Protected: Chapter Six
Protected
Chapter Six: Failure
Sir Martin was watching her. Kel was quite sure of that as she helped take down tents and pack supplies. It was understandable, the knight reasoned to herself strenuously. I still haven’t told him my choice. As far as he can tell, I may not have made up my mind, yet. Steadfastly she ignored her own lacking will to go through with her decision. It wasn’t that she didn’t know what the good choice was, but rather that the good choice was unusually unpleasant. Kel hated doubt.
Once all was unsaid and done, Kel went to saddle Hoshi. The mare looked at her with that non-judgmental look that she’d learned long ago meant she was standing in judgment, and the verdict didn’t look good. “I know, Hoshi,” the knight said miserably. “I’ll go tell him as soon as I’m done here.”
She left her leather jerkin draped on a tree-stump where Hoshi could keep an eye on it, and went to look for Sir Martin. “Sir!”
“Lady Knight!” He was overseeing the last bits of working in tearing down the camp. Zahir was nearby, saddling his beautiful Bhazir mare. Kel couldn’t be sure, but she had an idea that he might be listening as he buckled strap after strap. “Have you made up your mind about what we discussed?”
“Yes, sir.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve decided to stay here in the village for a day or two, and ride to Grayside alone, when I am well.”
“I believe you made the right choice, Lady Knight,” replied Sir Martin with approval.
“I know you do,” muttered the girl under her breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, sir,” said Kel. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll lodge at the inn for the next two nights.”
“Well enough, Lady Knight,” said he. “At worst our ride will last a week more. I expect we shall meet again when we start our way back to Corus.”
“Yes, sir,” she agreed, and went to fetch Hoshi. From the corner of her eye she noticed Zahir fiddling with the perfectly buckled straps of his saddle. Their eyes met, but he did not flinch. Instead, he smiled, and she returned his smile tiredly. Perhaps she was glad of a day or two’s rest, even if she’d never admit as much to her Yamani friends, or even to her mother. At that thought Kel decided now was as good a time as any to catch up on all her letter-writing. She loved her work even in its bitter moments, but friends and family often complained about how little they saw of her. Ever dutiful, Lady Keladry did her best to maintain contact through letters.
They ride to the village was soft, and Hoshi took good care of her. She made quite sure the mare was stabled and fed before trudging into the inn’s common room, saddlebags slung over one broad shoulder. Once she’d paid and been shown her room, she settled herself at a table with writing equipment from her traveling desk and cider from the inn’s cellar.
“I deserve this,” she said to herself. “It’s mid-morning, and my greatest worry in the world is who to write first, my brother or my best friend. I slipped and hurt myself, and then developed a fever. I deserve this.”
She wrote to Anders and Neal, first. Then she wrote her parents, her sister Oranie, Owen, Lalasa, Merric, Esmond, even Prince Roald and Cleon. By dusk she had a mountain of signed and sealed letters before her, and the ink-spots on her hands resisted water and soap. Shaking her head at her own exaggeration, Kel stretched her cramped muscles, stowed her letters and ordered dinner. Tomorrow she could write more letters, or perhaps mend her clothes and equipment. Minding healer’s orders, she went to bed early.
Her aching body found sleep almost as soon as she lay down. Her next waking recollection was of an anxious thud. Groaning at her redoubled bruising, she got up and found herself on the floor, sweaty and tangled in bedding. As she stripped away damp sheets, she remembered what had caused her to fall from bed.
She was running, but had no idea what was chasing her. To either side were rows and rows of people, like the audience at a tournament. Lords and ladies in silk and velvet turned into deformed monsters that screeched at her mindlessly. As she ran, she fell. The monstrous nobility swooped in on her, assaulting her. Just then, she woke. Disgusted with herself, she got up to wash her face of cold sweat. How long had it been since she’d had a nightmare?
It was nearly dawn, and Kel felt sure she would not sleep again. Instead she tore through her saddlebags, examining each and every piece of equipment she owned, old or new, for anything that needed to be cleaned or mended. She polished her spy-glass to mirror-like perfection. She mended a pair of stockings. She reordered her traveling desk. By the time the sun was properly up she was so bored she seriously considered re-hemming all her breeches after breakfast.
Instead, she packed all her things, saddled Hoshi and, ignoring the mare’s reproach, followed the road Sir Martin had left by, only a day ago.
