The Master licked his lips and leaned back. "Even in the last test, torn and tired as you were, you did not give up. You remembered what your goal was, and your opponent did not. You beat him, though he was a better fighter, because he beat himself.
"If you wanted to be a Lancer or a Warrior I never would have spoken for you and accepted that bloody rag as your fifth flag. The qualities you have are not needed in soldiers. They must just fight and follow orders, and while our soldiers are the best in the world, they have no use for your talents. A Justice, on the other hand, constantly needs to learn. He must be able to recognize when he makes a mistake and has to act decisively to correct that mistake. You can do that, and that is why I spoke for you."
I smiled. The pressure inside me drained away and I finally felt I'd honestly earned my place as a Justice novice. "Thank you, sir."
The Master nodded, then leaned forward. "Bear something in mind, Nolan, and remember it always. The rumor will fly, from the Warriors down at the site, that you did not pass the test but were let in anyway. Whatever Lord Hansur may have suggested as the difficulties you will face, you can double them. Any novice who has been held back for continued training because he failed a test will hate you." The Master smiled and shot a glance at Lord Hansur. "Justices are often disliked by other novices because you are all special, but they will focus on you. You are different, you are from the outside. They will see no way you can truly be one of them.
"Because you are from outside you know more of the world than they do. Remember what you learned before, and temper what you learn here with that knowledge. Some people think the world is centered around Talianna, but you know better than that. Use what you know, and share what you know, so you can make yourself and the Talions better."
I stood still as the Master rose and walked to me. He placed his hands on my shoulders. "Remember, Nolan, that unlike them, unlike those who feel Talianna is their birthright, you chose to join us. Never doubt you made the right choice."
A Services clerk led me from the Master's Chamber and pointed me in the correct direction back toward my room. I passed down the hallway leading to the storeroom and I stopped in to apologize to Allen. He grumbled when he saw me, but smiled when I finished and handed me a black jacket with a stiff, high-necked collar, buttons at the right shoulder and down the right flank, and a death's-head over the left breast. Then he shooed me out of there, complaining he had real work to do.
I returned to my room without getting lost and found Jevin and Lothar talking. Both wore jackets like the one I'd been given. Jevin had buttoned his all the way up but Lothar's hung half open. Lothar smiled. "Good, you're here. Now we only need Marana."
I shot Lothar a quizzical glance.
"Get into that jacket." Lothar reached up and started buttoning his jacket the rest of the way up. "Tonight Jania is holding a celebration and my uncle Rudolf is the host. Marana, Jevin, and you will accompany me this evening."
I shrugged the jacket on and looked over at Jevin as Lothar finished. "Jevin, do we go as his friends, or his entourage?"
The Fealareen snorted and grinned wolfishly. "His friends, or so it has been represented to me." Jevin turned and looked at Lothar with the cruel smile still on his face.
Lothar opened his mouth to reply, but Marana spoke from the doorway and cut him off. "You must forgive him, Nolan. During the Festival Lothar's kin come and visit. This reminds Lothar he is a noble and from time to time he even tries to act like it." Lothar reddened and she continued. "During the rest of the year we disabuse him of that notion."
Marana wore a jacket similar in cut to mine, but a knee length riding skirt completed her uniform. She'd braided her long hair with a royal blue ribbon and it looked quite attractive. She smiled and curtsied before Lothar. "Are we presentable, m'lord?"
Lothar winced. "I'm sorry. My family is still not used to the idea that I'm a Justice. They expected me to be a Warrior or Lancer so I could return to Jania and command the troops stationed in the capital, Trisus." He studied our faces to see what effect his plea had. I was sympathetic, but the other two were granite-faced.
"You say that every year, Lothar." Jevin's tone was very disapproving.
Marana nodded in agreement. "And he'll probably say it in the years to come." She shook her head slowly, then looked up. "So why should it spoil our fun?" Jevin joined her laughter and we all headed out to the Janian celebration.
