Stablehands ran to the bridles and led the horses to a picket as Nessaren and I walked into the tent. Inside was a kind of controlled pandemonium. Scribes and runners were everywhere that low tables and cushions weren't. Atop the tables lay maps and piles of papers, plus a number of bags of coinage. In a corner was stacked a small but deadly arsenal of very fine swords.
Seated in the midst of the chaos was Shevraeth, dressed in the green and gold of Remalna, with a commander's plumed and coroneted helm on the table beside him. He appeared to be listening to five people, all of whom were talking at once. One by one they received from him quick orders, and they vanished in different directions. Then he saw us, and his face relaxed slightly. Until that moment, I hadn't realized he was tense.
Meanwhile the rest of his people had taken note of our arrival, and all were silent as he rose and came around the table to stand before us. " wagons, Lady Meliara?" he said, one brow lifting.
I shrugged, fighting against acute embarrassment.
"We've a wager going." His neatly gloved hand indicated the others in the tent. "How many, do you think, would have been too many for you to take on single-handed?"
"My thinking was this," I said, trying to sound casual, though by then my face felt as red as a glowing Fire Stick. "Two of them could trounce me as easy as twenty wagons' worth. The idea was to talk them out of trying. Luckily Nessaren and the rest of the wing arrived when they did, or I suspect I soon would have been part of the road."
Shevraeth's mouth was perfectly controlled, but his eyes gleamed with repressed laughter as he said, "That won't do, my lady. I am very much afraid if you're going to continue to attempt heroic measures you will have to make suitably heroic statements afterward--"
"If there is an afterward," I muttered, and someone in the avidly watching group choked on a laugh.
"--such as are written in the finest of our histories."
"Huh," I said. "I guess I'll just have to memorize a few proper heroic bombasts, rhymed in three places, for next time. And I'll also remember to take a scribe to get it all down right."
He laughed--they all did. They laughed much harder than the weak joke warranted, and I realized that events had not been so easy here.
I unclasped his cloak and handed it over. "I'm sorry about the hem," I said, feeling suddenly shy. "Got a bit muddy."
He slung the cloak over one arm and gestured to a waiting cushion. "Something hot to drink?"
A young cadet came forward with a tray and steaming coffee. I busied myself choosing a cup, sitting down, and striving to reestablish within myself a semblance of normalcy. While I sipped at my coffee, one by one the staff finished their chores and vanished through the tent flaps, until at last Shevraeth and I were alone.
Seated in the midst of the chaos was Shevraeth, dressed in the green and gold of Remalna, with a commander's plumed and coroneted helm on the table beside him. He appeared to be listening to five people, all of whom were talking at once. One by one they received from him quick orders, and they vanished in different directions. Then he saw us, and his face relaxed slightly. Until that moment, I hadn't realized he was tense.
Meanwhile the rest of his people had taken note of our arrival, and all were silent as he rose and came around the table to stand before us. " wagons, Lady Meliara?" he said, one brow lifting.
I shrugged, fighting against acute embarrassment.
"We've a wager going." His neatly gloved hand indicated the others in the tent. "How many, do you think, would have been too many for you to take on single-handed?"
"My thinking was this," I said, trying to sound casual, though by then my face felt as red as a glowing Fire Stick. "Two of them could trounce me as easy as twenty wagons' worth. The idea was to talk them out of trying. Luckily Nessaren and the rest of the wing arrived when they did, or I suspect I soon would have been part of the road."
Shevraeth's mouth was perfectly controlled, but his eyes gleamed with repressed laughter as he said, "That won't do, my lady. I am very much afraid if you're going to continue to attempt heroic measures you will have to make suitably heroic statements afterward--"
"If there is an afterward," I muttered, and someone in the avidly watching group choked on a laugh.
"--such as are written in the finest of our histories."
"Huh," I said. "I guess I'll just have to memorize a few proper heroic bombasts, rhymed in three places, for next time. And I'll also remember to take a scribe to get it all down right."
He laughed--they all did. They laughed much harder than the weak joke warranted, and I realized that events had not been so easy here.
I unclasped his cloak and handed it over. "I'm sorry about the hem," I said, feeling suddenly shy. "Got a bit muddy."
He slung the cloak over one arm and gestured to a waiting cushion. "Something hot to drink?"
A young cadet came forward with a tray and steaming coffee. I busied myself choosing a cup, sitting down, and striving to reestablish within myself a semblance of normalcy. While I sipped at my coffee, one by one the staff finished their chores and vanished through the tent flaps, until at last Shevraeth and I were alone.
( Sherwood Smith )
[ Court Duel ]
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