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Chapter Six: Failure
Sir Martin was watching her. Kel was quite sure of that as she helped take down tents and pack supplies. It was understandable, the knight reasoned to herself strenuously. I still haven’t told him my choice. As far as he can tell, I may not have made up my mind, yet. Steadfastly she ignored her own lacking will to go through with her decision. It wasn’t that she didn’t know what the good choice was, but rather that the good choice was unusually unpleasant. Kel hated doubt.
Once all was unsaid and done, Kel went to saddle Hoshi. The mare looked at her with that non-judgmental look that she’d learned long ago meant she was standing in judgment, and the verdict didn’t look good. “I know, Hoshi,” the knight said miserably. “I’ll go tell him as soon as I’m done here.”
She left her leather jerkin draped on a tree-stump where Hoshi could keep an eye on it, and went to look for Sir Martin. “Sir!”
“Lady Knight!” He was overseeing the last bits of working in tearing down the camp. Zahir was nearby, saddling his beautiful Bhazir mare. Kel couldn’t be sure, but she had an idea that he might be listening as he buckled strap after strap. “Have you made up your mind about what we discussed?”
“Yes, sir.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve decided to stay here in the village for a day or two, and ride to Grayside alone, when I am well.”
“I believe you made the right choice, Lady Knight,” replied Sir Martin with approval.
“I know you do,” muttered the girl under her breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, sir,” said Kel. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll lodge at the inn for the next two nights.”
“Well enough, Lady Knight,” said he. “At worst our ride will last a week more. I expect we shall meet again when we start our way back to Corus.”
“Yes, sir,” she agreed, and went to fetch Hoshi. From the corner of her eye she noticed Zahir fiddling with the perfectly buckled straps of his saddle. Their eyes met, but he did not flinch. Instead, he smiled, and she returned his smile tiredly. Perhaps she was glad of a day or two’s rest, even if she’d never admit as much to her Yamani friends, or even to her mother. At that thought Kel decided now was as good a time as any to catch up on all her letter-writing. She loved her work even in its bitter moments, but friends and family often complained about how little they saw of her. Ever dutiful, Lady Keladry did her best to maintain contact through letters.
They ride to the village was soft, and Hoshi took good care of her. She made quite sure the mare was stabled and fed before trudging into the inn’s common room, saddlebags slung over one broad shoulder. Once she’d paid and been shown her room, she settled herself at a table with writing equipment from her traveling desk and cider from the inn’s cellar.
“I deserve this,” she said to herself. “It’s mid-morning, and my greatest worry in the world is who to write first, my brother or my best friend. I slipped and hurt myself, and then developed a fever. I deserve this.”
She wrote to Anders and Neal, first. Then she wrote her parents, her sister Oranie, Owen, Lalasa, Merric, Esmond, even Prince Roald and Cleon. By dusk she had a mountain of signed and sealed letters before her, and the ink-spots on her hands resisted water and soap. Shaking her head at her own exaggeration, Kel stretched her cramped muscles, stowed her letters and ordered dinner. Tomorrow she could write more letters, or perhaps mend her clothes and equipment. Minding healer’s orders, she went to bed early.
Her aching body found sleep almost as soon as she lay down. Her next waking recollection was of an anxious thud. Groaning at her redoubled bruising, she got up and found herself on the floor, sweaty and tangled in bedding. As she stripped away damp sheets, she remembered what had caused her to fall from bed.
She was running, but had no idea what was chasing her. To either side were rows and rows of people, like the audience at a tournament. Lords and ladies in silk and velvet turned into deformed monsters that screeched at her mindlessly. As she ran, she fell. The monstrous nobility swooped in on her, assaulting her. Just then, she woke. Disgusted with herself, she got up to wash her face of cold sweat. How long had it been since she’d had a nightmare?
It was nearly dawn, and Kel felt sure she would not sleep again. Instead she tore through her saddlebags, examining each and every piece of equipment she owned, old or new, for anything that needed to be cleaned or mended. She polished her spy-glass to mirror-like perfection. She mended a pair of stockings. She reordered her traveling desk. By the time the sun was properly up she was so bored she seriously considered re-hemming all her breeches after breakfast.
Instead, she packed all her things, saddled Hoshi and, ignoring the mare’s reproach, followed the road Sir Martin had left by, only a day ago.
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