The sun was shining brightly overhead, but the high walls of Deleon made sure that neither the courtyard nor the bailey they enclosed were exactly bathing in sunlight. In the plentiful shadows the lingering touch of winter could still be very much felt, and it was particularly biting if one stood in one place for any length of time. Unfortunately that was exactly what Schean was more or less forced to do, because choosing any of the sunnier spots would have put him unpleasantly close to several swords that were flashing and swishing in the air. They were mere training blades, with blunted edges and tips, but he wasn't too keen on closer contact anyway and thus kept carefully out of their reach.
He didn't have to stand there alone, though: both of the young Ladies of Deleon were there as well, which was both a blessing and a curse. Now at least he had someone to chat with, but on the other hand he would have to stay out of doors until they'd be going in as well. Schean guessed that Lady Benella wouldn't want to stay much longer, that much was evident from the way she was stomping her feet and pushing her hands deeper into the large fur muff, but her little sister was a whole different matter.
Yesterday's wet snowfall had morphed overnight into crisp frost, and now the same roads where the young gentlefolks had still been happily riding not too many days back were gleaming under a fresh layer of ice, so slippery that even horses shod with sharp caulks had trouble keeping their legs underneath them. Riding on the snowy fields was no option, either, unless they wanted to witness firsthand how quickly the combination of a steel-hard crust and a thick layer of coarse, grainy snow underneath it would tear the animals' legs open. Riding for pleasure was thus momentarily out of the question, and other outdoor pastimes had to be found.
One form of entertainment was readily available on any day, which was why Schean and the two girls were huddled by the bailey wall and pulling their cloaks tighter. Large batches of the courtyard and bailey had been strewn with a mixture of sawdust and sand to provide better grip for the studded boot soles of the soldiers who crowded there daily to take part in the regular training and drills, including today. Of course it wasn't appropriate for young ladies to hang around the soldiers too much, but it became a whole different matter if there were young gentlemen present.
It was now a few weeks since the new additions to the household had arrived, safe and sound despite the wolf-infested lands they'd had to cross along the way. It had been a meeting many had been profoundly nervous about – including the Ranea, who had at some point suddenly realized that in fact he was going to be dealing with other boys of his own age practically for the first time in his life. His nervousness hadn't been exactly eased by the fact that his sisters, who had had some experience of young males in Moydherr, were definitely wary of what was to come.
However, everything had gone surprisingly smoothly. The sheer enormity of Deleon had awed the two cousins from the first moment they'd seen it looming in the distance, and even though the shock had only lasted for the first few days, it had been enough. Enough for Bengor to realize that the newcomers were no unpredictable aliens, enough for the other two to develop a suitable amount of admiration for their slightly elder companion. By now the three boys got along like a house on fire, a virtually inseparable trio that went everywhere together, Bengor leading the way and the two cousins flanking him like a slightly mismatched pair of guards.
Getting fit and strong and learning the use of arms were an essential part of their schedule. Never mind if the air was chilly or the ground slippery, every day the boys would don their padded leather jerkins, pull gauntlets over thick mittens, and trot outside for hours of play and training. Lord Rhodan shared the main responsibility for their progress with Count Daynar, who really seemed to enjoy working with them. Of course Karos was there, too, and while Schean had some mixed feelings about this, Karos was insistent. He hadn't been trained for swords, he only knew how to use a knife, and since his father had officially made him a nobleman, he needed to learn. Schean had chosen not to argue, because he knew that Karos was right: if he were to travel somewhere, the ability to use a blade might become necessary.
Besides, if Karos had earlier been slightly mortified to be instructed alongside his much younger brother, now he had a training companion who matched his age and size. Master Farris, the younger brother of Lord Ferior, had taken it upon himself to be the guardian of his nephew and said nephew's cousin on their visit to Deleon, and was eagerly participating in the sessions. He was an excellent archer but far less experienced with swords, and thus a good match for Karos on the training grounds.
Schean glanced at the two girls standing next to him, and stifled a smile. While Lady Benella found the training sessions entertaining enough, her little sister never seemed to tire of them. Apparently immune to the cold seeping from still frozen ground and stone walls, Bailenn was already quite the connoisseur and watched every move with abated breath, ready to cheer aloud at a particularly well executed maneuver. She was really the main reason why it was essential that Schean stayed nearby; his presence showed everyone that the younger Lady of Deleon was under some supervision, and kept her at least moderately reined in. Bailenn still made sporadic attempts at ladylike behavior, but those were few and far between compared to the time when Lady Bialka had still been around. Nowadays it rather seemed that she wanted to imitate the boys in everything, and Schean wouldn't have been too surprised to see her appear some day in riding breeches and try to claim a blade for herself.
