DISCLAIMER: Tortall and its inhabitants belong to Tamora
Pierce, and used with her (indirect) permission.
Chapter Three: Strategic Concerns
The next day was dedicated to developing their power
bases. Unlike the previous week, the
squires began their day inside in the classrooms while the pages were on the
practice courts. Each group had been
assigned a section of three adjoining classrooms to work in. In each classroom there were large sheets of
paper on the wall, and chalk to draw with.
These were crucial in mapmaking for their defense plans.
Joren had been granted the southeast side of the palace to
defend. This included the palace wall
and parts of the Royal Forest. It was
probably the easiest place in all of Corus to defend; he was allowed to assume
command of the garrison weapons--several catapults and specially crafted
pivoting cauldrons atop the wall--made for dumping boiling oil onto any
attackers. Though he was granted permission to rely on them for his initial
defense strategy--which would be present during lessons within the next four
days--it was understood that he would not use them during the actual
fight.
Cleon’s group was given the hunting lodge as a base. It was a good half-hour’s ride into the
Royal Forest; as pages they had been there numerous times. The lodge was fortified, though not heavily,
and Cleon’s group had to work mainly on an offensive plan, taking into
consideration the resources at the lodge and the distance needed to be covered.
Kel wasn’t sure whom she felt sorrier for. Defense was always easier for her to plan,
but Joren’s group would have to rely much more on calculations--especially
concerning the catapults. Cleon’s
force, though not as well equipped, had more manpower. His group was the largest, outnumbering
Joren’s almost at a two-to-one ratio.
Kel knew that her group would be the balancing force. If she sided with Cleon, there was little
chance for Joren to adequately defend his keep. If she sided with Joren, Cleon’s group would be obliterated--the
defense always had the upper hand when fortified.
Her group lacked in equipment; they were supposed to
represent the bandits and mercenaries who fought regardless of the underlying
principles. She only had one mage in
the group--Prince Roald--and she had never witnessed his magical
abilities. But all the Gifted squires
were trained in basic warcraft magic.
She’d have to get a full account from him later.
Her group’s base was at a random point in the Royal
Forest, close to the Oleron River. They
were supposed to be a virtually defenseless camp, guarded only by sentries and
protection spells.
She and Roald managed the sketches and maps of their camp,
deciding who would take which posts at which times and devising several
defensive plans. The other squires were
quick to point out flaws in the plans, and the knights pointed out different
ways to make the best use of their surroundings. They all worked well together.
The plans were simple and relied on swiftness more than complex
tactics. Kel had noted, with some
degree of pride, that her group was made of the fastest squires and
knights. Lord Wyldon had obviously
considered that when choosing her group—but what were the strengths of the
others?
Joren’s defense squad had the best archers. Sir Imrah of Legann had won every archery
contest he’d participated in during the last year, according to Roald, his
squire. And Joren and Balduin had
always been the best of the pages in previous years. Their skills would be crucial for defense. Cleon’s group, meanwhile, was full of
excellent swordsmen. Her own brother,
Inness of Mindelan, was one of the better swordsmen in the realm--and he’d
taken Cleon as his squire because the big redheaded youth was the best in his
class. Neal had always been a natural
with the sword as well, having begun his studies long before becoming a page.
So, Joren’s group has the upper hand in long-range
defense, and if they fail, Cleon’s unit will easily trounce them in a close-range
battle, Kel thought, glancing into the other classroom where
Joren was sitting. He was writing
furiously as his regiment gave suggestions.
She was surprised to see him working so well with the
other boys. She’d never personally seen
him work in a group, but she’d had him pegged for the kind of boy who would
ignore his underlings and do things his own way.
He looked up at her, his bright blue eyes fixed on
hers. His expression was impossible to
read. Kel wondered if he would even be
willing to make an alliance with her.
They hadn’t really been on friendly terms with him for very long--and
she didn’t trust him at all. Three
years of fighting and nastiness could not be forgotten with a pretty
apology. And she wasn’t sure how much
of that apology was sincere.
He’d told her that his knight-master, Sir Paxton of Nond,
had changed a lot of his views on things.
Sir Paxton was courting Kel’s older sister, Adie, and there were hopes
of a marriage between the families; so it was possible. But it was still too strange for Kel to
honestly believe.
Joren smiled slightly, then returned to his writing.
Kel shook her head.
I’ll never understand him. Why
waste time analyzing him? she wondered, ignoring the little voice in her
head that was reminding her that it was always best to know her enemies.
***
Supper was strange that night. The squires had split into their groups at the tables. While Kel normally ate with Neal and Seaver,
she was alarmed to see that they’d gone elsewhere. Neal sat with Cleon and Esmond, two tables over, while Seaver sat
with Joren.
She wanted to sit with her friends--to talk about
something other than the simulation.
She was thankful, though, that Roald and Merric and Faleron were in her
group.
