Mercedes Lackey - Owlknight

Lord Breon turned to Val. “Think you can handle that?”

Val took his time in answering, his dark brows knitted as he thought. “If you don’t expect results immediately,” he said at last. “If you trust me with this, I need to take my time with it. And I’ll want the use of a couple as outright gifts from Kelmskeep to important people.”

“That’s reasonable,” Barda agreed. “In fact, that might well whet the right appetites, if you give those gifts out first. Nothing like having someone with influence take a liking to your work for getting traders interested. It’s always better for the buyer to come to you.”

“Done, then,” Val said instantly, and another agreement was concluded.

“We want someone as - ” Chief Vordon searched for the word he wanted and finally leaned over and whispered something in Starfall’s ear. Starfall whispered back, and Vordon straightened. “As agent,” he said carefully. “For our goods. Someone who bargains well.”

Barda nodded. “I didn’t want to mention this before, because I didn’t know how your people would feel about it, but I’ve been thinking you could get better return if you had someone in the village working for you.”

Harrod bobbed his round head earnestly, and his lank, blond hair fell into his eyes. “My wife will do it, if you like,” he offered diffidently. “She’s sharp enough that the Lutters complain all the time about the prices they have to pay for jars. If you’d rather pick someone else, though, just say so.”

“No, no, your wife-mate will be good,” the Chief said instantly, giving Darian the feeling that he’d been on the wrong end of a bargain with Harrod’s wife himself a time or two. “Honest and - what was it? - sharp. Good.”

The rest of the meeting was concerned with other such things; requests from the village for Tayledras products and that Lord Breon supply the new village militia with some replacement arms, since the blacksmith of Errold’s Grove, though good with ploughs and hinges, knew little of arms and armoring. The kyree wanted permission to dig emergency lairs in the bluffs along the river near the village, and the hertasi wanted help from Ghost Cat on a fishing expedition. Most meetings were like this, where the details and difficulties of three cultures living in the same area got taken care of and smoothed over. Sometimes there were arguments, and twice there had been a point when Darian thought things might come to blows, but somehow everything got sorted out under the eyes of the Hawkbrothers. They’d even established a Council common treasury as the means of paying for things that all factions needed, and to pay off aggrieved parties if there was no other way to settle a dispute. The cash was anything but petty, but they were all in agreement that when time and diplomacy could not solve a problem, sufficient payoff would. As he had hoped, k’Valdemar was proving to be a neutral ground where the territory’s difficulties could be dealt with. The fact that it was the most pleasant and most relaxing place of all the possible spots where meetings could be held helped tremendously to get things settled peacefully. It was no accident that the Vale had turned out that way either. Tayledras were past masters at the strategic use of pleasure and comfort.

There weren’t going to be any serious arguments today, that was clear enough. Darian suspected that the imminent arrival of this Herald might have something to do with that. Barda had been awfully quick to drop the Errold’s Grove protest, and even voted against it herself - perhaps because she knew that if she supported the protest, it would certainly come up again in front of the Herald.

No one wants to look bad in front of the important stranger, he thought, with a mental smile. As if he won’t have had to deal with arguments just as petty, or even more so, before this. Of all of them, Darian had the most experience with Heralds; when k’Vala had helped the people of Valdemar clean out some nasty pockets of trouble left over from the mage-storms, he’d been the one, as the only Valdemar native, who spent the most time with their Heraldic liaisons. Stories came out over the campfire, often very funny stories, and Darian had about as good an idea of what it was like for a Herald on circuit as anyone who wasn’t himself a Herald.

“Is that it, then?” Lord Breon asked, looking around the table. “Everything taken care of?”

“As much as we can in one meeting,” Harrod replied, and Starfall nodded his agreement to that.

“Well, then, I have a proposition to make. We can take it as read that we’re going to have a bloody great celebration to welcome Heralds Anda and Shandi, right?”

Starfall laughed. “And you can take it as read that k’Valdemar will host it. No one else has the facilities - unless it was held outside, and it’s springtime, and you know what that means. Mud.”

Breon made a face. “Rain. Mud. Guaranteed. If it doesn’t rain on the welcome, it’ll rain on Spring Faire. At least if it rains in the Vale, it’ll be a warm rain.”

“I think we can even spare the magical energy to keep rain out of the Vale for a single day,” Starfall replied evenly. “A little borrowing from some other sources should make up the difference. Clearly, though, you have a request for the plans?”

Breon cleared his throat. “You all remember that I made Val a Knight when we decided he’d go to represent us at Court? Did I ever explain why?”

Snowfire wrinkled his brow in thought as the Errold’s Grove representatives looked blank; they hadn’t sat on the Council at the time. “Not that I recall. I thought it was simply something your people did from time to time.”

“We-e-ell, yes, in a way. A Knighthood confers rank - like Chief, or Warchief, Baron, or Elder. Not equal rank to those, but similar in concept,” Breon explained, using examples familiar to everyone around the table. “Most rank in Valdemar comes with land attached, though - Knighthood is the only one that doesn’t. It matches the ones that do, however - it’s meant to serve as notice to other people that the Knight is someone to be honored and respected, someone with the power to make decisions. It goes to younger sons who won’t inherit, for instance, or someone like Val who is going to serve as a representative for his parents. But it can also be used to reward people who’ve distinguished themselves; there’re Knights in the Guard, for instance. It’s a way of ennobling someone who’s not highborn and make them equal to the nobles.”

“All right,” Nightwind said. “So?”

“So I’d like to make young Darian a Knight of Valdemar.” Lord Breon sat back in his chair and enjoyed the various reactions of the rest of the Council.

Darian paled. He was too surprised - and concerned - to take any notice of the others. His first reaction was elation, but immediately following that was worry. “Lord Breon,” he said, before anyone else could voice their opinion, “I appreciate the honor, but why? And - I’ve already got other commitments; I am adopted into the Tayledras, and I couldn’t take any oaths that would conflict with that - ”

Breon shook his head. “No troubles there, lad. There’re a fair number of Valdemaran Knights that are envoys of other countries - well, there’s the Karsite ambassador, Karal, for one. The oaths you swear aren’t even in the name of a specific god; the phrasing is ‘by all I hold holy and dearest’ and you basically swear to defend the defenseless, uphold the right, that sort of thing. You’re the real liaison between Valdemar and the Hawkbrothers - but without some sort of title, I’m afraid this Herald might overlook you.” He gave a shrewd glance at Starfall, who nodded slowly. “Make you a Knight, though - and do it as part of his welcoming party - well, it’ll say without saying anything out loud that you rank equal with him.”