“Very good, my son, very good. Ahlali has granted you a good memory, which makes me certain that the Elder Masters will quickly confirm you as my apprentice, when you return with me to Zahrtohgah. . . . Now, set down the basin, Peeair, and hand me the thoheeks” helmet.”
Gingerly, the sinewy brown hands settled the weighty helm atop the thick bandages, then fumblingly commenced to thread straps through buckles.
Smiling, one of the two widows stepped forward, saying, “Please, Master Eeshmahehl, allow me. You are inexperienced at it, but my sister and I helped arm our father and brothers before we were half the age of young Peeair.”
While the two women fastened the neckpiece to helm, lowered the cheekpieces, then set about checking and tightening the fit of various other components of their son’s set of plate, a tall, much-scarred man of forty or so emerged from a corner tower and strode purposefully the length of the side wall, his Pitzburk plate clanking and the plume on his helm nodding.
After ascending the stone steps to the roof, he paced over to the young thoheeks, rendered a military salute and said, “The column is formed up, Duke Bill. Each horse bears a skin of watered wine and a wallet of war rations. Master Ahlee said that it would be neither painful or injurious to the beast, so I’ve had your black charger saddled and fitted with a chamfron.”
The thoheeks nodded curtly. “Very good, captain. You may return, now. I’ll join you, shortly.”
Saluting once more, the officer spun and retraced his steps, while Bili embraced and kissed each of his mothers, saying, “When the Undying High Lady Aldora and her dragoons arrive, point them in the direction of the rebels’ retreat. Tell them that his grace rides with us and wishes them to join us.”
Mother Behrnees nodded briskly. “We will, Bili. But, ere you ride . . . you really should make your peace with Count Djeen.”
Bili’s mouth thinned into a grim line. There is no peace to be made, Mother. The tail does not wag the dog. I, not Count Djeen, am lord here, a fact which I had to make abundantly clear to him!”
Mother Mahrnee’s blond braids swished as she shook her head. “Admittedly, he did provoke you, son, but he is a very proud man. You could have taken him to a place apart. You should not have humiliated him before everyone in the hall.”
The thoheeks snorted harshly. “When did he hesitate to call me to task, to question my every word, before whoever happened to be nearby, Mother? No, the time was overripe for him and everyone else to be made aware that this is now my duchy and that I will order it and its affairs in my way. Now, I must go.”
When the last scale-clad trooper had cleared the courtyard, Feelahks Sami Kahrtuh, the castellan, saw the heavy, thick gates shut and the two massive bars dropped into place, but the outer grille of wrought iron he left raised, for with the would-be rebels in full flight, hotly pursued by Duke Bili’s stout little band, there were no rams to threaten the entry portals.
Old Komees Djeen Morguhn, retired strahteegos of the Confederation Army and a soldier for most of his sixty-odd years, limped along the length of the wall and up the stairs to the roof, where the ladies still stood, watching their son’s column re-form and set off down the hill at a brisk trot. The plates of the old man’s set of proof scraped loudly each time he leaned against the wall to swing his stiff leg up onto the next step. His visor was raised so his one eye might do the work of two, and the shiny brass hook which had replaced his left hand sparkled in the morning sunlight.
He limped over to the ladies, muttering, “Damned foolishness, that’s what it is, and no mistake! Probably get himself and half his troop killed for a piece of senseless stupidity! The tower has already spotted the van of the Confederation kahtahfrahktoee, why not let professionals handle this matter of pursuit and harassment, eh?”