Page 14 of Court of Talons
“Lord Protector Rihad bade me keep watch for any riders in the trappings of the Tenth House green. He’ll be glad to know you’ve arrived safely after your trials on the mountain pass. No tribute will be required of you when you make your presentation to him tomorrow. Rather, it’s his profound hope that you will regain your losses and more in the Tournament of Gold.”
“I’m not here to fight,” I say quickly. “Only to hire.”
“As you say.” Glancing back to me with inscrutable eyes, he gestures to our pitiful clutch of horses. “Again, this isn’t your entire encampment, is it? Your sister—was she hurt? Tell me she is well.”
I am struck dumb, and Nazar speaks in my place.
“She remains at some distance, safe,” he says gruffly. “This is no place for a woman.”
Fortiss barks a sharp laugh. “That’s certainly true.” Does he sound relieved? Dismayed? Or simply astounded that the Tenth House line is still intact?
By now, I’ve finally regained my tongue. “And how has Lord Protector Rihad heard of this attack?” I scowl, glaring at him. “We saw no one but themarauderswhose bodies remained after.”
Fortiss only shrugs. “Maybe not, but you were seen. A passing caravan claims they witnessed the attack from high on the pass above you. They shared the breathless tale to any who would listen—including talk of the enormous Divh the Tenth House brought to bear.”
“Too late to save the lives of my people.” My words are bitter and sharp, and Fortiss’s gaze meets mine.
“True enough. But if your Divh is anything like what the rumors say, you can gain more men in the tournament—more, and better men?—”
“No.” I’m more forceful this time. “I’m here to buy soldiers, not to fight. That can wait another year.” It can wait a lifetime.
Fortiss frowns, then his face clears. “Ah! No wonder you’re so insistent. You don’t know, do you?”
He leans forward again as if to confide in me, and I force myself not to lean in as well, a witless moth to his flame. “The Tournament of Gold—it’s different this year. There are boons to be had by those who win unlike any that have ever been granted. The deeper you get into the tournament, the better your chancefor freshly minted banded soldiers—soldiers paid for by the First House, not your own coin.”
I blink in surprise at the unexpected largesse of the First House—banded soldiers we don’t have to pay for? Could that be possible? At the Tenth, my father holds our coin in a tight, two-fisted grip, loath to spend any of it for anything. He would leap at this chance to get able-bodied men for free, I have no doubt.
Fortiss laughs at my expression. I try to school myself back to disinterest, but he’s not fooled. “I thought you’d care to hear that. Far better to keep your coin and get solid men for free, than to spend your money needlessly, eh?”
Unreasonably annoyed by his tone, I return his grin with a growl. “I’m not here to compete, Fortiss of the First.” Once again, I think of the arrow in my saddlebag, proof positive of a grave betrayal among the very houses this tournament celebrates.
Fortiss is the nephew of the Lord Protector, who is the governor of our entire territory,and he was there. I should show him the arrow, demand an explanation—but something stays my hand. I am, after all, a woman dressed as a man…and I am bound with a warrior’s band. If that band was discovered, nothing I could say would change the fact that I’d be arrested, imprisoned, and probably killed.
No. I need a better plan.
I turn to the seneschal, who’s not yet put away his book. “I’m here to buy soldiers,” I reiterate. “Nothing more.”
“Stubborn to the end,” Fortiss overrides the end of my declaration, his voice still maddeningly confident. “While you’re here, though, at least take a look around. The Tournament of Gold begins with a few days of competition among the rank and file; men and boys seeking their fortunes in the garrisons of the great houses. But there will be a warrior and Divh battle or two as well—merely exhibitions—to whet the appetites of the crowds.Something to watch, if you are thinking of fighting in the two-day competition between high-level warriors at the end of the tournament.” He raises both hands at my black look. “Or even if you’re not.”
Throughout this recitation, Nazar has edged forward, and I glance at him, not missing the keen interest in his eyes. “What else should we know about the tournament?” he asks.
Fortiss turns to him then straightens as he takes in Nazar’s deep-blue cloak, flipped back now to reveal its gray lining.
“Priest of the Light, you honor us,” he says. “Forgive me, I didn’t realize?—”
Nazar waves him off. “You say the tournament has changed this year. How, specifically?”
Fortiss remains respectful, but there’s no denying his excitement. His horse stamps and shifts beneath him. “The Tournament of Gold has always showcased the best warriors from all twelve houses—those who participate, of course.” He eyes me as he says this last, and I feel the blood creep up my cheeks. I grit my teeth but say nothing.
“This year will be the greatest spectacle yet. After the preliminary battles among the fighting men are done, the warrior knights and banded soldiers who qualify—if any do—will undertake two days of one-on-one competition. Two men and their Divhs will take the field, face off, and whoever triumphs advances. In that way, the field will be winnowed down from more than fifty to eight.”
“More than fifty,” I echo hollowly. I had no idea there were so many warrior knights and banded soldiers coming here to compete. Most houses have garrisons of men to protect them in the absence of their mighty Divhs, but still, it seems rash to leave so many houses without their warriors.
“The eight remaining combatants will fight in a configuration of Lord Rihad’s choosing—though you can bet it will be tailoredto please the crowd—until there remain only two. Those two will fight for the tournament’s ultimate prize.”
“The winged crown?” It’s my voice, not Nazar’s, that breaks in as Fortiss pauses. I grimace at the warrior’s knowing grin.
“Often promised, rarely bestowed.” He nods. “But this year, like I said, is different. The crown brings with it a dozen newly banded soldiers—the top non-noble finalists in the lower levels of the tournament. Something else to consider, no?”