Chapter Eighteen

The five ships docked in one of Deraine's western ports, and the stolen dragons were transferred to barges, and sent upriver to a secret training ground of Garadice's.

Hal and the other dragon fliers had expected to be put on a transport, with their three surviving dragons, and sent back to Paestum, the Eleventh Dragon Flight and the charming attentions of Sir Fot Dewlish.

Instead, the dragon fliers, Sir Bab Cantabri, half a dozen of his soldiers and Limingo were given special orders and transportation to Rozen, Deraine's capital.

"An' what do yer think that pertains to?" Mariah wondered. "We got away wi' it, so there'll not be a court martial."

"Medals, lad," a gray-bearded Serjeant said. "We're heroes."

"Mmmh," Farren said, thought for a moment. "That's nice, an' such.

But I'll wager it means the army acrost the seas has taken it up the wahiny of late, and the king's lookin' for someat to distract the masses."

"Prob'ly," the soldier agreed. "But haven't you learned to take yer medals where they fall?"

Hal suspected the serjeant was right, since the transportation north wasn't the usual oxcarts soldiers got used to, but carriages more suitable for officers or minor lordlings.

It was cold traveling in the beginnings of winter, but there were crowds down the main street of each village, cheering the soldiers, sometimes even by name, generally Sir Bab, and every night the twelve were put up at decent inns, not crouching over fires in their stables.

Again, Hal noted there were few men about, and the farmers' winter tasks were being done more and more by women.

Saslic and Hal slept in each other's arms each night, waking to make hungry love, evidence they'd lived through the icy seas.

Others took full advantage of the adulation they were getting, and Hal wondered how many village maidens would have children nine months gone.

Saslic commented acidly that she truly admired the patriotism of her fellows, "trying to personally compensate for any war losses. Heroes all."

The two surprises were Sir Bab, who smiled politely at the invitations to linger beyond dinner from the country noblemen's wives and daughters, but no more.

"He's married," Sir Loren announced.

"An' what of that?" Farren asked. "As if anyone'd peach on him."

"No," Sir Loren said. "He's really married. Which means all those saddened virgins, mourning widows and lonely wives are forced to make do with the second best." He smiled, stroked the pencil-line moustache he was cultivating.

The other surprise was two-fold: first that Limingo favored young men rather than women, and the second part was how many small villages had boys eager for his embraces.

Saslic was a little taken aback, thinking that such practices were mostly restricted to cities, but Hal just grinned. Between the road and the army, very little of what people did in bed surprised him any longer.

A day beyond Rozen, the soldiers stumbled into the rather casual formation Sir Bab required for a headcount before the carriages moved off.

"Thank some gods," Farren moaned, peering through red-rimmed eyes at Hal, "pick your lot't' pray to, that we'll be in the city tomorrow. I thought when we lit off, I'd as soon spend the rest of m'life ridin' along, eatin' only the best, and beddin' the lustiest. But I'm worn frazzled. An'

walkin' bowlegged."

"Better to ride your dragon," Saslic suggested.

"Y'know," Farren said, changing the subject, "there's not been a maid I've met who objects't' the gamy smell of me. One said dragons make her randier."

"I don't even want to think about her dreams," Saslic said, with a shudder. "And if you'd bath more, like we've been doing, you wouldn't still stink of the beasts."

"Lass," Farren mourned, "you're not thinkin'. If th' ladies love it, who'm I to arguefy?"

If the villages and towns were gleeful, Rozen was hysterical.

"Isn't there anybody at work?" Sir Bab marveled as the carriages made their slow way toward the city's center. He smiled at a woman who tossed him a rose from an apartment window overhanging the street, ducked as someone threw half a winter melon through the carriage window.

" Damn, but I wish they'd stop thinking we're unbreakable," he muttered.

All of them had learned to wear pleased smiles, and wave slowly, to keep from wearing their arms out.

Again, there were far more women than men to be seen, and those men were generally boys, elders or in uniform.

The warrants were betting on which of the City Guard's barracks they'd be put up in, but nobody won the bet, as the carriages were guided into the great Tower complex, where the government of Deraine and King Asir's main castle were.

"An' aren't we shittin' in tall clover?" Farren marveled as they were given separate rooms built into the walls of the Tower itself. "M'mum'll never believe me. I'll have't' steal somethin' of real moment't' prove I was ever here."

* * *

The throne room was a dazzle of tapestries, gold, silk and noblemen and women. But Hal barely noticed. He and the other soldiers, save perhaps Sir Bab and Sir Loren, had only eyes for their king.

King Asir was a bit shorter than Hal's six feet, stocky, with very tired eyes. He wore scarlet velvet breeches and vest, over a white silk shirt, and a mere gold ringlet for his crown.

The soldiers had been issued new uniforms that were tailored to fit in a few hours, told to stand by, and the gods help anyone who had brandy on his or her breath when they were summoned.

They were marched into that throne room, surrounded by Deraine's nobility, and all knelt, bowed their heads, as instructed, when trumpets blared and the king entered.

