Limits of Power (13 page)

Next morning Serrostin started back for Vérella. “I've had a very pleasant several days here, my lord Verrakai,” he said. “It's not what I expected, very homelike.” The laughter of children sounded from the kitchen garden as they spoke. “Our king will enjoy his time here, I'm sure, and I'm glad I had this chance to meet with Daryan and reassure him I was not as upset with his … his Kuakgan influence as I had been earlier. A father's panic, for which I hope you will forgive me.”

“Of course,” Dorrin said. “Any father would be upset—and angry—to have a son first injured and then defiant.”

When Duke Serrostin and his escort had ridden across the ford, Dorrin turned to her squires. “We have work to do,” Dorrin said to them. “In addition to the usual patrols, we must prepare for a royal visit, and I find no record of any such in the rolls. So you, and Gwenno when she comes back from patrol, will be helping me with this. Food, housing, supplies for the king's entourage, fodder for the extra animals, some kind of welcoming ceremony. And safety, of course. Beclan, you're to find a place to go on legitimate business while the king's here … the new middle road, perhaps. Have you ever surveyed anything?”

“No, my lord.”

“Time you learned. Since you're going to inherit all this—” Her arm swept out, indicating the entire domain. “—you'd best know how big it is and every part of it. I'll start you with Sergeant Natzlin: she's good with a rope.”

“A rope?”

“For measuring distance. You can practice with the house and stableyard for a day or two. Daryan, it would be good for you to learn this as well, but I have another errand for you.”

Gwenno arrived back from her patrol that day; Dorrin was in her office, examining accounts, and saw the girl ride in, straight-backed and steady. She counted quickly. No one missing: no need to ask questions yet. Dorrin ran her finger down the page, checking every line. She trusted Grekkan well enough, but the Verrakai domain still bled money, and her reserves in gold had dwindled with frightening speed. So much needed to be done, so many gaps mended.

She turned at a knock on the door frame. Gwenno bowed.

“My lord, could I speak with you?”

“Come in,” Dorrin said. “You look troubled; what is it?”

“Beclan,” Gwenno said. “It's not fair.”

Dorrin had expected this eventually. “That he's kirgan?” she asked just to be sure.

“No, my lord. Well, not exactly … It's not fair what the king did to him, making him give up his family. It wasn't his fault any more than Daryan's thumb—”

“It's different,” Dorrin said. “The king did what he must to protect the Crown and realm.”

“But it wasn't Beclan's fault, and he's punished—”

“He could be dead,” Dorrin said. Gwenno shut her mouth, eyes wide. “By the laws of the land, Gwenno, he could have been charged with treason and executed. Not only was he in the line of succession and showing mage-power, but there was an oath between him and the king—”

“He was too young to swear—”

“He chose to swear as an adult. The king warned him what that would mean. And then—then he admitted his magery. It could not be left as it was, Gwenno. The other peers—the people—would not have accepted that.”

“It could have been a secret.”

“A secret such as my family kept?” Dorrin shook her head. “It would not do. Not so close to the Crown. The king did the best for Beclan he could while doing his duty to the realm.” Gwenno looked thoughtful now. “And though Beclan's inherent mage ability is not his fault, his choices led him to this end. He knows that; he has admitted that. His grief, Gwenno, is not just that he had to leave his family but that his own choices led to the deaths of all those men … his escort and, later, the guard put around him. He might have gone through life with unwakened magery, with no one—including himself—the wiser.”

“But if Gird waked it—”

“We cannot know for certain,” Dorrin said. “It may have been Gird—I think it likely—but it might also have been Beclan's own fear.” Before Gwenno could say more, she went on. “And you are right in one thing—it is not fair. But here is a truth to ponder: many things are not fair. You will have unfairness in your life, and you will then decide how to handle it. Will you bleat ‘Unfair, unfair' like a child or make the best of the situation you can like an adult? Like a knight of Gird or Falk?”

Gwenno said nothing for a long moment. “Beclan does not complain.”

“No. He was shocked, and hurt, and frightened, but he has chosen to make the best of it.”

“I just wanted to … to help…”

“You have a good heart, Gwenno. As you learn, you will find other ways to help Beclan—or anyone else. What he needs now from you and Daryan is respect and acceptance. Nothing more. He will fight his own battles.”

“It comes of being the oldest sister in my family,” Gwenno said, flushing a little. “Mother warned me. I—I thank you, my lord.”

“I'm not scolding, Gwenno. I would rather have squires care about one another, defend one another, want to help one another, than be at odds. And all three of you have grown since last summer—remember that quarrel about grooming horses?”

Gwenno laughed. “Yes, my lord. We were prickly then, for certain.”

“I do caution you, Gwenno, as I cautioned Beclan: he is not to practice his magery around you or show you how it is done. Your father does not think there's any magery in his family, but if you have any buried talents of that kind, we do not wish to wake them. It will be tempting, I'm sure, but do not try.”

“No, my lord, I won't.”

“Good. Now, is there anything else?”

“No, my lord. Oh—just that I finished the stable supplies tally you asked me to do—” She fished a group of tally sticks from a pocket and handed them over.

“Thank you,” Dorrin said. “If that's all, I need to finish these accounts.”

“Yes, my lord.” Gwenno bowed and went out.

Daryan came next to report on the patrol he'd been on most recently. Everything had been calm, he said; no sign of brigands or vagabonds. “About Beclan,” he added.

“Yes?”

