Chapter 23

“A baby?” Rusol said. “A baby.” He sat down with a thump, his knees suddenly weak. He was going to have a child.

“Yes,” Yassi replied. “Kolvi says it’ll be seven months.”

“What do we...? Why are you up? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I’m fine, Rus. My mother will know what to do, and we’ll find a midwife.”

Rusol nodded, barely listening. “He’ll be the next king.” A new prince, coming so soon after the coronation, would be taken as a good sign. Rusol’s branch of the family would retain the crown and control of House Larse, promising stability for another generation.

“It could be a girl,” Yassi pointed out.

“Oh. Yes, of course, but a girl would still prove we can continue the line. We can keep trying.” He ignored the look of disgust that crossed her face. He’d grown accustomed to it, and surely things would improve now that they were having a child together. She would finally come to care for him. She had to.

His thoughts kept flitting around. He was going to be a father.

If there was a child coming, he couldn’t risk being at war against the wardens. Not now, at least. They hadn’t been the ones to kill Rikard, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t strike into the palace if they realized someone was hunting them.

Luckily, Leonis was dead, and the First didn’t know what Rusol had been up to. None of the others had any idea who he was.

The shadow creature wanted him to kill the other wardens, but it had seemed to think he’d make that decision himself. If so, it would have to wait.

Besides, defeating Leonis had been more about luck than skill. The man had grown overconfident after years of fighting weaker elder witches, and hadn’t been prepared to face Rusol and Kolvi at full strength. And he hadn’t been aware of Rusol’s own divine magic, negating Leonis’s biggest advantage.

But Rusol was under no illusion that he was ready to face a fully prepared warden. Rather than risking outright confrontation, he could take a more prudent approach. Wait and watch, and learn.

Yes, with the immediate threat from Leonis over, it made sense to proceed with caution. His family’s safety had to come first, and then he would bide his time.

“This is Corec of House Tarwen,” Kevik announced to the assembled knights. “You know who he is, and I don’t want to hear any complaining. He’s leading the town’s assault against the dragon.”

Corec stepped forward, then stopped and looked each man in the eye before speaking. He was wearing King Argyros’s armor for the first time. It was made from the same dull, brownish-gray metal as the maul, and his attempts to polish it had failed, but the unusual appearance drew the knights’ attention anyway.

“You heard him,” he said. “I’ll tell you now, I don’t much care what you think about me. I’ve got a job to do and I need men who can handle themselves.”

The oldest of the knights, with graying hair and a gut that stretched his mail to its limit, spat on the ground. “We don’t deal with traitors, wizard.”

“I didn’t betray anything,” Corec said. “I never took the oaths. But I’ll overlook your lie and your insult for now, Sir Georg. Dealing with the dragon is more important than challenging you to a duel over what little remains of your knightly honor, and Kevik tells me you have a fine eye for siege weapons.”

Corec was walking a fine line in goading the man, but he hoped to push one of the knights into issuing a challenge of their own. It would reinforce to the others that he was their equal. He’d brought his old spare sword from Mama Wenna’s attic in case he needed it. His new weapons were too likely to kill his opponent.

After debating the matter with Kevik, Corec had decided to try to recruit all four of the remaining knights. While he himself could teach the new armsmen to load and release the ballistae, there wasn’t enough time for them to truly master the weapon. The knights could serve as spotters, estimating windage and distance to give the bolts a better chance of reaching the target.

If they didn’t accept his leadership, though, they’d cause more problems than they were worth. A challenge might resolve the issue, proving to them he could still act as a knight.

Georg scowled and opened his mouth to reply, but another man spoke first.

“Oaths or not, you’re still a mage,” Sir Osbert said. He was tall, with a clean-shaven head, and he wore a full set of plate armor. He’d been stationed at Fort Hightower during Corec’s first year there, before being transferred back to Telfort. Apparently he’d returned. “If Four Roads wishes to allow magic within their borders, that’s their business, but I won’t have anything to do with it. We don’t need your help. We’ll wait until the Order arrives.”

“The Order isn’t coming,” Kevik said, then paused to let that sink in. “The message arrived this morning. Our brothers aren’t coming, but since we’re already here, we’ve been told to help out in whatever way we can. So, either the six of us try to hunt down a dragon by ourselves, or we can work with Corec and the rest of the Four Roads expedition. Unless, of course, you want to abandon our duty entirely, Osbert.”

