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Lady Knight
‘They did it inside, most of it,’ the captain explained as they walked through the soldiers’ barracks. ‘Cobbled the floors together in sections in a barn at a homestead nearby – the house was burned, but we could use the barn. They worked all winter, planing boards, whittling pegs, cutting shingles, making nails. These northmen are the fastest woodworkers I’ve laid eyes on. They say they’re used to it, just not so much at one time.’
Outside, he led her towards the flagpole. ‘That long key’s for the stocks,’ he said, pointing them out. They framed the pole, with room for two men on each. Two yards beyond them was a flogging post. ‘Here’s another symbol of your office,’ he explained, handing over a cowhide whip. Kel nearly dropped it in her distaste but hid her feelings behind her very best Yamani mask. She didn’t want to feel the leather in her hand, so she hung it from her dagger hilt.
‘These convict guards, they need a touch of the lash,’ the captain informed her. ‘It’s the only thing they understand.’
‘Will they fight?’ Kel asked as they walked on.
‘If they don’t want to end up collared and on the march back to Scanra they will,’ he replied. ‘They know it. I trained them and the builders on weapons this winter, same as my own men. The convicts’ weapons are locked up in headquarters unless there’s need. I don’t know about Sir Nealan as a healer, but tell him he can’t let them come whining to him whenever they’ve a scratch. These prisoners take any excuse to get off work, and they love it when the healer’s a soft touch.’
With every word Kel disliked the man more and more. Obviously he was good at his job. The proof was everywhere she looked. His manner itched her, though. He didn’t talk about others as if they were human, only animals to be driven.
‘There’s so much room,’ she commented as he pointed out the pens where livestock was kept and the ground that would serve the cookhouse as a small garden. ‘I didn’t understand from the map just how much space we have.’
‘It’ll fill up soon, with civilians bringing their clutter and animals,’ the captain replied. ‘But it’s true we’ve more to work with than we thought last autumn. That’s Master Salmalín’s doing. My lord was showing him this place, saying how it was the best location for a camp. Master Salmalín opens his mouth and says – something, I don’t know what.’ The captain shuddered. ‘It – it made my bones ache. The ground close to the hills, it dropped about fifty feet. And the ground here starts rising up like an inchworm crawls. Suddenly we’ve twice the high ground to build on as we had before. Mages.’ Elbridge shook his head. ‘Very well, you can see we’ve storage sheds enough, and the latrines beyond.’ He led her through the rest of the camp. Stopping at its rear, he asked, ‘Have you questions?’
‘Not really,’ Kel told him. ‘I would like to go over the walls, if you don’t mind.’
Elbridge looked at her, his face impossible to read. ‘These northern woodsmen know what they’re doing, lady knight.’
‘I’m sure they do,’ she replied politely. ‘I just want a full view.’
She circled the camp once inside the wall on the ground, testing the trees that formed it, finding them hard and sound. The gate was also very well built and would take plenty of battering, if it came to that. She went to the first set of stairs and climbed to the top, not looking at the open air outside the rail. At the end of her page term, she had conquered her fear of heights, at least as far as being able to climb without either freezing or vomiting. Still, she would never like them.
On the walkway, she inspected its boards. They were as sound as the wall itself and placed low enough that the top of the wall would give her soldiers protection from enemy archers.
Since the guards were there, the captain introduced them. Kel shook hands with each man, looking him in the eye. Whispers ran the circuit of the wall but Kel refused to try to hear what was being said. She had been through this before, too. These men would respect her, or not, over time. There was nothing she could do now to win them over. She didn’t even try, beyond a smile and a firm handshake. She was responsible for their lives, not their affections. Did it scare them to know a green girl was in charge here? Or did they feel safe this far from the border?
She did not feel safe, for all that this was a well-built refuge. She knew the heavy forests that ranged on either side of the Greenwoods River north of the camp. Last summer had taught her just how many of the enemy could sneak by in such forests. This strong camp might not be enough.
It all depended on the Scanrans, their numbers, their allies, and their strange magic that turned chain, iron-coated bone, and iron sheets into killing devices. Kel wouldn’t be able to guard hundreds of civilians with the forty soldiers Wyldon had promised her. The refugees had to be trained to fight, not just the men, but the women, even the older children. Her next shipment of supplies had to include weapons if the refugees had none of their own.