That night King Jonathan showed up for the meal. He had two other guests with him; one was a
tall, lanky fellow in his early forties.
He dressed fairly casually, and carried himself differently than any
noble Kel had ever seen before. Lord
Wyldon introduced him as the Baron of Pirate’s Swoop--George Cooper. He was a handsome man, with dancing hazel
eyes, but Kel couldn’t take her hazel eyes of his companion. His wife, Lady Alanna of Trebond and
Olau--or as she was more commonly known, Sir Alanna, the Lioness. She was the first female night in Tortall in
over a century. She had become the
King’s Champion at the age of twenty and was known throughout the Eastern Lands
for her heroic deeds. Her actions had
made it possible for the king to grant girls the right to train for knighthood;
Kel wouldn't have to disguise herself as a boy for eight years, as Alanna had.
Kel could hardly eat throughout dinner. Every time she looked at the Lioness her
eyes were met with a steady purple gaze.
Did this mean that Lord Wyldon and the king were permitting her to speak
to the Lioness now? She wondered what
this sudden change was about.
Halfway through the meal, the king rose from his
seat. He motioned for everyone to
remain seated. “You’ve studied hard to
reach this point, new squires. And we
know that you’ll only improve from here.
While the last few years have been odd, with the unusual changes of pace
in your studies, know that you are only better for it. Knights are no longer solitary warriors, as
they were in my days as a squire.
Warcraft has changed since the Immortals War, and we have changed with
it.”
Kel nodded as she took in King Jonathan’s words. He was still the most handsome man she’d
ever seen; and now she had rid herself of the anger she had felt when he had
allowed Lord Wyldon to put her on probation because she was a girl. She had proven herself in her studies and in
combat, and the king himself had told her he was proud. She listened with rapt attention.
“The knights of the realm want squires who can work in groups;
boys--” he glanced at Kel and smiled, “--and girls--who can follow orders as
well as they give them. This new battle
scenario is your chance to prove to them that you will be able to handle a real
war. Show them that your groups can
come together to attack or defend decisively.
“You will have advisors,” he continued, “as Lord Wyldon
has mentioned. I shall be working with
the defensive line; I have experience defending castles and forts. Sir Alanna, however, has much experience in
leading assaults. Cleon of Kennan, your
group shall work with her. And George
Cooper is one of the best teachers of what I’ve always called ‘back-hall
fighting.’ His area of expertise will
help Keladry of Mindelan’s group. After
classes tomorrow morning, each group will meet with their advisors and review
any battle plans made this afternoon. Until then, Mithros guide you.”
The king left the room swiftly before any of the squires
had the chance to stand and bow. After
a moment of silence, the usual hum of conversation was present again.
“George Cooper, eh?” Merric asked in a whisper. “I hear that he was an outlaw--pardoned by
the king so he could marry the Lioness.”
Kel looked to Roald for confirmation, but the prince
smiled mysteriously. Looking back at
Merric, she shrugged. “For whatever
reason he was pardoned, I’m sure he earned it.”
“Goddess, strike me down if I’ve ever met a man more
obstinate than you!” The Lioness’s
rough yell brought silence to the squires’ mess hall. All eyes shifted toward the head table, where the King’s Champion
was standing, palms flat on the table, glaring at Lord Wyldon. The training master, for his part, looked as
calm as he ever had.
“Alanna,” the baron murmured, placing a hand on his
hot-tempered wife’s shoulder. The lady
knight, suddenly aware of all the pairs of eyes fixed on her, flushed crimson.
“I apologize, Lady Alanna,” Wyldon began, not sounding
very sorry at all, “but I won’t change my mind.”
Kel had a feeling they were talking about her. She glanced across the room at Neal. His worried eyed met hers before turning
back to the boys at his own table.
***
“So what do you think that was about?” Kel asked him
later, as they headed toward the library.
Neal sighed.
“Father told me that the Lioness is going to be in Corus for the next
four months, if not longer. She was
hoping to work closely with all the squires--help teach fencing--but she and
the Stump can’t agree on anything.”
Kel sniffed at his disrespectful nickname for Lord Wyldon. “Why won’t he agree? She wouldn’t be showing favoritism if she
taught all of us.”
Neal nodded as he opened the door for Kel. “He’s disagreeing because he’s a
disagreeable person. Does he need an
excuse? Besides--he’s probably refusing
everything she requests; I’m surprised she’s allowed to work with my group for
the battle.”
Kel couldn’t help but feel jealous. She’d always wanted to have a nice long
conversation with the Champion--and she had blown the once chance she had.
They made their way to the long table in the center of the
room where several pages and squires studied.
Owen of Jesslaw, a page one year younger than Kel, jumped up to give her
a casual one-armed hug.
“I’m glad you could find it in you to stoop down to the
level of us pages!” he laughed. Kel
noticed with some amusement that his voice had dropped half an octave over the
summer. “And Mithros, Kel--you’ve grown
even taller!”
