by D. L. Kramer
Lord Bavol looked exceptionally frail and Paki didn't know how he could have ridden all the way from Bavol Hold. Even the determined set to his jaw had softened some since his illness.
Evaine hadn't changed at all. Her blonde hair was twisted into a complicated braid on the back of her head, with long strands hanging loose around her face, shoulders and back. Her red velvet dress hugged her body and showed more of her than most women would ever dare. Her smile was dazzling as they dismounted. She leaned over to say something to her husband as he slowly swung off his horse's back. Lord Bavol responded with a quick shrug of his shoulders. Paki noted that even though Lord Bavol's hands seemed steady, he held onto the saddle for a moment longer than usual to make sure he had his balance.
As the rest of their escort came in through the gate, Paki was glad to see Tuketu among them. Bear hadn't seen his brother since their journey to Valin Hold over four years before and Paki knew he'd missed him.
Paki shifted his sword on his back and waited just to the side. Formality wasn't something Lord and Lady Bavol were strict about. Behind him, he heard Tavish ordering a number of stable hands over to help with the horses.
Evaine smiled at Paki then turned back to Mo'ani.
"...No problem," she finished saying. "But you didn't expect us to miss Paki here receiving his cloak, did you?"
Mo'ani gave Evaine a suspicious look before sighing. "And how would you know about that?" he asked.
Lord Bavol coughed. "You know better than to ask her how she knows things," he said gruffly. "She wouldn't tell you anyway." He handed the reins of his horse to a young girl, stepping back as she led it out of the way and over to the stables.
"Thank you, Matthios," Evaine said, smiling at her husband.
Mo'ani nodded, obviously giving in.
"All right," he said. "Let's at least get you to rooms where you can rest."
"I've rested enough," Matthios growled. His eyes shifted to the training yard and Paki saw they were as sharp as ever. He was suddenly glad he could no longer be paired against the apprentices. "You call that training?" he asked Mo'ani.
Paki and Kile exchanged glances as Kile swung down from Nicho's back and handed the reins to one of the stable hands who waited nearby. Between Jayehl's death several years earlier, and now his recent illness, Lord Bavol seemed even harsher than before. Paki knew Kile still carried his own scars inside over Lord Bavol's youngest son, and Paki could see how difficult it was for Kile to see Lord Bavol again. Kile had told Paki having someone give their life for yours was a heavy weight, and Paki could almost feel it settle on Kile's shoulders again.
As Mo'ani and Lord Bavol walked toward the training yard, Evaine stepped closer to Kile and Paki.
"Thank you for meeting us," she said to Kile.
"I 'ad to," Kile shrugged.
"No, you didn't," Evaine shook her head. "He doesn't blame you for what Jayehl did," she continued. "At first, he did, but he realizes now that Jayehl made his own choices and knew what the consequences would be."
"Doesn't make the weight any lighter, Evaine," Kile said quietly. "Did anyone tell ye I didn't even recognize Jayehl when I came back from Valin?"
Evaine nodded her head. "But it had been years, Kile," she said. "Even Paki here has changed considerably in just the short time since I've last seen him."
Kile nodded, but Paki suspected it was just to settle the subject. When he saw Mo'ani and Lord Bavol turn toward the keep, he looked back to Evaine. "They're probably goin' to Mo'ani's office," he said. "I'll escort ye up there."
Evaine nodded silently and Paki could see the pain in her eyes over Kile's distress. She whispered a "Congratulations" to him as they walked passed and Paki nodded to her.
Paki walked over to the training yard and stood beside Tuketu. The archers were due back shortly and Bear's brother decided to wait within the Stronghold instead of going out to the practice range.
Paki and Tuketu talked quietly as they watched the apprentices in the yard. Like Bear, Tuketu excelled at his practice and was now ranked with the fourth year apprentices at Bavol Hold.
They watched the practice until the sound of the gates opening again drew their attention. The archers filed through, some riding, some leading their horses. Paki smiled faintly when Chase's ears suddenly perked forward and he turned in their direction. Bear's attention followed immediately after. He smiled and held his hand up to them as he continued to the stable.
