Oath Bound (Book 3) (17 page)

The carpet runner up the
aisle blazed green with gold thread woven in a smoke-swirl pattern, and led to
the throne, which held the slight burden of Calphen IV. The King was old, even
older than Marcus was, and unlike Marcus, frail in the flesh. He wore a long,
white beard, and the fur-trimmed, gem-encrusted robes of state swallowed his
thinning form; in turn the white granite throne of the realm swallowed the
entire figure, so the effect in Vandis’s mind was of a little fish eaten by a
bigger fish and the biggest fish eating both.

He strode up the aisle,
trailing his guards, and bent a knee before the throne. In the mirror gloss of
the white granite, he saw himself bow, beaten-in face, ruined clothes, and
Adeon and Pearl behind him. No doubt the designers had exactly that in mind,
but he hated to see it. Bad enough he should have to do it. “Your Majesty,” he
said.

Calphen blinked owlishly
and shivered, waking himself from a doze. “Sir Vandis,” he said. “Ah. Yes.”
After a long pause, he continued. “Allow us to express our pleasure that you
escaped, ah, relatively unharmed from the vicious attempt on your life this very
noontide. Honor does not always follow from popularity, nor popularity from
honor. You are the rare man who possesses both, and, ah, despite obstacles, you
have still exerted yourself to come before your King. This speaks well to your
valor.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Thank
you, Your Majesty,” Vandis said, bobbing his head. He waited to see if Calphen
had more to say. To the right of the aisle, very close to the throne, stood the
Duke of Friedhelm. Vandis couldn’t think of him as Marcus in all that velvet, samite,
and ermine, but his posture was as perfect as always despite the heavy chains
around his neck, and he wore an expectant, very Marcus-like expression: Go on
and prove yourself. Next to him, though, the Duke of Valheim glowered down at
Vandis like a thunderhead. Richard Bludgraven must, at least some of the time,
look pleased, but it never seemed to happen when Vandis was around.

“You may speak, Sir
Vandis,” the King said at length.

“Your Majesty, I’ve come
to you today to share my concern over Dreamport’s neighbor to the south. It
seems to me—”

“It seems to us that
Dreamport’s markets are still flush with Muscodite products, and that Muscoda
buys from Dreamport as much as she ever did, if not more. Do you wish to
correct our assessment?”

“No, Your Majesty, but
while that is true—”

“
Quite
true,
Sire,” Bludgraven put in.

Calphen darted him a sour
look. “Continue, Sir Vandis.”

“Your Majesty, while it
is true that trade between Dreamport and Muscoda has continued without
interruption, it is my belief that Muscoda can no longer be separated in more
than name from the Order of Aurelius, and that the attacks on my Order are only
the beginning. If I might beg Your Majesty’s indulgence, a private hearing—”

“Our indulgence,” Calphen
said tiredly, “has been extended mightily far for you already today, Sir
Vandis. Whatever you have to say, certainly you can have no objection to
sharing the information freely.”

Vandis’s jaw hung for a
moment before he shut it with a snap. “Your Majesty, I certainly don’t, but the
sensitive nature of—”

“Surely you are not
implying anything so vulgar as the presence of spies.”

I’m not implying a
damn thing,
he thought.
So be it, you stupid old man.
“Your Majesty,
in the year since the Muscodite border was closed to the Knights, my office has
received ample intelligence indicating that Muscoda intends further aggression,
specifically against Lightsbridge.” The coded illuminations in the book he’d
received at Moot, plus several pounds of the paper he’d shifted over the last
week or two, all pointed to it, and he was ready to back up his conclusions,
publicly or no. He looked at the King, waiting for some indication that he
ought to continue. Vandis became aware of all the eyes swinging his way, the
weight of scrutiny on his banged-up armor.

Calphen inclined his head
in a slight nod, all he could manage without losing the twisting monstrosity of
a crown on his head.

“I’ve received reports
that Muscoda is stockpiling materiel of all kinds,” he projected, so that
everyone in this ridiculous place would hear him well, “and that conscription
has dramatically increased, as have the grain quotas for every acre of arable
land. Your Majesty may recall that three years ago the Muscodite Crown began to
require all its tribute from the Little States to be rendered in coal, and when
the Little States defaulted last year—”

“Well within King
Kasimir’s rights,” Calphen said firmly.

