“I’m not sure,” Ganeth said. “I was not Master of Horse to the king before the former king; I do not know how such decisions were made.”
Kieri had to admit he had not seen such a collection of near-perfect horseflesh anywhere, not even in the royal stables in Vérella. Under the covered arcade, a row of bay and chestnut heads looked out over stall doors. Two, three, five … ten? He stopped counting. Who needed so many horses? Kieri walked along slowly, letting each sniff his hand, and casting a practiced eye over their conformation.
“You’ll want to see them in action,” Ganeth said.
“Indeed yes. And then try them out.”
Ganeth smiled widely for the first time.
“But where are the grays?”
The smile disappeared. “They’re in this row … through here …”
Backing on the first, this row of stalls held grays and two blue roans, all looking out of their stalls like the bays and chestnuts … but these wore headstalls and were all tied to a ring just outside the stalls. “Why?” Kieri asked.
“The grooms feel safer,” Ganeth said.
“The horses don’t,” Kieri said, looking at the row of fretful heads tossing this way and that, jerking the halter ropes. “Easy,” he said, approaching the first. The horse pinned its ears.
“He nips,” Ganeth murmured.
“He won’t nip Kieri,” Estil said.
Kieri appreciated the sentiment, but he wasn’t sure. “Easy,” he said again, with the same tone he’d used on horses and injured soldiers for years. He reached for the tie; the horse reached for his arm. Kieri bared his teeth and grunted; the horse in the stall wrinkled its nostrils tightly and pointed its muzzle away from him while he untied the line from the ring, and reached up to unfasten the halter. The instant it felt the halter loosen, the horse whipped around and kicked the stall door. The other grays jerked at their ties.
“You see how it is, sire,” Ganeth said. “They must be tied, for the grooms’ safety.”
“How long have they stood tied like this?” Kieri asked. “Today, I mean?” He did his best to keep his voice level. The horse in the stall had its nose in a water bucket, the swallows running up the underside of its gullet visibly.
“Since the stalls were mucked—they were all taken to water at dawn bell, and walked in the row while their stalls were cleaned and relaid.”
Kieri glanced in. The gray pinned one ear and lifted a hind hoof. “Oh, settle down,” Kieri said; the ear swung forward and the gray went on drinking. The stall was bedded just like the others; the horse bore no lumps or marks of misuse, other than being tied for hours in one position. To the others he said, “I’m going to untie them; their movement won’t be true in the school if they’ve been standing tied that long.”
Ganeth bowed, and excused himself to have the horses saddled for presentation in the school. Soon the sixteen bays and chestnuts, plus Banner, lined up in the school for Kieri’s inspection. Every one showed the sound, useful conformation needed for a travel mount; all were up to his weight. They had a different look than the Marrakai-bred horses he’d ridden most, the head a little longer. He remembered that from his time at Falk’s Hall. “These are all excellent,” he said to the horsemaster. “Where did you find them?”
“Many are gifts from your nobles’ breeding,” the horsemaster said. “The grays mostly from your elven relatives. Will you see them in action now?”
“Yes,” Kieri said. “But from the saddle. I’ll ride Banner to warm myself up before I try them. Aliam, I’ll depend on your eyes on the ground for anything I miss.”
“The usual criteria?” Aliam asked.
“Yes … you know my horses and my style of riding; you know what suits me as well as I do, I daresay.”
The grooms saddled Banner with Kieri’s own saddle, the fox-head insignia still on the skirts, but now with a saddlecloth in green and gold, with the royal insignia embroidered on it. He wondered what had happened to the familiar maroon and white cloth.
Kieri walked Banner around the riding hall, watching as the exercise riders mounted, noting which horses shifted or showed any sign of discomfort or tension. Most did not. They lined out behind him; he turned Banner to the center, and watched, saying nothing, but noting every detail of their movement. Walk, trot, canter: the riders were expert, the horses well schooled. It came down to minor points … the length of overstride at free walk, the cadence at trot, the steadiness.
