Mickey Reichert - Flight of the Renshai

Kedrin's eyes widened. "Does Verdondi know you're Renshai?"

Saviar returned his attention to his sword. "It didn't come up."

Ra-khir asked in a cautious voice pitched to sound matter-of-fact but not quite succeeding, "Did your relationship to the Knights of Erythane 'come up'?"

"Yes."

Kedrin added, "Probably just as well."

"Yes," Ra-khir agreed. "Probably."

Though Saviar continued to work directly on his sword, he could feel his father's gaze upon him. He set aside his project for a moment. "Papa, I'm not a fool."

"What?" Ra-khir sounded offended. "Of course you're not, Saviar. I've never suggested otherwise."

"I didn't lie, and I won't if directly questioned. But it wouldn't hurt to have Verdondi see me as a friend before he knows what I am. It might give him a reason to rethink the prejudice his people have drummed into him since birth."

"Timing is everything," Kedrin said softly.

Father and son looked at him simultaneously.

He wore his formal knight garb: the tabard with Bearn's rearing golden grizzly on a blue background on the front and Erythane's black sword against orange on the back. Though matured, his features remained strikingly handsome, and the red-blond hair he once shared with son and grandson had turned a distinguished silver. His appearance, his stance, commanded attention and obedience; and Saviar understood how the knights were known and respected even as far away as the Northlands. "In battle, in life, in diplomacy. Everything is timing."

Ra-khir smiled. "Don't tell me…" He closed his eyes and held his fingers to his temples, as if concentrating very hard and receiving an answer whispered by the gods: "General Santagithi."

Finding the origin of Kedrin's quotations had become an easy matter. As Kedrin studied the writings and history of the ancient Western leader/general, he had become more enamored of his wisdom and methods. Considered the best strategist of his era, Santagithi had essentially single-handedly won the Westlands biggest war, the Great War, against a then-hostile Eastlands. He also had a connection to the Renshai. His daughter, Mitrian, was the mother of the half-breed tribe of Tannin and the grandmother of the non-blooded tribe of Rache.

Kedrin shrugged. "Scoff if you must, my son. Great men deserve their due, even long after death."

"Or, in Colbey's case, without the need to die at all." Ra-khir threw up his hands, as if in surrender. "And between my father and my wife, I'm starved for original thought."

"That," Kedrin returned playfully, "is what adolescent sons are for. After all, they know everything."

Ra-khir returned his attention to his son. "In Saviar's case, I'm starting to believe that's true. Do you understand what your grandfather is saying, albeit secondhand, about timing?"

"I do." Saviar did not want to miss a detail. He had to find a way to prove to his father that he was as much a man as Calistin, despite not yet having passed his Renshai testing. "He's saying that I need to reveal the truth at the right time and in the best way. I can't wait until someone else tells Verdondi I'm Renshai or leave him feeling as if I'm deliberately misleading him and using him for information."

Ra-khir nodded sagely. "You do understand."

"Of course, I do." Secretly thrilled by his father's approval, Saviar returned to his oiling. Neither of his parents could be impressed easily. "Like I said, I'm not a fool."

"Ra-khir?" Kedrin said.

Ra-khir apparently caught the reference. "Yes, all right. I suppose you do know better."

Finished with his task, Saviar returned the sword to his belt. He started stripping off his training clothing. As the wet cloth peeled away, it left him damp, cold, and covered in gooseflesh.

Kedrin politely averted his eyes. "Saviar, the Northmen asked King Griff to exile all Renshai."

Saviar stiffened but refused to otherwise react. He knew the king of Bearn would never do such a thing. "How did the Northmen react when he said 'no'?"

"His Majesty," Ra-khir explained, "did not have to say 'no.' The Fields of Wrath are in Erythane, not Bearn proper."

Saviar pulled on a clean tunic. It smelled freshly laundered, a welcome relief after the tainted stiffness his garments had attained during travel. He dragged off his britches next. "So, he simply pushed the decision off onto King Humfreet? He didn't defend us at all?"

"This is diplomacy," Kedrin said. "Things are handled differently than in… real life. Wars and alliances are decided by a word or a pen stroke."

"All right."

"And," Ra-khir added, "the king did say that Renshai were courageous, competent, invaluable guardians and warriors. That he has always supported them, and they have never let him down."

"All right," Saviar said again, not wholly happy or comforted but still willing to listen. King Humfreet was a reasonable man but without the historical loyalty and wisdom of Bearn's royalty. Saviar suspected the knights had not yet come to the contentious part of the discussion, and that troubled him greatly.

Kedrin raised his head and heaved a sigh so small Saviar saw more than heard it. "Saviar, the Northmen have agreed to assist Bearn with the pirates."

"That's good." Saviar pulled on his clean britches. "No one knows more about pirates or pirating than Northmen."

"Saviar," Kedrin warned. "Your own prejudice is showing."

Saviar had never considered himself biased, but it seemed impossible to remain fair to people who had just suggested banishing his own family. "Sorry." He did not mean it, nor did it sound as if he did.

"They offered large numbers of soldiers." Ra-khir seemed torn between studying his son's reaction and giving him the appropriate privacy to finish dressing. "And asked only that they not have to serve with Renshai."

"You mean in the same unit?"

"I mean, in the same army."

"Oh." Saviar did not know what to say. One Renshai equaled three of any other warriors; yet, even counting in Renshai soldiers, the Northmen would still clearly outnumber them by thousands. "The king accepted that offer?"

"Not yet."

"But he'll have to," Saviar guessed. "How did Thialnir take it?"

"Not well," Ra-khir admitted. "Though, to his credit, he refrained from violence. A group of us are going to try to explain the situation to him."

"We'd like you to come along," Kedrin said.

Saviar glanced at his father, who did not contradict. At one time, they had clearly disagreed on this matter. "You would do better taking Calistin."

"Calistin?" Ra-khir shook his head. "I don't think Calistin would see the situation any differently than Thialnir."

Saviar had to concur. "Well, then. How many of the people who are going to talk to Thialnir can best him in a battle?"

"None," Kedrin said. "But we're planning to talk to him, not kill him."

Saviar adjusted his britches. "Diplomacy means something different to Renshai. He won't respect a man who couldn't kill him. That's why I suggested Calistin."

Kedrin heaved a more obvious sigh. "And who do you know who can best Calistin?"

"No one. Why?"

"Because…" Kedrin sat on the neatly stretched blankets of his own pallet. "… I imagine we will find it just as hard to convince Calistin as Thialnir. No, Saviar, you're the only Renshai we have. And the only one we need."

Saviar could not fathom his grandfather's endorsement. "I haven't even passed my manhood testing. Thialnir's a proven warrior, blooded and tested. They chose him to represent us."

"He won't listen unless you best him?" Ra-khir took a step toward Saviar.

"I'd have to give him a reasonably good fight at the very least. That will take years. I might never gain the ability to take on-"

Ra-khir seized his son's arm. "We have two days, Saviar. Let's get started."