Guardian of Honor

Mace nodded. “Right you are. It’s evident, isn’t it. That will help our cause by bringing others to dip in the jerir. My wife Shieldmarshall and I took the plunge together last night.”

“Ah, the time difference. Luthan didn’t look as well as you.”

After locking the door behind Bastien and Urvey, Mace turned to them and smiled. “Still a bit white around the mouth, was he? He dunked late this morning.” Mace frowned. “Didn’t stay for the Exotique’s Choosing and Pairing.”

Bastien laughed. “Who’d want to be bound for life with a woman you just laid eyes on? None of the Chevaliers I know are that stupid.”

Mace’s gaze fired. “The Choosing is an ancient tradition. And it works. The ritual will match a man and woman who can love and bond forever.”

Unobtrusively Bastien shifted from foot to foot. Sitting at the Nom de Nom with all his injuries had been rough, but the two-mile walk up to the Castle had caused sweat to sting in his wounds. Just being upright was a strain. “If you say the Choosing magic works, I won’t deny you,” he placated.

“I don’t think you ever knew that my lady and I found each other through a Choosing,” Mace said quietly.

That surprised Bastien. “No, I didn’t.” He would have liked to have swept Mace a bow in apology, but only half inclined his torso.

“It was a long time ago.” He sent Bastien a pointed look. “But my love for my Shield grows every day. You Chevaliers should have attended the Choosing.”

Bastien lifted and dropped his good shoulder. “For myself, I was traveling here by volaran at the time. So who did the Exotique pick?” He sidestepped a pace or two to the gateway’s thick door wall and leaned against it insouciantly, exhaling in relief as the old stones supported him.

“No one.” Mace’s face grimmed. “No one. There wasn’t a good choice for the new Marshall of the Jade Baton. Now we have a ‘situation’ on our hands. Who knows if she will go or stay? And we need her, by the Song!”

Bastien almost slid down the wall. “The Jade Baton of Honor? She wields the Jade Baton?” The stuff of legends. He’d never even seen the stick.

“She was Tested. There are more Choosing ceremonies than the one for a mate. I myself laid all the batons before her and she Chose the Jade Baton. She carries it well. It flames in her hands.”

“Urgh” was all Bastien managed to say.

Urvey gulped too, opened and shut his mouth, then squeaked. “Lladrana really has a new Marshall? An Exotique? Not just rumor?”

Mace jerked a nod. “That’s right. You might want to stay, Bastien, and Test for Marshall after you dip.”

A half smile formed on Bastien’s lips, he swooped his hand. “A dive and glide is what Luthan said.”

Mace gave a crack of laughter. “Yes. It’s all very well for you unmated athletic Chevaliers. My lady and I just dunked together.” His brows lowered. “You could test for Marshall tomorrow.”

“No. I thought the full complement of Marshalls was filled.”

Mace grunted. “We will be expanding the ranks of Marshalls to defend Lladrana.” Brows still drawn, he glanced at the hulk of the towered Keep.

“We already have one Marshall Pair vacancy—we wish to prevent another.”

This startled Bastien. “Who died? And how? I thought you were all here in the Castle, none of you on the Field.”

Mace grunted. “The Summoning wasn’t easy. Who knew how many of us would die in the attempt?”

Urvey’s eyes rounded. He gulped.

“Someone died during the Summoning?” Bastien blinked.

“Not exactly.” Mace stared at Bastien. “Defau Disparu let his passions get the best of him while he was in a fight.”

Bastien knew the sentence was directed as a reminder to him.

“Disparu attacked the Exotique.”

Urvey gasped. “Attacked our savior!”

Mace ran an eye up and down the boy. “That’s right. He died. She has much Power, that one.”

An atonal chant drifted from a low Tower window. Mace shifted his feet, looked up. “Swordmarshall Albertus and his wife and Shield used the jerir. She was weak to begin with, but she insisted on accompanying her Sword. She barely lives. If she can survive the shock of the next few hours, her health will be much improved. She’s a wily Shield, we’d hate to lose her.”

“Two Pair,” Bastien murmured. From only six Marshall Pairs, it was a cause for concern—for them. “You wouldn’t be at such a pass if you’d opened your ranks much earlier, as the Chevaliers advised. Too many of you wanted to keep your status and Power to a small group.” Bastien jutted his chin.

