Lady Knight (4 page)

Kel indicated the boy’s guardian. “It’s not so long ago that I convinced him not to savage everyone in reach. I’ve known him eight years. I was sure he’d kill you.”

“Aww, he’s a good un.” Tobe wrapped a casual hand around as much of Peachblossom’s right foreleg as he could manage. “Ain’t nobody likes Alvik - me master, there.”

Here came Alvik himself with a writing board, quill, inkpot, a sheet of grimy paper, sealing wax and a candle. Kel briskly signed Tobe’s indenture papers, handed over the coins, and watched the innkeeper also sign, then seal the document. As soon as Kel had the completed bill of Tobe’s indenture sale in hand, Alvik fled. He passed Neal and Jump on their way in.

“You know, Mindelan, our lives would be easier if the dog just broke down and talked,” Kel’s friend announced. “I was winning that card game.” He glared down at Jump. “There was no need to grab me.”

Kel smiled. “If you’re not bleeding, he was being nice, and it’s not fair for you to play cards with ordinary folk.” To Tobe she explained, “He remembers all the cards dealt.”

Neal looked to see who she spoke to, and stared. “Kel, that monster has a boy under his belly.”

“That monster hasn’t touched him,” replied Kel. Neal had every reason to expect the worst of the big gelding. “Will you take a look at the boy? Tobe - Tobeis Boon, this is my friend, Neal.” She didn’t give Neal’s titles, not wanting to make the boy uncomfortable. “Tobe, my friend is a healer. I want him to look at you.”

“Not while he’s in there,” protested Neal.

At the same time the boy said, “He’s no healer, just some noble.”

Neal glared at Tobe. “I’m a healer and a noble.” He looked at Kel. “What have you done now, Mindelan?”

Kel shrugged. “I need a servant. Tobe seemed to want a change, so I hired him away from the innkeeper.”

“You mean he’s another of your strays,” Neal pointed out. “Didn’t that griffin teach you anything?”

“Griffin?” Tobe asked, scooting a little forward of Peachblossom’s legs. “You saw a griffin?”

Kel smiled. “I’ll tell you about it if you’ll let Neal have a look at you.”

Tobe eyed Neal with considerable suspicion. “Folk like him don’t touch the likes of me.”

“If you knew how I spent my squiredom, you’d know the likes of you are most of what I ended up touching,” Neal informed him. “I can get rid of your lice and fleas,” he added as Tobe scratched himself.

“Cannot,” retorted the boy.

“Can too,” Neal replied. “The handiest spell I ever learned.”

Convinced that Neal would talk the boy around, Kel went to see about having a hot bath drawn and carried up to her room.

“Miss, you shouldna bother with that un,” the maid she paid for the service commented. “He’s a gutter rat, as like to bite a helpin’ hand as not.”

Thinking of Peachblossom and the baby griffin she’d once cared for, Kel replied, “If he does, it won’t be the first time.”

When Neal brought Tobe to her room, Kel was just donning the oiled canvas cloak and the broadbrimmed hat she used to keep off the rain. Under the cloak she wore a quilted coat made by her former maid Lalasa, now a dressmaker. Lalasa had spared no effort on the coat for the mistress who had given her a start. By the time Kel had tied the cloak around her neck, she was sweating.

“Here he is.” Neal pushed open Kel’s door to admit Jump and Tobe. “Did you order supper for him?”

“I remember that much from my own healings, thank you,” Kel replied. “I appreciate your seeing to him, Neal.”

Her friend waved a hand in dismissal and left, closing the door. Kel regarded her new servant. “You see that?” She pointed to the tub that sat squarely in front of the hearth. “It’s a bath. You climb in and you don’t climb out and eat before you’re clean. Scrub all over, understand?” She saw that Neal had done well: the boy’s weals and scabbed-over cuts showed now as pink, healthy, new skin. “There’s soap in that bowl. Use it,” she continued. “The little pick is to clean under your nails. Remember your hair, your ears and your private parts.”

The boy went to the tub, stuck a finger in the water, and glared at Kel. “It’s hot!” he exclaimed.

“Don’t expect hot baths every night,” she told him, straight-faced. She could see that he was dismayed at the thought of washing in hot water. “But you’ll do this on your own, or I’ll do it for you, with a scrub brush. My servants are clean.”

Tobe hung his head. “Yes, lady.”

