Kel strode quickly but silently across the distance between her and the man. The next time he drew his arm back, she seized it in one iron-fingered hand, digging her nails deep into the tender flesh between the bones of his wrist.
“You dare—” the innkeeper growled, turning to look at her. He was bigger than Kel, unshaven and slope-shouldered. His muscle came from hoisting kegs and beating servants, not from eight years of combat training. His eyes roved from Kel’s set face to her personal badge, a gray owl on a blue field for House Mindelan, and below it, Kel’s own ornament of crossed glaives in cream lined with gold. There were two stripes of color for the border—the inner ring cream, the outer blue. They meant she was a distaff, or female, knight.
The innkeeper knew who she was. That information spread quickly everywhere Kel went. “This’s no business of yours, lady,” he said, trying to yank free of her. “Look, he’s allus ditchin’ chores, never minds his work. Likely he’s out here to steal. Leave me deal with him.”
The boy, who sat huddled in a corner of the empty stall, leaped up and spat at the innkeeper’s feet. He then bolted across the aisle and into the next stall.
“No!” shouted Kel, but it was too late. The boy slipped in manure and skidded to a halt under Peachblossom’s indignant nose. “Peachblossom, leave him be! Boy, he’s mean, get out now!” While the gelding had learned to live near others like a civilized creature, he could not be approached by just anyone.
Peachblossom lowered his muzzle to sniff the ragged scrap of humanity before him. The boy waited, perfectly still, as the big gelding whuffled through his guest’s hair and under his arms, then gently lipped the boy’s nose. Kel waited, horrified, for the shriek of agony that would come when Peachblossom bit.
The shriek never came. Peachblossom continued to inspect the newcomer inch by inch.
“Milady, you oughtn’t go between a man an’ his servants,” the innkeeper said, trying to be agreeable. “I’ll never get him to do proper work now.” He tried to wrest his hand from Kel’s grip. She tightened her muscles, digging even deeper into his wrist. He couldn’t shake her loose, and he was afraid to anger a noble by striking her.
As he struggled, Kel inspected the skinny urchin who had so bewitched Peachblossom. The shadows around the lad’s deep-set blue eyes were not all from lack of sleep. There was an old black eye, a newer bruise on one cheekbone, and a scabbed cut across his sloping nose. The boy glared at the innkeeper, his chin square and determined. There were new welts on his arms and back visible through holes in his shirt. A slit in half-rotten breeches revealed a long, recent bruise. He was barefoot, his feet red and chapped. His matted hair might be blond if it were clean.
As she watched, he reached up and gently stroked Peachblossom’s muzzle.
Horse magic, Kel thought. It has to be. And this idiot treats a lad that useful like a whipping boy. She looked at the innkeeper. Fury boiled in her veins, but she kept her face calm, allowing no emotion to escape. It was a skill she had perfected. “Tell me he is not your son,” she said mildly.
The innkeeper made a face. “That stray pup? We took him in of charity, fed and clothed him, and gave him a home. He works here. I’ve the right to discipline him as I please.”
“You would lose that right if he weren’t forced to depend on you. He’d be long gone.” Her voice was still pleasant. Her inner self, the sensible part, shrieked that she had no business doing what she was about to do. She was on her way to a war; boys took much more looking after than sparrows, dogs, or horses.
“Let him starve? That would be cruel,” the man insisted. Looking at him, Kel realized that he believed it. “He’s got no family. Where can he go?” demanded the innkeeper. “But he can’t just leave work. Boys need discipline. Elsewise he’ll go as bad as the feckless Scanran slut that whelped him an’ left him on the midwife’s step.”
“If he was left with the midwife, how did he come to you?” Kel asked.
“She died. We bid for the boy’s indenture. Paid for seven years, we did. Been more trouble than he’s worth, but we’re gods-fearin’ folk, an’ charity be a virtue.” The man looked piously toward the ceiling, then at Kel. “Forgive my sayin’ so, milady, but this be no affair of yours.”
Kel released him. “I think the district magistrate would find your treatment of this boy to be very much his affair,” she informed the man. “Under the law indentured servants have some rights. What did you pay when you bid for his services?”
“You can’t buy his contract,” protested the innkeeper. “It ain’t for sale.”