Mace eyed him, but said nothing in defense. He shrugged. “That’s past. No reason to ask why you are here. It’s my watch to verify any who wish to use the pool of protection. Not that anyone has taken us up on our offer.”

“I’m here!” Urvey said.

“So you are, boy. You want to dunk?”

“Yes, My Lord Marshall.”

“Luthan’s meeting with town guild members tonight. Tomorrow you should have some Chevaliers and townies,” Bastien said.

“Good,” Mace said. He cast a glance at Bastien then one at the window streaming yellow light where the chant was coming from. “You vouch for this lad, Bastien?”

“I’m his squire!” Urvey announced.

Bastien grimaced but didn’t deny it.

“Huh,” Mace said. “It’s about time you showed a little ambition and responsibility, Bastien.” He nodded shortly. “Good thing you took on a squire. Looks like he’ll need some training—that will be good for the both of you. Staunch lad, to brave the jerir.”

Urvey’s thin chest expanded with the compliment. Bastien knew there’d be no dissuading him from the pool now.

Lifting a lantern, Mace scrutinized Bastien. “Stupid-looking hat.”

“Soul-sucker hide.” Bastien tilted his head so Mace could get a better look.

Mace grunted. “Seems like the soul-sucker laid a couple of tentacles on you, too.” He gazed at Bastien’s scratched hands. “Huh,” he said again, still studying Bastien. “You appear a bit peaked—might want to delay your dipping in the jerir.”

Angling his chin, Bastien said, “No.” He grinned. “A dive and glide, said Luthan.”

“That boy always understates the matter. It’s a hell of a lot more. It’s bad, especially if you have any aches or pains, any wounds or injuries. What’s with you, boy?” Mace narrowed his eyes at Urvey. “You fit?”

“I have a coupla scratches. A flea bite or two. Maybe a bruise from a horse that butted me day before last.”

“You’ll do,” Mace said. He stared at Bastien. “If you have any injuries that aren’t showing, you better not try the pool of protection. Wait a day or two. I’d hate to haul you up to that sickroom too.” He waved to the Tower window.

Bastien winced inwardly, thinking of the puncture, the rips, the sucker rounds…Ignoring the pain, he shrugged and grinned, tilted his hat to an even more rakish angle. “I can do it.”

“You always had more mettle than sense. Your squire will watch out for you. Boy!” Mace called Urvey’s wandering attention back to them. “You got any questions?”

Urvey gulped. His eyes gleamed. “I heard we get a meal—a feast afterward.”

“That’s right.”

The chant faltered. Mace frowned, then nodded in the direction of the Temple. “I trust you, Bastien. Go take your swim and watch the boy. I need to get back to the healing.”

“Fine,” Bastien said.

With one last nod, Mace hurried up the right path to the Tower. Urvey started after him, until Bastien halted him with a tug on his sleeve.

“To the left for the shortest route to the Temple.”

Urvey grinned but it looked more like the rictus of fear and anticipation than cheer. “A coupla Marshalls were down at the Nom de Nom for a short noonday meal and I saw them. They looked wrung. Musta taken the dip, I guess.”

“Probably.” Bastien recalled the pallor under Luthan’s skin. He set his shoulders. It couldn’t be that bad, could it? A whisper of the healing chant touched the nape of his neck and slithered down his spine like fear. He was pretty battered, but he was in fine health, strong, and had more stamina than was apparent. And he was a black-and-white; he had wild magic too. Usually under control.

Their boot-steps echoed hollowly before and behind them as they strode along the cobblestone path close to the buildings, passing the nobles lodgings and walking around the bulge of the Temple.

Urvey shivered. “I’ve never been up here in Temple Ward.”

Bastien grunted.

The boy craned his neck, trying to see everything. “It’s wonderful.”

“It’s a Castle bailey,” Bastien said, but the large, round Temple, white stone instead of gray, loomed before them. He looked at it with new eyes—the building did seem to pulse with magic.

Finally they reached the great, pointed oaken door and Bastien swung it open. “After you,” he said.

In an alcove separated from the main Temple by a carved wooden screen, Bastien and Urvey bathed. The usual cleansing pool was the one now filled with jerir.

Urvey wrapped a towel around boney hips as Bastien donned a robe. He’d convinced Urvey to dip first. Bastien wanted to have all his current strength to pull the youth from the pool, if necessary.

Without his baggy garments, the teen was even skinnier. Bastien surveyed him, noting a few minor scratches and the bruise the boy had spoken of. Urvey flushed a little.