Kel pointed to the bed, where she had set out drying cloths and one of her spare shirts. “Dry with those and put that on for now,” she said. “Don’t wear your old things.”

“Not even me loincloth?” he asked, horrified.

“You’re getting fresh ones. Clean ones,” she said, immovable. “I’m off to take care of that now. When you’re dry, wrap up in a blanket and look outside - the maid will leave a tray with your supper by the door. I got a pallet for you -” she pointed to it, on the side of the hearth opposite the table - “so you can go to bed. You’ll be sleepy after a decent supper and Neal’s magicking.”

“Yes, lady,” replied the boy. He was glum but resigned to fresh clothes and a bath. He glanced around the room, his eyes widening at the sight of her glaive propped in a corner. “What pig-sticker is that?”

Kel smiled. “It’s a Yamani naginata - we call it a glaive. I learned to use one in the islands, and it’s the weapon I’m best with. Clothes, off. Bath, now, Tobe.”

He gaped, then exclaimed, “With a girl lookin’ on? Lady, some places a fellow’s got to draw the line!”

“Very true,” Kel replied solemnly, trying not to grin. “Don’t give Jump any food. He’s had one good meal tonight already.”

Jump, sprawled between the tub and the fire, belched and scratched an ear. His belly was plump with stolen meat.

Kel rested a hand on Tobe’s shoulder. “You’ll do as I ask?”

He nodded without meeting her eyes.

Kel guessed what was on his mind. “I’ll never beat you, Tobe,” she said quietly. “Ever. I may dunk you in the tub and scrub you myself if I come back to find you only washed here and there, but you won’t bleed, you won’t bruise, and you won’t hobble out of this room. Understand?”

He looked up into her face. “Why do this, lady?” he asked, curious. “I’m on’y a nameless whelp, with the mark of Scanra on me. What am I to the likes of you?”

Kel thought her reply over before she gave it. This could be the most important talk she would have with Tobe. She wanted to be sure that she said the right things. “Well, Peachblossom likes you,” she answered slowly. “He’s a fine judge of folk, Peachblossom. Except Neal. He’s prejudiced about Neal.”

“He just likes the way Neal squeaks when he’s bit,” Tobe explained.

Kel tucked away a smile. It sounded like something Peachblossom would think. “And for the rest? I do it because I can. I’ve been treated badly, and I didn’t like it. And I hate bullies. Now pile those rags by the door and wash up. The water’s getting cold.” Not waiting for him to point out that cooler water didn’t seem so bad, she walked out and closed the door. She listened for a moment, waiting until she heard splashes and a small yelp.

He’s funny, she thought, striding down the hall. I like how he speaks his mind. Alvik didn’t beat that from him, praise Mithros.

At the top of the stairs, Kel halted. Below her, out of sight, she could hear Neal: “…broken finger, half-healed broken arm, cracked ribs, and assorted healed breaks. I’m giving your name to the magistrate. I’ll recommend he look in on you often, to see the treatment you give your other servants.”

“Yes, milord, of course, milord.” That was Innkeeper Alvik’s unmistakable voice, oily and mocking at the same time. “I’m sure my friend the magistrate will be oh so quick to look in on’ me, as you say, once you’re down the road. Just you worry about Scanra. They’ll be making it so hot for you there, you’ll be hard put to remember us Queensgrace folk.”

“Yes, well, I thought of that,” Neal said, his voice quiet but hard. “So here’s something on account, something your magistrate can’t undo.”

She heard a rustle of cloth. Alvik gasped. “Forcing a magic on me is a Crown offence!”

“Who will impress the Crown more, swine? The oldest son of Baird of Queenscove, or you?” asked Neal cruelly. “And did my spell hurt?”

“Noooo,” Alvik replied, dragging the sound out. Kel imagined he was checking his body for harm.

“It won’t,” Neal said. “At least, as long as you don’t hit anyone. When you do, well, you’ll feel the blow as if you struck yourself. Clever spell, don’t you think? I got the idea from something the Chamber of the Ordeal did once.” Neal’s voice went colder. “Mind what I say, innkeeper. When you strike a servant, a child, your wife, your own body will take the punishment. Mithros cut me down if I lie.”

“All this over a whore’s brat!” snarled the innkeeper. “You nobles are mad!”