He was flanked by an elderly lord with a beard and martial stance that challenged belief, and a pair of equerries carrying velvet boxes.

Asir went down the line, and Hal was most impressed at his training, for he knew the names of each man and woman, although a bit of Kailas snickered about what would happen should, say, he and Saslic change places.

He spoke briefly to each of them, a bit longer to Sir Bab, paused at Hal, looked him carefully up and down for a time. Hal tried to hide his apprehension.

"Serjeant Kailas," the king said. "This is the second medal I've given you in three months, the first in person."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Asir took a case from the equerry, opened it, and looped a medallion on a chain around Hal's neck.

"I'm delighted to honor your bravery, not just over Black Island, but in other places as well. You've served since the beginning," Asir went on.

"Quite bravely, without proper recognition, both because of circumstance and evident jealousy.

"Fortunately for your building reputation, you're one of the favorites of the taletellers."

Hal, very nervous now, nodded, gulped.

"Yessir… I mean, Your Highness."

Asir smiled.

"Don't get goosey," he said. "Remember, I sit down to crap just like you do."

Hal had no idea whatsoever what the response to that should be.

The king nodded, went on down the line.

Farren, next to him, nudged him, subvocalized: "Whajer get for your medal?"

Hal ignored him.

The king returned to his throne, remained standing.

"I am mindful to make two further awards. Sir Bab Cantabri, come forward."

Cantabri obeyed.

"I now name you Lord Cantabri of Black Island, and declare this title shall be passed down to your heir and his heir, to keep the memory of your bravery fresh in men's minds until the ending of time. It is also in my mind to reward you with more earthly goods, estates, rights, which we shall discuss at a later time.

"Kneel, sir."

Cantabri obeyed, and King Asir took a small, ceremonial sword from the lord, tapped Cantabri on his shoulders and head.

"Rise, Lord Cantabri."

The king embraced him, and Sir Bab saluted, and returned to the ranks. Hal was surprised to see tears running down the hard man's face.

"There shall be one other honor this day," the king went on. "It was in my mind earlier today, but I wanted to meet the man first.

"This is an unusual honor, given not merely because this man is most brave, but is a pioneer member of our dragon fliers, what I have heard some call, before this lamentable war, dragonmasters.

"If any deserves this title more, I know it not.

"Through him, I am also recognizing all those who've struggled under the sometimes imbecilic traditions of the past, of a peacetime service that, at times, seems not to know times have changed, and that we are in the most bitter war of our existence.

"These men, and women, have fought, sometimes without success, to make the army, and I include myself as Supreme Commander, realize that just because something has been done in a certain manner for decades or centuries, that doesn't mean there isn't a better way.

"Frequently it is necessary, and I charge all of us to recognize this, to think hard on the way we fight, and consider other ways of doing things, instead of holding close the dead hand of the past.

"Serjeant Hal Kailas, come forward."

Hal gaped for half a lifetime, then Saslic, beside him, kicked him in the ankle.

"Move, you git!"

Hal obeyed, almost doubling up, as the army required, to the king, realized how unseemly that would be, almost stumbled, crimsoned, hearing a snicker from the rows of nobility.

But he kept his feet, and saluted the king.

"Kneel, sir."

Hal obeyed, and felt three taps on his shoulders and head, taps he felt with the crushing weight of the burden they brought.

"Rise, Sir Hal Kailas," the king said.

Hal did, saluted the broadly grinning king, and was never sure how he got back to his place in the file.

"Not just a friggin' medal," Farren Mariah marveled, "which means I'll not have't' plunder somethin' to show me mum, but a whole week's leave.

"Mayhap I'll not come back. And what'll you think of that, Sir Hal?"

"I'll hunt you down in that warren you live in," Hal said. "And drag you, kicking and screaming, back to the war."

"Now, that's not the way a proper knight knights," Farren complained.

"Speakin' of which, how're you plannin''t' spend your next glorious week?"

Hal came back to a bit of reality, realizing he didn't have anywhere to go, had no family other than Caerly, and that held nothing at all for him.

"Be damned if I know," Hal said. "Thank the gods we got paid, and I can afford an inn."

"Paf to that," Sir Loren said. "You can always come home with me. I haven't a sister for you to lust after, so you'll not have to worry, Saslic. But even though the old manse is gloomy and stony, there's more than enough room for you."

"Or if you don't want to be fartin' around some frigid castle in th'

bushes wi' strange beasties an' stranger bushcrawlers," Farren said,

"there's an attic room one of m' uncles been wastin' away in too long."

Hal looked at Saslic.

"I'm to be back with my family," she said. "I don't know if you fancy being around dragons, or around suspicious fathers, even if they are Royal Keepers, but there's room."

"Sir Hal's living requirements are already provided for," a voice said, and the three turned, saw the taleteller Thom Lowess. "I'll be claiming my own reward on the man, though he's welcome to visit any of you.

"My townhouse is but ten minutes ride from the Menagerie, Serjeant Dinapur," Lowess said. "And I'm hardly suspicious around nightfall."