“Aliam?” he said, swinging down from Banner as the horses lined up again.
“That one.” Aliam pointed. “I think he’s a little short-strided for someone of your build. A good horse, no doubt, but he’d suit your Captain Cracolnya better. Those four—” He pointed at them. “About perfect for you, I’d think.”
“I’ll start with the doubtful one,” Kieri said. “It’s only fair to give each a trial.” But after he mounted, he knew his eye and Aliam’s had been correct: the horse was better suited to another rider. On long rides, that short stride and quicker cadence would be tiresome for him.
He spent some minutes with each horse, assessing feet, legs, disposition, and finally movement. “The four you chose I certainly want,” Kieri said finally. “Of the rest, I will reserve judgment until I’ve seen and tried out the grays.”
“But surely there are enough—”
“As you said, the elves prefer the other colors—and this realm is jointly ruled. I must have some grays other than Banner in my stable.”
The horses he had not dismissed were taken to one end of the hall, and a line of grays and blue roans entered, all saddled and ready for trial.
“You know horses sense tension and fear,” Kieri said to Ganeth. “Have you exercise riders who are not afraid of grays?”
“Some,” Ganeth said. He gestured, and three came forward, a woman and two men. “Arian is half-elven, a ranger come to assist during the coronation celebrations. The others, Kiel and Surn, have some elven blood.”
Arian grinned. “Not only that, Sir King: word spread that you might be seeking new King’s Squires, some with elven blood. Several of us found reason to come to your coronation.”
Kieri chuckled. “Word spreads fast. Well, Arian, I will decide when I’ve seen those who want to serve. For now—let’s see how you ride.”
The three mounted; Arian rode as if born in the saddle; her mount also looked to be a near-match for Banner in stride length. “What do you think, Aliam?” Kieri asked.
“She rides really well—oh, the horse. Definitely one for you. So is that one—” Aliam pointed at the third horse in the group. “The second one’s not as good, I think.”
In another half-glass, Kieri had found six grays that suited him. “Keep the others,” he said to Ganeth, “as mounts for my Squires. Arian’s right: I do intend to have more Squires and they must all have good mounts and reserves, for I intend to use some of them as couriers.”
“Very well, Sir King,” Ganeth said.
“And Arian, you can tell the others I will begin interviewing those who wish to serve as King’s Squires tomorrow. They should meet me in the salle at sunrise.”
“Thank you, Sir King.”
On the way back to the palace, Estil said, “Now, that’s a nice young woman.”
“I’m not marrying a child,” Kieri said. “She can’t be more than twenty-five at the most. Find me someone nearer my age, and still able to bear, since all anyone cares about is an heir.”
“It’s not all I care about,” Estil said. “I want you to be happy.”
“And in the meantime, I want to talk to Aliam—and you, of course—about the defense of the realm.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Aliam listened to Kieri’s concerns with the same attention and intelligence he had always shown. “I’ve said the same to my brother for years,” he said. “But the Council’s so set against a standing army—though you’re wrong about the effectiveness of the forest rangers. And I would not want to march my formations into
the face of the Royal Archers’ blackwood bows, either.”
“I know that Pargunese woman says she wants peace,” Kieri said, “but she doesn’t rule Pargun. Their king does, and after we killed his men in that battle in Verrakai country—and the border skirmishes we’ve had—I still think attack across the river is a possibility.”
“I agree,” Aliam said. “And I agree you need something more substantial up there, but how can you move rangers from the west while Tsaia’s still dealing with Verrakaien and Konhalts? How secure is that border?”
“Precisely why I wanted to talk to you,” Kieri said. “If you’re not taking troops to Aarenis, what about lending them—for a fee of course—to the Crown?”
“And insult the Royal Archers?”
“It’s not an insult,” Kieri said. “They don’t know our kind of fighting … I could send them north as well, to back up the rangers there. That might even give us reasonable coverage of the shore between the towns. Put a cohort or two in the rear, ready to respond in any direction—”
“It’s not a bad plan,” Aliam conceded. “But you won’t get the Council to agree.”
