“The nation would welcome it.”
It sounded like more than one person took in a surprised breath. Whispers of ‘The High Lady’ came from many of the people sitting in nearby benches. They all rose to their feet.
Aeron’s recounting of the steps in the ceremony included mention that High Lady Hasana would be here, so why were these people surprised? Had they somehow not known of this?
The woman with a large smile who walked up the path from the south looked nothing like what he recalled from that night. His memories of events in the courtyard were a bit scattered—he’d been very worried about Quillan—but even so, she looked a great deal more . . . impressive, now. Hair done up in swirls and curls, and clothed in a very elaborate dress, High Lady Hasana made her way up the path with slow, deliberate steps.
When another stepped out from behind the High Lady and moved to walk at her right side, there were more gasps along with hushed exclamations and whispers of ‘Princess Jord!’
All those who’d risen from the benches dropped to a knee.
Chanté blinked and took a closer look at the young lady. Aeron had said something about a royal participating, but according to Quillan, royals no longer had anything to do with ruling or politics. He had said that they still retained some influence, however. Was that why all those people had shown obeisance like that?
“Are we supposed to do that, too?” Quillan, looking worried, had leaned close to whisper.
Chanté shook his head and whispered back. “I don’t think so. Aeron said we just stand here and say those lines when it is time.”
Quillan grunted.
Not quite a foot shorter than the High Lady, Princess Jord at least outdid her in fashion. While not quite as full as High Lady Hasana’s, the blue and white dress was nevertheless impressive with silver thread and filigree and several very sparkly, clear jewels at cuffs, shoulder, and hem. What had to be sapphires glittered in the princess’s hair. That hair, however, could not possibly be her own as it was even whiter than his. A wig, perhaps? Like the High Lady’s hair, the wig was arranged in a very complicated fashion. Princess Jord’s complexion, too, was paler than he thought possible, nearly as white as the wig. They were probably for ceremony, but whatever the case, the pale hair and makeup, along with the dress and sapphires, made the girl’s green eyes stand out.
As they drew near, Princess Jord glanced toward Gregor and Fillion and said something.
Chanté couldn’t quite make it out. Low ship?
Fillion’s face began doing strange things.
Chanté drew his brows together.
A quiet laugh came from the princess as she and the High Lady continued up the path. At their passing, those kneeling rose to their feet, and dragons on either side of the garden emitted a chirp and ducked their heads almost in a bow.
The two stopped before Councilor Fiske, just past Guildmaster Millinith and Aeron.
The robed man bowed to one and then the other. “High Lady Hasana. Y–Your Royal Highness.” He seemed stunned that they were here.
“Councilor Fiske.” High Lady Hasana returned a small head bob. “If it isn’t too much trouble, Her Royal Highness would like to conclude the award presentation with a little ceremony of her own.”
Chanté raised his brows. It was no wonder the others had all been surprised. They hadn’t known!
“O–Of course.” After an elaborate bow, the man stepped back and hurried to stand with those at a bench to the right of the fountain.
Dresses swirling around them like flowing water, Princess Jord and High Lady Hasana turned to face the dragonlinked and those standing amidst the flowers.
They took breaths and then both spoke together.
“From forest gloom, to desert glare.”
A few whispers broke out among the people standing nearby. One shocked whisper was a bit louder than the others. “The Chant of Knighthood?”
“From highest mount, to deepest sea.”
Chanté’s eyes had grown wide, though not because he recognized the ceremony. The Princess and High Lady spoke the words with tones that varied. Though not quite singing, it was still oddly beautiful.
“In all the world, across its breadth, there is no match, for thee.”
He blinked. That line was their cue!
All the dragonlinked raised their voices. “In all the world, across its breadth, there is no match, for me.”
In all the world, across its breadth, there is no match, for me.
When the dragons spoke, gasps came from all around.
Chanté felt inordinately happy about that for some reason, and it seemed High Lady Hasana and Princess Jord did, too.
Both smiling, they continued the chant.
“With shining blade, with scratching pen,
With heart steadfast, no thought to flee.”
Princess Jord held her arms wide, hands with palms up. Her gaze ran from the dragons on the right, to the lines of dragonlinked, and on to the dragons on the left.
“Into the world, I wouldst send thee, to render aid, to free.”
Chanté joined the others in the response. “In all the world, across its breadth, there is no match, for me.”
In all the world, across its breadth, there is no match, for me.
A surge of excitement drew Chanté’s gaze to Nantli. Are you having fun?
I am!
He stifled a laugh.
“Opponents strong, or mayhap many,
With crooked mouths, souls filled with gall.”
Princess Jord bowed her head.
“Athwart this duty, their like will stand. Wilt thou still answerest my call?”
Chanté was surprised when a hand took his. He smiled at Quillan and they added their voices to all those of the dragonlinked.
“In all the world, there is no other, more pleased to serve, than me.”
In all the world, there is no other, more pleased to serve, than me.
Princess Jord lifted her head and smiled.
“With thy words, which warm mine heart, our pledge is whole, it is complete.”
Princess Jord held out her hands.