“Just seeing how badly you might be hurt,” Bastien said.

A quick grin flashed from the boy. He straightened. “I’m well enough.”

“Looks like you could use the feast they promised us, though,” Bastien said.

Urvey’s grin widened. “I can always eat.”

Bastien believed that.

They walked from the seat-ledge that held their clothes, to the pool. Bastien kept to deep shadows so Urvey couldn’t see the extent of his wounds.

The jerir looked thick and dark blue, nearly filling the pool three man-lengths long and one wide. Bastien’s stomach tightened at the sight of the still, viscous liquid and the thought of the pain that would come.

“Looks nasty.” Urvey’s voice sounded high.

“No, it looks beautiful.” Bastien’s voice was a lower rasp than usual. He didn’t clear his throat. “A very beautiful blue. As blue as a fine sapphire. It’s only the thought of the pain it can cause that makes you think it’s nasty.”

Urvey shot him a nervous glance. His black brows shot upward. “But where you hurt, it starts to heal faster, and better than before. You’re stronger than before, right?” He gazed down at both knees, which were shadowed with bruises Bastien hadn’t noticed.

“That’s what they say. I don’t trust some of the old legends like the Marshalls do—”

“But they Summoned an Exotique!” Urvey said with awe.

Bastien had to nod. “They did. And I’ve never known Swordmarshall Mace to lie.”

“Why should he? He’s so big he can say whatever he likes.”

Chuckling, Bastien said, “Very true. Do you swim, boy?”

Urvey looked horrified. “Swim? No.”

Bastien led the youth to a corner. “There are steps into the pool here.”

“Oh. I thought I’d just, um, jump in and pop out. I can do that in the water hole at the edge of town.”

“Fine.” Bastien surveyed the pool and walked to the middle of one long edge. “If I recall right, this should be about your height. Make sure you go all the way under.”

Urvey gulped, sucked in a big breath. Then he glanced at Bastien, and down at the pool. Urvey’s muscles tensed. He jumped.

His cut-off scream bounced off the circular stone walls and echoed. He popped up, screaming again.

Bastien reached into the jerir pool and helped Urvey out. Just the immersion of his forearm in the liquid made him bite the inside of his cheek with pain. How was he going to manage this?

But he had to. His pride was on the line. Every Chevalier at the Nom de Nom knew he’d intended to immerse himself in the jerir. Urvey looked up at him with pained and admiring eyes as Bastien helped him dry off and dress.

Not to mention that if Luthan could do it, Bastien could, and would, do it too. His mouth thinned. There was a different aura about those who had bathed in the jerir than about those who hadn’t. Even now Urvey was showing the underlying glow of the experience. There was no way Bastien could simply lie.

He eyed the pool. It was going to be bad. Worse perhaps than even his last fight. Only fancy footwork and fast reflexes had saved him. And he didn’t have his volaran to help him this time. He’d have to trust his wild magic.

“Shall I stay?” asked Urvey, looking longingly at the door, probably thinking of the good meal they’d been promised. Trust a growing boy to think of his stomach, even after such an ordeal!

Bastien said, “No, of course not. Go get some food and drink for us.” He waved a hand at the door.

Urvey’s brows came down. “Are you sure?” He opened his mouth as if to offer help, then shut it. They both knew about manly pride.

“I’m sure.” Bastien grinned. Nothing to do now but to laugh at the situation he’d gotten himself into. “Go. Get some meat and mead. Take your time—” Bastien winked “—I may want to soak a little.”

That reassured the boy. He laughed. “Fine. I’ll get us a lot of good food and mead.” He rubbed his stomach. He looked around and dropped his voice. “Can we eat in here?”

“Of course.” Bastien made a wide gesture with his arm. “This is the Temple. A Temple is for all the rituals of people. Including breaking bread.” He winked again. “Including sex.”

Urvey flushed, dropped his eyes. “I’m a womanlover.”

Bastien clapped a hand on Urvey’s shoulder. “I am, too. We can eat here—there’s a dining table over there.” He waved to a darkened quadrant. “And you recall that behind the fancy screen is another bathing pool and a toilet. The pool with jerir is usually filled with water to bathe in, you know.”

Urvey just stared. “No, I don’t, Lord. You know. I can only guess.”

“And learn,” Bastien said gently. “You can learn.”

Urvey brightened. “I can do that. And I know how to assemble a feast for us!”

