Chapter Fourteen

As the improved weather gave Domvoda a chance to finally do something, Fox tried not to mind when he was taken along with everyone else to view the muddy fields. He sat in an open carriage for the journey itself, next to Byr Din, who stared at Fox with wide eyes, which were really quite exquisite even if Domvoda did not seem to notice or care. Fox took to asking about herbs to keep the silence from becoming strained. Byr Din answered him with the glowing enthusiasm of far more than a hobbyist, but probably only spoke to Fox because Domvoda had publicly favored Fox again and now the court was confused about how to treat him. Fox didn’t feel like addressing that, so he did not, but he was as otherwise polite as he could be while being inundated with information about medicinal plants and then forced to trail Domvoda and look at trampled grass and mud on a hot day.

The knights did not seem to mind the mud, although Fox hated to think of the launderer’s work after the two days of the tournament. The first day would be single events, such as archery or fights with blunted swords, the most dangerous being combat while seated on a horse, but all the participants would end up covered in copious amounts of sweat and dirt. Fox thought of the knights falling onto hard ground and supposed the softer, damper fields were slightly better, but the whole thing still made him shudder.

The knights tested the softness of the earth several times by using one of the hand-to-hand, weaponless fighting methods to toss each other around. They cheered as they did it, proving Fox would never understand knights.

One of them, noticeably older than the rest, spoke with the air of an approving instructor, loud enough for Fox to hear even after Fox had made his delicate way back to the carriage to wait for everyone else to come to their senses and return. “You see that? That’s why you train so much, so when you see an opportunity, you can react decisively and swiftly like Byr Liniah did. That is key to victory. Thank the emperor for giving you the chance but you have to take it.”

‘Thank the emperor’ was an expression unique to byr, mostly the older byr. They must know a story of the lost empire that others did not. Fox always took it to mean ‘be grateful for whatever fortune has given you’ which seemed very unbyrlike, since byr never seemed grateful for anything they had.

Fox rested his head on his arms on the side of the carriage and watched Conall and the other most experienced knights discuss the state of the fields with Domvoda. If Domvoda suspected anything between Fox and Conall, or was bothered if he did, Fox couldn’t see enough to be certain. Although Conall was the calm, quiet Dragonslayer he always was at court, so perhaps Domvoda poked and prodded and got nothing from him.

Yet Fox did not breathe any easier after telling himself that. Foolish. He had warned Conall several times and Conall had shown no serious concerns about Domvoda. Conall was a hero in all respects and would participate in the stupid tournament with the same of lack of concern for his own well-being. Fox should worry over himself; Domvoda’s possible barbs wouldn’t bother a man with two exhausting days of competition ahead of him.

The second day of the tournament was the large mock-battle between two sides. Fox had never understood the point of it, but the ground would have dried more by then, which meant there was no reason to avoid the battle except sense. But the knights in a circle around Domvoda and his advisors smiled as they all agreed—the tournament would begin tomorrow, weather allowing.

Fox looked up at that, but the sky was unfortunately clear of all but the smallest of clouds.