"Uh…" Hal managed.

"Sir Hal, you're not being consulted. You're being told," Lowess said firmly, taking him by the elbow. "Now, come with me."

The four hastily scribbled addresses and instructions to their respective places, and went their way.

"Now, young man, come pay the price," Lowess said.

"For what?"

"For your knighthood."

"Huh?"

"I would like a little respect, sir," Lowess said. "Who else has been slaving away, night and day, making sure your name is on everyone's lips, that the court itself buzzes with your bravery?"

"Oh. You mean…" Hal remembered what the king had said.

"I mean, I've been promoting you as if I were on your payroll."

"Why?" Hal was suddenly suspicious. Lowess spread his hands, smiled blandly.

"Why? How else does a taleteller advance himself, once he's become the voice of the nation, save by pushing causes and people who deserve it?"

Hal looked at him carefully.

"I'm not sure I understand."

"You're not supposed to," Lowess said cheerfully. "Chalk it up to a strange man's strange hobby. Now, come. We'll be late for dinner.

"There are certain ladies of the court who've made it very clear I'll no longer enjoy their favors unless they have an opportunity to meet you."

Thom Lowess' manor house was intended to show Lowess' vast travels in unknown lands, his notable friends, savage and civilized, in those lands, and the dignities that had been shown him.

It did that very well. Walls hung with paintings, weaponry, exotic objects. It was also very clear there was no wife or lady living there. The house oozed masculinity, all leather and dark wood, a bit too much so for Hal's tastes.

Lowess' table was also a marvel, with dishes Hal had never tasted, or heard of only from lords' braggadocio. There were cooks serving splendid items, servitors making sure no plate remained bare or glass empty for more than a few seconds.

And there was Lady Khiri Carstares, just seventeen, but with a glint in her eye suggesting experience beyond her years. She was slender, small breasted, almost as tall as Hal, and wore her dark hair curled and hanging down one side of her neck.

Hal couldn't decide whether her eyes were violet, green or some unknown shade of blue.

Lady Khiri was bright, quick with a laugh, or to be able to bring one.

She appeared to follow news of the war closely, and was very aware of Hal's exploits.

Hal, before her eyes drew him in, had the sudden feeling of being a fat bustard, pursued by a relentless hawk. But he put that aside, thinking that he'd been too long in the company of mostly men, and was missing Saslic fiercely.

After the meal, there was dancing in a great ballroom, with a small orchestra. Hal tried to beg off, but Khiri insisted she was the finest teacher, and "surely a dragonmaster like you, Sir Hal, can learn anything as simple as the dance within a moment."

Kailas didn't know about that, but he managed not to step on her feet nor trip.

Hal felt guilty, remembering the men in the mud across the water, then laughed at himself. They surely wouldn't begrudge him, and if they were here in his place wouldn't think of a poor dragon flier's loneliness for even an instant.

There was punch, mild in taste, but strongly alcoholic, and magicians, really sleight of-hand artists, wandering through the crowd showing their tricks.

There was a break, and Hal found himself on a balcony, with a hidden fireplace, where they could look out over the city of Rozen.

"So whereabouts in this maze do you live?" he asked Khiri.

"For the moment, here, with Thom."

"Oh. He's your lover, then, or…" Hal let the sentence trail off.

"No, silly. He's just a friend of the family. But my family's holdings are largely on the west coast, or in the north. So, I have my own bedroom… a small suite, actually, like four or five other friends of Thom do. All we're required to do, he's said, is keep what he calls the loneliness wolves away, which in fact is no more than laughing at his jokes—which are very, very funny—and pretending not to have heard a story when sometimes you have." She shrugged. "That's a very cheap rent."

Khiri smiled up at Hal, came closer.

"Besides, it gave me an opportunity to meet a real hero, not one of these posers with their brass and polished leather."

The moment hung close, and Hal felt a sudden impulse to kiss her.

Fortunately, the orchestra started again, and he pulled back, took her hand.

"Come on. We're not through dancing, are we?"

Khiri looked disappointed, then smiled brightly.

"You're right. What's now is now… and what's later is…" She didn't finish.

Hal, feeling very confused, hoped there was a lock on his bedroom door.

Or, perhaps, on hers.

But locks weren't needed.

That night he slept as he couldn't remember doing, since… since being on solid land in Paestum, with the rain beating down and no flight scheduled for the next dawn.

He woke, yawning, late the next morning, wondered if he could borrow a horse from Lowess and ride over to see Saslic.

As he was dressing, a courier came with a sealed message: YOUR LEAVE IS CANCELLED. RETURN TO FLIGHT IMMEDIATELY

WITH OTHERS. YOU ARE HEREBY ORDERED TO TAKE COMMAND OF

ELEVENTH FLIGHT AND RETURN UNIT TO FIGHTING STANDARD.

FULL SUPPORT AND REINFORCEMENTS ARE AVAILABLE.

The order was signed by the lord commanding the First Army.

Somehow, somewhere, disaster had struck.