Page 19 of Court of Talons
“He could have.” Nazar nods. “But if so, the boy is still clearly not a true warrior knight, no matter what his house calls him. Because he would have known better, or at least would have been afraid of what could happen. As you should have known better and been afraid of what could happen.”
“But—” I shake my head, confused.
“His Divh,” the priest says quietly. “If in his panic or pain he summoned a Divh into the center of that crowd…”
My eyes snap wide as Nazar sighs. He seems to make a decision. “You will go to the coliseum today, with coin this time. You can secure the men we need.”
“How will I know what to do?” I ask, finally putting voice to my biggest fear. I can bluff my way through a crowd, fair enough. But I’ve never spoken to true fighting men before—certainly not those who didn’t already serve our house.What will I say? How should I act?
Nazar doesn’t have a chance to respond.
“Merritt!” A bright voice sails out of the trees, and a moment later, Caleb bounds into the center of our camp. He’s still dressed in his hodgepodge of colors, but his cloths are clean and his smile delighted. “You’re awake. It’s about time.”
He looks to Nazar. “I’ve found a group of good prospects. Together, but not together, if you know what I mean.”
The priest nods, and I stare at Caleb in bewilderment. “I don’t know what you mean, no.”
“The soldiers you’re seeking for your house,” he says, puffing up with importance. “You want them coming from different areas of the Protectorate so their allegiance will be to your house and not each other. If we could get a banded soldier, that’d be a coup, but I’m thinking any who’d be allowed to come here are the best and brightest of their houses. Any interest they express in being wooed away from their current patrons would be all for show now—they’d cost far too much, especially if they want tocompete in some of the lower tournament games. Toward the end of the tournament, though…” He shrugs, fully the wise sage. “Then there may be a chance.”
“Oh,” I say, as if I understand what he’s talking about. “Of course.”
I straighten my shoulders, ruthlessly stamping down my confusion and weakness. I’ll do this because I have to do this, and Caleb’s words do make a certain amount of sense once I take a breath to consider them. A banded soldier would be a greater boon than I’d thought possible. Not just a fighting man, but one who commanded a Divh, even a small one? That would keep the Tenth House safe. That would keep the border secure too. That would…
“Come on!” Caleb grins at me. “I told ’em you’d be coming and with coin to spend. No one doubts it, what with the marauder attack.”
I blink my itchy eyes, and Nazar talks over Caleb’s chatter, filling in what I’ve missed as I take stock of my arms and legs. Everything seems…better. Even my banded arm no longer hurts.
Then Nazar’s words catch my attention. “The First House isn’t the only party who knows of the attack. It’s reached the people of Trilion as well.”
“Reachedthem,” Caleb scoffs. “It’s already legendary—you’relegendary. No one has seen a Tenth House warrior since your father fought here decades ago, and from all accounts, the Divh you’re banded to is far more enormous than anyone remembers! You’ll have no problem finding soldiers—men are lining up just for the chance to serve with such a powerful house and to rout the marauders who dared attack you.”
“Marauders.” I don’t recognize the sudden cold anger in my voice. Caleb flinches, stepping side to side as if ready to bolt.
“Sorry. I know you lost good men,” he says quickly. “But you’ve got more who’re ready and waiting for you. I can tellyou exactly what they’re worth too. I know them all.” He shifts his weight again, clearly eager to be off. “We’ve had marauders worrying the edges of the tournament grounds here, too, worse this year than ever,” he says. “It’ll be good to have more men allied with you when you set off for home. For protection.”
I frown at Nazar, but he’s already stepping up to me, handing me a purse heavy with silver. I weigh it in my hands. I’ve no idea how much is in it, no idea what the worth of a good man is. My mother taught me only what was necessary to run a household, what to pay for a chicken or a cow. Surely a soldier commanded more than that.
The priest speaks again. “Remember, this is the full portion we will spend,” he says, as if we’ve already discussed this many times. “Give more weight to older soldiers than young ones. Men of discipline and proven mettle.”
“A few young ones would be—” Caleb shuts his mouth as Nazar sends a stern look his way, then tries again. “Sorry. Old is good. More than good.”
I nod and pocket the purse. Caleb seems honestly eager to help us, but I can’t help but wonder—why? Is it simply that I aided him in the fight? Or should I be warier of his good humor and cheerful prattle? He’s slipped so quickly into our camp…
There’s too much in this place I cannot trust, I feel it in my bones.
We’re ready to go less than a quarter hour later, Nazar distracting Caleb long enough that I’m able to relieve myself behind the horses and ensure my costume is fully in place. Acting the part of Merritt grows more complex with each hour I undertake it, but the task of negotiation, at least, has become clearer. With Caleb along unable to keep his mouth shut, I suspect I’ll learn all I need to know about purchasing soldiers without asking a single question. Maybe that’s why the priestseems willing enough to let the squire help us, even if I’m not as sure.
Nazar goes one further and hands a long green tunic to Caleb before we leave. The look of wonder on the boy’s face knifes through me, chasing away some of my doubt, but I keep my own expression neutral.
“These men know me,” he says to the priest. “They know I didn’t come here with you.”
“Then they can know you’ve become our hired agent,” Nazar replies dismissively. “Merritt is a warrior knight, not a tradesman. You will represent him.”
Caleb nods, swallowing. He pulls the tunic over his shirt, smoothing it down with one dirty hand, for once struck silent as we leave our camp.
He proves his worth nearly immediately.
Setting off across the streets of Trilion toward the immense bulk of the coliseum, Caleb recovers his tongue and strikes up an unceasing commentary. “Nazar didn’t give the rumors justice, I’m telling you straight,” he says. “You’re already famous. That Divh of yours has taken everyone by surprise. The old warrior knights swear that the Tenth House guardian was lighter in color and half the size of what’s being reported, but?—”