* * *
The monthlong Festival started back when the Emperor formed the Talions. He invited the Imperial nobles to Talianna so they could see for themselves the skills of the Talions. At that time all Talions were Justices, Wizards, Elites, or Services—the other three divisions were not created until after the Empire crumbled—so the nobles got a good look at the troops who would oppose them if they revolted.
As the tradition developed, the Festival became a time when delegations from various countries could meet in decidedly neutral territory and talk about alliances, trade agreements, and other diplomatic matters. Each nation that could afford it took to hosting a celebration once during the Festival, and each country made it a display of copious wealth and national pride. Full Talions could attend as many of the celebrations as they wanted while novices were restricted to that celebration hosted by their home nation, and one or two others after they passed their trials.
Lothar proudly led us toward the Janian pavilion. It was really a large grouping of tents; a huge central one surrounded by rings of smaller and smaller tents all colored yellow. People streamed in and out, and while I saw no one being actively discouraged from entering, the celebration seemed restricted to important people and nobles from other nations.
"Each year one or more of Lothar's relatives hosts the Janian delegation." Jevin pointed to a huge blond man with a thick blond beard in the middle of a crowd. "That's his uncle Rudolf."
I nodded to acknowledge Jevin's words, but I was a bit beyond understanding what he said. We'd just entered the central pavilion and I was stunned. I'd never seen so much food in my whole entire life.
The first ring of smaller tents held tables and mountains of food. Every fourth tent was home to casks of wines, ales, and liquors from Jania and the finest vineyards elsewhere in the Shattered Empire. Other tents held nothing but fruit. I recognized some of it by description but some shapes and colors and fragrances were so alien I could have easily believed the Fealareen or the Xne'kal were hosting the feast. Not as exotic, but equally astounding for quantity and variety were the tents filled with breads, cheeses, and pastries. There were more sweets gathered there in one place than any child could dream of. Lastly, being roasted on spits over open fires and paraded about by straining servants, were sides of beef and pork, and a whole flock of fowls. The wind carried the aroma of cooking meat to us, and Jevin smiled broadly.
I shook my head at the wonder of it all, and a shiver ran up my spine. There, in one place, for one evening's revel, was gathered more food than my father had produced in all the years on the farm.
"Lothar!" The bass voice boomed over the murmured din and silenced all speakers. I saw tall men back away as a wave of motion rippled through the crowd and Lothar's uncle waded into view. He darted free of the crowd and swept Lothar up in a bear hug as if his nephew were an infant.
Lothar reddened as he dangled helplessly. He shouted out a curse in the Tal dialect and twisted to get free. Rudolf laughed and held him all the tighter. "They've taught you to swear in an improper tongue. That archaic speech is meant for lawmakers, not gutterkin cursing!"
"Uncle Rudolf, put me down!" Lothar tried to put command into his voice, but in his position, and with the help of a well-timed squeeze, he squawked the sentence out. Rudolf abruptly released him and, unable to get his feet under him to remain standing, Lothar fell to the ground.
Lothar caught himself on his hands and feet before his back could hit. Scuttling forward two feet, he swept his right leg out and around through his uncle's legs. Anticipating the move, Rudol
f easily kicked his feet forward, above the scything leg, and leaped over his nephew's attack. A smile spread across his face, but only for a second as Lothar reached up with his right hand and caught his uncle's right heel. The novice Justice pushed off with left arm and leg and unceremoniously dumped his uncle over on his back with a thump.
Stunned to silence, the crowd just stared. All conversation had lapsed as the mock combat started, but now no one even dared draw a breath. Jevin got a bit grayer than before, and others in the crowd were bright red from embarrassment, or absolutely ashen-faced with dread. My heart pounded wildly and I stared at the two Janians: the youth with fists balled and planted on his hips, the elder flat on his back and defenseless.
"Damn, Lothar, that was quick!" Rudolf slapped the carpet and sat up. "I'll have to remember you've learned to feint for next year."
