Anders told me, “My little sister came home this drunk, once. I helped her sneak in, but then she threw up. Feeling anything like that?”

  “I feel great,” I said, lolling against his shoulder. “I’m supposed to sneak? I don’t think we’re sneaking.”

  “Well, nobody here can thrash us for getting drunk. No need to sneak.”

  My room was at the top of the stairs, at the beginning of the hall. The sight of my bed made me tired. “I’ve never been so drunk. Didn’t even mind when Mohra kissed me.”

  “I’m sorry I missed that.” The lamp in the hall cast a slice of warm light through my room, enough to stand in while Anders pulled back the covers.

  I caught myself leaning too far and stumbled against the wall. Bed seemed like an eminently sensible idea, suddenly. “You’re right, I should go to bed. But I should tell Kiefan what happened.”

  “You can tell him in the morning.” Anders held out a hand. “Get some sleep first.”

  His hand was strong and warm when I took it, used it to steady myself as I crossed the floor. Then I remembered, “I should take my dress off,” and started to pull my hems up.

  “Don’t worry about that now,” he told me. “You’re tired. Get in bed.”

  It was a nice, warm bed. M’lord Aed had laid on plenty of quilts and wooly blankets. The straw stuffing was fresh, I could tell by the scent when I fell onto it. I started to climb in and realized my boots were on. And what was stuck in my boot. “Your knife,” I said, and lifted my leg up to get it.

  Anders intercepted my hand, took the little knife, tugged my foot down and pulled my skirts back over my bare knees. “Got it. And your boots.”

  He untied them and loosened the laces. Nobody ever took my boots off for me, before. “You see? Like I said, you can be kind. Without all that foolishness.”

  Anders’ voice dropped. “You’re not making it easy.”

  From the door, Kiefan said, “I’ll make it easy for you.” He leaned against the sill, partly blocking the lamplight, arms crossed over the silhouetted moon on his chest. “You keep your hands where I can see them.”

  My boots slid off, one at a time. “And what’s it to you, where my hands are?” Anders asked. “You can’t be jealous of how quickly I got into her skirts. Unless…” He trailed off as he stood. I pulled my feet up before they got cold, and grabbed at the covers. “Unless you want her.”

  “Leave her alone. And go.”

  Anders stepped past him through the doorway, trading glare for glare. Kiefan put his hand on the latch and drew the door shut as he went, lip pulled under his teeth as he looked back at me.

  “The Crowns’ courier did bring word from Castle Adhalon,” Leix told us. “She winters there, at Arforddinas.”

  She put her finger on the map spread on the table, on the coastal city nearest the southern tip of Caercoed. Below Arforddinas, the mountains and then Suevia. Kiefan had laid out our map of Wodenberg so that the Eispitzen overlapped Caercoed’s Iawyr — as the two lines of mountains were one and the same. The margraves’ town of Faen lay nearly due east of Vorspitz.

  “They reaffirm ’tis my judgment where Tadhlon’s forces march in the spring. I did neglect to tell you our brother Oisin is Crown Consort. When they were but princesses, the Crowns were as our younger sisters.”

  Leix had brought us all to this office, even Ilya and Ulf, who’d been working as handymen to keep busy. Ther Boristan sat scribing in his book, as he had at all the meetings, and m’lady Lorcana did the same. I stood by the table with hands clasped, not sure what my part was, studying the Caercoed map and trying to work out the place names through the fancy script. The pounding in my head had eased a bit after a trencher of eggs and three cups of tea, but it was still hard to focus.

  “The Crowns don’t wish to meet?” Kiefan asked.

  She shook her head. “Winter Court is hip-deep in plots and intrigue. To toss you in would be less than kind. Fortunate for Wodenberg, then, that Dame Kate answered so well last night and I’m partial to killing monsters. Are we to cross through your pass, Prince Kiefan? ’Twill be dangerous, come spring. Avalanches.”

  “There’s a smuggler’s trail,” Kiefan said, pointing out the very southeastern corner of Wodenberg. “Our border here is steep hills, and guarded. If you push through your southern pass early and hook north, it will get you to Wodenberg. Though the danger may be equal. I’ll write you a letter of introduction and give you some names — which must be guarded closely.” He paused until Leix nodded in agreement. “My mother the Queen is Suevi, the last of their royal blood after Arcea’s slaughter. There are those who will help, in Suevia, but they do it at peril of their lives.”

  “Why a letter of int
roduction? Come yourself. Be welcome to winter here.”

  “We leave soon as we can,” Kiefan said, which caught everyone’s ear.

  A shiver shot down my spine, the echo of far too many days in that snow.

