Tamora Pierce - Squire

Kel needed only a key to enter her quarters, no magic password. It seemed unlikely that anyone would maul her things and paint on her walls, as they had her first year, when the connecting door now led to Lord Raoul’s suite. Once inside, she looked around. This room, bigger than her squire’s and page’s quarters combined, boasted a desk, a bookcase, armour and weapons racks, and a map of Tortall over the desk. A dressing room with its attached privy was opposite the door that led to Lord Raoul’s rooms.

Her belongings were here. Lalasa had set Kel’s collection of Yamani waving cat figures on the mantel. Kel’s old books were beside those already in the case. Her clothespress, weapons, and all the things she exercised with were neatly arranged; her silk painting of two Yamanis duelling with glaives was hung. The bed had fresh sheets and pillows: Kel or Lalasa would bring her nightclothes and blankets in the morning. Even the birds’ and Jump’s dishes were there, filled and ready. The twelve sparrows flew to them instantly.

Looking around, Kel suddenly realized the connecting door was ajar. From inside Lord Raoul’s rooms she heard voices.

‘… isn’t decent. You know court gossips, Raoul. They’ll have you in bed with her before today is done!’

‘Now I’m confused, Flyn.’ That was Lord Raoul’s voice, slow and good-humoured. ‘I thought they’ve had me in bed with other men for years, since I’m not married.’

‘Not around me or the lads, they haven’t,’ was the growled reply. ‘We’ve explained it’s nobody’s business.’

‘Then explain the same thing about Kel and me, Flyn,’ Raoul said. ‘That’s easy enough.’

Flyn – she knew the name. Of course: Flyndan Whiteford, nominally in command of Third Company in the King’s Own, in reality second in command to Lord Raoul, who personally led it whenever possible. Kel had met Flyn three summers ago, during the spidren hunt at the end of her first year as a page.

‘Stop joking, Raoul,’ Flyndan replied. ‘I’ve served with you for fifteen years. I’ve a right to be heard.’

Raoul sighed. ‘You know I listen to you.’

‘Then be serious. The girl will have no reputation, and neither will you. The conservatives will be furious you picked her.’

‘So?’ Raoul asked. ‘They dislike me anyway, just for the changes I’ve made in the Own. How much more can they hate me because Kel’s my squire? And she’s had four years to think about her reputation.’

‘She’s fourteen – she can’t understand all the consequences,’ Flyndan grumbled. ‘As a noble she wouldn’t be thinking about marriage and babies for another couple of years.’

Raoul continued, still patient. ‘But as a commoner she might be married – and producing babies – right now. Stop fussing. She’s intelligent, and she’s steady. Some people always believe the worst.’

‘You only did it because Lady Alanna asked you to,’ snapped Flyndan.

Kel swallowed a gasp. Now she was really glad they didn’t know she was listening. She shouldn’t be. It wasn’t right. Educational, but not right.

There was a sigh in the next room. ‘Alanna mentioned it, but I’ve had Kel in mind since the spidren hunt. Everything I’ve heard just confirms that she’ll do well, given a chance. That’s what I’d like you to do, Flyn – give her a chance.’

Kel knew she had to leave or say she was there. Cat-quiet, she went to her door, then yanked it loudly shut. She walked into the centre of the room, saying, ‘Your food and water dishes are here—’

A man poked his head through the connecting door. He was in his early forties, blunt nosed, with the dark skin, hair, and eyes of a Bazhir. He wore a white cotton shirt and loose dark green breeches, casual dress. ‘Good afternoon, Squire Keladry. Do you remember me?’

Kel smiled at the Bazhir. ‘It’s Qasim, isn’t it? You fed my birds on the spidren hunt.’ He’d been paired with her that day and had treated her just as he had the male pages. That, and the fact that he liked her sparrows, made him a friend in Kel’s eyes.

‘Have you still the little ones?’ he asked.

‘Some. The flock got too big for me to keep them all.’ Kel’s new flock left their dishes and flew to Qasim, fluttering around him. ‘They remember you,’ she said.

He reached into a pocket and withdrew a handful of dried cherries. ‘I hoped they would,’ he admitted with a smile. The birds grabbed the treats. ‘Come.’ He led Kel into Raoul’s quarters.

The Knight Commander occupied a suite of rooms. The one connected to Kel’s was a study, complete with a desk, a number of chairs, and full bookcases. Maps of Tortall and its neighbours were mounted on three walls. Beyond the study was a dining room of sorts, though the table was covered with armour and weapons. From her tour that morning Kel knew Raoul’s bedroom was on the other side, with its dressing room and privy.

Raoul sat at his desk, stacks of paper and books spread around him. He grinned at Kel. ‘I see you remember Qasim ibn Zirhud. He’s a corporal now, in Volorin’s squad. I don’t think you were properly introduced to Flyn, though – Captain Flyndan Whiteford.’

The man who sat in a chair opposite Raoul nodded curtly. He was stocky and fair skinned, his red-brown hair cropped short on the sides and left tightly curled on top. His brown eyes were set under thin brows, over a small nose and small lips. His voice, a light baritone, carried a hint of a northern burr, all but erased by years with the King’s Own.

‘This isn’t a menagerie,’ Flyndan objected as Jump and the birds explored the study.

‘The sparrows carry their own weight, Flyn,’ said Raoul. ‘Or did you forget, they led us to the spidren nest?’ He reached down to pet Jump. ‘Her gelding’s a piece of work, too.’ To Kel he said, ‘I’m glad you stopped by. I forgot to see to your kit. Do you have an hour? I know you’ll want to sup with your friends, but we should handle some things while we can.’

Kel nodded.

‘We’ll see to personal armour tomorrow, but as you know, such things take time. Qasim will help you draw pieces to tide you over when we’re done talking,’ Raoul explained. ‘Until you get your own weapons, use company issue. You need a sword and dagger, a small axe, a shield. That’s a company shield, Qasim – I’m having a proper Goldenlake shield made, but that takes a week. Kel, which are you better at, longbow or crossbow?’

‘Long, my lord,’ Kel replied. ‘And I have a bow, sword, and dagger.’

‘Let Qasim review them,’ Raoul said. ‘He may ask you to use ours for now.’ He nodded to Qasim. ‘Standard field kit. Now, long weapons …’ He gazed at Kel thoughtfully. ‘Lances are good for tournaments, giants, and ogres, but they’re unwieldy in a scramble. Most of us carry spears—’

‘A third use halberds,’ Flyndan added.

‘I know you can use a spear,’ Raoul continued, thinking aloud. ‘Have you tried a halberd?’

Kel hesitated. Lord Wyldon had never let her use her favourite weapon, which was similar to a halberd. I won’t know if I don’t ask, she thought. ‘One moment, my lord?’ she asked. At his nod she returned to her room.

‘She’s polite enough,’ Kel heard Flyndan say.

‘What did you expect?’ Raoul was amused. ‘Wyldon trained her. He’s serious about manners.’

Kel’s wooden practice glaive and a standard glaive hung on a rack behind the connecting door. She took the edged weapon down. The five-foot-long staff was teak, the base shod in iron. The blade was eighteen inches long at the tip and broadly curved. The blue ripples under the polished surface marked it as the best steel money could buy. It was a gift from her mother and Kel’s prize.