Jonathan groaned. “That old bore!”
Gary peered inside. “Is this a private gathering, or can anyone come?” He took a chair, plumping a stack of documents on the table in front of him. Seeing Alanna’s horrified look, he said kindly, “Don’t worry, the papers aren’t for this. They’re documents I refer to constantly, so I carry them around. It saves waiting for a servant to fetch them.”
“Gary, how awful!” she exclaimed.
“Nonsense,” Duke Gareth’s son retorted. “I had no idea before how interesting a kingdom’s business can be. To put diverse things like rainfall, the number of people leaving their farms, and the price of iron goods together and find out how they affect each other—”
“He’ll go on all day if you let him,” Raoul interrupted as he took his seat. The Lord Provost sat beside the big Commander and nodded a greeting; Alanna nodded back. Raoul went on, “Me, I have no talent for administration. Give me a good horse and a patrol any day!”
“You underestimate yourself, Raoul,” said Jon. “The Bazhir love him,” he explained to Alanna. “He’s made a good impression on the northerners and the foreign soldiers in the King’s Own as well.”
Alanna beamed at her large friend, who blushed. “I always knew you’d be a credit to us,” she teased him.
When she saw Duke Gareth at the door, Alanna got up and went to greet her teacher, hiding her shock as she knelt before him. The Duke, always lean, was rail thin. Streaks of gray had turned his hair a muddy yellow-brown.
Gary’s father looked Alanna over as she rose. Finally he smiled. “You have lived up to your promise,” he said quietly. “We are all very proud of our Lioness. Welcome home.”
Coming from Duke Gareth, who had always been sparing of praise, it was the highest honor she could receive. “Thank you, sir,” she whispered as she blinked tears away. “You’re very kind. I tried to be a credit to my training—to you.” She bowed herself back to her chair as the Duke sat beside Gary. The others busied themselves with papers, pretending not to notice.
Baird and Myles arrived together while Alanna mastered herself. The Duke greeted her cheerfully. At the reception the night before he’d complimented her on her work as a healer among the Bazhir. Myles winked at her as he settled into place.
Alanna fidgeted as servants put out water, paper, ink, and fruit. How long will I be stuck here before I can go riding? she wondered. I don’t have any place at councils like this!
Jonathan cleared his throat, and the conversations stopped. “Thank you all for coming. I know the sixty days until the coronation seems like a great deal of time, but we have much to do.” He glanced at Duke Gareth. “I’ve given some thought to the appointment of a King’s Champion.” Alanna’s throat went dry. “Uncle Gareth was my father’s. It seems to have been an easy post for him—”
“Thank the gods,” the Duke said dryly. “None of the others were.”
Jonathan joined the company’s chuckling before he went on. “Except for taking part in the coronation of my father, he was never called on to represent—or defend—the throne. I think many have forgotten the post exists. Uncle no longer wants it.” Duke Gareth nodded. “We feel someone young should be Champion. A proven warrior, of course. One who is known to our people and our neighbors.”
She saw all too clearly the direction this was taking. “Raoul,” Alanna croaked, looking at the Knight Commander. Grinning, Raoul shook his head. “Or Gary,” she tried as Gary tugged at his mustache to cover a smile. “Both fine, strong fellows, liked by—”
“No,” Jonathan said firmly. The others in the room fought their amusement. “I want them where they are—Raoul with the King’s Own and Gary as Prime Minister.”
“Geoffrey of Meron.” She wiped sweat from her upper lip. “Noble, far more respectable than me—”
“I’ve made up my mind.” The Provost was the last to grin as Jon spoke. All the others had seen such confrontations between the prince and his obstinate squire.
“You’ll make enemies,” Alanna said flatly. “There’s never been a female Champion, not even when women could be warriors! Not in Tortall!”
“That’s true,” Myles said. “And it’s understandable that you would be concerned about your standing in the eyes of the people. There are some, still, who feel a lady knight is unnatural. And at first there was a lot of feeling against it. Even the king—” He stopped and looked at Jon. “But a lot of that thinking has changed.”
“Like it or no, you’re a legend, after the Bazhir and winnin’ your shield,” the Provost said in his blunt way. “Girls play at bein’ Lioness. I saw one chasin’ her brother down the street, wavin’ a stick and callin’ for the Conté Duke to submit to her sword.”
The men laughed. Alanna blushed and continued to shake her head.
“Should we call a minstrel and have him sing all the Lioness songs in his memory?” Duke Baird asked, his eyes kind. “The newest is the one in which the Lioness and the Dragon defeat whole armies of Saren mercenaries. I like it, although now that I see you again, I remember you aren’t ten feet tall.”
“The Bazhir are for you,” Raoul added. “You’re the Woman Who Rides Like a Man. You also helped to bring down the Black City. The other one to do that will be king. Your own tribe would be the first to say it’s your right to stand beside Jon.”
Jonathan met her eyes, his gaze friendly but determined. “And let’s not forget that you journeyed into the stuff of fables and brought back the Dominion Jewel.” He took it from his belt-purse and set it on the table, where it shimmered. “This alone would cause you to be given a high place, even without everything else you’ve done. So say ‘thank you,’ Alanna.”
“Jonathan,” she whispered, knowing it was useless.
“Say ‘thank you,’ Alanna,” Myles told her gently.
She looked at the others, but they weren’t looking at her. They watched the Jewel, speculating or wondering, as their natures dictated. She realized then that even they had changed the way they thought about her. Only Jon met her eyes, and he would give no quarter. She had earned this honor. Did she really want to refuse?
“You said you wanted to be useful,” Jon pointed out.
Alanna had to grin—trapped by my own tongue, she thought. “Thank you, Jonathan,” she whispered.
He smiled. “You won’t regret it—or at least, I won’t.” He gathered in everyone’s attention. “Let us discuss the situation in Tortall. I refer to the interesting rumor that my reign is cursed and that I will be unseated from the throne.”
“As it stands, there is no ‘situation,’” growled the Provost. He ran his fingers through his hair in vexation as he explained. “It’s all rumor and whispers. There are no plots afoot, none that I can find. Except that Ralon of Malven is loose, and he’s still got followers. When I get my hands on him, he’ll give me their names.” He closed his black-gloved hands with a predator’s grin.
“And Duke Roger?” asked Duke Baird.
“Innocent as a bird,” said Gary with disgust. “His every movement can be accounted for. He either studies manuscripts and scrolls with Master Lord Thom or he’s in plain view of the court.”
“Does anyone watch Alex of Tirragen?” Alanna wanted to know. “He was Roger’s squire.”