  “The Grain Moon’s waning fast, m’lord,” Boristan said.

  “All the more reason. The Leaf Moon won’t be any warmer on Starknadel. The word must get to Baron Eismann and Margrave Schutze to redistribute their reserves. And to watch the smuggler’s trail for your soldiers. They can see you safely over, if need be.” Kiefan paused a moment. “And I must take the word to my father.”

  Leix pointed out, “’Twould be a pleasant surprise, riding to your city’s relief with Caer knights.”

  I was only across the table, and I barely heard Kiefan murmur, “Father hates surprises.” Louder, “I’m honored by your offer of hospitality, m’lady, but I must go.”

  Her grimace seemed honest enough. Leix exchanged a worried look with her sister. “’Tis only the marriage to discuss, then. The Crowns have their consort and their heirs. The princesses are too young for such things, but there’s others. Duchesses of age.”

  “I’m sure a suitable marriage will be the simplest of the matters,” Kiefan said.

  “We’ll speak more on it in the spring. At your feast table.” Leix smiled.

  Chapter 10

  Leave-taking needed another day of preparation. I’d recharged my blood-stops and cleansers; Ulf and Ilya had done the same with the warming charms. Puck and Acorn had enjoyed their week’s sleep and good grazing, Anders reported.

  Not even the autumn Equinox could keep Kiefan from beginning the trip home. The Gwatcyn’s gate-yard was decked with banners for tomorrow’s festival and the kitchen ran full tilt baking and roasting. We were squeezed down to a cluster around the end of one table to drink our brandy, that final evening.

  Still, we had that chance to clear out our few grievances, as one ought to at Equinox. When light and dark balanced, one should balance one’s accounts with the community. But most of our personal accounts waited at home; the mountain pass had bound us in close camaraderie, and we easily said all we needed to say. Quiet followed.

  I only sipped my brandy, still wary after the interrogation’s headache. Kiefan sat at the table end closest to the fire, writing on a sheet of fine linen paper. We watched him finish with his signature. “This is for my father,” he said, folding it. “Should anything happen, it’s this bag that must be put in my father’s hands.” It was a plain enough leather shoulder bag. Kiefan added the letter to its contents. “It’s all here: Ther Boristan’s book, letters from the Crowns and the margraves, a draft of the treaty. The list of marriage prospects. All of it.”

  “It’s true, then? You’ll have to marry one of these — ladies?” Ulf asked.

  Kiefan buckled the bag’s flap tightly. “It’s hardly a matter of wanting.” Bringing it with him, he joined us at the hearth and reclaimed the glass of brandy he’d left on the mantle. He took a deep breath of its fumes, then sipped.

  “They’re good enough shots with a bow, m’lord, and their crossbows are impressive. M’ladies have been fine hostesses and I’d be glad enough to visit. But these brassy girls for wives?”

  I had seen Ther Boristan’s diagrams of the crossbows in his book. Ulf said they were powerful, and that was enough explanation for me.

  “It’s hardly a sacrifice, in comparison to what I asked of those who followed my charge at Ansehen,” Kiefan replied. Sadness lingered around his mouth. “I only ask my marriage be peaceful. Mother Love knows that’s eluded the king and queen.”

  Ilya spoke up in the quiet that followed. “They weren’t always so angry. It was your brothers dying that drove them apart.”

  Ulf said, “We all grieved for the little princes, m’lord.”

  My eyes wandered to Anders, but he only studied his brandy. Even if it were true that he was the king’s bastard son, it was hardly his fault. He’d had no say in the matter.

  “We’ve an early morning,” Kiefan said to break the silence. “Thank the Mother for your warm bed, tonight.” As the other four made agreeing noises, he turned to me. “Kate?”

  I let him take my hand and kiss it. When I put my hand to his cheek and called up my kir, I didn’t see any tangles in him. “You’ve a headache? I don’t see any…”

  He put his hand over mine, pressed it with his eyes shut. “I wanted your touch.”

  The melancholy in his voice pinched my heart. “You only have to ask,” I murmured.

  Kiefan’s fingers combed into my loose hair and drew me into a kiss, gentle and chaste but slow to part. I confess I tensed in surprise, held my breath. But my heart pounded.

  “I didn’t want to risk Starknadel without having done that,” he whispered, near my lips. When my eyes opened, there was a faint smile on him.

  The margrave’s question flashed through my memory. Should m’lord order you to his bed — as if he would need to order, after the hours we’d spent studying d’Ovio Alain’s dialogues together. My hand, which had fallen to his shoulder, trembled and I took it back. I knew what happened to girls with neither dowry nor virtue, despite my spirit-bolstered claim during the interrogation.