“Go save the world, mine noble champion, bane of injustice, bane of deceit.”
Now it was time for the third and final line. Chanté added his voice to those of the others.
“In all the world, across its breadth, no wrong is safe, from me.”
In all the world, across its breadth, no wrong is safe, from me.
Princess Jord stepped forward and smiled. “With the conclusion of the chant, the ceremony has come to an end.”
All the dragons let out roars, startling several people.
Princess Jord and High Lady Hasana laughed and clapped. “Congratulations, new champions!”
The dragonlinked started cheering, and Quillan joined in.
Chanté wasn’t sure what to do—yelling seemed a bit much—so he just clapped and smiled at everyone’s exuberance.
“Traditionally,” Princess Jord said, voice raised a bit to be heard, “a newly knighted champion was provided a heritable parcel of land along with monies for food, horses, weapons, armor, and such. The land and monies were theirs as long as they or at least one of their descendants served the crown. Alas, the world has changed over the centuries. We royals no longer sit where once we did, and knights are all but forgotten. You can rest assured that I did not let that deter me.”
“A few days ago,” High Lady Hasana said, “Princess Jord approached me and inquired whether I’d heard tell of the Dragon Craft Guild. The guild and their deeds are of course known to me. They were instrumental in stopping the spread of the equine flu, and without Dragon Craft Guild assistance, certain investigations would have taken a great deal more time or been entirely impossible. Their nahual patrols around Caer Baronel and the southern guild branch inspired me to begin such across the nation, and their actions a few nights ago, which prompted this awards presentation today, no doubt saved this city untold lives and destruct
ion. I myself might not be alive tonight, if not for the guild’s efforts.”
“Precisely,” Princess Jord said. “Members of the Dragon Craft Guild, both human and dragon, have over and over again proven to be brave, principled persons more than worthy of knighthood. So, in addition to the honorary rank and title for all guild members present, the High Lady and I decided to deed a parcel of land to the guild itself as a gesture of our gratitude.”
“The land is a bit barren,” High Lady Hasana said, “situated as it is in the eastern portion of the great southern desert, but I’ve been told that it is quite picturesque. In the middle of the large parcel, there is a tall, graceful spire overlooking the stark, yet beautiful, terrain. And if the heat becomes too much, there are deep, cool caves beneath, where one can take respite.”
Polandra gasped and whispered to Liara.
Chanté glanced at the two. Why were they so excited?
“I have but one request, Guildmaster.” Princess Jord smiled at her. “Do not let your members rest on these laurels. They must continue to be inspirations to others and beacons of hope for those in need.”
“We will, Your Royal Highness,” Guildmaster Millinith said, head bowed.
“Well done, everyone.” High Lady Hasana smiled. “At your leisure, make your way inside for the party. Please, enjoy the food, the wine, and the music.”
She stepped closer to Guildmaster Millinith and began speaking with her and Princess Jord.
Whispered conversations began all around, and two people Chanté hadn’t noticed before moved near to the High Lady. Though dressed formally, they had the look of guards. Now he thought about it, they looked like those who had been with her that night in the theater courtyard.
Quillan let out a breath.
Chanté glanced at him. “What is it?”
“Princess Jord made it sound so grand, and yet so difficult. Inspirations to others? Beacons of hope?”
Chanté shrugged. “From the way she said it, we just need to continue doing what we have been, don’t we?”
Quillan chuckled. “I suppose.”
She looks very different.
He glanced at Nantli. Who?
Fox.
Chanté looked this way and that, but could not spot the freckled special investigator. Fox is here?
She is, but they keep calling her Princess Jord.
A short laugh burst from his mouth. He glanced over at the three still speaking. Fillion’s earlier expression made much more sense, now.
“What’s so funny?”
He glanced at Quillan, leaned in close, then looked back at the princess. He whispered, “Fox looks very different in makeup.”
“What?” Quillan looked at the three women. After a moment, he gasped and then chuckled. “In her chosen line of work, she probably has to keep who she really is hidden.”
Chanté grunted.
‘Fox’ seemed to be the young woman’s true self, now. But was her royal background something she had to hide, or was it something she wanted to hide? Mayhap, like him, it was both. Though, he did want to share knowledge of his past with certain people, or at the very least, with a certain someone.
He glanced at Quillan. Exactly how he should do so, however, wasn’t yet clear.
Terry and Korrie ran up to them, Renny and Hunter following behind.
“Can you believe it?” Terry nearly bounced on his toes in his excitement.
Chanté looked from him to Korrie. “Believe what?”
Eyes bright, she said, “We’re Knights of the Realm! Even the dragons!”
He could somehow hear the capital letters. “Knights of the Realm?” Is that what the ceremony had been for? Chanté glanced at Quillan and then back to her. “What are those?”
Korrie’s brows drew together. Her tone carried shock and disbelief. “You don’t know what a knight is?”
Quillan laughed, then reached his left hand over and ruffled Chanté’s hair.
Chanté twisted his lips to try to hide his smile. Why did he feel so happy when Quillan did that?
“You are definitely strange,” Quillan said. He put an arm over Chanté’s shoulders and pulled him close.