She nodded, sitting next to him. “Another inch. I think
there’s ogre blood in the Mindelan line.”
“Ah--that would explain a lot of things,” Neal sighed,
falling into the seat beside her.
Cleon, seated across the table from them both, snorted and
spoke to the first-year pages in the group.
“Unless your name is Nealan of Queenscove, don’t ever speak to Kel like
that. She’ll run you through with a
lance.”
“Or bludgeon your with a staff!” Owen interjected.
Cleon grimaced.
“For some reason she lets this oaf get away with murder.”
Neal leaned over, wrapping his arms around Kel’s
waist. “Some people are more
charismatic than others,” he said, smiling smugly at Cleon.
Kel rolled her eyes and pushed her friend away, hoping he
hadn’t noticed the quickness of her breath or the sudden heat in her cheeks.
“Don’t let Lord Wyldon see you acting like that,
Queenscove--not if you want her to stay.”
All heads turned to the doorway where Joren stood, looking
handsome in a blue velvet tunic. He
wore a friendly expression--unlike any Kel had seen before.
“Can I join you?” he asked, showing them that he had
brought a stack of papers, books, and a bottle of ink with him.
No one spoke for a moment; even the first-year pages
seemed to gather that Joren was not really desired company. Finally Kel nodded to him and Cleon gestured
to the vacant seat beside him.
Neal wasn’t too certain about it all. He narrowed his eyes at Joren. “Just what are you doing here, anyway?”
He was one of the younger squires, but having started his
training at fifteen, he was old enough to take the Ordeal of Knighthood. Next to Yancen and Cleon, Neal was the
biggest squire in the palace--and his temper made him the most threatening at
times,
Joren gazed at him evenly, shifting through his class
work. “I’m here to study--and talk to
Cleon and Keladry.”
It was about the mock-battle. All of a sudden, Kel felt more at ease about Joren’s
presence. Neal still seemed ruffled,
but Kel decided that he wouldn’t be Neal if he wasn’t perturbed in some way or
other.
She and Cleon pulled Joren to a smaller table in the
corner while Neal glared and explained the battle scenario to Owen, who
complained that the squires had all the “jolly assignments.”
Cleon, meanwhile, was being difficult. “I don’t see how any alliances can be formed
if all three of us are present,” he said, directing a scowl toward Joren.
The blond squire sniffed and looked at Kel. “The question is, what are Lord Wyldon’s
objectives?”
“What do you mean?” Kel asked, her usually dreamy-looking hazel
eyes intensely locked with Joren’s icy blue stare.
“You heard the king.
Our goal is to prove that the different groups can work together. But is the knight’s duty to fight
effectively, or prevent larger battles?”
Cleon scoffed.
“This is no time to get philosophical, Joren. It’s a battle simulation, not a diplomatic endeavor.”
“Wait a second, though,” Kel said, resting her hand on
Cleon’s arm. “Why would they have
included diplomacy if this was merely a fighting exercise.” She turned to Joren, her expression
quizzical. “What do you have in mind?”
He smiled.
“They’re judging us on our battle plans, and then the tactics we use
once the strategies fail, right? Well,
if we come up with glorious plans for all scenarios, they’ll still give us credit
if the battle never happens.”
“What in the Goddess’s name kind of plan is that?” Cleon
asked incredulously.
With a sigh, Joren continued. “Diplomacy is the key.
King Jonathan has been involved with wars and disasters since his
coronation day. What would impress him
more than seeing tomorrow’s youth acknowledge that compromise can prevent human
loss? We don’t have to fight. We can be prepared for battle, and fight
should there be any kind of need--but that doesn’t mean that we should rush to
arm ourselves first.”
Kel leaned forward, studying Joren. “Why are you doing this? You’ve always been the kind of person to hit
first--why the sudden promotion of pacifism?”
He smiled again--an eerie, twisted smile that made her
nervous. “People change, Squire
Keladry. I want to impress the king and
Lord Wyldon as much as you do. This is
the first time we’ve been given a choice in our scenario; let’s show them that
we can make good choices. We can build
an alliance between the three groups, and prevent the battle.”
Cleon nodded reluctantly.
“The worst thing that could happen is being removed from our positions
as leaders. There’s really nothing to
lose.”
“You both have knight-masters. It’s easier for you two to accept being replaced,” Kel said,
feeling nervous.
Joren reached over and touched her shoulder lightly,
causing both Kel and Cleon to tense up visibly. “Don’t worry, Kel. I’m
sure someone will take you. Lord Raoul
will whisk you away to help command the King’s Own if no one else steps forward.”
He stood and went back over to the large table, leaving
two very puzzled squires behind him.
Kel and Cleon exchanged worried glances. “Should we wait for the stab in the
back?” Kel asked.
Cleon sighed. “If he
turns against one of us, he turns against us both. Agreed?”
She sighed. “I’ll
talk to my men tomorrow, and then we’ll discuss it.”
Continued in Chapter 4