“The whore’s brat is worth far more than you.” Neal’s voice was a low growl at the bottom of the stairs. “He’s got courage. You have none. Get out of my sight.”

Kel waited for the innkeeper to flee to his kitchen and Neal to return to the common room before she descended. It was useless to say anything to Neal. He would just be embarrassed that he’d been caught doing a good deed. He liked to play the cynical, heartless noble, but it was all for show. Kel wouldn’t ruin it for him.

It was a long ride to the wagonloads of goods for those made homeless by the Scanrans. Her lantern, hung from a pole to light Hoshi’s way, provided scant light as icy rain sizzled on its tin hood. Other riders were out, members of the army camped on either side of the road for miles. Thanks to their directions, Kel found the wagons in a village two miles off the Great Road North. They were drawn up beside one of the large, barnlike buildings raised by the Crown to shelter troops and equipment on the road year after year. In peaceful years local folk used the buildings to hold extra wood, grain, animals and even people made homeless by natural disasters.

The miserable-looking guards who watched the wagons scowled at Kel, but fetched the quartermaster.

Once Kel placed money in his palm, the quartermaster allowed her to open the crates and barrels in a wagonload of boys’ clothes.

The wagon’s canvas hood kept off the weather as Kel went through the containers. Tobe looked to be about ten, but he was a runty ten, just an inch or two over four feet in height, bony and undersized from a life of cheap, scant rations. She chose carefully until she had three each of loincloths, sashes, shirts, breeches and pairs of stockings, three pairs of shoes that might fit, a worn but serviceable coat and a floppy-brimmed hat. If she was going to lead Tobe into battlelands, the least she could do was see him properly clothed. The army tailors could take in shirts and breeches to fit him properly; the cobblers could adjust his shoes. Once she had bundled everything into a burlap sack, Kel mounted Hoshi, giving a copper noble to the soldier who had kept the mare inside a shelter, out of the wet. As the rain turned to sleet, they plodded back to Queensgrace.

In Kel’s room, Tobe sat dozing against the wall, afloat in her shirt. When Kel shut the door, his eyes flew open, sky-blue in a pale face. “I don’t care if you was drunk or mad or takin’ poppy or rainbow dream or laugh powder, you bought my bond and signed your name and paid money for me and you can’t return me to ol’ Alvik,” he told her without taking a breath. He inhaled, then continued, “If you try I’ll run off ‘n’ steal ‘n’ when I’m caught I’ll say I belong to you so they’ll want satisfaction from you. I mean it! You can’t blame drink or drug or anything and then get rid of me because I won’t go.”

Kel waited for him to run out of words as water trickled off her hat and cloak on to the mat by the door. She gave Tobe a moment after he stopped talking, to make sure that he was done, before she asked, “What is that about?”

“See?” he cried. “You forgot me already - me, Tobeis Boon, whose bond you bought tonight. I knew you was drunk or takin’ a drug or mad. But here I am an’ here I stay. You need me… to… to carry your wine jug, an’ cut the poppy brick for you to smoke, an’, an’ make sure you eat - “

Kel raised her eyebrows. “Quiet,” she said in the calm, firm tone she had learned from Lord Raoul.

Tobe blinked and closed his mouth.

Kel walked over and blew into his face so he could smell her liquor- and drug-free breath. “I’m not drunk,” she told him. “I take no drugs. If I’m mad, it’s in ways that don’t concern you. I went out to get you clothes, Tobe. You can’t go north wearing only a shirt.”

She tossed the sack on to her bed and walked back to the puddle she’d left by the door, then struggled to undo the tie on her hat. Her fingers were stiff with cold even after grooming Hoshi and treating her to a hot mash.

When she removed the hat, a pair of small, scarred hands took it and leaned it against the wall to dry. Once Kel had shed the cloak, Tobe hung it from a peg, then knelt to remove her boots. “I have clothes,” he said, wrestling off one boot while Kel braced herself.

“I saw,” she replied, eyeing the heap they made on the floor. “I wouldn’t let a cat have kittens on them. I ought to take Alvik before a magistrate anyway. Your bond says you get two full suits of clothes, a coat and a sturdy pair of shoes every year.”

“It does?” he asked, falling on his rump with her boot in his hands.

Kel reached inside her tunic and pulled out his indenture papers. “Right there,” she told him, pointing to the paragraph. When Tobe frowned, she knew Alvik had neglected something else. “You can’t read, can you?” she asked.