Better not touch that
one.
“I’ve also received reports of extensive improvements being undertaken
on the infrastructure of the Little States, which are now, of course, under
Muscoda’s banner. Your Majesty, I refer to the building of canals, the dredging
of rivers, and repairs on the roads. I’m given to understand that there has
been a substantial movement of troops toward the border with Lightsbridge, with
new garrisons being established and the size of those existing increased.” He
took a deep breath. “If Your Majesty wishes it, I will produce these reports
for the perusal of—”

Calphen raised a shaky hand
and Vandis clamped his mouth shut; he held his tongue, though the King’s
silence stretched longer than afternoon shadow. The musicians seemed loud,
their strains curling among the hushed nobles. Calphen gestured for one of his
guards, who hurried to answer. “Send for Baron Dreyfuss and Baron Recht. Have
them go to the privy chamber.” The guard rushed away at once, and Calphen
returned his attention to Vandis. “Leaving aside, for the moment, the
impropriety of such an issue for a public hearing,” and didn’t
that
make
Vandis boil, “Lightsbridge has long been an ally of Dreamport. I have no reason
to doubt the truth of your words. An envoy will be dispatched.”

“Your Majesty, I’m afraid
that won’t be enough,” Vandis said. A collective inhalation seemed to suck the
air from the chamber, clear to the ceiling. He knew Calphen had expected him to
say a polite “Thank you, Your Majesty,” and leave, and he knew he’d stepped far
out of line, but he couldn’t stop now.
For Your Knights, my Lady,
he
thought, and said, “A stronger sort of action may be required.”

“You are counseling us to
make unprovoked war on another sovereign power… or do we mishear you, Sir
Vandis?”

Words spilled out of his
mouth, hot, fast. “Your Majesty, war would be far from unprovoked. Muscoda won’t
stop with the Little States, nor will she swallow Lightsbridge and consider it
enough. The Muscodite Crown, the Order of Aurelius, has its eye on all
Rothganar. Bringing the Knights to heel is—“

“Sir Vandis,” said the
King, resting an elbow on either arm of the throne and leaning forward, as if
into him, “we seem to recall several occasions on which you have praised us for
refusing to officially endorse any Church. Are you telling us, now, that we
must reconsider, and attack Muscoda on your behalf?”

“No, Your Majesty, of
course not, but permit me to remind you that many of the Knights and Squires
martyred last summer were citizens of Dreamport.” Vandis worked desperately
against his legs, which wanted him to spring up, and gnashed his teeth against
the urge to shout.

“The reminder is
permitted, but unnecessary. The Crown of Muscoda has made restitution for those
citizens.”

I didn’t know that!
How did I not know that?
Well, he hadn’t been up here, had he? He gazed at
Calphen, dismayed and desperate. “Your Majesty, the Crown of Muscoda has
targeted my Order, an Order formed and chartered in Dreamport, whose history in
the realm extends as far back as your royal line. What would you have me do?”

“Sir Vandis, this strikes
us as a dispute among the clergy, and Dreamport is a secular realm. We suggest
you come to grips with the problem amongst yourselves. Was that not the very
reason for the constitution of the Conclave of Pontiffs?”

Old King Useless!
Vandis
thought savagely.
You senile old goat!
“Yes, Your Majesty, but in this
case, I believe it’s gone a bit beyond—”

“Dismissed, Sir Vandis.”

Somehow, he managed not
to snarl. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” he said, and kept his lips closed as he
and his guards backed out of the throne room. Once the inlaid portal closed in
his face, he whipped around and stalked past Pearl and Adeon, through the
atrium and the gardens and the gate, his hand white-knuckled around the Staff
of Office. Pins and needles shot, still, from fingertips to shoulder.

Neither of the other two
spoke a single word to him, all the way back to HQ. He wished they’d try to say
something, anything at all. He’d feel guilty afterward, but right now, all he
wanted was a target.

Windish

Before they’d gotten the
Ishlings, things had been a little boring, but now Kessa had more than enough
to keep her busy. Dingus had seemed surprised that it turned out to be easier
to sew new clothes for the kids than to mend the ones they had, but she’d known
the instant he brought them back into camp that he hadn’t thought for a
heartbeat about what his little project was going to involve. First there’d
been the delousing, which they’d done two days in a row, and then there was
keeping them all busy, and of course, the clothes and the food.

