“I can’t say, Messire.” I said simply.
“Can’t or won’t?” Messire raised a hand. “I’m sorry, but then that’s not the first time I’ve said that to you, is it? I don’t suppose you’re finding this division of your time any more satisfactory than anyone else.”
He paused, clearly expecting an answer.
“I do my duty as it’s presented to me,” I said stiffly. I’d found the constantly changing demands on me something of a trial, true enough, but at least it meant I’d been too busy to think about anything beyond that day or the next.
“D’Alsennin plans to sail for Kellarin around the turn of For-Autumn, I understand,” Messire remarked. “When you’re no longer so indispensable, we must arrange a grace house for you. You can send for that redhead of yours, if you’re still so inclined. Then we’ll assign you some permanent duties within the household. I know Leishal wants more assistance, and as a chosen man you should be helping manage the affairs of the House from a comfortable chair, not scurrying around wearing out boot leather.”
Something must have shown in my face because the Sieur burst out laughing.
“Forgive me, Ryshad, but you look like Myred bracing himself to dine with his aged aunts. It’s my fault, I suppose. I kept you out on the roads for so long as an enquiry agent you’re spoiled for this kind of duty, aren’t you?”
I wasn’t sure I liked that, but equally these past few days had shown me with brutal clarity that I really didn’t like barracks life any more. “I’ll soon get used to it.” As soon as I spoke, I wondered how long the words would remain a lie.
“No doubt you would,” said the Sieur briskly, “but it wouldn’t alter the fact you’d be as well suited to it as a saddle horse pulling a coal cart. And there are other concerns.”
He paused again but I stayed silent.
“The time’s come to speak frankly, Ryshad.” Messire leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands beneath his chin. “You’re a good man, always have been, but no man can serve two masters. D’Alsennin looks to you for advice—no, I’m not objecting. After Tadriol’s decrees, there are few enough people he can turn to under this roof, and Saedrin knows the boy needs someone to guide him. But I cannot ignore the potential dangers. I’m sure you give of your best, you wouldn’t do anything else, but sometime soon you’re going to find what’s best for D’Alsennin doesn’t serve D’Olbriot, or conversely D’Olbriot interests will run counter to Kellarin’s.”
This time his silence demanded a response and one sprang from the most basic precepts of my training. “My first loyalty is to my oath.”
“Forgive me, Ryshad, but however much you might believe that I’m no longer convinced it’s true.” Messire’s conversational tone couldn’t mask the severity of his words. “Again, I bear much of the responsibility. I encouraged you to use your own initiative as an enquiry agent, your own judgement, but over this Festival I’ve seen too many occasions where your judgement has been to place D’Alsennin priorities over D’Olbriot’s. You’re acting as D’Alsennin’s Steward in all but name as it is, and you cannot do that with a ring bearing my badge around your arm.”
I managed to keep my voice emotionless. “Are you saying I should be wearing D’Alsennin insignia?”
“My business isn’t with D’Alsennin, it’s with you,” Messire shrugged. “My concern must always be for this House and that means dealing with realities, however unexpected or unpleasant they might be. Some day, and one probably none too distant, you’ll find yourself with a choice of either being true to yourself or true to your oath. I refuse to be responsible for putting you in such an invidious position, Ryshad, and that means I must hand you back your oath.”
Hollow confusion filled me. “You’re dismissing me from your service?” The Sieur’s words and my own echoed inside my head.
“It’s time for you to be your own man again,” the Sieur said with a sigh. “You’re a good man, Ryshad, and a loyal one. Since you’d see this choice as a betrayal, I have to be the one to make the decision for both of us. If I’m wrong, tell me so and I’ll beg your pardon most humbly, but I gave you that armring to honour you and I won’t see you wear it until it chafes you beyond bearing.”
All I could do was slide the gleaming copper down my arm and over my wrist. A selfish qualm assailed me; I could hand it back to the Sieur spotless but leaving his service like this would surely tarnish my reputation irrevocably.
Messire held out his hand and I took a step to place the gleaming circle on his palm.
“Thank you.” The Sieur turned the ring with careful fingers, frowning. “I gave you this to honour you, Ryshad, and I won’t see you dishonoured by such a turn of events. None of us could have foreseen the way this game would play out.”
He set the armring aside, reaching down into the shadow between his chair and the wall. Grunting slightly, he lifted up a pale wooden box, decorated in squares and rectangles cut with precise black inlay. “This should convince you of the value I place on your service.” He fished in a pocket for the key to the neat brass lock. “And anyone else looking to crow over you. You’ll have to move out of the gatehouse, naturally, and it won’t be fitting for you to eat with the servants any longer, but you can stay in a grace house until the turn of the season at least, longer if need be. Take your time to decide what you want from your future, Ryshad; don’t make any hasty decisions. Don’t let other people’s needs sway you either, not D’Alsennin’s nor anyone else. As I said, it’s time for you to be your own man.”
I was still tongue-tied. I tucked the key in my belt-pouch and took the box. It was wide enough to need both hands and surprisingly heavy for its size. As I tucked it under my arm, the tight-packed contents made barely a chink.
“Come and see me if you’ve any questions,” the Sieur said briskly. “Naturally, I’ll vouch for you with any merchant or landlord or—” Inspiration failed him and I saw sadness hanging heavily over his head.
That wasn’t something I could face so I bowed low. “My thanks, Messire.”
Finishing the duty roster didn’t seem important. I walked out of the residence and round behind the kitchens to sit on the stone rim of Larasion’s fountain in the middle of the herb garden. I set the wooden box down beside me and looked at it. When a chosen or proven man is handed back his oath on retirement, all those sworn to the House assemble to see the Sieur hand over some valuable expression of his esteem. By long custom the man thus rewarded hands the coin back, declaring that the privilege of having served the Name has been honour enough. When that day came for Stoll or Fyle, they’d be well able to pay the Sieur such a compliment, secure in the knowledge that they had a grace house until their death and a pension to draw from D’Olbriot coffers at the start of every season. Now I had no such shelter from whatever storms might fall on my unprotected head.
I wondered what was in the box but made no move to unlock it. Whether it was copper or noble Crowns made no real difference. For the first time since I’d fetched up on D’Olbriot’s doorstep, a lad desperate for some direction in his life, I was facing a future without certainties, without any right to a roof, to food, to support from my fellows.
So why did I feel so absurdly relieved? Emotions were tumbling through my mind in the peace of the herb garden and trying to make sense of them was as easy as trying to catch the sparkles of sunlight in the water of the fountain, but time and again what I felt was relief. It gave way to apprehension, then turned into perverse defiance, but each time I came back to relief.
I got myself in hand. What would I do now? Where would I go once my period of grace was over? The prospect of trying to convince my mother I’d not been turned out in dishonour was a daunting one, and the year would have turned and come full circle before Hansey and Ridner ran out of sly comments. That alone made the notion of going back to Zyoutessela unwelcome. Anyway I could no more go back to stonecutting than I could beg the Sieur to swear me to his service again.