He took off for the door while Bastien stared at the pool near his blistered feet.

Urvey hesitated by the door. “You are sure—”

“Go!” He didn’t want the boy to hear him scream.

The door closed and Bastien rubbed his face. “Great, just great. What did you get me into this time, brother?” He swore under his breath. “What did my own stupidity and pride get me into? I damn well should wait.” He should. But it was quiet and soothing here in the Temple. Surely he could manage a quick dunk—a hop in and dive through and hop out. That should be sufficient. But by the Song, he didn’t want to dip in the jerir! He actually dreaded the idea.

Nothing for it. He’d manage. He’d been in worse spots.

6

Come, Alexa! Sinafin cried. She jumped up and down on Alexa, waking her.

Alexa cracked open an eye to see a blue squirrel, then shut it again. “No.” She snuggled deeper into the soft mattress. As soon as she’d escaped the clutches of the Marshalls, she’d showered and hopped into bed, though the sun still shone.

After her humiliating sickness, they’d whipped up another potion that settled her stomach and fed her. Then Alexa had been stuck in a room and measured and given “little” clothes by giggling women. Following that, she’d been shown into a map room to watch some oddity on an animated landscape. Finally, she’d been plunked down and taught some Lladranan by a person who tried to keep a straight face at her pronunciation. Alexa began to wonder if the days here were the same length as on Earth.

Alexa, Alexa, you must come. Sinafin scrabbled at the covers that Alexa pulled over her head.

“No, I’m tired. I’ve had a very full day and I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying in bed, and if I’m lucky, the Snap will come and take me away.”

Blue squirrel paws pushed the covers away, and Alexa found herself looking into bright black eyes. Sinafin clasped her paws together. PLEASE, Alexa.

“Your colors are off. There aren’t any blue squirrels.” Alexa rolled over.

She thought she dozed.

The baby cried. She shoved away fluffy comforters and half slid, half fell to the floor. Her bare feet missed the rug and jarred against cold stone. She swore.

Come, come, come! Sinafin, a golden ball, dipped and swooped, then vanished through the closed door.

Hopping from foot to foot, Alexa dragged on knit slippers that were warm and cushioned her feet from the stone floor. She muttered curses. In English. She hadn’t learned enough Lladranan to know any good local swears.

What was it now? A person couldn’t even barricade herself into her room for a little shut-eye.

NOW, Alexa! Sinafin—a neon purple bat—screeched in her ear and zoomed through the door again. Over her nightgown, Alexa whipped on a quilted robe that trailed on the ground, and rushed across the threshold—

And was jerked short when her robe stuck in the door. No infant was near. She heard a wail—would they leave the baby on one of the narrow landings? Surely not.

Follow me! cried Sinafin.

Gritting her teeth and taking precious time to open the door and grab the robe, Alexa knew she really needed those swearwords. She ran through the Tower room, down and down and down endless stairs following a flashing neon purple bat into the Cloisters. It was dark and raining again. Not twenty-four hours after her arrival in Lladrana and she was charging to the rescue again. Didn’t a savior ever get a little downtime?

Apparently not. Sinafin led her to the huge oak door of the circular Temple. Were they trying to teach the baby to swim again the hard way? Alexa hated being manipulated by the Marshalls. But was this their work? The door opened easily under her hand and she rushed into the dim room.

Sure enough, Sinafin hovered by the end of that nasty pool as a large golden glow, flickering and fluttering wildly, as if trying to keep something out of the liquid.

Alexa’s heart pounded and she peeled off her robe. Sucking in a big breath and whimpering inwardly, she dove into the pool.

Pain dimmed her mind like a lowering curtain. She fought against it, gritting her teeth to keep from opening her mouth in a scream and swallowing the stuff. The liquid slid against her, like it was measuring every inch of her before seeking each tiny wound to torture—She came up against someone hard.

It wasn’t a baby this time. It was a big guy. Well, normal for them, but big to her. Apparently he’d made it into the pool, but not out of it. Alexa could understand that; the liquid gnawed at her bruises and sent biting pain along scratches. She vowed to never, ever pick at her cuticles again.

Thrusting her head above the liquid she gasped and thrashed to hold the limp, heavy limbs of the man. She sensed Sinafin trying to help, taking part of the man’s weight.

Her nightgown tangled her legs, she floundered, slipped and sank, found her feet and tried again. Grunting and swearing she managed to roll the man out of the pool, but sank again before crawling out.