Tuketu raised his own hand in return, then looked at Paki.
"I think he's bigger than me now," he said slowly.
Paki looked at Bear again. All three of them were several inches taller than most men, and the physical demands of their training were extreme. Still, Paki knew Bear was even bigger than he was.
"Probably," Paki agreed. "I think he finally grew into his name."
Tuketu chuckled. "I never thought about it like that," he said.
Bear appeared in the stable door and walked over to them, carrying his longbow and quiver.
"Ke," he greeted, surprised. "What are you doing here?"
"Lady Bavol invited several fourth year apprentices along as escort," he explained. "I made sure I was in line to be picked."
"She probably would have invited you anyway," Paki pointed out.
"You never know for sure with her," Tuketu shook his head. "And given everything that's happened at Bavol Hold lately, I'm not going to assume anything."
"You mean with Lord Bavol being sick?" Bear asked.
"Yes," Tuketu nodded. "And both Arlend and Tonek deferring to Lady Bavol instead of acting in their father's place when decisions need to be made."
"She's his second wife," Paki said. "Her title doesn't give her control of Bavol Hold."
"I don't know what's going on," Tuketu said. "But Lady Bavol is making all the decisions right now."
"Something tells me I'm glad I'm here instead of there," Bear said. "Let me put these away and we can go do something."
Paki looked toward the keep, trying to figure out what could be happening. If Lord Bavol was too weak to govern his land, it was Arlend's to handle until his father either died or stepped down. If Arlend didn't want it, then it went to Tonek. But to give it to his second wife? Someone who was younger than either of his surviving sons?
"Ready?" Bear asked, coming back over to them after leaving his things to be checked in at the shed.
"You two go on," Paki said after a moment, pushing the thoughts about Lord Bavol to the back of his mind. There were other things to think about--receiving his cloak that night among them. "I'm going to hang around here for a while."
Bear shrugged. "Sheesh," he said, joking. "Give him a cloak and he thinks he needs to be responsible."
"Something like that," Paki nodded, smiling faintly. Whatever was happening at Bavol Hold wasn't his business. He did want to talk with Meda about tonight, though. The librarian taught him as much as Kile and Mo'ani, whether she realized it or not.
As Bear and Tuketu wandered off, Paki turned and walked to the keep. He climbed the stairs to the library two at a time. Inside, Meda was at her usual place behind the lectern, writing on a scroll.
"Young Master," she greeted, not bothering to look up.
Paki sat on the edge of the table beside her. Two scrolls and half a dozen books were open on it, places marked with strips of paper.
"Are you coming tonight?" he asked. He was the only one being cloaked, and because Pater Isak wanted to hold the ceremony at night, it would be in the cathedral instead of the training yard where it was usually held.
"Tonight?" Meda looked up, curious, then smiled. "Of course, I wouldn't miss it for anything." She laid her quill down beside her inkpot. "So how does it feel to know you're the last apprentice Mo'ani will train himself?"
Paki shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "I guess I just don't understand why I'm the last one."
"Maybe the gods told him you were," Meda suggested.
"Maybe," Paki agreed. He paused. "I
also wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me the last eight years."
"I haven't done that much," Meda turned the page in the book nearest to her.
"You taught me to read and write," he pointed out. "And you taught me how to analyze an opponent and strike hard."
"I did not," Meda looked shocked.
"Yes, you did," Paki insisted. "Watching all the discussions between you and Kile, I learned to respect a person's individuality, and how to use it against them to win an argument--or a fight."
"I can't believe you're saying this to me," Meda said, her voice almost desperate. "If the captain would just speak the way he's supposed to..."
"You also taught me not to start a debate with someone who has a bigger vocabulary than my own," Paki continued. "Thankfully, I learned enough to keep up with you."
Meda folded her arms, obviously at a loss. Paki knew he'd won the round. Smiling, he pulled her hand out and kissed the back of it.
"Get out," Meda said, pulling her hand back after a moment. Her eyes weren't nearly as harsh as her words. "I've got work to do before tonight."