Kel wrapped both hands in his tunic and dragged his face down to hers. “Either tell me, or I visit the magistrate tomorrow, and you’ll have no say in the matter,” she informed him. “This boy is an indentured servant, not a slave. Accept my coin now, or have him taken with no payment tomorrow, it’s all the same to me.”
When the innkeeper looked away, she released him, knowing she had won.
“Two copper nobles,” growled the man.
“One,” said the boy grimly. “Only one, an’ I been workin’ for ’im for three year.”
“Lyin’ little rat!” snapped the innkeeper, darting to Peachblossom’s stall. The gelding lunged without touching the boy at his feet and snapped, teeth clicking together just in front of the innkeeper’s face. The man tried to run backward and fell, ashen under his whiskers.
Kel looked in her belt purse. She wouldn’t have paid a copper bit for ten boys in that condition, but she wanted to be rid of the innkeeper. She held up two copper nobles. “I’ll take his indenture papers before you have this. Get them, right now.”
The man fled the stable.
Kel sighed and walked into Peachblossom’s stall. “You’re getting slow,” she informed the gelding. “Time was you’d have had his whole arm in your teeth.”
Peachblossom snorted in derision and backed up.
“Not that I’d mind,” Kel admitted, looking at the lad. “A good bite would keep him from hitting people with that arm for a while. But I suppose it would make a fuss.” She propped her hands on her hips, disgusted with herself. Why had she done this?
Even as she asked herself if she’d run mad, she knew that she couldn’t have done anything else.
Kel inspected the boy. Clothes, particularly shoes, were required. His present rags would have to be burned. He needed a bath and a haircut. He probably had lice. Shaving his head and scrubbing him with lice-killing soap would eliminate that problem. He didn’t look old enough to need shaving anywhere else. And he needed a healer.
Kel looked over at Hoshi’s stall, where Jump gnawed a bone. Chances were that it had not been intended for his supper, since there was quite a bit of meat on it. She only hoped the inn’s staff didn’t know who the thief was.
“Jump, will you get Neal, please?” Kel asked the dog. Jump thrust his bone under the straw, then trotted out of the stable. The boy followed the dog’s movements with wide eyes but made no comment that might draw Kel’s attention.
“What’s your name?” she asked. “And how old are you?”
The boy retreated under Peachblossom’s belly. He watched her warily from between the gelding’s forelegs. After a moment he said, “Tobe, miss. Tobeis Boon. I think I’m nine.”
Kel repeated, “Boon?”
The boy nodded. “Auld Eulama said I musta been a boon to someun, though she din’t know who.”
“Eulama?” asked Kel.
“Midwife as reared me, best’s she knowed.”
Kel scratched her head. “Whose opinion is that?” she inquired, intrigued by his frank way of talking. “That she did the best she knew?”
“All Queensgrace, lady. They all say’t. Way they talk, it din’t do me much good.” It seemed Tobeis— Tobe—was as intrigued by Kel as she was by him. He inched forward.
Kel indicated the boy’s guardian. “It’s not so long ago that I convinced him not to savage everyone in reach. I’ve known him eight years. I was sure he’d kill yo
u.”
“Aww, he’s a good un.” Tobe wrapped a casual hand around as much of Peachblossom’s right foreleg as he could manage. “Ain’t nobody likes Alvik— me master there.”
Here came Alvik himself with a writing board, a quill, an ink pot, a sheet of grimy paper, sealing wax, and a candle. Kel briskly signed Tobe’s indenture papers, handed over the coins, and watched the innkeeper also sign, then seal the document. As soon as Kel had the completed bill of sale in hand, Alvik fled. He passed Neal and Jump on their way in.
“You know, Mindelan, our lives would be easier if the dog just broke down and talked,” Kel’s friend announced. “I was winning that card game.” He glared down at Jump. “There was no need to grab me.”
Kel smiled. “If you’re not bleeding, he was being nice, and it’s not fair for you to play cards with ordinary folk.” To Tobe she explained, “He remembers all the cards dealt.”
Neal looked to see who she spoke to, and stared. “Kel, that monster has a boy under his belly.”