He lives! Sinafin caroled in relief.

Just as Alexa surfaced and opened her mouth to ask something instead of heaving a breath, Sinafin turned into a purple bat with golden wings and streaked from the chamber—through a closed glass window this time. As she did so she made the sound of a wailing baby.

Alexa allowed herself to collapse on the floor. She’d been had! By her own…what? Mentor? Sidekick? Friend?

After a few minutes the marble floor, though warm, felt really hard. Alexa rocked to her hands and knees, then stood and wobbled. Until she saw him. Then she was struck still and dumb with pure admiration.

Wow! Only the dim crystals in the rafters and the glowing gemstone crystals in a rainbow on the altar lit the room, but it was enough. He lay on his back, the outline of his muscles flickering wet and golden-hued. Alexa swallowed hard.

She took a step forward. Broad shoulders tapered to narrow hips, muscular thighs—she bet he had a killer butt—nice calves, long elegant feet. Oh yeah.

Naturally she looked at his sex. She was a red-blooded American woman, wasn’t she? And she had to make sure that the people of Lladrana were like people at home. She peered a little closer and gulped. Yes, his parts were like those of the men at home. No, it didn’t look like he was hurt there at all—but otherwise…

Just seeing the scars on him appalled her—new red welts, some slices that looked like they had come from the same sort of monster who’d attacked her. His body was a map of colorful bruises, scratches and circular raised bumps that made her think of leeches. She shuddered. He had a big, nasty puncture close to his, um, jewels that made her wince and shift from foot to foot.

She was warm and safe here, as was he, but how was she going to get help?

She eyed the gong and bit her lip. It was near the altar with those jewel-crystals and other magical stuff. She really didn’t want to touch it.

“Sinafin?” she whispered.

No answer.

Alexa studied the studly guy again, this time making it to his face. She frowned. He looked a little like someone she’d seen before, but she couldn’t place the resemblance. Nice jaw, good straight nose. Eyes heavy-lidded and tilted up at the corners. Soft, mobile lips.

Soft, mobile lips? She was losing it. Time to get her act together and see if she could help the man, but at least his wide, lightly haired chest rose and fell steadily.

Then she noticed something else. Unlike every other adult in Lladrana, he didn’t have black hair or black hair with silver or gold streaks at one or both temples. No, the flickering light gleamed on his striped black-and-white hair. She stared. The baby had black-and-white hair like that too. Did they ritually drown those? She knew in her bones it must mean something.

His lids opened and she stared into deep brown eyes that slowly focused. He opened his mouth and started coughing. He stirred, moaned, then subsided again into unconsciousness. But his breath turned steady and deep.

The door pushed open and cold air swept around her, plastering her nightgown to her body. She whirled. A skinny teenager holding a tray and a pitcher stared openmouthed at her. She narrowed her eyes. He had that electric-blue outline that several of the Marshalls had had that morning. She glanced back at the man lying by the pool—yes, there was a slight electric-blue tint coating him.

She looked at her own hands. They radiated blue. Then she saw her own body, fully revealed by the thin, wet nightgown. She looked very white. She made a sound like “Eek”—a girly sound, she thought in disgust—hurried and snatched her robe.

“Voulvous? Vu?” The boy’s voice rose in a question.

Alexa forced her lips into a grin, flopped a hand in what she’d intended to be a wave, and wobbled past the boy to the door. She’d done what Sinafin had wanted. Alexa didn’t plan to hang around for questions she couldn’t answer.

The man groaned behind her. She quickened her pace. The teenager frowned, then set the tray down and ran to the man.

Alexa slipped out the door and into the cloister walk. Silver rain fell tinkling around her, then sputtered into droplets and subsided into a soft patter.

Once back in her room, after showering—another pain, since some of the jerir penetrated her scratches instead of sliding from her body—Alexa was restless. She went to the windows to look out, and saw blackness over the fields. Her tower was one of the four large round Towers of the Castle Keep, but no one lived there except herself.

She dressed in leggings, a shirt and a long tunic, then she paced.

Though the weather had cleared and brilliant stars shone in the night sky, there was only the faintest luminescence where she knew the Town should be. No use going to the Town, since she wasn’t even familiar with the Castle. The thought of walking alone down the hill to the Town daunted her. She shivered as the memory of the night hike she’d taken in Colorado flickered in her mind’s eye. She’d been crazy, spellbound, grief-stricken—maybe all three.