Chanté put an arm around Quillan. “Mayhap, instead of laughing at me, you could explain what a knight is?”
Quillan chuckled. “Fine, but I’m starved, so I’ll do so inside after we get something to eat.”
“Golden!” Terry ran up the path. “I’m starving, too!”
“Decorum, Terry!” Korrie hurried after him, eyeing the people making their way along. “You’re not a wild animal chasing down a meal,” she hissed.
“Save us seats!” Renny called to them.
“We should be fine,” Hunter said. “The Guildmaster mentioned that there were tables reserved for the guild.”
“There are,” Polandra said, nodding.
Liara took her hand. “Well, let’s go, then. I’m hungry, too.”
As he and his friends made their way up the path to the building, Chanté could almost feel the people’s gazes them. Glancing around at those eyeing them, he noted that most of the earlier expressions of near disdain had been replaced with curiosity and speculation. Was it because of the ceremony? What exactly was a knight?
Ahead, the Guildmaster, High Lady Hasana, and Princess Jord had just about reached the doors to the building when the princess laughed at something one of the others said.
She seemed to have made peace with her dual life, focusing on what she loved and only occasionally taking part in the other, as desired or needed. Perhaps something like that was the best solution, for now. His circumstances were a bit different, but if he put worry about his former godhood fully aside and just—
The doors were opened for the three women and beautiful music flowed out into the gardens. A string quartet was playing inside.
With the tremulous notes, a memory once again came to him, of people dancing to music like this, all taking steps together. A larger portion of his attention than typical had been drawn to that place to listen and watch. Perhaps because of that, he could recall all the movements the people had made. It had looked fun.
Chanté grunted. Perhaps Garathel’s instruction was best after all. “Quillan, would you dance with me?”
The machinist twitched a bit. “D–Dance? I’m not sure—”
“Ooo!” Liara glanced back at him. “I want to dance. I’ll dance with you if he doesn’t know how.”
“I know how to dance,” Quillan said, a little defensively. “I–I’ve just never actually danced with anyone, so I’m not sure how good I am.”
“Who cares?” Polandra smiled. “Like Korrie said earlier, forget about the others here at the party. Let’s go have some fun.”
“Exactly!” Liara nodded.
They were absolutely right. Chanté smiled and looked at Quillan. “Come on, let’s live a little.”
Quillan stared at him a moment, lips curved in a half smile. Then he chuckled and said, “Yes, let’s.”
Epilogue
Leday, Sedecy 11, 1875.
Morning.
Hasana stood in front of the holding cell, only a few feet from the metal bars. Morning light from the far window cast their thin shadows on the floor and on her. Koen was inside, sitting on the cot, dressed for the upcoming hearing, but looking as if he’d not slept.
She pursed her lips. How had things ended this way?
“Come to gloat?” he said. “Well, your lapdog may have won the case, by you can’t just execute a member of the peerage. So, what punishment do you think they’ll give me? Strip my lands and holdings again?”
Hasana drew her brows together. “Did you know that the motion in the High Council to strip you of your title ten years ago failed by just one vote?”
“I did. You must have been upset.”
“Hardly, I was one of those that voted against.”
He blinked.
“I’ve always been quite interested in family history, so I know what befel
l you as a child. I was too young at the time to have learned of it directly, but I read about it later. It was a terrible series of events.”
Jaw muscles bunching, he remained silent.
“The vote to take your possessions passed the High Council easily, almost unanimously. But when the motion to strip you of your lordship came up, I thought on what had happened to you in your youth. I don’t know what prompted the others to vote against, but I just couldn’t take that last thing from you.”
She chuckled. “If not for my compassion then, your plan couldn’t even have been birthed. Only a lady or lord can be raised to High Peer.”
He sneered at her. “So, how has it been having all this power while I struggled to raise myself back up? Is it all you’d hoped for?”
“Hoped for?” She frowned. “I never wanted this. In fact, I would have voted for you, taken in as I was like everyone else.”
He chuckled. “Sheep are easy to lead, I have learned. Just as my father was led to the slaughter.”
She crossed her arms. “I came here today to see if I could learn why you would do such terrible things. Why did you have those people murdered? Why were you willing to kill everyone in the theater? Was it really all to become High Peer? For merely that?” She shook her head. “But I’ll not get a clear answer from you, will I? You’re just a bitter man, supping on bitter memories. I almost feel sorry for you.”
“You needn’t worry, little girl. I’ll survive everything being taken from me just as I did before.”
“Ten years ago, the reason the High Council had to vote at all was that High Lord Holden had just passed away. If my father hadn’t died—” She took a breath to calm herself. “Well, there is a High Peer now, and the moment the jury returned a conviction yesterday, I stripped you of your lands, your business holdings, and your title.”
He stood, lips curved in a smile. “So what? You won’t be able to make it official before the sentencing hearings are complete. Such acts need to be announced before the High Council and recorded, and it will take you weeks, if not a month to get to Delcimaar to do so.”
Of Gods, Trees, and a Sapling: Dragonlinked Chronicles Volume 4 Page 107
