Guardian of Honor - Robin D. Owens

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of this offer.” Again his even, white teeth flashed. “That will stir them up. You spread the word to this lot.” He touched Bastien’s hand. “Think about the job of Chevalier Representative. It would be good for the Chevaliers and for you.”

      Bastien forced out the question he’d wanted to ask. “Did our esteemed father bathe in the jerir?” Not that he needed the answer. Reynardus would always have to prove himself tougher, stronger, better than any other man.

      “No.” Luthan’s eyes met Bastien’s own and reflected the same emotion. They would never receive the approval of their father, and they would always strive for it, consciously or not. Then Luthan’s expression lightened. “Thealia prodded him into a Song Quest and he left before dawn. He should be back soon.” Luthan unfolded himself from behind the table gingerly. “Good journeys, brother.”

      “Good journeys,” Bastien said.

      Luthan stared at Bastien’s hat. “You know a dip in jerir might improve it. Couldn’t hurt it any.” With an absent wave of the hand, he left the inn.

      A smile on his face, Bastien considered his brother and the Marshalls’ challenge while making damp intersecting circles on the table with the bottom of his mug. Finally he gulped the last of the brew. Luthan hadn’t looked good, true, but the dive through the jerir might not be as bad as he said. Luthan tended to be conservative—one of the reasons Bastien was sure the Cloister had requested Luthan act for them. Conservative and of strong moral fibre. Hell, strong emotional and physical fibre too.

      Bastien didn’t look as tough as his brother, and considered himself a flexible and genial man, but if this jerir Test must be done—and damn if he’d let his father and brother top him in this endeavor—it best be done quickly. Tonight. Just stepping up to stand on the bench hurt, but he managed. With luck, he’d have a few good souls like Marrec to watch his ass if he’d miscalculated. He scanned the room until several faces turned to him.

      “Attencion!”

      Though about thirty patrons of the Nom de Nom started up the winding road to the Marshalls’ Castle, there were only two by the time they reached the drawbridge gate—Bastien and a reedy teenaged stableboy named Urvey.

      Bastien glanced at the slight youth from the corner of his eye. “You don’t have to do this, Urvey,” he said gently. “No one will think less of you.”

      The boy’s jaws set. “No one will think more of me either.” He met Bastien’s gaze. “This is my chance. If I do this, I can rise in the world, be more than a stable hand. I could even maybe be a squire.” His eyes sharpened. “Do you have a squire, Lord Bastien?”

      “I’m a very minor lord, Urvey, with one small parcel of land.” He shrugged.

      Urvey pulled hard on the gate chain. A gong sounded behind the first curtain wall. “But you have three volarans. You could Test to be a Marshall, couldn’t you?”

      Bastien’s lips twisted. “The last thing I want to be is a hidebound, tight-assed, nose-in-the-air Marshall.”

      “Huh. Well, you have the chance. I don’t.” He straightened his shoulders. “Not ’til now. If I became a squire, maybe in a few years I could even get a horse, maybe a volaran, then become a Chevalier. You really do need a squire, Lord Bastien. I saw how hard it was for you to groom your volaran. If you had a squire and were in a fight, he would groom your volaran for you. Please, Lord Bastien?”

      Bastien had no intention of becoming responsible for another person.

      The peephole darkened, then the gate opened. The Castle guards scrutinized Bastien and Urvey and then waved them into the lower bailey.

      Without further conversation, they crossed the lowest courtyard to the second gate to Temple Ward. When they reached the door, Urvey used the iron ring to alert the Marshall guards that they wanted entrance.

      Holding a lantern, Swordmarshall Mace ushered them through the thick gateway. “Welcome, Bastien. Thought I’d see you tonight.”

      “Good eventide, Mace.” The man had been one of Bastien’s instructors in years past. Squinting in the darkness, Bastien noted Mace had more vigor than the last time Bastien had seen him. If Bastien used his Power and tranced in, he could pinpoint the differences. “You’ve dunked in the jerir pool of protection.” He made it a statement.

      Mace nodded. “Right you are. It’s evident, isn’t it. That will help our cause by bringing others to dip in the jerir. My wife Shieldmarshall and I took the plunge together last night.”

      “Ah, the time difference. Luthan didn’t look as well as you.”

      After locking the door behind Bastien and Urvey, Mace turned to them and smiled. “Still a bit white around the mouth, was he? He dunked late this morning.” Mace frowned. “Didn’t stay for the Exotique’s Choosing and Pairing.”

      Bastien laughed. “Who’d want to be bound for life with a woman you just laid eyes on? None of the Chevaliers I know are that stupid.”

      Mace’s gaze fired. “The Choosing is an ancient tradition. And it works. The ritual will match a man and woman who can love and bond forever.”

      Unobtrusively Bastien shifted from foot to foot. Sitting at the Nom de Nom with all his injuries had been rough, but the two-mile walk up to the Castle had caused sweat to sting in his wounds. Just being upright was a strain. “If you say the Choosing magic works, I won’t deny you,” he placated.

      “I don’t think you ever knew that my lady and I found each other through a Choosing,” Mace said quietly.

      That surprised Bastien. “No, I didn’t.” He would have liked to have swept Mace a bow in apology, but only half inclined his torso.

      “It was a long time ago.” He sent Bastien a pointed look. “But my love for my Shield grows every day. You Chevaliers should have attended the Choosing.”

      Bastien lifted and dropped his good shoulder. “For myself, I was traveling here by volaran at the time. So who did the Exotique pick?” He sidestepped a pace or two to the gateway’s thick door wall and leaned against it insouciantly, exhaling in relief as the old stones supported him.

      “No one.” Mace’s face grimmed. “No one. There wasn’t a good choice for the new Marshall of the Jade Baton. Now we have a ‘situation’ on our hands. Who knows if she will go or stay? And we need her, by the Song!”

      Bastien almost slid down the wall. “The Jade Baton of Honor? She wields the Jade Baton?” The stuff of legends. He’d never even seen the stick.

      “She was Tested. There are more Choosing ceremonies than the one for a mate. I myself laid all the batons before her and she Chose the Jade Baton. She carries it well. It flames in her hands.”

      “Urgh” was all Bastien managed to say.

      Urvey gulped too, opened and shut his mouth, then squeaked. “Lladrana really has a new Marshall? An Exotique? Not just rumor?”

      Mace jerked a nod. “That’s right. You might want to stay, Bastien, and Test for Marshall after you dip.”

      A half smile formed on Bastien’s lips, he swooped his hand. “A dive and glide is what Luthan said.”

      Mace gave a crack of laughter. “Yes. It’s all very well for you unmated athletic Chevaliers. My lady and I just dunked together.” His brows lowered. “You could test for Marshall tomorrow.”

      “No. I thought the full complement of Marshalls was filled.”

      Mace grunted. “We will be expanding the ranks of Marshalls to defend Lladrana.” Brows still drawn, he glanced at the hulk of the towered Keep.

      “We already have one Marshall Pair vacancy—we wish to prevent another.”

      This startled Bastien. “Who died? And how? I thought you were all here in the Castle, none of you on the Field.”

      Mace

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