Page 17 of Court of Talons
“My arm’s a bit of a challenge for people to work around. So these days, I’m more of a squire for hire by any house that needs me, scurrying about, doing whatever needs doing. Gathering supplies, chasing away thieves, all of it.” He grins again. “But I can fight better than anyone gives me credit for, and that helps. I’da made more on that scrap if you hadn’t come along. ’Course, I might’ve gotten clocked too. No one wants to bet on a cripple once he gets beat up, I tell you plain.”
“Your house lets you—where are your clothes?”
“My—oh.” He sighs, and a little of his stuffing seeps out of him. I instantly miss it and curse myself for my thoughtless comment. “I can’t wear a proper squire’s garb anymore. Not a squire, you see, not really. And I don’t have a family, not like a regular one. So—I make do. I think the Second’ll take me back but till then, I…”
“Until then, you need clothes,” I say, my voice far too sharp. “I’ve got extra.”
Caleb bristles. “I don’t want your charity. I don’t even know you.”
“I’m…Merritt of the Tenth,” I say, forming the words awkwardly. “At least take me back to my camp then, hey? Before I go blind.” I hold my hands out to the side as I try to rise—no easy task with a sword strapped to my side, and harder still withmy ringing head. “Help me up? I’m not going to be able to see anything in the next few minutes.”
Caleb moves quickly to my side and stands steady as I grasp his arm and pull myself to my feet. Beneath his rags, he’s thin and wiry—definitely no older than fourteen, maybe only thirteen years. But someone I desperately need at the moment, all the same. “I can’t tell direction,” I mutter.
“Where are you camped?” He’s already moving me back into the crowd, standing far enough away that I’m not hanging on him, but close enough for me to keep him in view despite my dimming sight. “This side of the coliseum?”
“Yes, on the road toward the village. No, off the road. Off…” I shake my head slowly, trying to stay focused. “There are trees.”
He snorts. “Trees are a good start. Is there a stream as well? Or rocks?”
We move like that back through the crowd, Caleb stopping once to crack his right palm on the back of an apparent friend. Money bags are emptied and their contents divvied up, and I resolve to find my own way. I point myself in what I hope is the direction of Nazar’s camp, unsurprised when Caleb catches up with me and turns me slightly to the left.
“Sorry, needed the coin,” he says. “I find if I don’t settle up right fast, it tends to slip away.”
“You fight for money?” My words aren’t forming correctly anymore, and my mouth has difficulty closing, my lips puffy and dry.
“Well, I don’t fight for fun, if that’s what you’re thinking. And I’m not in the tournament proper, can’t be without an arm. Though that would be a thing, wouldn’t it? Fighting for the right to join a noble house as a soldier, to have a chance at earning a Divh. This year,thirtymen will get chosen as banded soldiers, to be parceled out to the winning house of the tournament, theirfirst year’s wages paid for by the First House! Twelve will go to the winner alone!”
I swing my head toward him, aware that it’s taking me longer than it should. “Really?” I’d never heard of so many men being granted the honor of a Divh so quickly.
Was this what Fortiss had meant, saying the winners of the tournament could earn soldiers for their house of real worth? “Thirty banded soldiers, all at once?”
“Thirty.”Caleb nods. “It’s unprecedented. The thirty best non-banded combatants at the tournament will undergo a ritual with Lord Protector Rihad and his priests to become banded soldiers. Then they’ll be free to serve a house. Rumor has it that all the houses are coming who need more men, which is most of them now.” He eyes me meaningfully, then frowns and fumbles at his side. “Here, take a sip of this.”
He holds something up to me, and I try to sniff it, but my nose is clogged with blood and gore. “Just water,” Caleb says. “You get spirits in you, you’ll fall down. And I won’t be able to carry you, I’m thinking.”
The water tastes like the finest liquid I’ve ever drunk, and I take two long pulls on it before I push it back. “Yours,” I say. “You need it too, with this heat. But thank you.”
“You really are an idiot,” Caleb says again, but there’s something in his voice that catches at me, something important. Then I stumble into him. How am I this hurt? I wasn’t hit that hard, I’m sure of it.
“Sorry,” I grunt, and Caleb picks up the pace, threading through the crowd with nimble ease, chattering all the way as my heart begins to hammer and my eyes water. I don’t realize I’ve hunched over until I squint hard and the tips of Nazar’s boots finally swim into view. I nearly sag to my knees, but Caleb’s strong arm holds me, and his high, clear voice bursts out.
“Your knight, sir.” Caleb shuffles back, taking me with him. His voice quakes as he speaks more quickly, all in a rush. “Sir, I did him no harm. He saved my life—my life! In the crowd today. I could do naught but bring him back to your camp. He saved my life, and I brought him back—hey!”
I slump to the ground.
Chapter 7
My face swells to half again its size by the following morning. Caleb’s gone when I awake, but Nazar doesn’t leave the campsite. Instead, he layers foul-smelling poultices over my face, covering my eyes, and slaps my hands away when I try to pull off the soaked cloths.
“At least now no one will mistake you as a warrior knight,” he says grimly. “Merely an unhoused grit trying for a noble station.”
I manage short sentences, my mouth slowly regaining the ability to form distinct words. “I fought well and hard. Caleb has one arm.”
“It was not your fight.”
“He beat the red knight fairly. The boy came after him. But the fight was already over. It wasn’t fair.”
Nazar hesitates for a long time, and I almost drift off into sleep again. Then his words pull my mind back. “You didn’t draw your sword.”