Good thing she’d always
liked sewing. They were doing it the easy way: two tunic shapes stitched
together to make a tunic, but Kessa sort of felt the Ishlings deserved more.
She could do a little fancy work, nothing too special, but she knew how to
embroider a couple different kinds of flowers and a few patterns. Who would’ve
guessed being a laundry maid would help her be a better Squire? Not Kessa, but
last night by the fire, while Dingus told fairy tales, she’d decided to put a
little daisy border on the bottom of Zeeta’s new green tunic, and it went down
like a storm. Zeeta had hugged her and kissed her and said, “You is very much
amazing, oh Kessa, thank you, thank you, you is a wonderful sewing person! This
is the most pretty dress I ever is have!”

It wasn’t the best daisy
border Kessa had ever done, but she’d felt like it was the best
anyone
had ever done, just from Zeeta, and then Dingus gave her this
look
, with
shiny eyes and a great big smile, and—and here she was stitching a geometric pattern
around the cuffs of Voo’s sleeves. She wished she had some nice floss in
different colors, but when she quadrupled it up the plain thread stood out
enough against the green cloth that it looked pretty good.

At least embellishing the
clothes won her a little space, too. All the Ishlings had wanted to watch
very
closely
, but she’d said, “I can’t make it pretty if I can’t see what I’m
doing!” So instead, they were all over Dingus. He didn’t seem as uncomfortable
as he would’ve if anyone bigger than a breadbox had tried to touch him; he sat
a little ways away from Kessa, tailor-fashion on the ground, surrounded by the
swarm.

“Deengoos fix my dress,”
Peepa said, around the thumb in her mouth.

“I’m making you a new
one,” he told her, and when she smiled at him with that thumb in the middle of
it, Kessa could just
see
him go mushy. They all had him wrapped around
their cute little tails. Lucky for him, he had all
them
twisted around
his pinky finger, and they’d do just what he wanted, sometimes without even asking
why.

Zeeta put her tiny hands
on his knee. “I wants to try. I can try, Dingus?”

“Huh! Sewing is for
mens!” Tai said.

She put her fists on her
waist. “
Kessa
is sew. Kessa is not a men, she is a beautiful lady, and
she’s sewing more good than Dingus! So there!”

“Oh, you is
excuse
me, Zeeta,” Tai said, and he probably would’ve said more.

“When you’re a Big,”
Dingus said quickly, stopping the bicker in its tracks, “sewing’s supposed to
be for women, but really, it’s for anybody who needs to. Come here, Zeeta, I’ll
teach you.”

“
See?
” she said to
Tai, and climbed triumphantly into Dingus’s lap, which had taken less than a
day to become the absolute prize place. Kessa didn’t want to think what would
happen to these guys when Vandis came back. She definitely didn’t want to think
about what Dingus would be like. He was happy right now, really happy, and she
liked seeing it. He was much more fun when he was happy, and when they left the
Ishlings behind he’d mope for months, she just knew it. Dingus miserable was no
fun at all, and no way would Vandis let all the Ishlings come along—which would
make Dingus completely miserable.

Kessa wasn’t sure how
she’d feel about it herself, but Dingus, she was positive, had not thought that
far. He cupped his big hand over Zeeta’s, guiding her through the stitches, and
she picked it up in no time flat. After a couple minutes he took his hand away
and watched her finish, directing her to knot off the seam when she got to the
end. “That’s a real fine job you did,” he said, and Zeeta seemed to grow a
whole inch. “You’re one smart chickadee.” He inspected the little tunic, and
then held it up for Peepa.

She pulled her old one
off as quick as she could, and Dingus helped her put on the new one.

“Yes, yes, I is,” Zeeta
said primly. “Stupid pickpockets isn’t live to be my old.”

Dingus’s face fell. “Oh.”

“Don’t be sad, Dingus,”
she said, patting his chest, which was about as high as she could reach. “Us
Ishlings is only want that you smile.”

“Don’t get sad.” Tai
glared at the ground. “Get sad, get stupid. Get stupid, get beat. Get dead.”

Dingus scowled. “It
shouldn’t be that way.”

“Should, shouldn’t?
What’s difference?
Is
,” Tai said, and Zeeta nodded.

“Tai.” The tiny boy
glanced up, and Dingus said, “Not here. Never with me.”