In a day or two she’d start riding the country until she knew it like her palm. She’d make sure the refugees and soldiers knew it, too. Standing over the gate, she stared blankly into the distance as she made plans. They’d have to know the roads and trails to Forts Mastiff, Steadfast, and Giantkiller, and their escape routes to the south. She was lucky to have local people inside her walls. They’d know the hidden and not-so-hidden trails, bogs, pitfalls, and canyons around here, as well as the best hunting and fishing areas.
She realized the captain was speaking. ‘What? I’m sorry, Captain Elbridge. I was thinking.’
A corner of his mouth twitched – in amusement or scorn? wondered Kel. ‘I was asking if the lady knight had chosen a name,’ Elbridge repeated.
‘A name for what?’ Kel asked, looking at him blankly.
‘This place. We call it “this miserable mudpit”, but my lady will be living here. It’s your privilege to name it as you like,’ explained the captain.
Kel turned, her hands jammed into her breeches pockets, and surveyed her command. Men crawled over beams, hammered, sawed, unloaded wagons, called out to each other, visited the latrines. Wyldon, Baird, Neal, and Merric were emerging from headquarters. She glanced at the road below: here came the sledge with its military guard and its load of cut trees.
‘I suppose “Mudpit” is a little depressing,’ she admitted. ‘I’ll have to think about it.’
The captain bowed. ‘Very good, milady.’
They descended the stairs near the guard shack as the gates swung open. The sledge made its slow way inside the walls.
‘I see you’ve conducted your first inspection,’ Wyldon said to Kel. ‘What do you think?’
‘Captain Elbridge has done far more than I could imagine,’ Kel said honestly. For a hard, cold fish, she thought. ‘I’ll be hard put to keep up his good work.’ As soon as I’ve thrown his whip into the compost heap, where it’ll be of use, she added silently.
‘We’ve plenty of work to do in the infirmary,’ Duke Baird said. ‘But I’ve seen the plans. It looks good.’
Elbridge shrugged. ‘It’s these northern woodsmen. If they could find a way to eat trees as well as work them, they’d be rich men. Still, I confess, I’ll be pleased to be working only with soldiers again. These civilians are too contrary for my taste.’
He, Baird, and Wyldon turned away to discuss matters relating to the new Fort Mastiff while Neal and Merric automatically looked at Kel. ‘I feel as ready for all this as a babe who picks up a sword,’ Merric said with a twisted smile. ‘Of course, Neal is ready—’
‘Mithros save us, they’ll allow just any freak of nature up here, won’t they?’ a familiar male voice proclaimed. Kel, Merric, and Neal turned to see the speaker. One of the sledge guards, a tall, broad-shouldered young man, dismounted from his horse. Bright blue eyes blazed and a broad grin flashed in a face splattered with mud. Under other mud Kel could see the familiar tunic, chain mail, and armband of a sergeant in the King’s Own. ‘Meathead!’ he called, handing his reins to a guard. ‘They sent you out with no keeper?’
Neal laughed and strode forward to hug the slightly taller man despite the mud. Kel almost ran to the newcomer as well, remembering just in time that a commander couldn’t throw herself at an old friend. She knew Domitan of Masbolle, Neal’s cousin and a sergeant of the King’s Own, very well indeed. They’d become friends during her four years with the King’s Own. She’d had a terrible, unreturned, crush on him – he was handsome, mud or no.
Neal pushed Dom away. ‘Insubordinate!’ he scoffed. ‘That’s Sir Meathead, to you. What have you been doing, chasing mudhoppers?’
‘It’s a skin treatment. I’ve got so chapped here in the north,’ retorted Dom. He turned to Kel and bowed. ‘Lady knight,’ he said, and straightened with a wide grin. ‘You did it. We knew you would.’
Kel reached out her hand; they clasped forearms, Dom squeezing hers tightly before he let go.
Another voice sounded out. ‘Squire Kel – I mean, lady knight!’ The other men who’d been guarding the sledge came over. Kel cheerfully shook hands with each of them, Dom’s squad in the King’s Own. One hot day the previous summer, at a place called Forgotten Well, she had commanded these men after an arrow shot had put Dom out of action. Both Wolset and Fulcher now wore mud-splashed armbands with the circle mark for a corporal. Dom had lost one corporal before he’d been wounded; the second was killed after Kel took command. She’d given Wolset a field promotion to corporal for keeping his head, and Dom had confirmed it. Two of the other six men before her she did not know. They simply bowed to her and stayed back, watching with interest.
