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nothing, until Dain started to turn away.
Damne! Thum swore. Of course I am with you. Though it probably means my
head. What mean you to do?
Dain grinned at him in relief. I knew you were a true friend. Come, for there
isn t much time.
He set off again, dodging his way through the squires and horses. Thum stuck
close at his heels.
But, Dain, he said, what mean you to do?
Dain ducked behind one of the tents. Close by, he could hear the steady
plink-plink-plink rhythm of a smithy s hammer. He gripped Thum s arm and
pulled him close.
Well? Thum demanded impatiently. He looked pale with apprehension. What
Hush, Dain said softly, keeping a wary eye out to make sure they weren t
overheard. I mean to take Sir Terent s armor and enter the tourney.
Thum s mouth fell open. You can t!
Dain growled at him and gave him a little shake. You said you were with me.
Aye, but not to help you be a total fool! Thum said with brutal frankness.
Gods, Dain, have you lost your wits?
I have not, Dain said with stronger determination than ever. I m near
enough his size
You can t take his armor!
Dain reddened. I do not intend to steal it, he said stiffly. If I ask him,
he will lend it to me.
Think you so? Thum said sternly. If you command him to surrender his armor,
you might as well command him to cut out his heart. It is not done.
Morde a day, these rules you all live by! Dain cried, throwing up his hands
in exasperation. Can nothing be altered? Do circumstances never matter? I am
not seeking to destroy the man. I only want to wear his mail for an hour.
You are not a knight, and therefore you are not eligible to enter the
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contest. Unlike Gavril, you cannot insist the rules be waived for you.
All right then, Dain said. I won t
And even if you broke the rules and entered the joust, what makes you think
you could win? You are very good, Dain, but you
All right! I won t fight, Dain said in a huff. I ll just wear the armor
and
And what? Thum broke in.
With the helmet on, I can approach the king.
The guards won t let you within a stone s throw of his majesty.
I can ride up to his box and speak to him.
They won t let you, Thum insisted.
Dain set his jaw and glowered off across the enclosure toward the far stands.
Purple and gold banners -the king s colors flew merrily in the hot wind,
marking his majesty s box in the stands. The man was so close, and yet he
might as well have been on the other side of the realm. And what good was
Thum, if he meant to raise objections to everything Dain suggested?
Frustration spread through Dain. He released an angry breath and dug in the
dirt with his boot toe.
You had better wait for a proper audience, Dain, Thum said softly.
There was kindness in his voice, but pity also. Hearing that, Dain stiffened.
All his instincts urged him to seize whatever chance he could, while
opportunity remained. He glared at his friend. Waiting is for
fools. I won t give up.
Dain
No. Something inside me knows that if the king leaves on the morrow without
having heard my petition, he will never hear it.
How can you know that?
Call it my eld blood. I just know. Dain looked at Thum earnestly. I must do
this. I must take my chances now.
But it s madness to try.
Dain frowned. What risk lies in wandering about among the other knights?
What risk? Thum s voice cracked, and he coughed. Damne, how can you ask
that? If you re caught, you risk your entire investiture. Some of the knights
might forgive you for wearing armor out of rank, but others will not. Do you
want to be denied your knighthood just because you cannot hold your
impatience?
Have you ever known me to be wrong?
A thoughtful look entered Thum s green eyes. He met Dain s stare without
flinching. No, not when it mattered.
Then trust me now. I cannot wait. I will not wait, not until I have tried
everything I can. The king will talk to me, Thum, if only I can reach him. He
was Lord Odfrey s friend. He will want to know about...
about all that happened.
Aye, Thum said gloomily. Perhaps you are right.
Come, then. Let s go to Sir Terent quickly.
He won t agree to this. Or even if he does, Sir Polquin won t.
Dain gnawed on his lip. Then you must lure them away, and Lyias too, if he s
guarding their gear. I
will take the armor.
Dain
Hush, Thum. We ve been through all that.
But what if Sir Terent has not removed his mail?
He must. By the rules of the joust, no man not in competition may wear
You re right, Thum agreed. He sighed, looking much troubled.
Dain waited only a moment, his impatience growing. Well? he demanded.
Thum held out his thin hand. I am with you, to the last. Win or fail.
Win or fail, Dain repeated, making it an oath, and gripped Thum s hand hard.
Hurry, Prince Gavril snapped to his servant, twisting impatiently beneath
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the man s fingers. Can t you finish the buckles? What is wrong with you
today?
Sorry, your highness, the man whispered, intent on his work. Just...
finishing ... now. He stepped back and gestured in triumph. Most handsome
indeed.
Even through the stone walls of the guardhouse, Gavril could hear the cheers
and shouts of the crowd.
He tilted his golden head, listening to the noise and wishing the cheers were
for him. Well, he told himself, they would be soon enough.
He turned around and looked at his reflection. His new chain mail gleamed
brightly even in the muted light in here in this semi-underground room. In the
sunshine, it would dazzle everyone. Smiling to himself, Gavril ran his hands
down the front of his hauberk and glanced past the Reverend Sir Damiend toward
another figure standing in the shadows.
Well? he asked.
Cardinal Noncire waddled slowly forward into the light. His spotless robes
gleamed white. His yellow sash of office girded his broad middle. His small,
dark eyes regarded Gavril solemnly.
Turn about, he commanded softly.
Gavril obeyed him, feeling almost giddy with excitement. His emotions were
rushing about inside him nearly beyond his control. In a few minutes he would
be out there, acknowledged a man at last by his father s subjects. The king
had expected him to sit in the royal box until it was time for his part in the
tourney, but Gavril had long planned this surprise.
Yes, Noncire said at last. It will do.
Faint praise, but Gavril grinned at the cardinal in satisfaction. Isn t it
fine? I wanted a breastplate, but that fool armorer said he could not finish
the work by today.
Sir Damiend cleared his throat, but it was Noncire who said, The breastplate
is perhaps more appropriate for later, your highness.
What, after my investiture? Gavril asked, turning around again to look at
his reflection. He shifted his shoulders beneath the weight of the
double-linked mail, pleased by how heavy it was. But that s merely a
formality
Do not say so, your highness, Noncire corrected him. His voice was, as
always, soft, gentle, and very precise.
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