Crown of Renewal (Legend of Paksenarrion) (34 page)

“I should; the king said it was urgent—” But was that true? Her duty to the king required all possible haste, but her duty to her own land and people also mattered. She must write to the squires’ fathers—including, in the peculiar situation still existing, Beclan’s father. She must write to the training halls for the knights, as well. She could not write that many messages tonight and then ride at dawn for Vérella; she was simply too tired.

“You’re right, Beclan,” she said finally. “Given the danger—though I believe I can escape it—I must make better preparation here. I will need you here tomorrow, though I may send you out to the nearer vills. In the morning I’ll send word to Gwenno and Daryan; they may be close enough to arrive before I leave. Tonight I’ll write the king and let his courier take that.” She headed back to the office with him. “I was very pleased to see how well you’re getting along with the road workers, Beclan. And the way you were able to present yourself as kirgan so quickly today.”

“Thank you, my lord.” He yawned. “I could copy messages for you if that would be helpful.”

“Bring the rest of your supper into the office and keep me company while I write to the king,” Dorrin said. “And bring sib and an extra pastry if you see one.”

“Yes, my lord,” Beclan said.

She had just rubbed the inkstick in water when he arrived with a tray of food, dishes, and a pot of sib. It smelled so good Dorrin’s stomach rumbled. She unwrapped the writing paper and pulled a sheet from the top of the stack, covering the rest and retying the ribbon, then dipped her quill in the ink and began her letter to the king.

“My lord.” Beclan set a mug of sib and a plate on the desk.

“Thank you.” She glanced up and realized he’d piled the plate with slices of roast lamb, redroots, steamed barley.

“Cook left a plate for you, too, my lord. And you did not eat when I did.”

Dorrin grinned. “Thank you, Beclan. I forgot supper in my haste to pack and then tell you what the situation was. I’ll eat when I’ve finished this.” A short letter was all Mikeli needed; she finished it, blotted it, and set it safely aside before eating. She was aware of the
silence in the old house—not ominous, just … still. Children asleep upstairs; servants gone to their beds. The chink of knife on plate seemed loud.

When they’d finished, Beclan took the tray back to the kitchen. Dorrin let her hand take light and went to the front of the house, opening the heavy front door to the night air. A breeze brought the scents of a spring night leaning to summer—and the moo of a startled cow grazing near the steps. Several loud plops—more than one cow, then—and hooves thudded away. Dorrin laughed. It was a clear night, the stars softened by moist air but spangled across the sky. Cows grazing quietly were proof nothing was outside but the night itself.

She stood in the cool air, listening to Beclan walking back to the stairs, up them to his own room. She had been so determined to get away from this place as a girl; she had never expected to become fond of it, let alone so quickly. Again she felt a pang at the thought of leaving, going somewhere strange.

Come, Queen, and claim your crown before it is too late
.

And there was the challenge. A crown she must now wear, sworn as she was to Mikeli as his vassal. And why too late? Too late for what?

The vision assailed her even as she stood there: waves of sand rolling across the fields and forests she knew, scorching heat, the great river drying in the sun until all lay barren.

Next morning before dawn, she handed the courier the message bag. “The king will understand,” she said. “I will make all haste, but must ensure the security of the border.” Much less arrogant than he had been the night before, he bowed and said, “Yes, my lord. Of course.” He rode off at first light, and Dorrin started in on what promised to be a very busy day.

Grekkan was not surprised when she told him she must leave and for an indefinite period.

“War, my lord?”

“I don’t know,” Dorrin said. “If it were an invasion, I’m certain he would have said so, telling me to bring what troops I could, but it’s some matter of great importance. I will learn more when I reach Vérella.” Not exactly a lie, as Alured’s known desire for the regalia posed a military threat. “I’m leaving Beclan here; I hope he will rely on your advice, but he is staying as my kirgan.”

Grekkan’s brows went up. “My lord—”

“He’s underage, I know. But should the king’s command lead me into a prolonged absence or … or danger, then he
is
my heir, and the circumstances have not permitted me to name guardians. I intend to do that in Vérella. I am taking Gwenno Marrakai with me but leaving Daryan Serrostin as companion to Beclan; I will speak to both their families about canceling their contracts if, again, the king’s commands require a long absence. Beclan won’t hold their contracts no matter what happens to me.”

“Yes, my lord. Do you … do you foresee any difficulty should there be a … ummm … gap?”

“I think Beclan has more sense now than to push his authority, if that’s what you’re asking. They should not be sent on the road alone, is my concern.”

She left Grekkan with a list of things to be done and not done. Messengers had already gone out to find Gwenno and Daryan, who should be on their way back from patrol. Farin had the kitchen staff at work preparing food for the journey.

Around midday, Gwenno and her patrol rode in; they had scarcely dismounted when Daryan’s arrived. Dorrin looked out on the stableyard full of horses and watched the two squires properly organize their patrols for dismissal. They had both come a long way. Gwenno was certainly ready to enter the Bells if her family could persuade the Bells to admit a female member—and they might even send her to Fin Panir. Daryan needed another year as a squire.

They appeared at her office door shortly. “My lord duke, what service?”

“I have been summoned to Vérella by the king,” Dorrin said. “From the tenor of his message, I may be absent for some time—longer than you should be left here without my presence. If the king needs his Constable’s presence in Vérella, you might stay with me there and continue as squires, but with the threat of war from Aarenis, his need may be other. It might be something dangerous enough that neither I nor your families would choose to risk you with me. I will not know the extent of the duties he requires until I am there—”

“We could stay here,” Daryan said. “Beclan’s not so bad.”

Yes, Daryan was still too young for the Bells. Dorrin shook her head. “If I must be gone for a long time, you cannot. Your family’s contract is with me, not with my heir. I do not deny you would be helpful about the estate, as you have been, but that makes no matter.”