“That monster hasn’t touched him,” replied Kel. Neal had every reason to expect the worst of the big gelding. “Will you take a look at the boy? Tobe— Tobeis Boon, this is my friend Neal.” She didn’t give Neal’s titles, not wanting to make the boy uncomfortable. “Tobe, my friend is a healer. I want him to look at you.”
“Not while he’s in there,” protested Neal.
At the same time the boy said, “He’s no healer, just some noble.”
Neal glared at Tobe. “I’m a healer and a noble.” He looked at Kel. “What have you done now, Mindelan?”
Kel shrugged. “I need a servant. Tobe seemed to want a change, so I hired him away from the innkeeper.”
“You mean he’s another of your strays,” Neal pointed out. “Didn’t that griffin teach you anything?”
“Griffin?” Tobe asked, scooting a little forward of Peachblossom’s legs. “You saw a griffin?”
Kel smiled. “I’ll tell you about it if you’ll let Neal have a look at you.”
Tobe eyed Neal with considerable suspicion. “Folk like him don’t touch the likes of me.”
“If you knew how I spent my squiredom, you’d know the likes of you are most of what I ended up touching,” Neal informed him. “I can get rid of your lice and fleas,” he added as Tobe scratched himself.
“Cannot,” retorted the boy.
“Can too,” Neal replied. “The handiest spell I ever learned.”
Convinced that Neal would talk the boy around, Kel went to see about having a hot bath drawn and carried up to her room.
“Miss, you shouldna bother with that un,” the maid she paid for the service commented. “He’s a gutter rat, as like to bite a helpin’ hand as not.”
Thinking of Peachblossom and the baby griffin she’d once cared for, Kel replied, “If he does, it won’t be the first time.”
When Neal brought Tobe to her room, Kel was just donning the oiled canvas cloak and broad-brimmed hat she used to keep off the rain. Under the cloak she wore a quilted coat made by her former maid, Lalasa, now a dressmaker. Lalasa had spared no effort on the coat for the mistress who had given her a start in business. By the time Kel had tied the cloak around her neck, she was sweating.
“Here he is.” Neal pushed open Kel’s door to admit Jump and Tobe. “Did you order supper for him?”
“I remember that much from my own healings, thank you,” Kel replied. “I appreciate your seeing to him, Neal.”
Her friend waved a hand in dismissal and left, closing the door. Kel regarded her new servant. “You see that?” She pointed to the tub that sat squarely in front of the hearth. “It’s a bath. You climb in and you don’t climb out and eat before you’re clean. Scrub all over, understand?” Hanging on to Tobe, she saw that Neal had done well: the boy’s weals and scabbed-over cuts showed now as pink, healthy, new skin. “There’s soap in that bowl. Use it,” she continued. “The little pick is to clean under your nails. Remember your hair, your ears, and your private parts.” She released him.
The boy went to the tub, stuck a finger in the water, and glared at Kel. “It’s hot!” he exclaimed.
“Don’t expect hot baths every night,” she told him, straight-faced. She could see that he was dismayed at the thought of washing in hot water. “But you’ll do this on your own, or I’ll do it for you, with a scrub brush. My servants are clean.”
Tobe hung his head. “Yes, lady.”
Kel pointed to the bed, where she had set out drying cloths and one of her spare shirts. “Dry with those and put that on for now,” she said. “Don’t wear your old things.”
“Not even me loincloth?” he asked, horrified.
“You’re getting fresh ones. Clean ones,” she said, immovable. “I’m off to take care of that now. When you’re dry, wrap up in a blanket and look outside— the maid will leave a tray with your supper by the door. I got a pallet for you”—she pointed to it, on the side of the hearth opposite the table—“so you can go to bed. You’ll be sleepy after a decent supper and Neal’s magicking.”
“Yes, lady,” replied the boy. He was glum but resigned to fresh clothes and a bath. He glanced around the room, his eyes widening at the sight of her glaive propped in a corner. “What pigsticker is that?”
Kel smiled. “It’s a Yamani naginata—we call it a glaive. I learned to use one in the islands, and it’s the weapon I’m best with. Clothes, off. Bath, now, Tobe.”
He gaped, then exclaimed, “With a girl lookin’ on? Lady, some places a fellow’s got to draw the line!”
