Page 20 of Stardust Child

In the first place, it was true—as Miche noted—that everyone could use a holiday. The Feast of the Departed was only a few weeks away, but to Remin’s mind that wasn’t really aholiday;that was a religious rite, and one that he would not be able to wave away as he had the midsummer Turning of the Stars. The frantic work of the year was about to culminate in a grueling harvest, and Remin thought it was time to check the reins on his workhorses. He’d seen his soldiers get like this before, overeager for battle and possessed of a strange, manic energy that could be dangerous and unpredictable. Best to let them blow off some steam now.

In the second place, the newcomers to the valley needed reminding that he ruled it. And why. He did not want their fear, but he would have their obedience and respect. And maybe a little awe, just to make sure they didn’t forget the lesson.

They also needed to know who their lord and lady were, as impromptu oaths of fealty behind the cookhouse were no longer practical. There would be no more unfortunate misunderstandings. As far as Remin was concerned, if a dragon came roaring out of the sky, every man in the valley should be falling all over themselves to throw their bodies between Ophele and the flames.

The tournament would end with a test of the men who wanted the privilege of throwing themselves between the duchess and dragons on a regular basis. The position of Ophele’s guards would be one of high honor, one that would see the winners immediately raised to a knighthood, and Remin was looking forward to making them earn it.

“That’s where the horses will ride?” Ophele asked as they walked toward the dais together, looking excitedly at the long tilt barrier in the center of the field. “And all those benches are for people to sit and watch? I didn’t know we had so many people in the valley. And oh, look at all those flags and banners, I remember when you came to Aldeburke withthem! I suppose that blue one is Sir Tounot’s House? And the red boar is Sir Edemir’s? It suits him. It all looks so splendid…”

This from the girl who once would barely speak a word in his presence. It looked shamefully ragged to Remin, who had ridden the Emperor’s exhibition field in Segoile, and dimly remembered the tournaments of Tressin he had watched from his father’s lap. But this was her first tournament, and he would rather see it through her eyes than let the bitterness for what he had lost spoil it.

“There will be a little jousting,” he said in answer to her first question, handing her up onto the dais. They were a little early, but he had wanted to get her settled before the crowds came to stare, as they undoubtedly would. She looked lovely in her blue and bronze gown, with seed pearls studding the skirt, and Madam Sanai had consented to style her hair in the complex coils of Benkki Desa, her maple-colored curls cascading from the knot at the back of her head. For a moment, as she smoothed her skirts, he could see the grand and elegant lady she would one day become, solemn-eyed and beautiful.

“Real jousting?” she asked. “Who?”

“It’s dangerous for the horses, so I’m only giving the men a few passes,” Remin explained as he took his own seat with a jingling of mail and armor. “Miche, Edemir, Darri, Auber, Osinot and Bertin are best with the lance and aren’t like to kill each other. We’ll have an archery contest, and then Madam Sanai and Master Balad will honor us, and we’ll end with a melee. I’m in that,” he added belatedly, wondering if this was the sort of thing he was supposed to tell her ahead of time.

“That’s why you’re in your armor?” She looked up at him, a machine of steel and muscle.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“You’ll be careful?” she asked, worry fluttering between her eyebrows.

“I will,” he promised, and glanced up as Auber appeared at the corner of the dais. He too was in his armor, his long brown hair tied at the back of his neck with a thong and his helmet tucked under one arm.

“Miche said he’s lining them up, Rem,” he said, and bowed to Ophele. “My lady. Amise and Lisset send their gratitude. They enjoyed their baths very much.”

“Did they?” Ophele looked surprised and gratified. “I’m glad. It was so nice, when I went.”

“You have been most benevolent,” he said, with unusual formality. “If you don’t mind, Your Grace, could I trespass on your generosity once more?”

Remin eyed him, but held his tongue and let Ophele decide, as if there were any doubt what she would say.

“Of course,” she replied promptly, and Auber turned to beckon to a girl waiting a short distance away, dressed in a blue homespun dress with her slightly frizzy brown hair contained in two plaits. Approaching, she came to stand before the dais and curtsied, extending a bouquet of flowers.

“Greetings, Your Grace,” she said in her piping child’s voice. “Mama said to say you look very beautiful.”

Remin glanced at Auber, who looked rather chagrined with the qualifier.

“Thank you.” Ophele accepted the flowers. “What’s your name?”

“Elodie Conbour, of Engleberg. Oh, I mean Tresingale. I said the oath, too,” she said, with another curtsy. She was determined to do the thing thoroughly. “And Mama said if you looked happy, Uncle Auber is s’posed to say I can be your pageboy if you like, only I’m a girl, and run and fetch for you since that’s properer than a pair of farm wives consorting with an Agnephus princess. Do say yes.”

This speech was delivered in a single breath, before the horrified Auber could protest.

“Elodie!” He collared her, and Remin was amused to see the usually unflappable knight so thoroughly flapped. “I beg your pardon, my lady.”

“But she does look happy.” The girl pointed at the lady as evidence.

“I am happy,” Ophele said, laughing. “I would like a pagegirl very much, if it’s all right with your mama. Your Grace?” she added, glancing up at Remin.

“I am content if it pleases you, wife.” He shifted his eyes to the girl. “You will have to be obedient to the lady and listen to her carefully. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” she said, looking up at him with obvious fascination. “Do you really eat little girls who don’t go to bed when they’re told?”

Remin leaned closer, lowering his frowning face toward her. Most children were afraid of him. “What do you think?”

Her eyes narrowed.

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