He started laughing, a deep echoing laugh that spread through the crowd faster than nasty court gossip. Lothar extended a hand and helped his uncle up; then they hugged each other. There was genuine pride and pleasure on Rudolf's face. Rudolf then released Lothar, straightened and brushed off his dark blue velvet and satin jacket and trousers, and approached Marana, Jevin, and me.
Lothar attended his uncle. "You remember, Uncle, Marana and Jevin." Lothar nodded his head toward me. "This is Nolan ra Sinjaria. Nolan, my uncle, Count Rudolf ra Blackwood ra Jania."
The Count bowed to Marana, took her right hand, and kissed it. "You are even more beautiful this year than you were two years ago, my dear."
Marana smiled and curtsied. "Your Lordship is most kind."
The Count moved to Jevin and clapped him on both shoulders. "You are even bigger than I remember. If you ever stop growing, and they send you from here, come see me. The Steel Typhoon will find a place for you among us."
Jevin smiled politely and bowed. "I would be most honored to serve in the Steel Typhoon."
As the Count turned to me pieces of a puzzle started dropping into place. The Steel Typhoon was famed throughout the Shattered Empire as a heavy cavalry unit without equal, though many Imperianan groups disputed that claim. And it was lead by a Janian count, often called Blackwood because there are so many nobles in Jania one could only reliably identify one by naming his demense. But Blackwood was also the Janian king's only sibling, which made Lothar a prince!
The Count bracketed my shoulders in massive hands. "I have heard of you, Nolan, and I am pleased at least one Sinjarian refuses to acknowledge Hamisian rule."
I bowed. "Thank you, my lord." Silence hung in the air for a moment, as I knew I should answer his comment in some other way, but the thousand responses that crowded my brain all seemed cynical or bravely stupid. Finally one thought, one safe thought, presented itself and I offered it. "I believe, Count Rudolf, more Sinjarians would deny Hamisian rule, but they do not have the luxury of being out from under King Tirrell's thumb. This far from Hamis I am safe in my denial."
The Count stepped back and narrowed his eyes. His smile became more cautious and he unconsciously stroked his beard with his right hand. "Well said, Nolan. If you ever wish to be closer to Hamis to restate your denial, you will always be welcome in Jania to do so."
I bowed again. "I thank you very much, my lord."
Count Rudolf's grin spread openly across his face again and he draped his right arm over Lothar's shoulders. "Enough politics! You're hungry and Lothar has to see his aunt Tedra, or she'll thrash me more solidly than he did." He waved his left hand to take in the whole tent. "Enjoy, please, you are honored guests."
He turned and led Lothar off through the crowd toward a dais. Uncertain as to what to try first, the three of us drew together in a small circle and studied the tents like mules set between two equal piles of hay.
My stomach growled and protested any delay in eating something. "Eat or drink first?"
Marana reached out, took my right arm and Jevin's left, and steered us toward one of the bread tents. "First we eat some bread so the wine doesn't go straight to our heads." Jevin groaned, remembering a painful past experience. "Then we'll sample something of everything before Jevin runs off to eat a cow."
Jevin frowned. "We tried that last year." He leered over the crowd in the direction of the cooking pits. "I barely got a taste of meat last year."
"That's because you guzzled a tankard of Janian brandy, said grain and fruit were for rodents, then passed out before you reached the pits." Marana stabbed a finger into Jevin's stomach. "If Lothar and I had not gotten you back to your room, Lord Hansur would have had your head."
Jevin sighed. "Perhaps prudence is a wise course. Lead on, my lady."
Marana led Jevin and me through the tents and picked out things for us to try with the same sharp eye my mother had employed when buying things at a market. There were over twenty different types of apple, and I tried slices from all of them except two varieties with blue-green flesh. Marana introduced me to chado, a tear-shaped fruit with a rough green skin, soft green flesh, and a central seed twice the size of a plum. It tasted rather bland plain, but there was a spicy paste made of it that a servant spread over a piece of bread for me, and that tasted very good.