“Very true,” Kel replied solemnly, trying not to grin. “Don’t give Jump any food. He’s had one good meal already tonight.”
Jump, sprawled between the tub and the fire, belched and scratched an ear. His belly was plump with stolen meat.
Kel rested a hand on Tobe’s shoulder. “You’ll do as I ask?”
He nodded without meeting her eyes.
Kel guessed what was on his mind. “I’ll never beat you, Tobe,” she said quietly. “Ever. I may dunk you in the tub and scrub you myself if I come back to find you only washed here and there, but you won’t bleed, you won’t bruise, and you won’t hobble out of this room. Understand?”
He looked up into her face. “Why do this, lady?” he asked, curious. “I’m on’y a nameless whelp, with the mark of Scanra on me. What am I to the likes of you?”
Kel thought her reply over before she gave it. This could be the most important talk she would have with Tobe. She wanted to be sure that she said the right things. “Well, Peachblossom likes you,” she answered slowly. “He’s a fine judge of folk, Peachblossom. Except Neal. He’s prejudiced about Neal.”
“He just likes the way Neal squeaks when he’s bit,” Tobe explained.
Kel tucked away a smile. It sounded like something Peachblossom would think. “And for the rest? I do it because I can. I’ve been treated badly, and I didn’t like it. And I hate bullies. Now pile those rags by the door and wash up. The water’s getting cold.” Not waiting for him to point out that cooler water didn’t seem so bad, she walked out and closed the door. She listened for a moment, waiting until she heard splashes and a small yelp.
He’s funny, she thought, striding down the hall. I like how he speaks his mind. Alvik didn’t beat that from him, praise Mithros.
At the top of the stairs, Kel halted. Below her, out of sight, she could hear Neal: “. . . broken finger, half-healed broken arm, cracked ribs, and assorted healed breaks. I’m giving your name to the magistrate. I’ll recommend he look in on you often, to see the treatment you give your other servants.”
“Yes, milord, of course, milord.” That was Innkeeper Alvik’s unmistakable voice, oily and mocking at the same time. “I’m sure my friend the magistrate will be oh so quick to ‘look in on’ me, as you say, once you’re down the road. Just you worry about Scanra. They’ll be making it so hot for you there, you’ll be hard put to remember us Queensgrace folk.”
“Yes, well, I thought of that
,” Neal said, his voice quiet but hard. “So here’s something on account, something your magistrate can’t undo.”
She heard a rustle of cloth. Alvik gasped. “Forcing a magic on me is a Crown offense!”
“Who will impress the Crown more, swine? The oldest son of Baird of Queenscove, or you?” asked Neal cruelly. “And did my spell hurt?”
“Noooo,” Alvik replied, dragging the sound out. Kel imagined he was checking his body for harm.
“It won’t,” Neal said. “At least, as long as you don’t hit anyone. When you do, well, you’ll feel the blow as if you struck yourself. Clever spell, don’t you think? I got the idea from something the Chamber of the Ordeal did once.” Neal’s voice went colder. “Mind what I say, innkeeper. When you strike a servant, a child, your wife, your own body will take the punishment. Mithros cut me down if I lie.”
“All this over a whore’s brat!” snarled the innkeeper. “You nobles are mad!”
“The whore’s brat is worth far more than you.” Neal’s voice was a low rumble at the bottom of the stairs. “He’s got courage. You have none. Get out of my sight.”
Kel waited for the innkeeper to flee to his kitchen and Neal to return to the common room before she descended. It was useless to say anything to Neal. He would just be embarrassed that he’d been caught doing a good deed. He liked to play the cynical, heartless noble, but it was all for show. Kel wouldn’t ruin it for him.
It was a long ride to the wagonloads of goods for those made homeless by the Scanrans. Her lantern, hung from a pole to light Hoshi’s way, provided scant light as icy rain sizzled on its tin hood. Other riders were out, members of the army camped on either side of the road for miles. Thanks to their directions, Kel found the wagons in a village two miles off the Great Road North. They were drawn up beside one of the large, barnlike buildings raised by the Crown to shelter troops and equipment on the road. In peaceful years local folk used the buildings to hold extra wood, grain, animals, and even people made homeless by natural disasters.