Page 90 of Court of Talons
Another resounding cheer crashes around me as everyone with a green sash seems to unearth great handfuls of petals and sends them scattering through the stiff breeze pouring through the tunnel. The breeze surges up and out, carrying the petals with it, but as I am the last warrior through the passage, there’s fortunately no one behind me to catch a faceful of the things, other than the unfortunate guards. I wince at what they might be thinking but still hold my hand high, my fingers tight in a fist. The roar lasts long after I’ve escaped into the relative stillness of the dark passage, focusing on the waning light beyond.
We empty out onto the broad marshlands. There are more people there, as before, chanting and singing and dancing in great celebration. Trilion will be reeling tonight, Caleb has told me, and I can well believe it.
Finally, the processional line stretches out, and the outriders are allowed to join their men. I watch with a rueful smile as thegreat entourages of the Second and Third Houses flow into line with the warriors. Every House has a brace of a half-dozen men or more, but I’m grateful beyond measure when my small honor guard rides up behind me, Caleb on his gelding and Nazar on his trusty mare.
“You fought well and admirably,” Nazar says, and I blush at his compliment. It’s perhaps the first he’s given me. But I have other concerns now.
“How many other people have you given sashes to, Nazar? Like the ones you affixed to my saddle? Because I saw literallydozens.”
He shrugs. “The seamstresses of Trilion had idle hands and need of coin. With Caleb’s wagering, we were amply supplied with the latter.”
“Still, those petals,” I groan. “They were everywhere in the first battle, but I thought that would be the end of them. Then the procession happened, and those people—all those running people, coming to drop those petals into the corridor. Rihad can’t have missed that.”
“Rihad was a league ahead of you at that time,” Caleb puts in. “It’s not like he was looking back.”
“The guards could see it, though—at least for a few moments. Thank the Light for the wind that blew up, that nothing was left behind.”
Nazar doesn’t turn to me as he rides but keeps his gaze steady on the mountain home of the First House, looming larger with every step. “There is always something left behind,” he says.
We weave our way through the scrubby, marsh-ridden plain, and I think again of the worm of the southern realms. “I thought I’d seen everything before this day. That worm…”
“That was the first time I’d seen it too,” Caleb pipes up. “Makes sense, though, right? The southern realms are buried insand. Of course they’d have Divhs who’d be able to fight well in it.”
“I…” I hadn’t thought of that. Before he’d bonded to me, Merritt’s Divh had seemed much like Father’s before it, rangy, tough, and comparatively small, now that I’ve seen these other Divhs. But then, we are tucked into a tiny corner of the Protectorate, surrounded by mountains and forests. A Divh in those lands would need to be able to move through forests and streams without trampling everything beneath its feet. Here, in this wide plain, the terrain is different. The needs of the warrior are different.
I consider the problem aloud. “The First House Divhs are large—very large. Suited for barren mountains and plains. The northern Divhs are smaller but with thicker hides and fur.”
“The southern Divhs are covered in lizard skin or poison, and sometimes both.” Caleb’s eyes are wide as he turns to me. “Do you think…I mean, it’s so obvious. But is that part of the warrior-Divh connection? Not only the strength of a warrior’s blood but where his house is, what his needs are, what role he plays in the Protectorate?”
I’ve never been so weary, thinking of this. I sigh. “I have no idea. Such knowledge was forbidden to me.”
The honesty of my own words shocks me, but Caleb merely nods. “I know what that’s like. I was little more than a squire even before I lost my arm, so no one gave me any information,” he says. “You’re expected to figure it out on your own.”
Nazar is silent on the other side of us, and the guards bringing up the end of the procession are far distant, talking among themselves. It’s as good a time as ever to tell Caleb the truth. At least this truth, anyway.
“Rihad…sent a message to me, before my battle with Hantor.”
Caleb turns to me with wide eyes. “He did! That’s unexpected. I’d have bet differently had I known that. I mean, I thought you were going to win, but to have the sponsorship of the Lord Protector, that’s impressive!”
“That’s not the kind of message it was,” I say, waving him to silence. “He told me that Hantor… He told me what happened to your arm. That Hantor was behind it.”
“Oh…” Caleb looks away, shifting his body so that his shoulder isn’t so easily seen by me, and my heart twists anew. “I didn’t know he knew about that. Seems odd that he would.”
I think again of Miriam, and all the deception of the First House, but I push on. “I’m sorry, Caleb. If you’d wanted me to kill Hantor, I’m sorry that I disappointed you. You deserve vengeance. Any warrior who’s wronged deserves as much.”
Nazar still rides in silence on my other side, but Caleb’s laugh, when it comes, is wry.
“No, I don’t want vengeance, not like that, anyway. Hantor—I should have been smarter. About my position and about his.” He lifts his head and stares into the shadow of the mountain. We’re only a quarter hour from the gates, and I can already feel the whispered secrets of the First House closing around us as Caleb continues.
“Hantor is a warrior knight, but not a very good one. He was given the band too early. His father was lazy and wanted to focus on his gold and his feasts, but he was cruel as well. Hantor wanted both to appeaseandplease him. I can’t say I would have been different.” He sighs. “When I bested him in the fighting pit, it wasn’t the first time, only the most public. It was also in front of his father. I’d thought to gain glory, because the father often ridiculed Hantor in front of—well, everyone. But I’d miscalculated on both sides. Hantor’s need for redemption, and his father’s need for Hantor to be feared. Hantor recruited Jankto help him, and another warrior knight—a good man who didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late—stood watch.”
I think of the Second House warrior knight on the stage in the tournament grounds, the one who’d looked down at Caleb with guilt and pain, but I say nothing.
Caleb shrugs the stump of his arm. “What happened next was the natural outcome of that.”
“What happened next has forced you to hone the skills of a warrior.” Nazar’s quiet words flow over us, and Caleb’s face flushes in surprise that the old man has been listening so closely. “What happened next has improved your speed, your stealth, and your ability to manage the weight of the sword and stave with only one hand. It has also improved your strategy.” Nazar pauses. “Which clearly needed improving.”
I can’t help my bark of laughter, and Caleb laughs as well, even as the great gates open to draw us once more into the twisting, turning road to the First House. Our progress is further delayed by the cheers of the villagers who’ve been stationed along the way, and as we wind our way up the mountain, the cries get even louder—for all the warriors, but especially for me. Perhaps because I am the last one, or perhaps once again in anticipation of the coming feast.