Page 80 of Court of Talons
The trumpeters of the Lord Protector are stationed all along the roadway between the base of the First House’s gates and the coliseum. Every warrior in the tournament is dressed for competition, even those not scheduled today, because we all process in as a great parade, with Rihad at our head.
I think about the symbolism of that, the symbolism that has taken up so much of the tournament so far. Rihad’s sponsored battles in the fighting pits, with the promise of these newly created warrior-Divh partners to be shared among the winning houses of the warrior-knight competition. Fortiss, charged with commanding a Divh that isn’t his own. The novelty of the warriors from the southern realms, many of whom have never fought in the Tournament of Gold. And over all of it, the haunting threat of marauders, both those here at the tournament, and those targeting our best and brightest warrior knights.
Marauders. IknowRihad has ordered the assassinations of the warriors enroute to the tournament. I simply don’t fully understand why. To leave the south, north and the eastexposed while he builds up his own strength in the heart of the Protectorate? To put new Divhs in place in those border houses? What could be the advantage there?
Unless…unless he knows how weak we are at the border, and he seeks to reinforce us. I think of my father, walled up in the Tenth, desperately clinging to the old ways. Father would never allow Lord Rihad to usurp his authority in his own house. But without Merritt…without our Div…
I narrow my gaze on Fortiss, well ahead of me at the leading edge of the procession. My stomach knots in equal parts delirium and doubt as I think of what we shared last night.
If he ever discovers who I really am…
But he can’t. No one can. I’ve come to this tournament to seek protection for my family and honor for my house. That remains my primary charge.
Though perhaps, no longer my only charge.
Whether it’s the way of the warrior or not, Iwantrevenge. Justice. I don’t know who killed Merritt among these warriors, but at Lord Rihad’s request, one of the men or boys riding in this procession loosed the arrow that buried itself in my brother’s back. There can be no forgiveness for that.
I hope I’ll be able to fight every last one of the First House warriors until I find my brother’s murderer. If I look across that open space and see the truth in his eyes, knowthiswarrior is the one who killed Merritt, I won’t stand down from my attack, no matter how the horns blow.
And Iwillwin, I resolve. Especially if what I saw in Rihad’s chambers lies in wait for the Protectorate. Especially if the dark tales of the Savasci have any basis in truth. I will win warriors for the Tenth House and for the Ninth and Eleventh, the Fourth and Fifth, to replace their fallen sons. I will win warriors for the Twelfth House too, so they aren’t caught unawares.
I frown, considering the reality of what I seek to accomplish. But Rihad has promised a brace of twenty warrior knights to the winner, and the Tenth House doesn’t need twenty men. We need two. Perhaps three. More than that and we’d need to build a second manor house.
I snort as Nazar rides up beside me.
“Your manner is dark, and your thoughts take you away from the path you must tread,” he says conversationally, as if the words he speaks are of no import. “That’s the way to destruction, both for you and your lord.”
I narrow my eyes at him. Hecannotmean Fortiss. The man isn’t a mind-reader. “I have no lord, Nazar.”
“Then all the more reason for you to follow the way of strategy, that you might serve as the lord of yourself and your troops. That you might push yourself nobly to the actions you seek to achieve.”
“It’s one of them, ahead of us, who killed him.” I stare stonily up the long procession, unable to let the thought go. “I can’t tell which one. With them all dressed alike, they’re all the enemy.”
Nazar falls quiet for a moment. “You must think hard on what you say,” he tells me gravely. “Your words contain more answers than you realize.” He waves off my retort. “Your opponents in the coming rounds know precisely what you have shown them, and only what you’ve shown them. What have they seen?”
I sigh. I’ve given this a great deal of thought too. “That I attack quickly, but allow my opponent to regain his feet, so I can be taken down with equal speed.” I shift uncomfortably. “I’ve given them much to work with.”
“Now you must give them something else,” Nazar says. “Something that is most important, given the line of First House warriors you have emblazoned in your mind as your due. They will come at you, in ones and twos or all at once, but you mustmake your body into rock as well as water, such that no one can touch you, no one can harm you.”
I frown at him as he leans over, fussing with the thick gullet of Darkwing’s saddle. “Harm me or harm my spirit? I thought warriors fight with their minds.”
Nazar straightens, and his face is so intense that I cannot look to see what he’s done to my tack; I can only stare into his hard, gray eyes. “What is the spirit of a warrior worth if there is no body of the warrior for others to see? If you learn to make your body like rock, your thoughts like water, all who see you will know what you do, and will wish to follow a warrior and a lord who can master such an act. You must think hard on this truth and make it your own.”
Nazar peels away from me, and something flutters in the wind as he falls back. I glance down at my saddle. Now, hanging from the saddle in a tight knot is a spray of long, delicate sashes, each stained a deep forest green, painted over with slender silver bands. I know what they are: favors. I reflect on what Nazar has told me. As we near the coliseum, there’ll be more people—people all around, both those waiting to enter the stands and those who cannot afford to enter, the masses of spectators who can still see much of the battle of warrior Divhs simply by looking up to the sky.
They’ve come to be entertained. They’ve come to be awed.
I fan my fingers through the sashes. I don’t think they’ve come to be led, though. Not by me. Perhaps by Rihad…
I frown, peering ahead. Rihad has almost reached the coliseum, where he will honor the fifty-odd soldiers and villagers who’ve fought and earned the right to become banded soldiers.
He will be their sponsor, and…
I blink. He will be theirsponsor. Their sponsor and patron, in the end, much like he is to the bards. For all that he is to release these men to far-flung houses, how is there any way toensure that their loyalty would be to their new lords? None. Not when Rihad is the benefactor who made it all possible in the first place. Not when Rihad has the power to grant men the opportunity to become warriors. There’s no more potent bond of loyalty than when you’ve lifted a man into a new station.
My lips settle into a thin line.I am a fool. A thousand times a fool.
Fighting in the tournament won’t bring back Merritt, and it won’t bring the Tenth House honor. Even if I discover the identity of Merritt’s killer, there will be no justice for my brother.