Engines & Demons - The Undestined

Chapter 32iii

Tahlia wondered if she would be able to reach the knife in her pouch and make a slash at the soldier's hand before he realised what she was doing. The place was quite busy. There were a lot of hand-carts standing about the field, and a detachment of Field-hands were working with their shovels to tidy up the mess left that morning by the massing of Klinberg's prides. Maybe she could tip some carts over on her way and cause a little confusion for her escape.

She moved her hand slowly towards her pouch.

As her fingers slipped beneath its flap and began searching for the knife's hilt, the soldier suddenly stopped, the tent of Commander Galder still some way distant.

"And here we are," he said.

Tahlia looked around, somewhat bemused, at the tent they had halted beside. She shook her head. So concerned had she been with the presence of Commander Galder's pavilion ahead of her, she had failed to notice her father's tent and standard, which both seemed somehow drab and colourless compared to the opulent splendour of Sir Galder's.

"Would that be all, my lady?" asked the soldier, his smile broad and the sly twinkle still in his eye.

Tahlia looked up at the soldier, and then at her father's pavilion.

"Yes, of course," she said. "You may leave me here."

The soldier gave a half bow and a mocking salute.

"You're welcome, my lady," he said, before turning and strolling off across the arena-field.

Tahlia turned to her father's tent. Ordinarily, she had no trouble talking to her father, but she found that she had to steal her nerve before pushing open the tent flap. Her memory of her time in the dark tent was now so hazy it had somehow taken on the quality of a dream, and her sighting of Tasker was hardly proof of any wrongdoings. Still, she was sure she would know what to say when she saw her father's face.

She pushed through the heavy outer tent flap and went inside. The tent was well lit, having the outer trap of the roof thrown back to let in the sunlight. Her father was not there.

She walked further into the tent. The space inside was large, though half was taken up by the armour of Hakansa, hanging on its rack at the side of the chamber. An empty stand for her father's own armour stood beside it. The rest of the space was taken up by a rack of lances, another rack for her father's sword and rail-shield, and a chair and small writing desk, neatly piled with books and paper.

She peered behind the tarp that separated the end of the tent from the rest, but found only her father's simple bed laid out with a frame wardrobe beside it. Inside hung her father's clothes, all nearly identical in both style and sombre grey or black colour. Another bed was laid out at the foot of her father's, a grey squire's tunic folded neatly at its foot, with a short scabbarded sword beside it.

"Can I help you, my lady?" came a deep rich voice from behind her.

She jumped and spun around, her hand going to the pouch at her belt. Standing in the tent's doorway was Zemrossa, her father's squire.

"I am sorry, my lady. I did not mean to startle you."

"I was not startled," replied Tahlia. "I was looking for my father."

Zemrossa came into the tent. He was carrying a large wooden bucket filled with fine sand. He carried it, seemingly without effort, to the rack holding Hakansa's armour, and placed it on the floor next to a low stool.

"You have just missed him, I am afraid. He has recently left for the temple."

"Oh."

"Are you all right, my lady?"