Trentin’s lips had tightened into a thin line while Kevik was speaking. It was a lie, then. There hadn’t been any orders.

The rest of the knights exchanged worried glances. Clearly they’d been expecting support from their own people. The Order of Pallisur prided themselves on their ability to handle threats no one else could face, and whatever problems Corec had with the knights, it was clear that this small group hadn’t intended to abandon Four Roads to its fate.

“The people in town say you killed a drake!” exclaimed a young knight with freckles and curly red hair. From Kevik’s description, that had to be Willem. He was only a year or two older than Nedley.

“Two, but I had help,” Corec said. “Just like I’ll need your help with the dragon.”

The boy nodded, his head bobbing up and down.

“Why is the seaborn woman wearing armor?” asked a man with sandy blond hair. He had on well-maintained plate armor of his own, and his look was speculative rather than judgmental. As the only one left, he had to be Sir Cason, who Kevik said had trained at Fort Hightower.

Ariadne had remained silent until then, but now she came to stand beside Corec. “I’m no seaborn,” she said. “I am Ariadne, of the Mage Knights of Tir Yadar.” They’d worked out an introduction for her that didn’t require mentioning the Chosar. She preferred to leave her past a mystery.

Sir Georg barked a laugh. “Shiny armor doesn’t make you a knight, girl.”

“My order existed long before yours, son of Pallisur,” Ariadne said, staring him down. “I swore the oaths to my people, and was raised to knighthood in the presence of The Lady herself.”

Corec had coached Ariadne on what to say, but he hadn’t heard that last part before. She’d rarely ever mentioned the new gods in all the time he’d known her.

She waited, and it was Georg who looked away first. He wouldn’t challenge her—women in Larso weren’t seen as fighters.

“Mage Knights?” Osbert said. “There’s no such thing.”

Ariadne tilted her head to the side. “Would you like me to prove it?” she asked. She and Corec had talked about how to handle this part of the conversation. A show of magic from either of them—at least without warning the knights about it first—could potentially provoke all four men into attacking them. Even if they managed to defeat the knights without killing any of them, it would be pointless to try to recruit them after that.

Osbert swallowed. “Mages can’t be knights,” he insisted.

“You’re showing your ignorance, Osbert,” Corec said. “Not all knights follow Pallisur. You can’t fight a dragon unless you have magic or an army, and I don’t see your army anywhere.”

“We can’t—” the knight started.

Corec interrupted him. “I’ll tell you what. If you’re too much of a coward to travel with mages, you can go on ahead. After the dragon kills you, the rest of us will deal with it. If you’d like, we’ll even cart your body back to Larso and dump it at the border.”

Trentin grimaced and shook his head, trying to catch Corec’s attention.

Corec continued, “Of course, it would be safer to travel with the larger group. Besides, that’s the only way you’re getting paid.”

“You’re paying us?” Sir Cason asked.

“You’ve heard the offer, haven’t you?”

“Ten gold to kill the dragon.”

“Ten gold each if we kill the dragon, and five silver a day until then.” It was a substantial amount, even for a knight. Unmarried members of the Order could claim free room and board when they were off duty, but they were only paid for days they were on duty. The gold alone might match what a knight earned in a quiet year.

Cason’s expression didn’t change, but Willem started grinning.

“You think you can convince us with money?” Osbert asked.

“Do you need to be convinced to do the right thing?” Corec said. “How many people have died already? How many more will die if we don’t stop that dragon? I’m not your enemy, Sir Osbert. I volunteered for this job because someone’s got to do it, but I need your help.”

Osbert didn’t reply, but Cason gave a small nod.

Kevik stepped forward. “We start training the recruits on the siege weapons this afternoon. I expect to see you all there.”

He dismissed them after that. Georg and Osbert still weren’t happy, but Kevik’s lie about the orders had countered any argument they could have made. As the knights left to go prepare their gear, Willem regaled the others with a description of the new horse he was going to buy with his bonus money.

Kevik waited until they were out of earshot before speaking. “Were you trying to get them to attack you?” he asked.

“To challenge me, yes, but it didn’t work,” Corec said. “Why did you lie about the orders?”

“If the rest of the knights were coming, I’d have heard something by now,” Kevik said. “You’re the one who thinks we need the whole squad, and this was the fastest way to convince them. If there’s a tribunal, I’ll testify that I was the only one who knew the orders were false. There’s no reason for any blame to be laid on Trentin. Or you, if it comes down to it.”