  “M’lord, you know Father Duty’s teachings,” Ther Boristan said, perhaps a bit louder than need be. “A moment’s fun is a poor trade for a lifetime’s happiness. Not only yours — hers.”

  I looked, and they were all watching. Boristan frowned, Ulf seemed amused, Ilya’s mouth was pursed and uncertain. Anders merely drained his glass of brandy and said, “I’m off to enjoy that warm bed.”

  “It’s only a good-night kiss, Ther,” Kiefan said, letting me go. To me, warmly, “Good night.”

  And he melted me all over again. I wanted another kiss, I wanted his arms around me. They thought the Caer were brassy? I was only a peasant girl, but dared to moon over a prince.

  I murmured, “Good night. M’lord.”

  Next evening, though, I put the lesson Captain Mohra had given me to good use. And I did surprise him, though only for a moment and then his tongue was quite able to match mine. My skin throbbed where his hands had landed on my waist; I felt the pressure even through my layered boy’s cotes. He’d seen me to the little lean-to I shared with the captain and another Caer, and they were waiting back at the campfire. I’d taken my leave a little early in hopes of precisely this moment of privacy.

  “Good night,” Kiefan murmured, lingering at close range for a tantalizing moment.

  I hadn’t realized my hands were trembling until his found them, squeezed them. That gave him pause, and I took the chance to try to swallow the tightness in my throat.

  “I don’t mean to frighten you,” he whispered, shifting away.

  The truth spilled out of me. “I’m frightened of myself.”

  Kiefan squeezed my hands again as he took a full step back. His mouth pulled to the side and he wanted to say something more, I was sure, but he slipped away instead. He left me alone with wild daydreams to dispel as best I could.

  Captain Mohra saw us up the hill as far as the frozen spring, two easy days on horseback with her squad cooking and setting up shelter for us. Frost sparkled every morning on the leaf-littered ground. The trees’ flame-painted cloaks thinned.

  Two days without another good-night kiss. My blood cooled a little, aided by a conveniently timed lecture Ther Boristan gave on Father Duty’s lessons of discipline. I read a little more of my master’s book and Kiefan helped translate, both of us on best behavior.

  A mushy crust of snow had reached the bottom of the cliff face, and thickened as we rode up to the spring. At the top, the spring took some finding, lost as it was under snow and too frozen to flow anymore. I recognized the rocks near it. Captain Mohra doubted me, at first, for the scattered rubble all looked much the same.

  “You remember the rocks?” Kiefan asked, a bit puzzled as well.

  “When Ulf called us down, we stopped at the edge here,” I said. Checking
my memory, I pointed to two boulders that seemed to have noses and eyebrows. “Those didn’t have any snow on them. There was a blue jay on the taller one.” The bright flash of feathers had caught my eye.

  He tipped his head now, curious. “What else do you remember?”

  I checked my memory again. “Your cloak was sodden about a handspan from the hem. When you took a handful of water and drank, you noticed how thick the stubble on your chin was. Then Puck nosed you aside to get some water himself.”

  “I hadn’t known you saw so much detail.”

  “I remember everything I see,” I said. It was simple as that.

  “And smell? Feel?”

  “Yes.”

  Kiefan paused a moment. Voices called us to dinner at the campfire, and we started across the gravelly snow. “So when you cut off Adalrich’s foot, you remember…”

  “Everything, yes.”

  “What he said?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “It sounded like what people say when they’ve forgotten,” Kiefan said. “You remember taking — an axe?”

  “Saw. Master Parselev had cut much of the flesh off, but then Sir Adalrich punched our orderly, put him down hard. Master had to help keep him on the table. I was the last free pair of hands. Fortunate that I’m a carpenter’s daughter.” I thought it amusing enough for a smile, but the prince looked a little pale.

  “I still have nightmares of the charge, and it’s only a handful of clear moments when I try to think of it. I doubt I could stand to have anything more,” he said.

  “My memories can be put away,” I told him. “Like folded blankets. But I do have nightmares, now and then.”

  In the morning, we left the Caers to strike their camp and continued up the snowy slope. Ulf led, somehow finding the trail through ankle-deep snow — I knew it was the same we’d come down by, largely — and I fell into a dogged rhythm with my feet.

  The first snowstorm hit us that afternoon.

  We lost three days to storms, and hours to passing squalls. I only noticed the wind when it eddied for a moment, dropped enough that when it rose again it was a fresh knife across my face. My nose bled as I gasped for air, and froze more than clotted. We all coughed and panted and slogged as best we could through thigh-deep snow.