“Then we move back to Fortiss’s council chambers.” Tennet’s unexpected directive startles me, and my glance cuts toward him. He’s waiting for me, and our gazes clash like warriors entwined in battle. It’s only for a second, then I turn toward Lord Fortiss, who’s also staring at me. It appears I’m of great interest in this conversation.
“There will be a time for that discussion, but I agree it’s hard upon us,” Fortiss says evenly. “All warriors present will gather after the banquet in my chambers. It may a conversation best suited to house lords, but they were called back to ensure the strength of their own houses. They have given me proxy authority to direct their warriors in battle.”
Another ripple of interest circles the table, and it’s one I share. Proxy authority?
My father voices the question on everyone’s mind. “And if I hadn’t returned, Lord Protector Fortiss, would you be directing any men from the Tenth as well? Because I certainly haven’t given you authority.”
“You have in the case of anything to do with preserving the Protectorate,” Fortiss counters, his tone hard as granite. “In that, I have the right of rule.”
“And all houses have the right to disagree, do they not?” Tennet argues, and Fortiss turns to him.
“A worthy stand for a warrior knight of the Twelfth House,” he retorts, pitching his words to be deliberately but lightly mocking, with just enough emphasis that you can’t say for sure that is his intention unless you know him. But of course, I do know him, at least that well.
He continues as Tennet’s brows draw together. It seems Tennet is no idiot either.
“Fortunately, while some conversations are better suited for behind closed doors, this one isn’t. We are pleased to welcome you to our table, Warrior Tennet, and more pleased still to hear your story. We have no record of your birth or upbringing, and we are saddened for the loss of Lord Orlof, which we still need to confirm. Is there, in fact, a younger brother in your household, a boy of fourteen? Do you have other brothers and sisters? Help us understand how you came to be the lord of a royal house without having ever visited the First House or, by all accounts, having left your holding at all?”
If Tennet is surprised by Fortiss’s direct attack, he doesn’t show it. He had to know that there would be an accounting, and one like this over a meal, in friendly conversation, is surely preferable to a grilling that no one views and from which there is no escape. If he had made these allegations during LordRihad’s time, he might well have been wrestled to the floor and imprisoned until his story was proven out, even if it would take a full two weeks for riders to reach the remote mountain stronghold of the Twelfth House and then return.
And of course, Tennet is still compelled by Fortiss’s spell of authenticity, even if that spell is now waning. So, this…well, this should be interesting.
I glance at him and once again realize he’s staring at me. I hope my thoughts aren’t so plainly written on my face as I fear, but the quirk of his mouth into a quick smile tells me different.
An uneasy warmth washes through me at that smile as Tennet returns his attention to Fortiss. “With Lady Talia fighting so well in the tournament, it seems you’ve already experienced the strategy of the mountain houses, Lord Protector Fortiss. We are small and left without the great defenses of the houses on the wide plains, or even the natural benefit of the open desert that gives the houses to the south some protection from their enemies by virtue of the fact that they can see them coming. The mountains can hide a multitude of enemies, and sometimes the best defense a house can mount are the stories that swirl up around it.”
“But we have no stories about the Twelfth House,” Miriam puts in, sounding genuinely curious. My father sits forward, too, his sharp eyes hard on Tennet’s face. “Lord Protector Fortiss is correct. Your father hasn’t left his home since his last tournament appearance nearly twenty years ago. By that reckoning, you would have been a young boy, but there was no record of a boy in attendance with Lord Orlof, or a wife or family of any kind. It was simply him and his attendants. He acquitted himself quite well in battle, advancing to the final stages of the competition. In those times, Lord Rihad had just come to power and was eager to impress all the houses as to his strength and dedication to his families charge of ruling the Protectorate. Hegave Lord Orlof several fighting men, and gold to pay for goods in times of trouble. Or at least, that’s what is written in the annals of that tournament.”
Despite myself, I’m also fascinated by Miriam’s words. It never occurred to me to look back at the old records of Orlof’s last visit to the First House. I slant a glance toward my father. Did he know Orlof had a son at that time?
Tennet’s reply cuts across my thoughts. “I can’t speak to events of that tournament, as you say I was just a boy, and my father traveled frequently when I was a child, leaving a brace of guards to protect our home and my mother. He continued traveling after she died giving birth to my younger brother, who yes, still lives. My brother is afflicted by the same illness that took my mother’s life, however, and he is not fit for fighting. But he is well, and safe.”
“And you, a warrior of clear merit, never wished to compete in the Tournament of Gold?” Miriam asks.
Tennet’s lips quirk derisively. “My father was keenly aware of the value of winning at the tournament when he did and how he did, and he also understood the inherent gamble of the tournament. Yes, you could go and win men and money for your house. You could also die or be injured to the point that you are of no service to your house…and then your Divh might be forfeit to your eldest son who perhaps isn’t prepared to take on that responsibility. You may also draw the attention of the lord protector if you perform too well or too poorly, and attention often begets more attention. My father was fiercely proud of our mountain home and keenly aware of its status among the other Protectorate houses. He also had no love of visitors. No doubt you have that written in your records as well.”
She waves that off. “Only the hearsay of the bards, whom he still entertained, though less and less over the years.”
Tennet smirks. “The mountains to the east are dangerous for unwary travels, and while the Tenth House boasts a location close to the pass into the Imperium, the Twelfth House isn’t so blessed. And so, we took the gold that Rihad gave us, and we traded it for hunting spears and farming implements that would be best suited for gleaning the fruits of the mountains. What we could produce that was beyond our means, we carried over the border to the Imperium and sold there. It was a far less difficult journey than making it to strongholds like the First House where we would be competing against so many better equipped houses than ours.”
My father straightens. “Youwhat?” he demands. I’m equally surprised, but grudgingly impressed at the Twelfth House’s strategy. We should have been doing the same, truth be told.
Tennet glances at my father, unperturbed. “Our produce is good, our wine is better. I’d need to taste it to be sure, but I’d guess that some of the imported wine you bring from the Imperium is our label made over into the image of whomever we sold it to. But that’s of no account. The story of the Twelfth House is one of industry and isolation, and it remained that way until my father signed the marriage contract to join our lots with that of the Tenth House. He died waiting for that promise to be fulfilled.”
My lips press tight together, the heavy fist clutching my heart unwilling to move. Despite Fortiss’s spell, I don’t know whether to believe this man or not, but his story…almost makes sense to me. It explains why the Twelfth House had no need of Protectorate wealth beyond the seed money Rihad provided through Orlof’s tournament rewards twenty years earlier. And in truth, though we are a simple holding, the Tenth House has also been largely self-sufficient. Father has seen no need to subject us to the tournament in all the years that I can recall. Merrittchafed against that restriction far more than I did, having never seen it in all his seventeen years, but…
So many questions bubble up, but Fortiss seems done with this line of inquiry. Even as my father leans forward, he cuts off the conversation. “Then we take you at your word, Lord Tennet, until we have reason to believe otherwise. We don’t need to search for trouble in these challenging times. Welcome to the First House at long last, we have much work to do.”
And he raises a glass of wine, then glances at it realizing as I do the truth. “Is it your vines we have to thank for our enjoyment this night?”
Tennet takes a measured drink—his first, I realize. “It just may be,” he agrees with a smug smile, lifting a glass. “To the Protectorate.”
I lift my glass to my lips, but this time I don’t drink.
Chapter 10
We manage to finish out the meal without coming to blows and sit through two rounds of entertainment—first, a brace of bardly music, and then the First House’s own performers—a medley of bells and strings and the pulse of drumbeats.
All of it sounds like a coming war to me.
