Page 42 of Court of Talons
“You fought admirably and well, by the rules as you knew them. You fought with the spirit of a warrior.” I toss the shirt down to him and he catches it, for all that he stares gape-mouthed at me. He believes me to be what I appear to be; I know it in my bones. And so, in this moment, I am what he believes me to be. Nazar offers me a second bag, and I weigh it in my hand. Bronzes, I think. Not a large amount, but enough coin to make a difference here. “ShouldIfight well and win in this tournament, I’ll need squires. Squires who might one day become banded soldiers. I’d be honored to count you among my men, if it comes to that.”
The boy clutches the tunic to his chest and bows to me once, twice, three times in rapid succession. I nod to him as well, then to his father, whose face is now split in a wide grin.
I turn Darkwing away as the buzz of the crowd starts and point the horse toward the First House.
The journey takes longer than I expect. Once past the coliseum, the land turns into an uneven patchwork of field grass and mud, broken by dozens of small streams that pool into ponds and marsh. The path is clear, at least. A large, broad road has been cut into the marshland. But I peer to either side, confused. “Where does all the water go? Marshes such as these are usually close to great water, and the sea is nowhere close.”
“Remember, there used to be great water here, and there’s still a grand lake beyond those trees,” Caleb says, pointing into the far distance. “Not deep but fed by the winter snows from the mountains. See the falls?”
He points, but I can barely make out what he’s trying to show me, rocks and trees crowding round a geyser of mist. Something shifts in that mist, and I squint. “Are those horses?”
Caleb peers more closely too. “Marauders, most likely,” he says, disdain thick in his voice. “I told you; they’ve been worse this tournament than ever before, worrying at the edges of the encampments like a plague. Rihad’s going to have to do something about them, if he wants to keep the spectators happy.”
“They’re stealing money?”
“You’d think so, but it’s whatever they can get their hands on, really. Silver, food, weapons. Even clothing.” He makes a face. “Filthy bastards.”
I glance again to the mist, but the shadow horses are gone.
Caleb continues on, “It’s pretty out there, but believe me—be glad you’re not here in the spring. The bugs out there settle around you like a net.” He gestures next to the towers of the First House. “There’s a reason why they built the castle so high. It wasn’t just for the view.”
Nazar remains quiet, and we travel on with only occasional conversation, Caleb filling me in on everything I should already know about the First House. Though I’m grateful for the information, a second emotion wells with each new detail of the great house’s might, its glory, its honor.
What is the use of honor when one of these exalted houses is so bold as to strike down the firstborn son of the Tenth House? How can the First be so consumed with pageants and poetry when warrior knights are being slaughtered in its very shadow?
Surely, my brother isn’t the only son who’s been targeted…surely, he couldn’t be. The Tenth House is no threat—no threat at all!
None of this makes any sense.
Anger twists and spins within me, and I swallow it whole, struggling to maintain my composure. We aren’t alone on the road, but most of the travelers we encounter are comingfromthe First House, not heading toward it; a trickling stream of farmers and merchants, their smiles broad as they greet us, their voices carrying above the clanking of what’s left in their packs.
“It’s a good time to have something to sell,” Caleb observes after a string of horses pass, led by a tall, slender man and woman in a cart pulled by another team. “Those are pack horses.The First House is preparing for a series of great banquets, and it’s ever generous to its suppliers.”
“So, the Lord Protector is fair to his people?”
“Fair?” Caleb tilts his head at that, considering. In that moment, he reminds me of Gent, and I stifle a laugh. “Generous, as I say. Not fair, exactly. He can turn on you as easily as embrace you. As long as he’s in a giving mood, he gives. But you can’t ever expect it. That’s where you’ll fail.”
I nod. It’s sage counsel, and Caleb’s first hint that the Lord Protector isn’t as honorable and glorious as he might wish to be perceived. It’s also the advice of an insider. “How do you know so much?” I ask quietly. “Who did you serve?”
We’re well ahead of Nazar by this time, but Caleb still stiffens, glancing around. “I served no one. I simply hear things.” He hikes his left shoulder, his missing arm almost indiscernible given the artful hanging of the Tenth House tunic. “People talk freely around me, as if it’s my ears that are gone, not my arm.”
I don’t believe him, but I can see the blush flagging his cheekbones. My gut tightens with chagrin. His secrets are his own to keep. I certainly have mine.
“Well, however you heard it, I’m grateful. I don’t even know how little I know until you say something like this. I’ll be lost in the halls of the First House.”
“No, you won’t be.” Caleb turns to me, his gaze fervent once more. “You’re a warrior knight. You’ll be recognized as such. Maybe in the mountains you didn’t realize the importance of what that means, being the only warrior of the Tenth House, but here, you’ll see. Your position is one of great honor. There are men who live their entire lives dreaming of fighting alongside a Divh, and they die still dreaming. You’ve been banded. You’re already elite.”
I grimace, shaking my head. “I’m not elite, Caleb.”
“You are.” He smirks and looks forward again. “You just don’t know it yet.”
The sun crawls across the sky as we ride. We stop once to rest the horses at the base of the great mountain, where the road has been cut into the sheer rock.
Caleb notes my stare. “It took workers a generation to cut it, another to complete the great castle above. Until then, the First House ruled from this rise.” He waves across the open space. Roiling vines have taken over most of the terrain, and the trees grow tall. “No stone remained once the mountain tower was completed, by order of the Lord Protector of that time. He wanted no memory of any stronghold save the one that ruled from on high.”
“Seems a waste.” I squint up, but the mountain crowds around me, sheer cliff walls that hide the rich estate above. “Surely he could have housed someone in this secondary building?”
“A tower isn’t built for efficiency.” Nazar’s voice startles us from the side. He leans against the base of a stone wall, smoking his pipe. “A tower is built for might and war. To awe the approaching army, or quail the lone rider. The Lord Protector was wise in his choice.”