“Alvik said I din’t need no schoolin’, bcos I was too stupid to learn,” Tobe informed Kel,-searching for a cloth to wipe her boots with. He was practised at this: the innkeeper had taught him to look after guests’ belongings as well as their horses, Kel supposed.

“Lessons,” she said, folding the papers once more. “After we’re settled in the north.” She yawned. “Wake me at dawn. We’ll try those clothes on you then. And I’m not sure about the, the -” she yawned again - “shoes. I’m not sure these will fit. If we stop on the way, perhaps…”

She looked around, exhaustion addling her brain. Her normal bedtime on the road was much earlier than this. She eyed the door, her dripping hat and cloak, her boots, Tobe.

“Lady?” he asked quietly. “Sounds like you mean to do all manner of things for me. What was you wishful of me doin’ for you?”

“Oh, that,” Kel said, realizing that she hadn’t told him what duties he would have. “You’ll look after my horses and belongings, and in four years you’ll be free.” A will, she realized. I need to make a will so he can be freed if I’m slain.

She picked up her water pitcher and drank from the rim. “For that, I am duty bound to see that you are fed, clothed and educated. We’ll settle things like days off. You’ll learn how to clean armour and weapons. That ought to keep you busy enough.”

He nodded. “Yes, lady.”

“Very well, then. Go to bed. I’m exhausted.” Unbuttoning her shirt, she realized he hadn’t moved. “Bed,” she said firmly. “Cover your head till I say you can come out. I won’t undress while you watch.”

She took her nightshirt out of a saddlebag and finished changing once Tobe was on his pallet with his eyes hidden. In the end, she had to uncover him. He’d gone to sleep with the blanket over his head. Kel banked the fire and blew out the last candle that burned in the room.

The killing device moved in her dreams. Blayce the Nothing Man watched it. He pointed to a child who cowered under his worktable: it was Tobe. The metal thing reached under the table and dragged the boy out.

Kel sat up, gasping, sweat-soaked. It was still dark, still night. The rain had stopped. She was at an inn on the Great Road North, riding to war.

“Lady,” Tobe asked, his voice clear, “what’s Blayce? What’s Stenmun?”

“A nightmare and his dog,” Kel replied, wiping her face on her sleeve. “Go back to sleep.”

The rain returned in the morning. The army’s commanders decided it would be foolish to move on. Kel used the day to finish supplying Tobe, making sure that what he had fitted properly. Tobe protested the need for more than one set of clothes and for any shoes, saying that she shouldn’t spend money on him.

“Do you want to make me look bad?” she demanded at last. “People judge a mistress by how well her servants are dressed. Do you want folk to say I’m miserly, or that I don’t know my duty?”

“Alvik never cared,” Tobe pointed out as he fed the sparrows cracked corn.

“He isn’t noble-born,” Kel retorted. “I am. You’ll be dressed properly, and that’s that.”

At least she could afford the sewing and shoe-fitting. She had an income, more than she had thought she’d get as the poorly-dowered youngest daughter of a large family. For her service in the war she received a purse from the Crown every two weeks. Raoul had advised her on investments, which had multiplied both a legal fine once paid to her, and her portion of Lalasa’s earnings. Lalasa had insisted on that payment, saying that she would not be able to grow rich off royal custom if not for her old mistress. It was an argument Kel had yet to win. And it did mean that she could outfit Tobe without emptying her purse, a venture Lalasa would approve.

The rain ended that night. The army set out at dawn, Tobe riding pillion with Kel. Once they were under way, Kel rode back along the line of march until she found the wagon that held the gear of the first-year knights, including Hoshi’s tack, spare saddle blankets, weapons and all Kel needed to tend her arms and armour. She opened the canvas cover on the wagon and slung the boy inside with one arm.

“There’s blankets under that saddle, and meat and cheese in that pack,” she informed him. “Bundle up. It’s a cold ride. I’ll get you when we stop for the night.” She didn’t wait for his answer, but tied the cover and returned to her friends.

They ate lunch on horseback as cold rain fell again. Knights and squires huddled in the saddle, miserable despite broad-brimmed hats and oiled cloaks to keep the wet out. Kel had extra warmth from Jump and the sparrows, who had ducked under her cloak the moment the rain had returned.