Gwenno opened her mouth and shut it again; Dorrin nodded at her. “You may speak, Gwenno.”

“I just thought … if you might be kept in Vérella, should we go with you? Or would you rather we stayed here until you sent word?”

“I was coming to that,” Dorrin said. “The situation is slightly different for each of you. Beclan and you, Gwenno, are now old enough
to begin training as knights, even though your squire terms are not over. Ideally, you would continue as squires another year, but you have both had more responsibility than many squires outside of active military units. It’s my understanding that novices are inducted into the Bells around Midsummer. If you, Gwenno, were to come to Vérella with me, your family might be able to arrange your entrance.”

Gwenno grinned, then sobered, with a glance at Daryan, who looked stricken. “Daryan?”

Dorrin looked at him. “You’re still too young, Daryan. You have made remarkable progress, as I will tell your family, but you are still shooting up in height, and that—as I’m sure our armsmaster has told you—means you should wait at least a year before entering the Bells. In addition, your second thumb is budding; you should not be in heavy training until it is full-grown and you can use it as easily as the other. If I am able to return quickly, I will be glad to continue training you as squire and then present you to the Bells myself.” She paused; he said nothing. She went on. “There is another possibility. Duke Arcolin, I hear from him, has a squire with the recruits in the north, a lad about your age. Duke Arcolin has married, and his lady and his adopted son, a boy scarce learning his letters, are staying north while he’s campaigning. I know of my own experience how useful another squire might be up there.”

The two of them looked at her, now both wide-eyed. “Or you may stay here and await the news.”

“What about Beclan? Are you sending him away?”

“Not yet. All will depend on what the king tells me when I get to Vérella. Now: this is my decision to make, but I want to hear
your
reasons for coming with me or staying here. Gwenno, you first.”

“For staying: I would be a help here. Continuing the patrols as usual would give me more experience, and there’s still much to learn. I could also be a support to Daryan and Beclan, and as the only girl, I could continue to show the little girls that a girl can be strong without being mean.” She paused. Dorrin nodded, and she went on. “But if I went with you, then if you had to end my contract with you, I would be near my family. I hope they would send me to the Bells or perhaps to Fin Panir if the Bells will not take a girl.”

“Have they ever?” Dorrin asked.

“Yes, my lord, but not every year, and not very many. Not very many apply, I think. At any rate, if I were in Vérella already, my family would not worry that I might travel alone from Verrakai Steading.”

“Daryan?”

“Yes, my lord. I think much the same as Gwenno about staying here. I am learning so much in all those things you told us to study and master. So I can be useful here, and I feel—I feel more at home with Beclan and Gwenno than with my own brothers and sisters. I like the country more than the city—though I never did spend much time there, except at the quarter-courts. I’m not—I would trust Beclan, my lord, to be fair, if he were in charge.”

“I’m glad of that,” Dorrin said. “I, too, feel that he is much more mature and reliable now. But the fact is that he’s not a knight or a lord himself yet, and he’s underage to hold your oaths in contract. So—your thoughts about coming with me?”

“It would please my father,” Daryan said. “He might find me another squire’s place, if that’s necessary, but—my lord, I want to be
your
squire.”

Kieri had had squires who needed a firm nudge to go when their time was up, caught in their admiration for their commander. Dorrin glanced at Gwenno, who stirred as if to speak and then said nothing. “I think it best if Gwenno comes with me when I go. Daryan, you will stay here with Beclan. If it is necessary, your family will send an escort for you. I will speak to your father while I’m in Vérella and suggest Duke Arcolin as another place you might find squire experience.”

The rest of the afternoon Dorrin spent writing letters—to the squires’ parents, to King Kieri, to Arcolin, to her banker. She spoke to Natzlin about security; now that Natzlin was no longer riding out on patrols every few days, she seemed more energetic, though she still limped at the end of the day. At dinner, Gwenno reported herself ready to ride: packed, her horses and Dorrin’s shod and fit for the journey.

Next morning, they rode out toward the new-made road: Dorrin, Gwenno, and a guard of six. No one, Dorrin thought, would expect her to go to Vérella this way. Clouds obscured sunrise, and it smelled like rain. They made good time to the road builders’ camp; Dorrin
stopped to congratulate the foreman and handed him a pouch. “I’ve been called to the king,” she said. “I may be gone on the half-day—” The traditional payday for such workers, every quarter and half-quarter day. “—so I’m giving you this now.”

“It’s not done yet. Still rough. Won’t get the permanent bridges in this year, most like.”

“I know. But you’ve made good progress; I’m very pleased.”

“Found another,” he said in a low voice as his crew went back to work. “Two.” He slipped a hand into a pocket and gave them to her. One blue, one clear. She put them away in her own pocket and nodded.

“My thanks.”

“Gird go with you, my lord.”

“And Gird strengthen your arm,” she replied.

Beyond that, the road was amply wide enough for two abreast without clashing spurs. Rain began, first a drizzle, then a steady light rain. Soon they could hear water trickling down the slopes, and the horses’ hooves sucked holes in the road that filled quickly. Where possible, they rode off the road’s surface, but this end of the steading was thickly forested, and most of it on a slope.

They made what speed they could without straining the horses or the pack mules and camped on a terrace above one of the creeks that crossed the road. Here the road builders had used timber they’d cleared for the road to make one of the bridges the foreman insisted were not permanent. It wasn’t very high above the water, but it was strong enough for one horse at a time to cross at a foot pace and saved fording the creek.

“It would be worse mud on the River Road,” Dorrin said to Gwenno as the escort set up tents. “The courier’s horse came in splashed above the knees and hocks, though it hadn’t rained for days.”