The Reluctant Champion

The Road to Napesh

In the end they did not leave for Napesh until the end of the week of holiday. Lidah was impatient to go and settle matters, but Genneret wanted a good show for the ambassadors, and wanted time to observe Bashanadar.

"While you keep the ambassadors feasting here, we could be halfway to my father," she said.

"As soon as they missed you they would realize their mistake, and war would come faster than I am ready for it," he replied imperturbably. "This is not wasted time. We arm, we train and we learn."

Bashanadar had no interest in the elegant entertainments put on by members of the court, each of whom thought it a matter of pride to outdo the others. He spent his time training his troops, working with those of Tynat, and planning defenses and strategies of war. His beasts were always with him, which made people nervous; crowds in the street would press back to clear a path for him when he passed. Mothers would clutch their children to them, for there was a rumor in the city that the firedrakes would eat children if they could.

The soldiers set up sparring contests, matches of skill between them and between their captains. Bashanadar and Colden met several times with blunted swords and thick pads protecting head and shoulders. They were very evenly matched—Bashanadar the stronger, but Colden the quicker.

"Without these pads, I'd be faster yet," he said. "In battle, you'd never touch me."

"Without those pads, I'd only have to touch you once," said Bashanadar with a laugh. "And I'd split you like a rail."

Genneret and Bashanadar fought a bout together also. The old king gave a good account of himself, but the match was clearly Bashanadar's. Lidah watched it, wincing whenever the king missed a parry and Bashanadar's sword clubbed his helmet, wrist guards, or side. But Bashanadar received some heavy blows too, and both were blowing hard by the end.

Genneret came and sat next to Lidah to recover.

"Well?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow at her, chest heaving.

"My brother used to say you can tell more about a man by fighting him than any other way," she prompted.

"Mm. I can tell you he hits hard and fast, and doesn't tire easily," said the king. "I think he could fight very dirtily if he wanted to. He was on best behavior with me."

Lidah digested that, watching Bashanadar across the practice field. The man's face was gray and lumpy, as though she could see the skull behind the face.

"He's looking worn," she said.

"Not that worn," said the king.

#

They assembled for the journey early the last morning of the holiday. The Countess had thrown a huge ball in her honor the evening before, and everyone except Bashanadar was looking a bit seedy in the gray dawn. He was disgustingly pink and energetic—whatever had been afflicting him was apparently now past.

Today's entertainment for the court was an excursion by boat down the river and through the marshes of the delta. Everyone would go in a flotilla of flat-bottomed skiffs with musicians, entertainers, and delicacies of every kind. Among the little islands and rivulets it would be hard to be sure who was present and who was not, and it might take some time for the ambassadors to miss them.

"Not that I really hope to hide this departure from their spies," Colden sighed. "But any uncertainty is to our advantage."

So they assembled, filling a small side courtyard with the uneasy din of men and animals. Colden strode through the crowd, dour and precise; he had apparently shaved already. Bashanadar was his opposite—cheerful and scruffy, followed everywhere by his beasts. The Countess was unwontedly severe in riding dress that had seen much service. They had discussed taking a carriage, but she had squelched that idea. The road they would be taking—the most direct between the two capitals—was not kind to vehicles. Now she stood composed in the middle of a little flutter of female attendants. The four guards who would accompany them busied themselves with packing, their horses already saddled. Lidah stood out of the way to one side, watching a small man struggling with a donkey.