Count Daynar was in charge of the training today, and right now the little group had stopped in the middle of the area they occupied to listen to something he was explaining to them. Clouds of mist hovered above them and added a dusting of glitter to the fur trimmings of hoods and collars, and in the crisp air the Count's dark voice carried easily all the way to the viewers. As usual, his pupils had no ears or eyes for anyone else but him, and Schean nearly snickered as he looked at them. Karos, standing a few steps behind the younger boys, was all attention while the expressions on the other faces – including Master Farris – were closer to rapture. It never failed to amuse the minstrel to see how the young man worshipped Count Daynar, and how uncomfortable Sorel's constant, silent presence at the Count's elbow made him. Was there something special in the air between them? Was Sorel perhaps jealous, with or without reason, or did Master Farris just need a bit more time to get used to the purposely intimidating sight that the two men made?
Count Daynar took a step back with a nod, and Schean focused once more on the scene in front of him. Bengor raised his sword once more and Frandar, Lord Ferior's son from Revall, approached him somewhat warily. Frandar was dark-haired like his father and uncle, with deep blue eyes that very easily took on a very mischievous expression when his narrow face cracked into a smile. He was also long limbed and tall for his age, and Schean had seen him in action often enough to know that he had quite some reach with a weapon. His cousin Geydor of Dhearan, a shorter and sturdier boy who mainly tended to count on his admittedly quick reactions to stay out of harm's way, retreated closer to Master Farris to watch what was to follow. His cheeks were red with recent effort, trying to outshine the numerous bright freckles decorating his upturned nose.
Bengor held his own valiantly, albeit not without problems. As if trying to make up for lost time, he'd grown visibly taller in the few brief months after his recovery, and getting adjusted to his constantly changing body tended to make him somewhat clumsy. However, when the Count deemed they'd got enough of a workout, the situation was unanimously declared a draw and both combatants could listen to their tutor's analysis of their performance with justified pride.
Karos took the moment to step closer to the viewers and raised his eyebrows.
"Father still isn't here?" He glanced searchingly around. "I would've thought he'd want to be watching, especially in this weather."
"This weather," Schean said mildly, "is in fact rather chilly, especially if one happens to be standing in one place. Not that you would notice it, of course, you hot-blooded beast."
"Beast, eh?" Karos bared his teeth for a moment in a little grin that made Benella shoot him an inquiring glance, and Schean could only hope that the hot wave that washed over him didn't bring a flush on his face as well. "If you're cold, you should join us. I'm sure Sorel would teach you how to use the throwing knives if you asked."
Schean frowned and shook his head. "I don't think I want to. You know, the one big reason why a minstrel is safe everywhere is because everybody knows he's not going to harm anyone."
Karos was about to say something but Bailenn beat him to it.
"I would like to learn!" she piped up. "Karos, do you think he would teach me if I asked? Would you ask him to? Please!"
"You won't do anything like that!" Benella gave the younger girl a scandalized look. "It wouldn't be at all proper – a young Lady with throwing knives! What would everybody think?"
"They'd think that I'm very reasonable and well prepared for everything," Bailenn retorted, chin raised in challenge. "I mean, in all those stories and ballads the young Ladies always get into all sorts of trouble, and then somebody needs to go and rescue them. I don't want to be like that."
Schean couldn't immediately decide which would be the most appropriate reaction, but Karos laughed and Benella heaved a long-suffering sigh.
"Such things only happen in the ballads, Bai," she said. "Real life is not like that."
"Oh? I think it was better than any ballads how we escaped from Moydherr in the middle of the night!" Bailenn retorted gleefully. "That was a ballad thing for sure, so how can you know that something else like that might not happen again?"
"You do have a point there," Karos said, ignoring the older sister's glare, "but I still think Benella is right, it's not a good idea. Throwing knives aren't a very ladylike weapon, you know."
"What would be, then?" Bailenn's eyes lit up. Her sister huffed.
"You really shouldn't encourage her!" she admonished. "Isn't she bad enough as it is?"
"I'm not bad!" Bailenn insisted. "I just don't want to be helpless."
"And there's nothing wrong with that, Miss Bailenn," Schean put in. "But knowing how to use weapons is not the only way. There are all sorts of useful things that you can and will learn, and you've still got plenty of time to learn them."
Benella pulled the cloak tighter and turned abruptly away. "I'll be going to the bathhouse now that it's not crowded yet. I think you should come too, Bai."
Bailenn shook her head decisively. "No, I want to stay here! The boys haven't finished yet for the day."
"As you wish."
Benella shrugged and walked away, ignoring the admiring looks of a few soldiers passing them by. Karos stared after her.
"What bit her?" he asked but Schean could only shake his head.
"Oh, she just thinks that ballads are stupid anyway," Bailenn said with supreme indifference, eyes turning irresistibly back to the training grounds. "She has told me so many times."
"Stupid?" Schean repeated. "She sure hasn't thought so before!"
"Now she does," Bailenn stated. "She said they are silly, and why don't they ever tell what happens afterwards? That those ballads where everybody doesn't die, they should tell whether or not the people are happy when they finally get each other in the end."
Karos blinked a couple of times. "I still don't understand. I thought she loved those stories."
"Well, she said just the other day that she'd like to know if for example the brave knight in the Song of Dales really is such a fine man after all." Bailenn was clearly losing the rest of her interest in the topic. "And whether he really won't be looking at maids when she's pregnant for the sixth time. And I told her she doesn't understand anything, that... Ooh, look, now he'll show them how it's done!"