Kieri grinned. “I realized that, when I was talking to them before the coronation. But now … I’m not just someone they agreed might be, or could be, the king. Now I’m the crowned king, and under the Compact, they will all have to oppose me if they want to stop me.”
Aliam looked worried. “Kieri, I know you can do it—but—think what it looks like. You’re proposing to give me, an old friend, a contract—”
“Because there is no one else, Aliam. Surely you see that. I don’t want to bring in foreign troops, or I’d hire my old Company. You’re Lyonyan already. And you’re the only one here.”
“They are eating our reserves,” Estil said. “We haven’t had them all at our place in years—never, really, because after the Company got that big, Aliam wintered some of them in the South.”
“I can’t make a profit out of it,” Aliam said. Estil stirred but said nothing; he went on. “If I do it for cost alone—their board, their salaries—and if I do not command it myself, the Council may agree that it is fair. Otherwise I fear they might turn against you, Kieri, and you are the best—I think the only—hope this kingdom has.”
“It will be helpful to get them out of our storerooms, to be sure,” Estil said.
“Let me talk to the Council,” Kieri said. “From what you say, you should go back to your home, and I will move as gently as I can, and still get anything done. But you should hear something by the half turn. And if you choose to send troops south, instead—”
“No,” Aliam said. “I think not. I really don’t feel like another trek over the mountains and back.”
“Well, then. Let’s to more pleasant things—tell me about the family.”
Next morning, Kieri arrived at the salle with Aliam, Astil, and Varñe to find more than four hands of men and women in forest-ranger green and russet waiting for him, Arian among them. Carlion and Siger, who’d been warned some applicants might come, eyed them with professional disdain.
“There’s too many to assess at once, Sir King,” Carlion said. “If you’re to get any training this morning, that is. I’d rather take groups of four.”
“We’ll rotate them,” Kieri said. “And to save time—Siger, take the others to the stables, and tell Sir Ganeth I want a riding assessment on both grays and browns. Carlion, when you’re through with the first four, send them to the stables, and Siger will send you another.”
“Will you want to spar with them all, Sir King?”
Kieri shook his head. “I haven’t time today; I have a Council meeting after breakfast. Today Aliam and I will work together.”
Kieri and Aliam went on into the salle and let Carlion make his choice of the first four. They began with stretches and other exercises that soon had Aliam puffing.
“You used to run me ragged with these,” Kieri said. “Is Estil right? Have you been sitting around too much?”
“She thinks so.” Aliam grunted as he clambered up from the floor. “But I’m getting older—see how much balder I am? It’s all right for her, but my joints ache.”
“You told us the best cure for aches was more exercise,” Kieri said.
“So it is, for the young,” Aliam said. “Or maybe I am just lazy. This morning, I will say, it does not hurt as much. King’s grace, perhaps?”
“You were never lazy,” Kieri said. “And the grace your king wants is a good bout—” He opened the storage bin and tossed Aliam a banda and practice sword, and took one for himself.
Aliam’s swordwork was as good as ever, though perhaps a touch slower, and he was quickly tired, but recovered between rounds. He and Kieri traded touch after touch.
“All you need is more practice,” Kieri said, as he finished. “If I were your physician, and not your friend, I would bid you work daily with your armsmaster.”
Aliam shook out his arms. “And as my friend?”
“The same, but with concern for your health. If you stayed here longer—”
Aliam shook his head. “I cannot. Cal is competent, but I need to be home—there is much work to be done. You know how land is, especially with so many feeding from it.”
“That, we hope to change—but I understand.” Kieri looked around the salle. The second four, now fencing in the middle of the salle, were three men and one woman; Carlion paced about them, watchful.
“You will have King’s Squires enough,” Astil said, on the way back to the palace.
“Do you regret deciding to retire?” Kieri asked.
