“But I do not—”

“It does no harm. Otherwise, I must explain the sword, and I would rather not.”

“Of course,” Dain agreed quickly. “I would not wish to cause you trouble.” Lord Odfrey smiled. “Enough about Truthseeker. You saved the prince’s life. And the king has already sent his gratitude.”

He reached into his pocket and drew forth a rolled-up parchment, which he handed to Dain.

“How did it come so quickly?” Dain asked, puzzled. “When this all happened only last night, how did he know?”

Lord Odfrey chuckled. “Be at ease, lad. There’s no magic here. You’ve been asleep five days since you swooned. I thought you might never awaken, but Sulein assured me you would recover.”

“Five days!”

“Aye. No wonder you’re hungry, eh?”

Dain nodded. He unrolled the parchment slowly, having trouble because his wounded arm was so heavily bandaged he could barely move it. Lord Odfrey held one side of the parchment while Dain unrolled the rest.  There were many seals and flourishing signatures, but it was all written in the same small characters that Sulein had showed him earlier, characters that Dain could not read.

He frowned in shame, realizing what it meant to be ignorant. “I cannot read this, lord,” he admitted.

“No, your education has far too many gaps. That is why I wanted you to begin lessons with Sulein. If you are to live in Mandria, you must be able to read and write our language.”

“Sir Terent cannot read,” Dain argued, staring at the crown drawn above one signature. He guessed that it must say “Verence,” and felt awed. “Sir Polquin cannot either.”

“I would have you do better in life than a middle-rank knight,” Lord Odfrey said firmly. “To be an educated man, Dain, is to have as much treasure as a storehouse of gold pieces.”

Dain sighed, thinking of endless days cooped up with Sulein in his dark tower room, studying letters when he would rather be riding and practicing swordplay.  He nodded at the paper before him. “What does this say, lord?” “It says, Dain, that I have permission to take you before King Verence and request that you be made my ward and heir.”

Dain blinked, and at first he did not believe he had heard correctly. He met Lord Odfrey’s dark eyes in wonder and disbelief, and felt amazed past words.  “What?” he gasped.

Lord Odfrey’s face held a mixture of hope and longing. “Does my petition please you?” he asked, and his voice was vulnerable.

“Please me?” Dain echoed. “Oh, yes!”

Lord Odfrey’s whole face lit up, and he held out his hand. Dain gripped it firmly, his throat suddenly too choked to speak.

“Ah, Dain, it will be good to have a son again. Since you came to Thirst, you have lightened the sorrow in my heart. I have watched you, hoping to see you prosper and develop. Many times these past months my heart longed to speak to you about this.”

“I didn’t know,” Dain said softly.

“No, it has been something for me to work out alone. That night of the trial, when you refused to flee the hold because I would have to stand accused in your place, I knew that you were as true as ash wood. And I believed then that you might perhaps hold some fondness for me as well, as a son has for a father.” Dain opened his mouth, but his emotions were too tangled for him to speak.  Lord Odfrey frowned and gazed into the distance. “You see, Dain, while you have lived here, you have acted at times like a wild spirit caged. I feared you would decide to leave us at any time. I dared not let myself become too fond of you, or start thinking of you as the son I needed to replace my poor Hilard. I didn’t want to be hurt again. And then you did leave.”