Paki could hear the resignation in her voice. She still had her pride and wouldn't let him step on that.
"Thank you," he repeated. "You are truly a teacher gifted by the gods."
Picking up her quill again, Meda pointed to the door.
Paki left the library and wandered back downstairs. He knew he'd have to decide where he was going to live after tonight, too. Most of the Mo'ani lived in their own homes hidden in the mountains, secluded among the farms of the village, or traveling among the allied holds helping to fend off the Archbishop's forces. Very few remained in the Stronghold after receiving their cloaks. Paki couldn't imagine living anywhere else, though. He wondered if Mo'ani would mind if he slept in the stable.
The last few hours before nightfall crept by. Paki ended up in his bunk, lying on his bed doing nothing but waiting for Kile to come and get him. Sometime after that, the cathedral's bell would ring, calling everyone there. Tiimu stayed with him, pulling on a strip of leather tied to the bottom of Bear's bunk. Paki tapped his foot nervously on the mattress. His hands felt exceptionally dry, as did his mouth.
A couple of hours after nightfall, there was a knock on his door.
"Come in," he called.
Kile opened the door and stepped into the bunk. "Are ye ready?" he asked.
Paki sat up. "I guess," he said. "I wish there were others who had earned their cloaks, though. I don't really like being the center of attention."
"There might 'ave been another one or two ready if ye'd waited a couple of weeks before disarming Janec and gettin' one sword from Mo'ani," Kile pointed out.
"And face the trouble I'd have gotten into for not doing it when I had the chance?" Paki asked, standing up. "I'd sooner do this alone." If Mo'ani knew he was holding back in any of his practices, he would have started teaching some very hard, not to mention painful, lessons.
Kile chuckled and held the door for Paki as they walked out into the dark night.
In the cathedral, Isak, Mo'ani, Lord and Lady Bavol, Gharald, Janec and Adie were waiting when Kile led Paki in. Paki had seen plenty of apprentices cloaked in the training yard, and the event was open to any student or apprentice to observe.
Little had been changed in the cathedral. The torches along the walls were lit, chasing the shadows from the corners. A red cloth was draped over the altar, gold embroidery catching the torches' flicker and casting it in new directions. Lamps were lit by the feet of the three statues, lighting them in subtle shadings and making them appear to move. The cloth over the altar caught Paki's attention, and though he knew that wasn't his cloak, he knew it would look very similar.
Paki's cloak would be different from all the others. He would be the only one at the Stronghold besides Kile to wear a red cloak with the intricate gold embroidery. All the other cloaks were solid red with bits of gold in the clasp, but that was all. The entire lower edge of Paki's cloak would have been embroidered with gold thread by one of the women at the Stronghold, and the clasp would be entirely gold gilt.
"The bell will be rung soon," Pater Isak said to Paki. "We thought you might want to be here first."
Paki nodded his head, hoping he could get through the next hour without any problem. The thought of fainting had never occurred to him before, but Paki suddenly felt like he might now. He sat down in the front pew, not trusting his legs to hold him up.
Adie sat beside him as the rest spoke among themselves or readied the cathedral for the arrival of the apprentices, students, and anyone else who wanted to attend. Paki vaguely noticed Pater Isak unwrapping the bundle he was carrying when he first arrived, but didn't think anything of it. Isak finished, laying the contents of the bundle on the bench behind the altar.
"Nerves?" Adie asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.
Paki nodded. "I didn't think I'd be this bad," he said. He slid his hands under his knees so she couldn't see the slight shake to them.
"It's a very big accomplishment," she pointed out. "Did you know that a third of the apprentices never earn a cloak?"
Paki looked at her, surprised. He shook his head.
"They're still welcome to join a reserve unit," Adie continued. "And most of them do, but I think there's always that thought of defeat."
"Why didn't you keep training for a cloak?" Paki asked, motioning to her red sash. He'd wondered before and this seemed like an opportune time to ask. He swallowed, his mouth threatening to dry up on him. Thankfully, he wouldn't have to say anything when he received his cloak.
Adie smiled. "My grandfather doesn't approve of assassination," she said. "When my brother told him what I'd been doing, he ended my training."
