Robin D. Owens

Guardian of Honor


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did. And I’ve never known Swordmarshall Mace to lie.”

      “Why should he? He’s so big he can say whatever he likes.”

      Chuckling, Bastien said, “Very true. Do you swim, boy?”

      Urvey looked horrified. “Swim? No.”

      Bastien led the youth to a corner. “There are steps into the pool here.”

      “Oh. I thought I’d just, um, jump in and pop out. I can do that in the water hole at the edge of town.”

      “Fine.” Bastien surveyed the pool and walked to the middle of one long edge. “If I recall right, this should be about your height. Make sure you go all the way under.”

      Urvey gulped, sucked in a big breath. Then he glanced at Bastien, and down at the pool. Urvey’s muscles tensed. He jumped.

      His cut-off scream bounced off the circular stone walls and echoed. He popped up, screaming again.

      Bastien reached into the jerir pool and helped Urvey out. Just the immersion of his forearm in the liquid made him bite the inside of his cheek with pain. How was he going to manage this?

      But he had to. His pride was on the line. Every Chevalier at the Nom de Nom knew he’d intended to immerse himself in the jerir. Urvey looked up at him with pained and admiring eyes as Bastien helped him dry off and dress.

      Not to mention that if Luthan could do it, Bastien could, and would, do it too. His mouth thinned. There was a different aura about those who had bathed in the jerir than about those who hadn’t. Even now Urvey was showing the underlying glow of the experience. There was no way Bastien could simply lie.

      He eyed the pool. It was going to be bad. Worse perhaps than even his last fight. Only fancy footwork and fast reflexes had saved him. And he didn’t have his volaran to help him this time. He’d have to trust his wild magic.

      “Shall I stay?” asked Urvey, looking longingly at the door, probably thinking of the good meal they’d been promised. Trust a growing boy to think of his stomach, even after such an ordeal!

      Bastien said, “No, of course not. Go get some food and drink for us.” He waved a hand at the door.

      Urvey’s brows came down. “Are you sure?” He opened his mouth as if to offer help, then shut it. They both knew about manly pride.

      “I’m sure.” Bastien grinned. Nothing to do now but to laugh at the situation he’d gotten himself into. “Go. Get some meat and mead. Take your time—” Bastien winked “—I may want to soak a little.”

      That reassured the boy. He laughed. “Fine. I’ll get us a lot of good food and mead.” He rubbed his stomach. He looked around and dropped his voice. “Can we eat in here?”

      “Of course.” Bastien made a wide gesture with his arm. “This is the Temple. A Temple is for all the rituals of people. Including breaking bread.” He winked again. “Including sex.”

      Urvey flushed, dropped his eyes. “I’m a womanlover.”

      Bastien clapped a hand on Urvey’s shoulder. “I am, too. We can eat here—there’s a dining table over there.” He waved to a darkened quadrant. “And you recall that behind the fancy screen is another bathing pool and a toilet. The pool with jerir is usually filled with water to bathe in, you know.”

      Urvey just stared. “No, I don’t, Lord. You know. I can only guess.”

      “And learn,” Bastien said gently. “You can learn.”

      Urvey brightened. “I can do that. And I know how to assemble a feast for us!”

      He took off for the door while Bastien stared at the pool near his blistered feet.

      Urvey hesitated by the door. “You are sure—”

      “Go!” He didn’t want the boy to hear him scream.

      The door closed and Bastien rubbed his face. “Great, just great. What did you get me into this time, brother?” He swore under his breath. “What did my own stupidity and pride get me into? I damn well should wait.” He should. But it was quiet and soothing here in the Temple. Surely he could manage a quick dunk—a hop in and dive through and hop out. That should be sufficient. But by the Song, he didn’t want to dip in the jerir! He actually dreaded the idea.

      Nothing for it. He’d manage. He’d been in worse spots.

      6

      Come, Alexa! Sinafin cried. She jumped up and down on Alexa, waking her.

      Alexa cracked open an eye to see a blue squirrel, then shut it again. “No.” She snuggled deeper into the soft mattress. As soon as she’d escaped the clutches of the Marshalls, she’d showered and hopped into bed, though the sun still shone.

      After her humiliating sickness, they’d whipped up another potion that settled her stomach and fed her. Then Alexa had been stuck in a room and measured and given “little” clothes by giggling women. Following that, she’d been shown into a map room to watch some oddity on an animated landscape. Finally, she’d been plunked down and taught some Lladranan by a person who tried to keep a straight face at her pronunciation. Alexa began to wonder if the days here were the same length as on Earth.

      Alexa, Alexa, you must come. Sinafin scrabbled at the covers that Alexa pulled over her head.

      “No, I’m tired. I’ve had a very full day and I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying in bed, and if I’m lucky, the Snap will come and take me away.”

      Blue squirrel paws pushed the covers away, and Alexa found herself looking into bright black eyes. Sinafin clasped her paws together. PLEASE, Alexa.

      “Your colors are off. There aren’t any blue squirrels.” Alexa rolled over.

      She thought she dozed.

      The baby cried. She shoved away fluffy comforters and half slid, half fell to the floor. Her bare feet missed the rug and jarred against cold stone. She swore.

      Come, come, come! Sinafin, a golden ball, dipped and swooped, then vanished through the closed door.

      Hopping from foot to foot, Alexa dragged on knit slippers that were warm and cushioned her feet from the stone floor. She muttered curses. In English. She hadn’t learned enough Lladranan to know any good local swears.

      What was it now? A person couldn’t even barricade herself into her room for a little shut-eye.

      NOW, Alexa! Sinafin—a neon purple bat—screeched in her ear and zoomed through the door again. Over her nightgown, Alexa whipped on a quilted robe that trailed on the ground, and rushed across the threshold—

      And was jerked short when her robe stuck in the door. No infant was near. She heard a wail—would they leave the baby on one of the narrow landings? Surely not.

      Follow me! cried Sinafin.

      Gritting her teeth and taking precious time to open the door and grab the robe, Alexa knew she really needed those swearwords. She ran through the Tower room, down and down and down endless stairs following a flashing neon purple bat into the Cloisters. It was dark and raining again. Not twenty-four hours after her arrival in Lladrana and she was charging to the rescue again. Didn’t a savior ever get a little downtime?

      Apparently not. Sinafin led her to the huge oak door of the circular Temple. Were they trying to teach the baby to swim again the hard way? Alexa hated being manipulated by the Marshalls. But was this their work? The door opened easily under her hand and she rushed into the dim room.

      Sure enough, Sinafin hovered by the end of that nasty pool as a large golden glow, flickering and fluttering wildly, as if trying to keep something out of the liquid.

      Alexa’s heart pounded and she peeled off her robe. Sucking in a big breath and whimpering inwardly, she dove into the pool.

      Pain dimmed her mind like