‘What are you doing here, anyway?’ she asked Dom when the greetings were over.
‘Lord Wyldon asked for one of our squads to work here till the place is finished, since we’ve been in the area almost a year. It’s just coincidence that my boys got tapped,’ Dom told her. ‘Have you seen Giantkiller? Just when we got the place all fixed up, the regular army kicked us out. I bet they ruined all of our chair cushions.’
‘I noticed a sad lack of taste,’ Neal said in his usual drawl, ‘but I supposed it was left over from when the King’s Own lived there.’
Dom grinned, then looked at Kel. ‘Do you like your flag?’ he asked.
She smiled at him with all the gratitude in her heart. ‘I love it,’ she told him.
‘He don’t get all the credit,’ Corporal Wolset said. ‘It was me that thought of it.’
‘And you what nearly ruined the embroidering,’ retorted Corporal Fulcher.
Dom cleared his throat. ‘Here comes command. We’ll talk later, Lady Kel, Sir Meathead.’ He waved his squad back to the sledge. They helped the civilians unload the logs.
‘That was friendly,’ Merric remarked, folding his arms.
‘They’re from Third Company,’ Kel said. ‘We rode together for four years.’
‘Dom’s squad fought one of the metal killing devices under Kel’s command.’ Neal’s voice sounded clearly over the racket of nearby hammers and saws. His wry tone told Kel what he thought of her not mentioning such important specifics. ‘Dom got shot; they lost two men.’
‘And it took all of us to beat the cursed thing,’ Kel retorted, wishing Neal hadn’t spoken. It seemed like bragging, even if it was Neal’s comment, not hers.
‘You fought one of those things?’ Elbridge demanded, hard eyes fixed on Kel.
She was starting to feel cross. She didn’t want to boast. Wolset had trapped the thing’s head as the other men roped its limbs. Still, she didn’t appreciate the captain’s disbelief, either. ‘Together with Sergeant Domitan’s squad, captain,’ she replied, locking her hands behind her back as a reminder to keep her face and voice bland and polite. ‘None of us wants to repeat it.’
‘Mithros witness that,’ murmured Duke Baird.
Wyldon and the captain murmured the ritual reply ‘So mote it be,’ Neal and Merric just a syllable behind them. Kel said nothing. She didn’t think anything she said to Mithros on the subject of the killing devices would stop the war god from allowing more of them to swarm over the border that summer.
After lunch, Wyldon, Kel, Merric, the captain, Owen, and a squad rode out to view the land immediately around the fort, returning with Elbridge’s regular patrol as the sun vanished behind the western mountains.
That night the soldiers who rode with Lord Wyldon took supper in the barracks where they slept. Those who would remain to guard the camp – recovering wounded men, convicts, and such whole soldiers as Wyldon could spare – Dom’s squad, and the civilian loggers, carpenters, smiths, and men-of-all-work took their supper in the mess hall. The nobles, Captain Elbridge, and Dom shared a table at one end of the building.
Listening to the men talk, Kel wished that Dom and his squad were to stay all summer, and not just because he was easy on the eyes. Cleaned up and wearing a fresh blue tunic, Dom was fair-skinned, with Neal’s curved brows and that same long nose, wide at the tip. Dom had a relaxed, comfortable charm that made anyone feel confident. That charm could help to ease Kel’s dealings with the men she had to command. Dom would influence those who believed Kel to be no warrior. Like Raoul, Dom had always taken Kel’s fighting skills as a matter of course. He would make it clear to any doubters that she pulled her weight in a fight or a march. She knew that she couldn’t depend on Dom, though. Once the real fighting began, he would return to Fort Steadfast and Raoul.
Over supper, news from the palace and the border was traded. Kel let the others do the talking as she sneaked bits of meat to Jump. At last Lord Wyldon pushed his plate away. Duke Baird had finished some time ago, and Captain Elbridge was nearly done.
‘Keladry,’ Wyldon said quietly. ‘Time.’
‘Yessir,’ Kel said automatically. She extracted herself from her seat between Neal and Merric, then wiped her hands on a handkerchief. For a moment she nearly forgot and raised her hands to check her hair but stopped herself in time. It would not do for men whom she was to command to see her do something so feminine when her mind should be on business.