Corec sighed. “We lied to them, bribed them, bullied them, and insulted them. We’ll be lucky if they don’t decide to come after us rather than the dragon.”

Katrin dumped all of the clothing out of her saddlebags into a big pile on the floor, then stared at it as she debated what to do. It should have been hung up in the closet or folded and put away, but she’d been on the road for too long—everything she owned needed a good wash, and most of it needed ironing as well. She’d have to ask one of the Sisters where to do that.

There was a forlorn sigh from Ditte, who was staring out the window. “Where’s Harri?” the girl asked. “He already fed the horsies.”

“I’m sure he just went out to visit the others again,” Katrin said.

When the new ballistae started arriving, Corec had taken the weapons south of town. They were too dangerous for the recruits to practice with in town. After two days of going back and forth, he’d set up a camp at the practice site and moved his entire little army there, so they wouldn’t have to spend so much time traveling.

Rather than taking the children to the armed encampment, or continuing to camp out in the cold in Mama Wenna’s garden patch, Katrin had at first moved into the wheelwright’s shop her friends had been using for their preparations. There was no kitchen there, though, so Treya had found room for Katrin and the two children at the Three Orders chapter house. It was just the three of them. Leena had decided to go south with the rest of the group, Traveling back each day for messages and supplies.

“When’ll he be back?” Ditte asked. “I’m bored.”

“We could sing some songs,” Katrin said. “I’ve still got lots more I haven’t taught you yet.”

“I don’t wanna sing no more!”

“Well, what about reading, then? They’ve got lots of books here.” The library here was the largest Katrin had ever seen, other than the big libraries in Tyrsall and Circle Bay—and Treya had said this was one of the smallest chapter houses of the Three Orders. What were the larger chapter houses like?

“Don’t know how to read,” Ditte said with a pout.

That wasn’t a surprise. Most people considered the hillfolk to be uneducated, but even in the city, some of Katrin’s friends had never learned to read. She’d been lucky in that her mother had known how, and had taught her and Barz.

“I’ll show you,” Katrin said. “Come on, let’s see if we can find Nallee or Liese.” Those two women were Treya’s friends from back when she’d lived here, though Nallee was only at the chapter house during the day. She was a concubine, and stayed with her patron and his wife at night in the attic of a local blacksmith’s house while they waited for it to be safe to return to their own home.

Katrin took Ditte by the hand and led her to an alcove outside Mother Yewen’s office, where Nallee had installed a desk for herself, working on whatever Yewen needed help with on any particular day. There seemed to be no shortage of tasks. Most of the Sisters who lived at the chapter house were busy with their normal duties of raising and educating the orphan girls who lived there, but Mother Yewen was heavily involved with taking care of the refugees as well, and the additional work fell on Nallee and a few others.

After Katrin explained what she wanted to do, Nallee led the two of them to a large walk-in closet near the library.

“These are the primers here,” the concubine said, pointing to row after row of what appeared to be many copies of each of several different books. “Eastern, Western, trade tongue. We’ve still got Old Matan primers but we stopped teaching it years ago. The southern chapter houses teach Sanvari, but we don’t have much call for that around here so the scholars keep those books under lock and key. We don’t have enough copies to let the girls take them out without approval. After the primers, the girls move on to the easy readers,” Nallee pointed to more shelves, “and then the practice readers. Once a girl can handle the hardest books in here, she’s allowed to take books from the library.”

Katrin found herself staring at all the shelves. “There are books just for teaching someone how to read?”

“Of course,” Nallee said. “How else would you do it?”

Katrin’s family hadn’t owned any books at all. She’d learned to read on a slate, her mother painstakingly writing and rewriting letters and words and sentences in chalk. She decided not to answer.

Instead, she said, “The kids speak Western, so I guess that’s what I need.”

Nallee pulled two identical books from a shelf. “Two Western primers, then. When you’re ready to move up, let me know and I can help you find the next books. And we’ve got paper, pens, and ink when you need them.”

“Thank you.”

By the time Katrin and Ditte made it back to their room, Harri had returned and was trying to brush mud from his only pair of boots.

“Where have you been?” Katrin demanded, though she suspected the answer already.

“I had to take care of the mules at the camp,” the boy said.