The wine tents were an adventure. We tried a little of everything, though Jevin abstained from Janian brandy, and I discovered I liked the sweet or dry wines. Jevin and Marana both prefered the heartier reds, but I didn't like the aftertastes they left in my mouth. There were also a whole legion of fruit wines and nectars to try, and the others agreed with me that syeca, a fiery orange-flavored liquor, was the best of an excellent lot. It was not until later that evening I learned that both syeca and the wine I liked the best were the product of the Sinjarian province Yotan. That made me very happy.
We reentered the main tent just as a troupe of Janian dancers began performing in an open space before the dais. Lothar, Count Rudolf, and Countess Tedra were seated in the tall chairs on the dais. Servants with their arms full of pillows scurried through the crowd passing out cushions so everyone could be seated for the performance. Beyond the dancers, back in a small tent, other entertainers awaited their turn center stage.
Marana left us and wandered through the crowd toward an open area near the dais. Jevin and I skirted the crowd and headed over toward the open cooking pits. Jevin clearly thought more of food than he did dancing. While I was interested in seeing everything, the meat smelled good to me and I noticed I could watch the dancers from outside with no trouble now that the crowd was seated.
Jevin coaxed a steaming haunch of half-raw meat from a cook while I settled for a well-cooked half chicken. We wandered a short ways and seated ourselves on empty wine casks. We watched the show while eating. Jevin tore into his meat with an unholy vigor. His white teeth flashed in the torchlight as he gobbled down great chunks of flesh. For my part I was a bit more conservative in my attack on the chicken, and I hunched awkwardly over so anything I dropped would hit the wooden platter lying across my thighs instead of staining my new clothes.
Lothar and his family had their backs to us. I could see little more of Tedra than her long blond hair. Still, as she turned to comment to her husband, I caught a glimpse of a classically beautiful profile, from straight nose to strong chin and high forehead.
The dancers were excellent. They wore red and gold satins and swirled about in a riot of color in time to the music of three musicians behind them. Then the four men formed a line and went through a series of solo dances, each one different and characterized by an accompanying violin-and-pipe piece. Then the four women swung into a lively country dance that combined speed, precision, and complexity into an intoxicating display of their skill. Finally the eight dancers all whirled through a series of steps that had the partners constantly changing in a seemingly random pattern, but whenever the music stopped for a beat or two—again at irregular intervals—the dancers were somehow still paired with their beginning partner.
Jevin nibbled the last thread of meat from a bone and tossed it over onto a garbage pile with careless
abandon and an artful flourish. At the same moment the dance stopped within and the eruption of applause seemed as much for his skill as the dancers. We both laughed at the idea.
When the applause died, and a pair of fencers took the floor, Jevin turned to me. "I'm glad I don't have to sit out here all alone this year."
I frowned. "Why would you sit alone? There's plenty of room inside."
Jevin shook his head. "I'm afraid I make some people uneasy."
"I can understand that." I started to talk about my brother Arik, but the words stuck in my throat. I coughed and switched away from painful memories. "I'd think Lothar would make sure that didn't happen."
Jevin patted my left shoulder. "Don't blame Lothar, there's nothing he could do. I make them uneasy, and they do the same to me. And Lothar's not being insensitive. Every year someone from his family comes to Festival, and he really enjoys seeing them. Last year Countess Tedra and some cousin whose name I cannot remember hosted the celebration. This year Count Rudolf was able to attend." Jevin smiled. "Lothar was disappointed last year when the Count could not be here, so this year he was very excited when he saw the Blackwood banner flying over the Janian pavilion."
"Why didn't Count Blackwood attend last year?"
Jevin shook his head. "He couldn't. He was with the Steel Typhoon patrolling the Eallian border in case King Tirrell was not satisfied with Sinjaria." Jevin saw me stiffen and looked down. "I'm sorry."
I smiled weakly. "Don't be. I only wish the Steel Typhoon could have swept Tirrell's forces out of Sinjaria."