I can’t do this, she thought desperately as she took a last swig of cider and set down her cup. I’m eighteen! Someone should be commanding me, not the other way around! Wyldon’s trusting me with their lives, and me with the paint still wet on my shield …
Somehow her feet and legs carried her down the long rows of men and tables, past Tobe and Saefas to the open part of the hall. Before her now sat four squads of soldiers, forty men in uniform, and about sixty-five civilians who were all refugees. These were the first people she had to deal with in her new position, and they would carry their impression of her to those who would arrive soon.
Kel looked for something to stand on and found a wooden box. She wiggled it when she put it in position, just to make sure it could bear her weight. The men, who had watched her come their way, chuckled quietly.
Kel looked up and smiled. ‘There’s so much of me,’ she explained. ‘It would be undignified if I stepped on it and it broke.’
Another, louder chuckle rose from them. One of the knots in her chest came undone. Just like the men of Third Company, they liked a joke at an officer’s expense. Carefully she stepped onto the box: it held her. She waited as men set down their forks and knives.
As she waited, she looked them over, face by face. None of them, not even the healthiest soldier, was untouched by the hard times of recent years. She recognized the convict soldiers: they bore a silver circle on their foreheads. It would shine under hair, mud, or face paint; it could not be cut out with a knife. The only way to remove it was to use spells that were carefully guarded by palace magistrates. Even without the mark, Kel would have known the convicts. They were the thinnest of all, hollow-eyed and gaunt-cheeked. Right now they looked to be near exhaustion from a day of guard duty and unloading wagons.
She would have to feed them up if they were to manage any serious fighting. They were criminals, of course. They’d no doubt deserved their sentences to the mines and quarries. She’d known two men who had been sentenced to prison, and she’d hated them for their crime. Presumably the men here were guilty of the same or worse, but surely the officers knew starved men had no strength to fight.
One convict stood and walked between the tables, peering at Kel.
‘You, there,’ Captain Elbridge called. He fell silent; Kel guessed that Wyldon had told him to let her manage this. She kept her eyes on the approaching man. There was grey in his coarse-cut black hair, grey in the stubble on his chin, too. His nose was a long prow of bone, his eyes shadows in their sockets. From the darkness of his skin and from his features, he was kin to the tribes of the southern desert. He was too pale to be full-blooded Bazhir, and as he drew closer she saw his eyes were grey, not brown. His uniform was patched and worn; of course they wouldn’t give convicts the best, she realized. That irritated her. Are they supposed to come here to fight and die quickly, so we can make more room in the quarries and mines? she wondered, keeping her face mild and blank.
‘Can I help you, soldier?’ she asked when he stopped a yard from her.
He rubbed his chin with bony fingers. ‘I begs pardon for my forwardness, lady knight,’ he said, awkwardly gallant, ‘but was you anywheres near the River Hasteren in summer, seven years gone? Hill country?’
‘Yes,’ Kel replied, puzzled. ‘Lord Wyldon took the pages there for summer exercises in camping and field craft.’
‘You seen any fighting, them days?’ the man asked. ‘Nothin’ big, just a scramble, like. With hillmen?’
Now Kel was curious as well as puzzled. ‘We rode with the army when they cleaned out some hill bandit nests,’ she replied. ‘And some friends of mine and I got into a little trouble, which is how we learned bandits were in the area.’
‘I knew it!’ he cried, jubilant. ‘I thought ’twas you, but there’s more of you now. You should’ve seen the likes of her, boys,’ he said, turning towards the other convicts as he pointed at Kel. ‘We was all outlaws, livin’ on the edges, and this bunch of pages stumbled into our camp. We chased ’em back in a canyon, and her’ – he jabbed his finger at Kel – ‘she gutted ol’ Breakbone Dell, and him the meanest dog skinner you’d ever hope to meet. Stood there afoot, her and her spear, cool as meltwater with Breakbone ridin’ down on her with that neck-cutter sword of his. First time she got ’im in the leg, second in the tripes, and he was done. Her and six lads held us all back, just them. There she was, eyes like stone and that bloody spear in her hand. Lady.’ He bowed deep.
Kel looked at him, not sure what to say. Finally she asked, ‘What’s your name, soldier?’
‘Me? Gilab Lofts – Gil. Lady. It’s – it’s good to see you well.’ He bowed again and returned to his seat, whispering with the men on either side of him.
Kel waited for them to quiet once again before she said ruefully, ‘I’m not sure that being known for gutting a man is exactly a recommendation for a commander.’