“Shouldn't we call him kirgan? I mean, when I meet Kirgan Mahieran or Kirgan Marrakai and I'm a squire, I have to give them the honor—”

“It's different here,” Dorrin said. She had explained this once to all three squires, but then Beclan had gone off to Lyonya with her. “He's my kirgan, yes, but he's also my squire. And since he has not grown up here, with the knowledge of this domain he would have if he were my son, he cannot take on the responsibilities of kirgan without more time and experience. As far as you and Gwenno are concerned, he's a squire—the same as you two—and you owe him no deference, only the courtesy due a fellow squire.”

“It's sad,” Daryan said. “I didn't realize that at first.”

“Yes, it is. But it's also sad that you were captured and tormented and had to have Kuakkgani healing.”

“I don't know…” Daryan looked down at his hands, the scar on one and the peculiar-looking thumb on the other. “Nobody else I know has a thumb with bark. I hope the other one buds. Dressing will be easier with two thumbs.”

Dorrin struggled not to laugh. “I'm glad you accept it that way,” she said. “Though if you turn Kuakgan, your father will be angry with us both all over again.”

“Oh, no,” Daryan said. “I want to be a knight, like Roly. I don't think Gird will mind.”

After he left, Dorrin wondered if Beclan would be next but remembered he was off learning surveying with Natzlin. She had seen them start out that morning with a collection of ropes and sticks and other necessary gear. With no more interruptions, she finished the morning's work with the account books.

In the kitchen she found Farin Cook chatting with Sergeant Natzlin. Natzlin looked brighter than she had since Barranyi left the Duke's Company. She saluted Dorrin. “My lord, Squire Beclan has learned to make square corners three ways this morning and will show a creditable plat of the orchard.”

“Excellent. If my kirgan can learn accurate surveying, I may not need to hire anyone. Did you come in to report to me?”

“Yes, my lord. I just stopped here to … to…”

“You're a soldier; it's a kitchen,” Dorrin said, chuckling. “You notice where
I
am—we eat when we can, eh?”

A look passed between Farin and Natzlin, and then Farin said, “She was telling me about the old Company. And I said, stop a bit and have a bun. Those scars she's got—takes good food to heal up.”

“Indeed,” Dorrin said. She felt she was intruding, but it was her kitchen. “Any leftover buns for your duke?”

“Always something,” Farin said. She looked at the kitchen workers. “Efla—fetch the duke some sib and a plate of those pastries with honey and nuts.” She looked back at Dorrin. “In your study, m'lord?”

Go
away,
that meant. Dorrin leaned back on the main worktable. She valued Farin—and Natzlin—for the years of her service in the Duke's Company, but she was not going to be driven out. She glanced at Natzlin, whose expression she remembered from years before. So. Farin and Natzlin? Unlikely as it seemed—veteran soldier and cook—Farin would be a far better companion than Barranyi had been. If it gave Natzlin peace … well enough.

“If the two of you wish to partner,” she said, staring Farin down, “that's fine with me. It's not my business. However, with the king coming to visit, this kitchen
is
my business.”

“The king is coming?” Farin said, turning pale.

“Yes. After Queen Arian leaves Vérella—and we don't know when that will be—he's coming here with an entourage. I need your best estimate of our reserves and what we can expect in eggs, milk, and garden produce tenday by tenday until Midsummer—he's coming before then. There'll be no more use of any fancy foods—nuts, preserves—we can't replace within, say, two tendays.”

“Yes, my lord. Sorry, my lord. I thought…”

“Even if you'd thought correctly, Farin, I won't be rushed out of my own kitchen.”

Efla came out of the pantry with the pastries. Dorrin took two. “I'm going to miss these,” she said as she nodded to the kitchen as a whole and walked out.

Natzlin and Farin—an attachment would, she realized, solve a persistent problem with her old veteran. The wounds suffered in Kieri's defense more than a year ago still affected her. Dorrin had promoted her to sergeant—the only clear choice after Vossik's death—but Natzlin struggled in that position—mounting was increasingly difficult, for one thing. Partnering with Farin might be a reason she'd accept for moving from patrol duties to something less strenuous. And Farin would keep watch on her physical well-being.

Dorrin ate the pastries, looking out over the fields below where cattle grazed and wondered how long it would take Kieri to get Arian pregnant.

In a Pargunese forest

I
t is done,” the dragon said. “You have completed your tasks.”

“All of them?” Stammel asked. He took a breath of the fresh spring air, still chill this morning but alive now with growing things.

“All in that phase.” The dragon had explained that its solid eggs were filled with crystalline shards each capable of hatching into the first immature form of a dragon. “I must now convey the eggs and unhatched shards to a safe place far away. You have done me great service, Stammel, and now I can return you to your home.”

“I could still help,” Stammel said.

“No.” The dragon's voice was gentle but implacable. “What I must do now, you cannot do.”

“I have trained raw boys and girls,” Stammel said. “And I can see the dragonlets—surely I could help train them—”

“No,” the dragon said again, a tone final as the ring of hammer on iron. Then in a gentler tone, “What is it, Stammel? I would have thought you'd be glad to return to those you know.”

Stammel thought of the past quarter-year and wondered how to explain. It seemed at first no words would come for the longing to be useful, needed. But the dragon waited, that great shape of fire, and finally he could say it. “When you took me away,” he said, “it was from the only home, the only friends, I had had in my adult life. I thought I would be lonely; I thought I would yearn for them.”

“And you do not?” the dragon asked.

“What I yearned for then was no longer possible,” Stammel said. “I will never be what I was. Who I was. I had come to realize that, and yet I saw no other future. You showed me another future. New places, new people, new challenges. A reason to live, with something to do … something worthwhile.”

“You have changed,” the dragon said.

“I had changed before, not by my will,” Stammel said. “And now I have changed again, with your help. I can change again … but not back into what I was. If I return, I will be poor blind Stammel, someone with a past and no future.”