“No. I was glad to come and serve again—and so I always will be at need—but my life now is at the farm with my family.”
“I would like you—all of you current Squires—to help evaluate these applicants,” Kieri said.
“You have said you plan to use Squires more, and differently,” Astil said. “Can you explain, Sir King?”
“I will write it out for you,” Kieri said. “But it includes acting as couriers to carry messages and envoys to foreign courts when haste is needed. Think of the tasks those who came to seek me found necessary—weapons skills, woodscraft, palace manners, diplomacy. I need Squires who are flexible, able to act independently, as well as intelligent and hardy. And I want to include part-elves; we need to bring the peoples closer together.”
After breakfast, Kieri bade farewell to Aliam and Estil, then convened the first Council meeting since the coronation. The Siers looked wary and he wondered if Aliam’s brother had told them his plans. But their concern, it seemed, was different.
“Sir King, with all respect—how far into summer will we need to stay in Chaya?” That was Sier Davonin. “Growth time is here; I have duties at my steading I would carry out, if I am no longer needed. And truly, I believe you need our advice less than when you came.”
“What is your custom?” Kieri asked.
“A few of us stay in Chaya,” Sier Belvarin said. “When the former king was well, three or four, who met perhaps once a tenday. The rest lived on their estates—”
Kieri hoped his expression didn’t change. No wonder the realm had been sliding into disarray if that was all the attention its rulers paid it.
“We have had meetings every day since you came, but for the coronation and days of celebration,” Sier Tolmaric said. “I knew things would be different, but—”
“My pardon, Siers,” Kieri said, before Tolmaric said something he might later regret. “In my ignorance and my need I have overworked you. But I wished to be fair, to assure you that I would not thoughtlessly overturn all your cherished traditions, or ignore your advice. You are correct, Sier Davonin, that I no longer feel as lost and incapable as I did, yet I do not believe you want a king who ignores you and does not listen to your concerns.”
“Quite so,” Davonin said. “But as your understanding of us has grown, so also our trust in you. I, for one, am content to let you ask for my advice, should you ever need it, w
hich I increasingly doubt.” She gave Tolmaric a sideways glance.
“Well, then,” Kieri said. “Let us say I will release those who do not have specific duties here—as Sier Galvary does, and Sier Halveric as well—within the next few days. I still have one matter, on which I know you all have strong opinions, and I would not seem to be evading you when I act on it.”
“You said ‘act’ and not ‘ask,’” Sier Carvarsin said, scowling.
“Indeed so. And we might as well come to it now. I’m still convinced Lyonya needs a stronger defense.”
Scowls all around, except from Sier Halveric, who merely looked grave.
“As I told you before, we have unrest to the west and a known enemy to the north.”
“The lady from Pargun spoke to me of peace between us,” Sier Davonin said.
“And to me as well,” Kieri said. “I believe she may be sincere—”
“May be! You consider her a liar? That sweet old woman—” Sier Tolmaric bristled.
Kieri stared him down. “Siers, I have seen many old women who could poison an enemy with sweetmeats while swearing eternal friendship. You are all honorable; I am sure none of you would say one thing and mean another, but my life has been spent among those who thrive on conflict and controversy. I found Hanlin of Pargun delightful, and I am sure many of you feel the same—but even if she is sincere, she does not rule Pargun, and she did not claim to speak for their king, who has long hated me. I remind you that Pargunese troops entered Tsaia to kill me on my way here—”
“That could be the Verrakai’s fault,” Belvarin said.
“So it could,” Kieri said, “except that they must have had the king’s agreement. Would a king well-disposed to Lyonya have cooperated with a plot to kill its new king?” Before they could answer that, Kieri went on. “Along the river, we have only three towns with any defenses at all; the rest is forest and small holdings that could be easily overcome—”
“You think Pargun will invade?”
“I don’t know,” Kieri said. “But north of the river, in Tsaia, they have tried repeatedly. Often, when defeated at one site, they’ve launched a second attack at another.”