‘It is in the north!’ cried someone. Several men laughed outright; others grinned. Kel felt the very air in the room lighten.
‘Well, perhaps it is,’ she admitted. ‘I’ve been away all winter, so I may have forgotten.’ This time they were quick to fall quiet, curious to hear what she would say. ‘So you won’t be calling me the girl that gutted Breakbone, my name is Keladry of Mindelan. Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan. And it’s no good thinking I’m a southerner who’ll squeak at the sight of a mountain, either. My home fief is almost due west of here, by the sea. I’m a northerner by birth.’
She surveyed them, making sure they were with her now. She’d thought long and hard about what she could say. Back at Giantkiller she’d imagined herself delivering a blood-stirring speech full of fire and dreams that would have them all on their feet, cheering her, ready to take on the entire Scanran army. That had lasted all of two breaths; then she had giggled at her own folly. She didn’t have fiery speeches in her; they would make her extremely uncomfortable if she had. In the end, she’d decided to keep it short and simple.
‘You all know why we’re here,’ she told them. ‘You know the enemy. He will be on us soon. When he comes, we will fight not for some glorious cause, but to survive. The gods have given us time to prepare, and we must take advantage of every moment of it. Once the enemy comes, how safe we’ll be is determined by these walls and the people in them.
‘You’ve built our home well. It’s true what they say, that northern woodsmen build the very best.’ That made the civilians happy; they grinned and clapped one another on the back. Kel smiled. When it was quiet again, she continued. ‘We’ll finish building together. The more we do before our guests come, the more time we’ll have for weapons training with everyone, including civilians, who can hold a bow – or a spear.’ The convicts chuckled. She went on, ‘If you have problems, or questions – officers, note this – you will see me every day. You must tell me. I won’t know anything if you don’t speak up, and if it’s something that can be fixed, I’d as soon fix it right away. You look at me and see I’m young. I look at me and see I’m young.’ All of them laughed as their eyes remained fixed on her. ‘I have seen combat in my years as squire to the Knight Commander of the King’s Own. And I’m willing to learn more, if you will be my teachers.’
Kel took a deep breath. ‘That’s all I have to say. We’ll hammer the rest out as we build this haven for those who have lost their homes. Now I’ll let you go to your beds. Tomorrow comes soon.’ She looked down, then had an idea. ‘Who’s the best woodworker here? Signs, and suchlike?’
There was a murmur among the civilians. They pointed at one man, a burly fellow with straggly red hair.
‘First thing in the morning, will you make us a sign? It’s got to be large enough to be read across the river. It should carry the word “Haven”. Not Fort, just Haven. Because that’s what we are.’ The man nodded as a pleased murmur swept through the room. ‘I thank you for your attention,’ Kel said, and stepped off the box.
The men began to rise from their benches. Brief words of welcome and greeting followed Kel as, limp with the release of tension, she walked back to the seated nobles. Tobe patted her arm awkwardly when she passed; she rested a hand on his bony shoulder. When Kel met Wyldon’s eyes, he nodded, once, in approval. Neal clapped her on the back; Merric punched her shoulder lightly; Dom bowed his head.
‘Now all I have to do is live up to it,’ she pointed out to her friends, and collapsed onto the bench.
CHAPTER 5
CLERKS
The next day Kel rose before dawn and used the quiet time before sunrise to take her glaive outside onto ground still hard from the night’s cold. There she practised, working her way through the complex pattern dances that were combinations of strikes, blocks, and feints strung together so the warrior could build strength and stamina with each step. When she finished, she cleaned the glaive and stowed it in her tiny bedchamber. After that she went to the mess hall, where the morning cooks had started breakfast. As they stirred porridge, fried ham, and set out bowls of honey, bread, and pitchers of milk, Kel thought about her day.
Baird, Wyldon, Merric, and Elbridge took their breakfast in headquarters with Owen to serve them. Neal staggered to the cookhouse after the dawn trumpet sounded. ‘Figured you’d be here,’ he said, yawning, as he slumped onto the bench across from her. Tobe, then Dom arrived shortly after he did.
Wyldon, Elbridge, and Owen rode north after breakfast, taking the extra soldiers and several wagons of supplies on to the new fort, Mastiff. Before they left, Wyldon and Kel settled on a schedule of meetings and messages so they would keep up to date with one another.
