“I hadn’t thought of that.” Dorrin looked. The goblet alone bore jewels in other colors, not many; the crown and those in the unfolded box were all blue and white.
“Could it mean Gird was crowned king at some point?” Paks asked. “There’s nothing about that at all in the legends.”
“But in his colors. Would he have taken blue as his color because at the time it was a royal color?”
“That’s not mentioned either. I admit, I was not that interested in the history they taught us in Fin Panir. Maybe the Marshal-General would know. She might be at the coronation: there’s another reason you must go. And take these with you.”
“Take them—” Dorrin felt a weight land on her shoulders. “I can’t go; I told you. There’s no one—”
“I’ll stay here,” Paks said.
“You—is this your call?”
“Yes,” Paks said, with utter certainty. “I understand it now. You must go, for all the reasons the prince gave and because of these—” She tipped her head to the goblet, crown, and jewels. “They’ve been at the heart of treachery for generations, though they themselves were not at fault. You must find out what they are, all that they are, and to whom they really belong.”
Me. They belong to me. The thoughts came unbidden to Dorrin’s mind; her magery surged, wanting free, wanting to show Paks, everyone, what it could do. She fought that down, fought the desire to claim that regalia, and with it, whatever realm it offered.
“But if there’s trouble here—I should be here.”
“Leave me Phelan’s cohort. If anything goes amiss, I’ll send word. Selfer and the cohort will keep me out of trouble.”
That was almost saucy; Dorrin found herself grinning. “Do paladins get into trouble?”
“I imagine we can. I certainly ate too much at King Kieri’s coronation feast—they had mushrooms I’d never tasted before.”
Dorrin shook her head. “I know you’re a paladin, Paks, but sometimes you are so like the girl you were.”
“And still am, inside,” Paks said. “I know—it’s very strange. To me you’re still Captain Dorrin, who once terrified me—all you captains did. You knew everything I thought.”
“You know our warts now—”
“No, it’s not that. I know you’re now Duke Verrakai, someone more important—as far as rank goes—than a captain in the Duke’s Company. But the person I see is the same person, not the rank.” Her brow wrinkled again. “I don’t know why. I see people now a little differently than before, when I was with the Company those first three years. Gird, maybe, or maybe one of the gods, has let me see a little way inside.”
“Or experience,” Dorrin said. “You are older; you have been through many things—”
“Yes,” Paks said. “But more than that—the light we paladins are given to help us discern truth lets us see a little into the hearts of everyone we meet.”
Dorrin had a moment of stark panic. What was deep in her Verrakai heart? But Paks was still talking.
“I remember you as much like a fine blade—trustworthy, keen-edged, someone any of us soldiers could trust when our own captain was away, someone who never delighted in causing pain. Your own cohort respected you absolutely. When I met you again, last fall, you were the same, but now I could see the flame of life the Marshal-General told us all have. Yours burns clear and clean—it did then, and it does now.”
“I—I am—I don’t know—I make mistakes—”
Paks shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Remember when you told the Knight-Commander you had once dreamed of being a paladin?”
“Yes.” Dorrin felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “It was a foolish child’s dream—”
“Was mine?” Paks asked. “Mine was much the same, barring the part about not wanting to spend my time weaving and shoveling dung. It is not foolish to want to be better, to spend a life helping others.”
“But I was a Verrakai. To think I might be acceptable to Falk, to the gods—of course it could not be.” But even as she spoke, her magery surged again, yearning toward the crown she had put down.
Paks snorted. “If the gods could accept a sheepfarmer’s daughter from the edge of nowhere why would they care about your family? They do not select paladins in family groups, but individually.”
“And I was not fit.”
“Captain—Lord Duke—”
“Oh, just call me Dorrin,” Dorrin said. “We are past rank here.”
“Dorrin, then. What you said that night of the torment you endured as a child—it was as bad for you as the torment the Liartians put me through in Vérella. Worse, for you had no experience of good, had you? And you but a child. I at least knew I’d been chosen. I had seen Gird and the others, when I was fully healed. When you came to the Company of Falk, you were still unhealed, is that not so?”
“Yes, but … what are you saying?” The old dream rose in her mind; her magery took it and held it fast.
“I say to you what Master Oakhallow said to me, in different words: You are what you are, and the gods may have plans for you now that you were not able to fulfill then.”
“It is too late to become a paladin,” Dorrin said, surprising herself as the words came out of her mouth.
“I don’t know if that’s what the gods intend for you,” Paks said. “But consider what you did today. Removing the curse from a well is much like healing it, I would say. And you cannot have that—” She pointed at the table. “—for no reason. If they want you for a paladin, you will become one—after all, they made one of me, after so many thought me a useless coward.”
“You were never that,” Dorrin said.
“You were never a villainous Verrakai.”
“Some were,” Dorrin said, looking at the crown again. “Paks, supposing I do go—why should I risk these treasures on the road? What of thieves and—for that matter—attack by my own kin? I should keep them safe, where they cannot be stolen—”
Paks shook her head. “Think again. What are your relatives likely to tell the prince about you?”
“That I’m vindictive and not wholly sane, not to be believed. They are innocent and loyal; I’m the family traitor and having broken troth with them am inherently unfaithful.”
“They will expect you to have the jewels, and they will expect you to keep them. That is what they would do. If they reveal the jewels and you are found with a crown … what do you think the prince will think?”
Dorrin scowled, then nodded. “That I am false, and planning to seize the throne. But I swear, Paks, it is not this throne the crown speaks of.”
“It matters not. Your relatives will insist it is.”
“And some will believe them, even though they distrust my relatives,” Dorrin said. “Just as some will always believe me false, because I am a Verrakai.”
“Exactly,” Paks said. “The king told me that most judge not by actual deeds, but by reputation. Remember, when you were there, how the master of horse in Chaya believed grays were dangerous because of their color?”
“Yes,” Dorrin said. “But I thought, sending my family to Vérella, as ordered, would prove my loyalty. I see now that someone might argue I had a grudge against those I sent, and did not capture those I liked.”
“Yes. If you are at the coronation, if you present the king with these things—especially the crown—and explain that you found them hidden—and give your oath in front of all, that will go some way toward gaining the trust of those who have long distrusted Verrakaien.”
Dorrin saw the logic of that, and yet—“These things belong somewhere else,” she said. “Not in Tsaia at all. I feel I must find out where, and—and take them there, maybe.”
“Not stay in Tsaia?”
“Not forever, I think. Kieri said—the king said—he thought the Tsaian king did not intend me to hold Verrakai forever, but to name an heir, one of those Verrakai who is found innocent of taint.”