“You is good inside,
Dingus,” Tai said, huddling, “but what’s—”

He winced, and so did
everyone else, at the shriek that cut the air. All the kids rose on their hind
legs, and Dingus was halfway standing when a fat-bellied Ish kicked Vylee into
the camp. She’d hardly tumbled to a stop before Dingus was beside her, saying
something soft, checking her little arms and legs.

The Ish didn’t even look
at Dingus, which Kessa could’ve told him was a big mistake. He jabbered away in
Ishian and stabbed his finger at the ground in front of him: get over here,
come here right now.
Laben,
Kessa thought, and then,
uh-oh.
Some
of the kids bellied toward him.

“I don’t know how you got
out of gaol so fast,” Dingus said, “but—”

Laben chattered like
Dingus hadn’t said a word, thrusting the finger back the way he’d come, and his
dirty, matted crest shook with the force of it.

Dingus unfolded to his
full height, which Kessa had to admit was getting pretty impressive. Laben only
just reached his hip. “Shut your fat fuck mouth,” he bit off. He stepped over
Vylee, shielding her with his legs. “You don’t talk to them. You talk to
me.
”

“I saw you,” Laben said.
He craned his head back and bared little brown fangs at Dingus. “You turned me
in, didn’t you? For what? Little Ishling fingers on your—”

Dingus kicked him
hedball-style, so hard he skidded across the ground. “Big man with a big gut,
little kids getting starved and beat.” The knuckles in Dingus’s big fists
crackled, and he stalked up on Laben as the Ish rolled to his feet. “What’s to
stop me killing you? I don’t see a goddamn thing… do you?”

“You have no idea who
you’re fucking with,” Laben said, and struck out with a tiny flash in his fist.

“
Dingus!
” Kessa
screamed, but before it got all the way out of her mouth, Dingus had Laben
pinned to a tree by the throat.

“Neither do you.” He
didn’t react, not even a wince, when Laben’s knife dug and tore at his forearm.
Blood dripped onto the needles at his feet, but he drew back his free arm. “Now
you get to see how it feels.”

“Oh,” Tai breathed, under
the crunch of Laben’s nose breaking, the sounds Dingus’s fist made on Laben’s
flesh. “Oh.” The Ishlings watched, motionless, round-eyed, and even the ones on
their bellies lifted their heads, while Dingus thrashed Laben to a bloody pulp,
growling like a dog, low, threatening.

Kessa slid off the log
and lay on her stomach, gesturing the Ishlings to do the same. She had to pull
Tai down next to her.
Please don’t let him. Please, Lady, don’t let him,
she prayed, shaking. She swore she could still feel blood spattering hot on her
face…

After what seemed like
forever, Dingus’s fist stopped, drawn back, ready for another blow. He looked
away from Laben, squeezing his eyes shut, and emitted another growl that prickled
the hairs on the back of Kessa’s neck.

Laben slid down the tree
and thumped into a heap at Dingus’s feet, coughing and whimpering. Between his
wide-set legs, Kessa could see the ruin he’d made of Laben’s face. She hadn’t
realized she’d been holding her breath until it rushed out. Laben spat on the
ground, thick blood, broken brown teeth.

“Go,” Dingus rumbled. “If
I see your fat carcass again, Lady’s my witness, I’ll kill you.”

Laben dragged himself
away. When he didn’t leave fast enough, Dingus gave him a little encouragement:
a boot to the ass. Kessa slapped a hand over her giggle; Laben pushed up and
all-footed drunkenly into the trees.

Nobody moved. Nobody
spoke, not until Dingus faced the camp with thunder on his face.

“Dingus?” Vylee
whispered, and his eyes whipped onto her. “You is—you is making blood…”

He shook his head,
blinking hard, and looked at his arm. His voice was only a little thicker than
usual now, and his words were calming. “I’m okay, little bit. Just gotta clean
it. He hurt you?”

“Not as much bad as you
is hurting him.” She smiled.

Tai did a backflip. “You
is kick him right in the tail!”

Dingus shrugged. “He
didn’t do what I said.”

“I think we is keep you a
very, very long time, crazy Dingus,” Zeeta said, and when he sat down, toeing
the medical kit toward him, she tugged his sleeve until he bent down so she
could kiss his cheek, embracing his head. He blushed bright, collar to
hairline, like Vandis did when Kessa kissed
him
.