Count Daynar had indeed drawn his sword and was now facing an equally armed Sorel who was smirking expectantly. Bailenn was riveted, but Schean found it difficult to concentrate on what was unfolding before him. Karos watched the scene with interest, then gave the minstrel a meaningful glance over the girl's head.
"To me that sounds like Nella is beginning to understand a little bit too well," he said in a low voice. "I wonder if she's overheard something?"
Karos took a few casual steps away from his sister, ostensibly to lean against the wall, and Schean followed him.
"Has there then been something to overhear?" he inquired quickly.
"Nothing from the parents, that's certain," Karos said. "Father has said several times that she's too young to be married yet. But still, people keep gossiping. Going on about how handsome she looked with Daynar back in the victory party, and what a pleasant young man Farris is, things like that."
"They would," Schean sighed. "And your father might even go through with his plan to send her to Eregal, after all."
"I sure hope not," Karos grunted. "Remember who'd have to go there with her? Unless you actually want to go there, that is."
"I?" Schean stared at him, uncomprehending, and Karos' eyes narrowed a little.
"Yes, you. No way would I be going there without you."
This time there was no mistaking – Schean knew that his cheeks went red, but he had no time to worry about anyone noticing it, because right then they heard young Geydor's clear voice.
"Look, isn't that the healer man from Revall?"
Everyone turned to look at the figure the boy was pointing at. It was a man, medium height and very skinny, wrapped in a grey cloak that had definitely seen better days, and wearing boots that looked like they'd fall apart any moment. He was approaching them through the gate that connected the bailey and the main courtyard, step weary but determined.
"It does look like Barem," said Frandar, eyebrows crunching together. "Why is he here? Didn't he come back to Revall with father and you, Uncle?"
"He did," Master Farris confirmed. "But yes, I believe it is him all right."
Karos crossed the distance between himself and the scraggly man with a few brisk steps and stopped to give him a scrutinizing look.
"Barem? How on earth are you here? Are you all right?"
"Yes, Master Karos, I am all right." Barem's voice was raspy and hoarse. "I am sorry to be asking for Deleon's hospitality once again, but –"
"Oh, rubbish." Karos looked the man up and down once more, then turned to bow slightly to Count Daynar. "I'm sorry, Sir Count, but I'll have to skip the rest of today's lesson."
"By all means," the Count replied with a nod. "I know you'll catch up later."
Karos turned back to the young healer who seemed to be swaying on his feet, took the bundle he'd been carrying and nodded towards the bathhouse. "First of all you need to get warm. Come on."
"But Miss Benella just went there," Schean pointed out. Karos merely grunted.
"She won't have even undressed yet," he said.
Unfortunately Bailenn stoutly refused to go indoors yet and so Schean had to stay put, even though he was burning with curiosity and kept glancing towards the bathhouse every few moments. Some time later he nearly jumped for joy when he saw the imposing shadow of Lord Rhodan appear from the courtyard and stroll closer, clearly intending to join his daughter and the minstrel. Schean held himself in check long enough not to appear impolite, then excused himself and managed not to dash after Karos and the surprising return visitor.
Karos was sitting on the bench in the dressing chamber between a rumpled pile of filthy clothes and another, far cleaner and neatly folded one.
"What's happened?" Schean blurted out as soon as the door closed behind him. "How's he here again? Why didn't he come with Master Farris and the boys, if he was coming back?"
"Slow down!" Karos said. "Didn't have much time to question him, just told him to strip and got the maids to tell Benella that she'd better wait unless she wants to bathe in front of him. She didn't."
"Some surprise," Schean snorted. "She's not one of the maids. Is he all right? Not ill or anything?"
"Exhausted, that's all." Karos poked at the dirty clothes, nose wrinkling. "I think I'll take him to Rhamirr, though, just in case, and –"
He fell silent when they heard steps by the inside door and a moment later Barem reappeared. With a large sheet pulled tightly around his skinny body and straight hair hanging wetly over brown eyes, he looked even more than before like a starved hound, but at least the hot water had put some color in his skin. Karos gave him a reassuring smile.
"Feeling better?"
"Yes," the other man sighed and sat down somewhat uncertainly. "I apologize for coming here like this, but... I didn't know where else to go."
Schean and Karos exchanged a glance.
"This is rather far away from Revall," Schean pointed out and got a weary scowl in return.
"I know. But there was no point in my staying there." Barem combed shaky fingers through his thick hair. "I wanted to talk to the Wizard again, to ask him –"
"Look, before you talk to anybody you'd better put some clothes on and some food inside you," Karos interrupted pushing the clean shirt and trousers into Barem's hands. "You're ready to drop. Let's make sure you can finish two sentences in a row without fainting before I take you to see the Wizard."
Karos and Schean waited patiently while their visitor pulled the dry clothes on, then ushered him towards the castle and its brimming cauldrons and pantries. No words were necessary, they both guessed well enough at least part of the reason why Barem had trudged back to Deleon. What they didn't venture to guess, though, was the answer he was going to get.
