Mickey Reichert - Flight of the Renshai

Kedrin placed his hands on Saviar's shoulders while the heirs trooped out, accompanied by their guardians. Only after the last one left the courtyard did he speak, "Saviar, you did fine in a difficult situation." He turned a dagger glance at Ra-khir.

Saviar had no wish to be present when his father and grandfather discussed what Ra-khir had done.

"And," Kedrin added, "I believe you'll do fine tomorrow as well."

Saviar was not so certain. He could not best Thialnir; he could only hope to earn his respect. Even then, the Renshai leader might not take well to the news about the Pirate Wars; and, this time, the battle might not end on the command of a Knight of Erythane. In the hierarchy of Bearn, Kedrin and Thialnir were considered equals. "I'll do my best," Saviar promised. "I'll do you proud." He added only to himself: Or die trying. At the moment, the unspoken part of the promise seemed the most significant.

A bath and clean clothes worked wonders on Saviar, who felt refreshed despite the throbbing nicks and bruises that seemed to cover every part of him. Apparently, the heirs chose to wait for him because, as he approached the private dining hall, they were filing inside beneath the watchful eyes of their guardian Renshai.

Dodging his peers, who glared but made no move to intervene, Saviar scurried to assist Marisole. Barrindar arrived first, scooting back the seat of the eldest heir of Bearn with a gracious flourish. Saviar glanced around; but, as Halika, Calitha, and Eldorin already had servants assisting them to their seats, he simply chose the place at Marisole's left hand. He pulled out the chair to sit just as Barrindar started to settle into the same one.

Too late, Saviar realized his mistake.The only remaining male heir to Bearn's throne crashed clumsily to the floor, huge arms flailing.

Oh, gods. Before Saviar could move, Marisole and Barrindar's guardian stood between them, the Bearnide helping her cousin and the Renshai glaring daggers at Saviar. "I'm sorry,Your Grace." Saviar bowed repeatedly, finding himself unable to stop. "I am so sorry." I can't believe I did that. After what seemed like a hundred million bows, Saviar finally managed to scurry around the table to the only empty seat, across from Marisole at Halika's side. I can't believe I dumped a prince of Bearn on the floor. Unable to look at anyone, he buried his face in his arms. He could hear Marisole's soothing voice, soft and directed at Barrindar, her words obliterated by the stifled giggles of the other three princesses.

Only then, Saviar realized how swiftly Marisole had moved and remembered that the bard of Bearn also served as the king's personal bodyguard. He marveled at the thought of all she would have to face. Although Renshai women fought alongside their men, equally fierce, no other group of people supported the idea of women as warriors. Only Bearn expected it, and only in this one instance. Throughout history, the firstborn child of the bard was more often male than female; but Darris' own mother had also served in this position until her death had granted the job to him. Someday, Marisole would take his place, watching over whichever of the heirs passed the test that granted him or her rulership of Bearn.

An odd idea occurred to Saviar. What if Marisole is the heir? Such a possibility had never arisen before, given the cautious laws regarding who the heirs to Bearn could marry. Saviar wondered how such a thing might work: would the queen have to serve as her own personal bodyguard? The idea practically banished itself. As the bard, Marisole was also constrained to presenting new ideas only through song. The gods did not seem whimsical enough to force such a queen on the high kingdom of the Westlands. Court proceedings and strategy sessions would turn into an endless concert.

Halika stroked Saviar's damp hair. "It's all right, Savi." She snorted in another laugh. "It was an accident. Barri's not mad." She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "He's sweet on her, you know."

Saviar looked at Marisole's blood sister. "Who?"

"Barrindar, of course." Halika's brows furrowed as she considered the undirected question. "He really likes Marisole." She rolled her eyes, as if she could never imagine anyone finding her sister attractive. "Only gods know why."

Barrindar and Marisole? The idea seemed madness. "But they're-" Saviar stopped himself before saying anything stupid. They were half siblings by birth yet did not actually share much blood. Matrinka and Griff were first cousins, an allowable royal marriage by Bearnian convention. When it came to bloodlines, Barrindar and Marisole were actually farther apart than their parents.

"-brother and sister," Halika finished. "Yeah, I know. Isn't it sickening?"

Saviar found himself more jealous than appalled. He had always known he did not fit the criteria necessary to marry a princess of Bearn. Nevertheless, perhaps because she was "safe" or the first girl with whom he had established a friendship, Marisole had occasionally figured in his dreams of the future. The realization surprised and embarrassed him. "Sickening? No. I think it's… it's… nice."

"You would." Halika stuck her tongue out at Saviar.

Servants circulated, bringing soup to every member of the group, including the guardian Renshai, who sat together at the opposite end of the table. A thick, cream smell filled Saviar's nostrils, along with a tempting array of unfamiliar spices. His gut growled loudly. Ignoring the food, Saviar finally looked directly at Barrindar. "I'm so sorry about what happened."

Barrindar waved away the apology good-naturedly. "Think nothing more of it, good friend." His spoon seemed to disappear into his massive hand, and he tended to his soup.

Saviar let out a pent-up breath, then took up his own spoon and ladled a hefty scoop into his mouth. Hotter than he expected, it burned his tongue, yet the magnificent flavor of spiced potatoes still came through. He gulped down half a mug of mulled cider, then several more spoonfuls of soup.

"So," said eleven-year-old Eldorin around a mouthful of food, "are you a knight or a Renshai?"

Saviar swallowed, the hot soup drawing a fiery line all the way to his stomach. "Renshai."

"Then why're you wearing knight's colors?"

It was the first time anyone had noticed. Even off-duty, the Knights of Erythane wore clothing in blue, gold, black, and orange, in a tasteful array that never clashed. Saviar had taken to emulating his father's colors in childhood, and the habit stuck. "My papa and grandpapa are knights," he explained. "That's what tends to fill our wardrobe."

"Oh." Apparently satisfied, Eldorin returned to her soup.

Saviar wanted to turn the conversation onto anything but himself, but bringing up Arturo's death too quickly seemed heartless at best. He tried to ease into the topic. "Um… how are… all of you?"

Replies of "good," "fine," and "well enough" came from every corner of the table. Then, Ivana let out a bray that startled Saviar. He barely managed to divert his spilling spoonful of soup into the bowl instead of his lap.

"I was aggrieved to hear about Arturo." Saviar addressed Marisole directly. "How… are you? In that regard?"

Halika interrupted before her sister could reply. "Don't ask her!" She tugged on Saviar's arm, and he released his spoon to avoid another near spill. "Her song about that is beautiful, but totally depressing."

Nods swept the group, even one from Marisole.

"They're all totally sad," Halika continued, "but getting past it little by little, day by day."

Again, the others nodded, more vigorously now.

Halika finished with something unexpected, "But I'm not sad at all."

Saviar blinked, then stared. "You're not sad about your brother dying?"

Calitha rolled her eyes, Eldorin shook her head, and Marisole and Barrindar gave each other knowing glances. Apparently oblivious, Ivana continued to eat her soup with noisy slurping that everyone politely ignored.