“For a while, anyways,”
he said, and bent to retrieve the supplies to clean and stitch his arm. Kessa
would’ve been glad to help him out, but he had way more help than he needed.

By suppertime, Kessa had
picked up her embroidery again. She wanted to finish Voo’s sleeves. Dingus had
gone down to the stream to fetch water for the noodles, leaving her with all
the Ishlings except Tai, who hadn’t been more than ten feet from him since
Laben got the business, and wouldn’t have moved from his shoulder-top perch
once if Dingus hadn’t made him. The other Ishlings played with an unfortunate
frog, which hopped and croaked whenever poked by a curious finger. Kessa had
laid three or four stitches at the most when Tikka pranced into camp, trilling
out, “Hello, you two! Would you like to come up to the house—” But the old lady
stopped in her tracks when she caught sight of the Ishlings, and her forehead
wrinkled. “Who are all these children?”

“Us is Dingus’s friends!”
said Voo, frisking up. “He is help us from the market! Before we are pick
pockets, but he is tell us, no, that is bad to do and my friends isn’t
stealing—so here we is!” He beamed at Tikka, who folded her arms and frowned so
ferociously down at him that he quailed. “Um… bye!” he squeaked, and darted
back to the frog.

Tikka hopped up on the
nurse log and turned dark, narrow eyes on Kessa. “Where is Dingus? Since this
seems to have been his idea.”

“Well, yes,” Kessa said.
“He’s just—” She sent silent thanks to the Lady as she heard Dingus coming back
through the trees, singing a
hituleti
song in his deep, soft voice.
“—coming now,” she finished.

“Oh, hi, Tikka,” he said,
smiling as he set down the buckets. Tai leapt down to join the fun with the
poor frog. “How’s it going?”

Tikka didn’t smile back.
She crouched and folded her arms under her breasts. “What is this, Dingus?”

He gave his head a
bewildered little shake. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Who told you to bring
these Ishlings here?”

“Well—nobody. I just
thought—”

“You thought you’d thank
me for my hospitality by bringing a pack of little hooligans onto my land,
where my daughters and granddaughters live, to steal things from me.”

“They’ve been up at the
house?” He looked over the Ishlings, hurt. “Guys—”

“I haven’t seen them.
That doesn’t mean they weren’t there.”

“Are you missing
anything?”

“Not yet,” Tikka said,
“but it’s only a matter of time.”

“No. They told me they
wouldn’t. They’ve kept their word so far. I trust—”

“I don’t. Nor should you.
They have no
family
.”

“Wait.” He held his palms
out. “Wait. They’re less people because their families aren’t around? They
didn’t ask for that! It’s not their fault. I’m sorry I didn’t ask first. I
should’ve—”

“Yes, you should have.
You should have given me the opportunity to say no, because that’s what I would
have said, and I’m saying it now. This is absolutely unacceptable.”

“I don’t understand!”
Dingus glanced over the Ishlings again. They watched, silent, as the frog
hopped away toward the stream. “I’m just trying to keep the Oath. I don’t want
to start out by breaking my promise! I want—”

“
I
want you to get
these thieves off my land!” Tikka screamed.

“You mean… just… throw
them out?”

“I don’t care how you do
it. Just get it done. I want them out of here by dawn.”

“You gotta be fucking
kidding me!”

It exploded out of
Dingus’s mouth, and even he looked surprised he’d said it. For a moment there
was dead silence. All the Ishlings watched him, heads low between their
shoulders, but Kessa stared at Tikka, whose face contorted with disbelief.

“You can be sure Vandis
will hear about this,” she mustered. “That leaf was premature on you, young
man, if you haven’t learned respect for the Masters,” and Kessa’s mouth fell
open.

“Hey!” she said, or
started to, but Dingus cut her off before she got even that out of her mouth.

“What about respect for
the Oath of Service? Why make a vow if you’re not gonna honor the soul of it?
You go on and tell Vandis, and whoever else you want. Tell everyone—I don’t
care! Nothing’s gonna stop me doing what I swore to do, not even a branding
iron right here!” He laid his right hand over his heart. “I’m my Lady’s Knight.
I swore to Her, nobody else, and there’s no doubt in my mind She wants this
done. If you want ’em gone by sunup, we’ll be gone with ’em.”