“We welcome these new knights to the Order of the Bells, and ask Gird’s grace and the wisdom of Luap to guide them in their service. At this time, any outside challenge may be offered: is it so?”
“Challenge!” A voice called from the far end of the Hall, near the outside door. A startled silence broke into confusion; the High Marshal stilled it with a gesture.
“Name your challenge,” he said.
A figure in plate armor with a visored helm stepped into view; at the same time, someone in Verrakai colors stood in the seats.
“High Marshal, I call challenge on Duke Kieri Phelan. My champion is below: a veteran soldier from his Company.”
Again the hubbub, stilled only when the High Marshal shouted them down. By then Phelan was on the floor, surrounded by the King’s Squires and his own companions. Paks recognized Captain Dorrin and Selfer, the Duke’s squire.
“Phelan?” said the High Marshal. “How say you?”
“For what cause do you call challenge, Verrakai?” The Duke’s voice was calm.
“For your treachery to the crown of Tsaia,” he yelled back.
“I protest,” said the crown prince, from his place. “This is not the occasion; the matter has not been settled by the Council.”
“It is my right.”
“You are not the Duke,” said the crown prince. “Where is he?”
“He was indisposed, your highness, and could not attend.”
“Do you claim to speak for him?”
“He would agree with my judgment of Phelan,” said the other. “As for challenge, and this challenger, that is my own act.”
“Then may it rest on you,” said the prince. “I will not permit Phelan to take up this challenge.”
“Your highness—”
“No, Duke Phelan. As long as you are a vassal of this court—” Paks saw the Duke’s reaction to that; he had not missed the prince’s emphasis, “—you will obey. You may not take it up. You may, however, name a champion.”
Paks was moving before any of the others. “If my lord Duke permits, I will—”
“A paladin?” asked the Verrakai. “You would champion this Duke—but I forget—you also are his veteran, aren’t you?”
“And nothing more,” said the other fighter. Paks wondered who it was; she did not quite recognize the voice.
The Duke bowed stiffly to the prince, and the challenger. “I would be honored, Lady, by your service in this matter. Yet all know you came on quest; I would not interfere.”
The Verrakai and his attendants had also climbed down to the floor, and now stood opposite the Duke. Paks and the mysterious fighter advanced to the space between them. She noted that the other matched her height, but seemed to move a little awkwardly in armor, as if unused to it. The High Marshal raised his arm to signal them. When it fell, Paks and the stranger fell to blows at once.
The stranger was strong: Paks felt the first clash all the way to her shoulder. Paks circled, trying the stranger’s balance. It was good. She tested the stranger’s defense on one side, then the other. It seemed weaker to the left, where a formation fighter would depend on shield and shield partner. Perhaps the stranger was not as experienced in longsword—Paks tried a favorite trick, and took a hard blow in return. So the stranger had fenced against longsword—and that trick—before. She tried another, as quickly countered. The stranger attacked vigorously, using things Paks knew could have been learned in the Company. Paks countered them easily. She had no advantage of reach, against this opponent, and less weight, for she had chosen a light blade (as the High Marshal requested) to test the candidates.
They circled first one way, then the other, blades crashing together. Paks still fought cautiously, feeling her way with both opponent and the unfamiliar sword in her hand. She could feel its strain, and tried to counter each blow as lightly as possible, reserving its strength for attack. Suddenly the stranger speeded up the attack, raining blow after blow on Paks’s blade. Paks got one stroke in past the other’s guard, then took a hard strike on the flat of her blade. This time the sound changed, ringing a half-pitch higher. Warned by this, Paks danced backwards, catching the next near the tip, which flew wide in a whirling arc. She parried another blow with the broken blade, and then dropped it as it shattered, and backed again from a sweep that nearly caught her in the waist.
“Wait!” shouted the High Marshal, but the stranger did not stop. Paks knew Lieth had her second blade ready, but she was backed against the far side of the space. Dagger in hand, she deflected a downward sweep that still drove the chainmail into her shoulder.
The stranger laughed. “You are no paladin. You had the chances, that’s all—”
This time Paks recognized the voice. “Barra!” At that, another laugh, and the stranger raised her visor to show that familiar angry face.
“Aye. I always said I could take you—” Again the sword came up for a downward blow.
But Paks moved first. As fast as Barra was, she had the edge of initiative, and slipped under the stroke. Her fingers dug into Barra’s wrist, and she hooked her shoulder under Barra’s arm, flipping her over. Barra landed flat on her back, sprawling and half-stunned. Paks had her own sword’s tip at her throat before she could move. For an instant, rage and excitement nearly blinded her; she could have killed Barra then. But her control returned before she did more than prick her throat. When she could hear over the thunder of her own pulse, the High Marshal was speaking.
“Your challenge of arms, Lord Verrakai, is defeated.”
With ill grace, the Verrakai bowed. “So I see. My pardon, lord Duke.”
Duke Phelan bowed, silent, and waited while the Verrakai turned to go. Then the Verrakai turned back. “I should have known better, “he said, “than to believe one of your veterans. Are they all such liars, lord Duke—and if so, can we believe this paladin of yours?”
Phelan paled, but did not move, and the Verrakai shrugged and walked out. Then Phelan looked at the High Marshal. “Sir Marshal, my defense is proved by arms, but at the cost, it seems, of something I hold more dear—the good opinion of my veterans.”
“Or one of them, lord Duke. It is a rare commander who has not one bitter veteran. And you were defended by one.”
“Yes.” The Duke came to where Paks still held Barra at sword’s point. “Lady, if you will, permit her to rise.”
Paks bowed, and stood back a pace, still holding Barra’s sword. The Duke offered a hand, which Barra refused, scrambling up on her own, instead. She scowled at him.
“Will you say, Barra, why you chose to serve my enemy?”
“I think you’re crazy,” said Barra loudly. Someone laughed, in the tiers overhead, and she glared upward, then back at the Duke. “You could have been rich—you could have done more, but you let others take the credit. And I was as good as Paks, but you gave her all the praise. She got all the chances—”
“That’s not true.” Dorrin strode across the floor to her side. She gave a quick glance at the tiers and went on. “You and Paks were recruits together—true. And back then, that first year, you were probably her equal in swordfighting. But in nothing else, Barranyi, and after the first year not in that.”
“I was—you just—”
“You were not. Falk’s oath, Barra, I’m your captain; I know you inside out. You made trouble every way you could without breaking rules. You quarreled with everyone. Paks didn’t—”
“That mealy-mouth—”
“Mealy-mouth!” That was Suriya, across the floor.
Barra turned dark red. “Damned, sniveling, sweet-tongued prig! Everyone on her side! Everyone—”
“Barra.” Something in Paks’s voice stopped her. “Barra, you do yourself an injustice here.”
“I? Do myself an injustice? No, Paks: you did that. Make a fool out of me in front of your fancy friends. Think you’re such an example—” Barra jerked off the helmet and threw it at Paks, who dodged easily. “I’ll show you yet, Paksenarrion—you sheepfarmer’s daughter. I know about you. You’re a coward underneath, that’s what—or you’d have had the guts to kill me. Why don’t you, eh? You’ve got the sword now. Go on—kill me.” She threw her arms out, and laughed. “Gird and Falk together, none of you have any guts. Well, chance changes with the time, yellow-hair, and I’ll have my day yet.” She turned away; Paks said nothing, and waved the guards away when they would have stopped her.