Sir Terent frowned. “We will do it in the correct way—”

“But if you and I invest him, then his rank as knight will be below us. Is a sentry knight the best you want for him?” Sir Polquin chewed on his mustache and glared at everyone.

Sir Terent drew in an unhappy breath and clenched his big hands helplessly. “I want to give the boy every chance.”

“Nay, sir,” Sir Polquin said sharply, “you want to win tomorrow’s contest. You want it like a fever in your blood, never mind your other duties. And if you can’t win, then you want Dain to take the victory. It’s as Thum said—victory for Thirst, no matter what.”

Sir Terent turned red, but he didn’t deny the accusation.  Sir Polquin shook a finger at him. “Dain’s right about this. If he’s knighted later, with the rank of chevard already bestowed on him, then he has full standing as a knight and lord of the realm. Lord Odfrey would want nothing less.  We won’t cheat Dain by doing this in haste.”

Sir Terent, looking redder than ever, cast Dain a look of apology. “Forgive me, m’lord. I didn’t mean to cheat you. I wasn’t thinking of that at all—” “You weren’t thinking, period,” Sir Polquin said.

“No need to apologize,” Dain said. “I wish I could fight tomorrow.” “There’ll be other years, better years,” Sir Polquin told him. “Now enough of this nonsense. Let’s turn in and see that we’re all properly rested for tomorrow.”

Dain looked at Sir Terent. “Will you let me squire you tomorrow?” His protector blinked, but Sir Polquin spoke before he could: “Nay! Thum will do the job. You, Lord Dain, will come away and sit in the stands with the rest of us, as is proper.”