Mickey Reichert - Flight of the Renshai

"If I was just a bit stronger, I could push those logs into the right places, and my sister could-"

Ra-khir interrupted in a strong voice pitched to carry. "I just can't believe that, in this entire village, there's not a single, decent man willing to help a widow and her children keep their dwelling habitable."

His words had the desired effect. A wave of scarlet suffused the villagers, especially the males, and they shifted with nervous whispers.

Darby stood, rooted, his mouth still open but no words emerging.

Ra-khir rubbed his gloved hands together. "I'm on a vital mission, but I'll simply have to delay it. The kings of Bearn and Erythane will surely understand why I have to stop to rebuild a cottage for a village that has forgotten how." His hands paused in mid-motion. "Well, perhaps they won't understand. I certainly don't."

A well-dressed, thin man stepped forward, "Well, you see, sir-" he started but was interrupted by a burly fellow in linen.

"You continue your mission, Sir Knight. I'll help this family rebuild." He spoke into a shocked silence.

Murmurs swept the gathering group.

"And I," shouted another from the back.

A chorus of similar promises followed.

Darby lowered his head, but even the corner of his face still visible to Ra-khir revealed a smile.

Ra-khir nodded. "When I come back through here on my return, I expect to find a brand-new cottage. And I expect you all to charge exactly what good neighbors should, what I would have charged." He looked from volunteer to volunteer, needing to make certain guilt, not the full donkey cart, motivated the villagers.

The burly man shouted the proper answer. "Nothing, of course, sir."

Ra-khir favored the man with a bow and flourish of his hat.

Applause followed.

The door to the cottage swung open, and a woman stepped outside. Though tall and quite slender, she showed a hint of delicate curves through her worn and faded shift. She had the face of an angel: creamy white, blue-eyed, and high-cheeked, with a strong straight nose and ears that disappeared beneath a thick cascade of honey-brown hair. She had long legs that promised shapeliness with more regular meals. Her movements were gliding, robust and sure, with a dancer's agility.

Catching himself staring, Ra-khir forced himself to look at Darby. "Is that… your…"

"Mama," Darby said. "Yes."

The word "… sister" died on Ra-khir's tongue. "That's your mama?"

As the fact had already been established, Darby clearly felt no need to reply.

A girl peeked out from behind her, in that awkward stage between childhood and adolescence. She, too, would look beautiful if she had a bit more meat on her too-skinny frame. Ra-khir could understand why the men wanted her for acts about which Darby had refused to speak.

Ra-khir swallowed hard, then bowed to Darby's mama as if to royalty. "I am Sir Ra-khir Kedrin's son, Knight to the Erythanian and Bearnian kings: His Grace, King Humfreet and His Majesty, King Griff."

Clearly taken aback, the woman said nothing for several moments. Finally, she found her voice, though scratchier than Ra-khir expected. "Er… um, I am Tiega." She obviously felt the need to add more, as he had. "… um… Tiego's daughter… er… of Keatoville, Westlands."

Ra-khir replaced his hat and smiled. "Pleased to meet you, Tiega. You have a fine son in Darby, ma'am."

Without a hint of modesty or hesitation, Tiega replied, "Yes, I do, sir." She looked over at the donkey cart and its load of goods. "But is he in some sort of… trouble, sir?"

"No, ma'am," Ra-khir said emphatically. "These items belong to Darby, fairly won and scavenged. I just thought I'd see such a moral and enterprising young man safely home."

Tiega smiled sweetly at Ra-khir. "Thank you, sir. Your kindness is appreciated."

Ra-khir thought he saw a spark of interest, but he had to ignore it. It was too soon. His grief remained too raw and painful.

Darby walked to his mother's side to hold a whispered conversation. He pulled a handful of coins from his pocket and dumped them into her palm. She stared at the money, clearly shocked.

The crowd began to disperse.

Ra-khir cleared his throat. "Well, I've fulfilled my promise, so I guess I'll be on my way." He reached for Silver Warrior.

"Wait," Tiega said. "Can't you stay for a meal, Sir Ra-khir? I can cook anything you like, so long as Darby can buy the ingredients here."

Ra-khir would have loved to stay. A home-cooked meal sounded wonderful, and the company of a handsome woman more so. "I'd like that, ma'am; but I've gotten behind on my mission already. I will return to see your new cottage." He emphasized the phrase to remind the village men of their promise. "And I'll have a warm stew, then, if you'll prepare it."

"I will," Tiega promised.

Ra-khir hauled himself into the saddle.

"Sir Ra-khir?"

Ra-khir reined his steed to face Tiega directly. "Yes, ma'am?"

"I wondered if you might take Darby with you."

"Ma'am?"

"As an apprentice, I mean. A squire."

Ra-khir hesitated. He had never considered himself an advanced enough knight to train an apprentice, though his rank and service time were sufficient. If Saviar had followed through on his interest, Ra-khir would have given him to someone else, worried about his objectivity and his relationship. He glanced at Darby.

The boy stood with hands clenched with desire, his eyes nearly blazing. Only then, Ra-khir noticed they were the same fiery blue as his mother's.

"Becoming a Knight of Erythane takes many years of grueling work. It's hard, it's often tediously boring, and it requires a dedication to morality, to the Order, and to the kings that transcends logic, life, and family. Only the best are chosen, and most of them don't finish the training."

Darby pursed his lips, nodding.

"If you fail, you've essentially wasted that many years of your life you could have spent learning a useful trade." Ra-khir saw no reason to mention that the time would not be wholly lost, as most of the dropouts had enough weapons training to become soldiers in the kings' employ. "Darby, would you like some time to think about it?"

Darby turned Ra-khir a look of seriousness so grave it transcended death. "I've thought about it all my life. I want to be a knight, sir. I'll do whatever it takes."

"It's a lifelong commitment."

"More's the better."

"To accompany me, you'll need a horse."

Darby motioned toward his haul. "I'll buy one."

Ra-khir had not bargained on a companion, yet the idea did not bother him. He gave Tiega a hard look. "My mission is dangerous."

Though he had addressed the mother, Darby answered for her. "I know how to fight, Sir Ra-khir. And I know how to dodge." He added with a conspiratorial smile, "If circumstances allow it, and there's no dishonor in it, I can also hide pretty good."

"Pretty well," Ra-khir corrected. Another feature of the knights was impeccable speech and diction, most of the time.

"I can hide pretty well," Darby dutifully fixed.

"And his training will have to take place in Erythane and Bearn, which means that even if he survives the mission, you may never see him again."

"Oh, I'll see him again, sir." Tiega met Ra-khir's gaze without a hint of fear. "I'll move. I'd be gone from here already if I had the money for travel." She smiled broadly. "And, now I do. By the time you come back through here, I intend to have all of this junk sold and have purchased more horses. If Darby has performed satisfactorily, we'll all accompany you back to Erythane." She added carefully, "Assuming you'd allow us to go with you, sir. Otherwise, Keva and I'll get there on our own."

Still partway behind her mother, Keva nodded forcefully.

The new cottage seemed moot now, but Ra-khir did not allow the village men off the hook. They should have assisted Tiega and her family from the moment she lost her husband. "What man in his right mind wouldn't agree to ride with two beautiful women?"