"You had a brother?" Paki had never heard Adie, Kile or Mo'ani mention her having a brother. He found the distraction working and he concentrated on it instead of his cloak.
"He was killed about three years before Kile brought you here," Adie told him. "I was about twenty three or twenty four when he turned me in."
"You don't sound very bitter," Paki pointed out. If something like that happened to him, he probably would have left the Stronghold for good.
"I was an average apprentice," Adie shrugged. "But I'm a damned good assassin."
"You must have been close to a cloak of your own," Paki realized when he heard how old she'd been.
"About six months away," she shrugged. "But Kile already had his cloak for about six years, and flaunted it enough for both of us."
"He flaunts it enough for an entire legion," Paki commented, looking up where Kile was talking with Lord and Lady Bavol. He hoped Kile was able to relieve some of his own guilt by talking to them. "How is Kile doing?" Paki asked Adie. If Kile would confide in anyone, it would be her. "I mean since Jayehl's death." He knew despite outward appearances, Kile was still pained by what had transpired at his murder trial in Herridon.
"He doesn't think about it much," Adie said after a moment. "He can't."
"I guess that's understandable," Paki said.
Adie nodded in agreement. Silence fell between them as they waited for the cathedral bell to sound. Not long after, Gharald left the main room. A few seconds later, the deep resonating tones of the large bell rang through the cathedral.
Bear, Tuketu and Rena were the first to arrive. Paki suspected they were standing outside the cathedral's doors, just waiting for the bell. Rena came and sat on Paki's other side while Bear and his brother sat behind them. Gahrit arrived soon after. He nodded to Paki, then took an unobtrusive seat towards the back. Paki was surprised to see him there, but was glad he'd come. Even though he and Gahrit hadn't spoken often, Paki held a great deal of respect for the young man's mind and had heard some of the debates he'd gotten into with Meda. A few of their discussions had gone on for days and Gahrit had proven to be at least as knowledgeable about past and current politics as she was.
The cathedral quickly filled and Paki was speechless that so man
y had come. He would have liked to keep his hands under his knees, but Rena insisted on holding one. He squeezed her fingers, hoping his hands weren't shaking as badly as he thought they were.
Many of the apprentices were there, as were several of the students. There were even quite a few of the Mo'ani warriors, both newly cloaked, and those who were Kile and Adie's age or older. Paki smiled to himself when Aralt and Liyol slipped in towards the end. He and Aralt had never gotten to face each other in the training yard before Aralt earned his cloak. As a Mo'ani, Aralt was prohibited from fighting an apprentice. They had developed a respect for each other over the last couple of years, and Paki wondered if it would strengthen it or destroy it were they ever to face each other in the yard.
When the cathedral was filled beyond its capacity, the doors were closed and a silence fell over the crowd. There was no mistaking the sense of camaraderie in the room. Each person there was willing to accept Paki as one of the Mo'ani, regardless of the doubts Paki himself felt. He still didn't feel he was ready, but had to trust Mo'ani and Kile.
"Why are there so many of them?" Paki asked Adie, his nerves once again threatening to take control of him.
"I don't know," Adie admitted. "Unless it's because word's spread that you're the last apprentice of my grandfather's."
"Paki?" Pater Isak motioned for Paki to come up beside him and Kile.
Paki stood and stepped onto the dais, moving slowly so his legs wouldn't give out from under him. He caught a glimpse of Rena's smile as Isak guided him toward the altar.
There, on the bench behind the altar, lay his folded cloak. The gold embroidery came alive as it caught the flickering light of the torches along the walls.
Paki felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to look at Kile.
"Well done, lad," Kile said quietly. Paki couldn't mistake the look of pride in Kile's eyes and was surprised when his nerves calmed down considerably. "Kneel on the bench," Kile instructed. Paki did so, kneeling beside the cloak. He knew Kile made the request because Paki was taller than him and it would be easier for Kile to reach his shoulders.
Pater Isak reached forward to pick up the cloak. Laying it on the silk-covered altar, he paused, his hand resting on the dyed wool.