They were crossing a pocket valley when Neal poked Kel and pointed. In the trees to their left a small figure moved through the undergrowth, following them. Kel twitched Peachblossom off the road and into the woods, cutting Tobe off. He stared up at her, his chin set.

“I left you in the wagon so you wouldn’t get soaked,” Kel informed him. He was muddy from toes to knees. “Are you mad?”

Tobe shook his head.

“Then why do this?” she asked, patient. “You’re no good to either of us if you get sick or fall behind.”

“Folk took interest in me afore, lady,” replied the boy. “A merchant and a priestess. Soon as I was gone from their sight, they forgot I was alive. Sometimes I think I jus’ dreamed you. If I don’t see you, mayhap you’ll vanish.”

“I’m too solid to be a dream. Besides, I paid two copper nobles for your bond,” Kel reminded him. “Not to mention what we laid out for the sewing and the cobbler.”

“Folk’ve given me nobles jus’ for holdin’ the stirrup when they mounted up,” Tobe informed her. “Some is so rich a noble means as much to them as a copper bit tool’ to Alvik.”

Kel sighed. “I’m not rich,” she said, but it was for the sake of argument. Compared with this mule-headed scrap of boyhood, she was rich. It was all she could do not to smile. She recognized the determination in those bright blue eyes. It matched her own.

She evicted the sparrows from the shelter of her cloak and reached a hand down. When he gripped it, Kel swung the boy up behind her. “Not a word of complaint,” she told him. “Get under my cloak. It’ll keep the rain off.”

This order he obeyed. Kel waited for the sparrows to tuck themselves under the front of her cloak, then urged Peachblossom back to her place in line.

Neal, seeing her approach, opened his mouth.

“Not one word,” Kel warned. “Tobe and I have reached an understanding.”

Neal’s lips twitched. “Why do I have the feeling you did most of the understanding?”

“Why do I have the feeling that if you give me a hard time, I’ll tell all of our year-mates your family nickname is Meathead?” Kel replied in kind.

“You resort to common insult because you have no stronger arguments to offer,” retorted Neal. When Kel opened her mouth, Neal raised a hand to silence her. “Nevertheless, I concede.”

“Good,” Kel said. “That’s that.”

“You got anything to eat?” enquired a voice from inside her cloak.

1-14 April, 460 HE

Near the Scanran border

3
LONG, COLD ROAD

It was well past dark when they reached their next stop, the village of Wolfwood. “We’re here for a few days,” Raoul told the younger knights. “Lady Alanna and the troops for the coast leave us here. So will the troops and knights meant for the eastern border. Maybe we’ll even be here long enough to dry out.”

“What’s dry?” asked Faleron of King’s Reach wearily.

“Good question,” Lady Alanna said, stretching to get the kinks out of her spine. She and Neal chorused, “Next question.” The lady grinned at her former squire. “You rode with me too long, Queenscove,” she pointed out.

“And I learned things every step of the way, Lady Knight,” said Neal with a bow.

Tobe offered to groom Peachblossom and Hoshi. Kel watched as the boy worked.

“You think he’s a horse-mage?” Neal murmured. He’d tended his mounts and was ready to go inside. “He’s got wild magic with horses?”

“It seems so,” Kel admitted, gathering her saddlebags. “Look how easy Peachblossom is with him.” Satisfied that Tobe needed no help, she followed Neal into the wayhouse, Jump and the sparrows trailing behind.

Messengers had warned their hosts of their arrival. There was a tub of hot water in Kel’s room. She scrubbed, changed, then went to find her charge. She found Tobe in Peachblossom’s stall, though both the gelding and Hoshi had been groomed and fed.

“You’ll sleep in my chamber like last night. There’s a tub there now. Go wash,” she ordered. “The servants take meals in the east wing of the house. Eat properly, vegetables as well as meat. And drink some milk.”

Tobe grinned at her. “He said last night you’re a bear for vegetables - Sir Nealan, that is. Auld Eulama were the same.” He went to”do as he was told. Kel returned to the wayhouse, thinking. They needed to come to an understanding. She couldn’t let him walk, but she didn’t like to share a saddle. Perhaps he could ride Hoshi? Normally Kel would have ridden the mare on a journey like this, but she needed Peachblossom’s strength to help open the road in spots. Hoshi would barely notice Tobe’s weight, and she would keep him out of the mud.