“See, he struck…” The Stone Clan warrior started.
“You will wait your turn.” Sword Strike pointed at the male and then shifted attention back to Little Horse. “What happened?”
“I was accompanying my lord Longwind’s apothecary to market.” Little Horse did not add it was because he expected Clove to find trouble. “He did nothing to warrant attack. This one drew his sword without provocation on an unarmed member of my household. I judged his actions to be unjust and I prevented him from killing the apothecary.”
“You took no effort to verbally challenge him?” Sword Strike asked.
“I do not have shields or a sword and he had already drawn his weapon. I judged that giving him verbal warning would eliminate the only advantage that I had; namely, surprise. I did not strike with a blade but grappled him.”
It apparently was starting to dawn on Pig-Sticker the danger that they were in; he got his face under control.
“Why did you draw your weapon?” Sword Strike asked, with a long, cold stare.
“The Wind Clan scum did not drop his gaze.” Pig-Sticker stated as if it explained everything.
Sword Strike’s eyes narrowed slightly but he gave no other indication of his thoughts. “You drew your weapon because he did not cower in fear?”
“His eyes are weak; he is nearly blind.” Little Horse blushed as he realized that he shouldn’t have interrupted. “Forgiveness.”
Sword Strike studied Little Horse, face blank. “What is this male’s name?”
“Clove Scented Smoke on Wind.” Little Horse realized he’d lost track of Clove during the fight. Hopefully the male hadn’t found more trouble.
There was a delay as Clove was found and brought forward. The apothecary didn’t understand protocol; he tucked himself up against Little Horse instead of staying back.
“Tell me what happened,” Sword Strike commanded.
“I’m…not…sure.” Clove took out his glasses, fumbled with them a moment and then perched them on his nose. “They’re a human invention; not many of our people have my weakness. These let me see clearly but they tend to fall off. I normally only wear them when I’m sitting down. Without them, everything is a blur. I didn’t have them on. I did not see the fight start. Once I realized what was happening, I didn’t know what to do. I know nothing about combat. I thought if I could find someone…” And he started to cry, which required the glasses to come back off. “Please. This is all my fault. If someone is to be punished, let it be me!”
Did Sword Strike sigh? Little Horse wasn’t sure; the Wyvern had perfected his neutral façade.
Pig-Sticker reacted as if Sword Strike had patted the little apothecary on the head. “He is not a child to toddle blindly about the streets. He is an adult; he should learn to be more careful.”
“Learn to be more careful,” Sword Strike echoed. “Yes. I think that will be the solution here.”
“Holy one?” Clove whimpered.
Little Horse went cold inside. If for some insane reason the Wyvern decided to punish the apothecary, there was nothing he could do.
“Feral Pig-Sticker of Stone,” Sword Strike said. “Obviously you need more training if you can be bested by an unarmed double. Please go to Cold Mountain Temple. Tell the Stone Clan holy ones there, in detail, about your defeat so they know what you need to learn.”
Little Horse could not keep his eyes from widening. His grandfather, Tempered Steel, commanded Cold Mountain Temple. Despite the fact that his daughter chose her mother’s clan over his, he was fiercely protective of her. Should Little Horse warn Pig-Sticker not to repeat the “whoreson” insult?
Sword Strike caught the change of Little Horse’s expression. He gave a slight shake of his head. No. The Wyvern wanted Feral Pig-Sticker to confess to all his faults. If he survived telling the tale, the training would be quite intensive.
“I just arrived in Summer Court!” Pig-Sticker cried. “I’ve traveled all the way from Copper Palms. It took months for me to come all this distance.”
The island was the southernmost point of the Stone Clan territory. It was nearly half the world away. Worse, to travel to Cold Mountain Temple, the warrior would retrace his steps for thousands of miles.
Sword Strike waved away the protest. “I will arrange for you to travel on a royal packet ship.
“There are two domana of my clan reaching their doubles this year. They are coming to Summer Court to be acknowledged by the Clan Head and given an introduction to the queen. They’ll be taking their first Hand.
“Once it is known that you were pinned by an unarmed double, it is unlikely that you could beat out the other contenders. Those who are trained at Cold Mountain are highly respected. You would be top candidate when the next domana comes of age in a decade or two.”
All true. Little Horse had even considered finishing his training with his grandfather.
“The packet ship leaves at noon from the royal airfield,” Sword Strike continued. “Gather your things and go. Now.”
“I-I-I just got here…” Pig-Sticker trailed off. He stared at Sword Strike slack-jawed for a moment, and then whispered, “What if they will not train me? It is Cold Mountain Temple.”
“I sent you. They will train you. Go.”
Pig-Sticker went, radiating his unhappiness.
Sword Strike set a guard on Clove to see that the apothecary purchased his herbs and returned safely to the Wind Clan compound. There was no mention of punishment for Clove, which only left Little Horse’s fate undecided. The Wyvern First pointed at him and said simply, “Come.”
They crossed into the Wind Clan section of the city but did not head toward the Clan Head’s compound. Little Horse walked beside Sword Strike wondering where they were going. What punishment did the Wyvern intend? Not to execute him; Sword Strike would have done that in the market square. Send him to one of the Wind Clan’s counterparts of Cold Mountain Temple? There were four including the one where his grandmother Perfection commanded. Each was as remote as his grandfather’s monastery. His life would be fixated on combat and spiritual enlightenment—which was not necessarily a bad thing. He liked to fight. His mother had split her childhood between the two temples. She’d chosen life at court, though, once she reached her majority.
“You will be seventy this week,” Sword Strike stated.
Little Horse struggled to maintain his neutral façade. “How did you know?”
“You share the day with my daughter.”
Little Horse knew he shared Discord’s birthday but he didn’t realize that her father was aware of it. It was unsettling information. “Yes, I will be seventy.”
“What is your intention? Will you offer to Jewel Tear of Stone?”
“No!” Little Horse blushed at the speed and volume of his answer. He wanted nothing to do with the female. If she didn’t love his blade brother, then she should have told him immediately. Wolf Who Rules had spoken purely from his heart when he asked Jewel Tear to be his domi; politically the move had been very dangerous. Such courage should have been answered quickly and honestly. Jewel Tear had made Wolf Who Rules wait Little Horse’s entire life for an answer. Little Horse could never serve anyone that didn’t give her answer to such an offer immediately.
His name suggested that he would serve the goddess of war. He’d never considered that it meant he would offer to an actual female. His mother might be playful in spirit, but she wasn’t a dancing otter.
But he couldn’t tell all that to Sword Strike. Little Horse scrambled for a true but less pure answer. “I could not be Sixth to her First; I do not fit.”