Dralin (19 page)

“I don’t have to wear dresses or anything,
do I, Daddy?” Pelya asked, scrunching her face in disgust at the
idea. They had been walking quietly awhile and she spent her time
looking at everything. When they reached the Merchant District
where Lady Pallon’s estate was, people wearing suits and fine
dresses became more common. Pelya was staring at a couple of girls
in frilly dresses who had stuck their tongues out at her.

“It’d be nice to see you in a dress every
now and then,” Frath suggested. At his daughter’s look of horror,
he chuckled and held up his free hand. “Alright, alright. I won’t
insist. I’m just saying . . .”

Pelya chewed on her lower lip and stared at
another girl wearing a dress. That one looked sad and didn’t even
notice them. “I’ll think about it, Daddy, but not so many frills
and I don’t really want to,” she finally said somberly.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Frath replied,
trying to restrain a grin. His amusement went away a moment later
when they passed a group of well-dressed women who turned their
backs. “That’s the girl being raised in the barracks of the City
Guard, the poor child,” one of the women whispered loudly. Frath
didn’t think they meant him to hear the words, but his hearing had
sharpened since the incident with Distra, in addition to his
improved eyesight.

“Disgraceful, subjecting the poor child to
that,” another one stated disapprovingly.

“Imagine her being allowed to play with
swords and having to listen to all of that vulgar language the
guards use,” a third said.

The first nodded. “The little girl will
probably become a terrible person. It’s really too bad she didn’t
die with her mother.” They all turned and looked at Frath and Pelya
in disgust.

It took all of Frath’s willpower not to
scream at the women for being so judgmental. They knew nothing of
him or how well everyone treated Pelya. His daughter’s life was
much better than that of most children in Dralin. It was better
than Sheela’s life had been.

“What’s wrong, Daddy?” Pelya asked. “A
minute ago, you were really mad. Now you look really sad and I
think you’re crying.”

Frath wiped away the renegade tear that had
snuck its way down his cheek. Sheela’s death still hurt badly and
the malicious words of the women had made him vulnerable. Still, he
forced a smile. “I’m alright. I was just remembering . . .”

“Mommy?” she asked with amazing
intuitiveness. “Do you think she would like me?” The question
pulled hard on Frath’s heart.

He stopped and squatted down to eye level.
“Your mother would love you and be so proud of you,” he told her
fiercely, trying to keep the tears that were welling in his eyes
from flowing over. “You are an amazing person, Pelya. I wish
so
much
that she was here to see you.”

“I miss her,” Pelya said, tears flowing from
her eyes. “I wish she didn’t die.” Frath picked her up in both arms
and carried her the rest of the way, not wanting to let her go.

He finally set her down at the gate. When
the squirrel came down the branch and asked, “Yeah, watcha want?”
she gasped and hid behind her father just as her mother had all
those years ago.

“Frath and Pelya Jornin to see Lady
Pallon.”

“Oh yeah, the lady is expecting you.” The
squirrel chattered at the gate, which opened in response just as
before.

“That was neat,” Pelya said, looking over
her shoulder at the squirrel that had disappeared into the tree.
She then tried to look at everything in the yard: the pond, the
willows and rosebushes that were blooming nicely in the spring air.
Her head turned back and forth like it was on a swivel. “I like it
here! There are lots of places to explore.”

“Yes there are. There are also a lot of
places to get into trouble,” he admonished. “I expect you to stay
out of them.” He knew in his heart that she wouldn’t, but had to
say it anyway.

Lady Pallon opened the door before he even
had a chance to knock. “There you are. You’re late,” she scolded
him. Then she turned to Pelya. “Well, you don’t look too bad for a
little child. Show me a curtsy then.”

Pelya frowned at the words, but did as she
was told.

“Well, that’s very nice except for the fact
that you’re not wearing a dress. Do you even own a dress, child? Or
is your father raising you to be a barbarian?”

Frath just sighed, but Pelya narrowed her
eyes and responded defiantly. “I own two dresses. They were gifts.
And Daddy is raising me the best he can. I’ll thank you not to
speak ill of him.”

Lady Pallon raised an eyebrow and looked at
the girl with admiration. “Well, well. You have some fire in you. I
like that. Plus you stand up for your family. You’ll do just fine.”
She stepped aside and motioned for them to enter. “Come in. Ebudae
is eagerly awaiting you. You won’t be able to notice her excitement
though because she’s the gloomiest little girl you’d ever want to
meet.”

Frath was suddenly even more grateful he
hadn’t left Pelya in her care. He still liked Lady Pallon, but the
woman’s attitude toward children was appalling. They followed her
out to the conservatory, which was still Frath’s favorite place in
the manor.

“Here we are. We have tea and cake for
everyone.” She gestured grandly at a table that had been set with a
lace tablecloth, fine dishes, silverware and teacups, in addition
to plates for the cake that was sitting in the middle. “Ebudae, do
say hello to our guests.”

A brown-haired girl with pink eyes the color
of her grandmother’s was sitting with her arms folded in a chair.
She wore a frilly pink dress with white ruffles and looked
miserable in it. “Hello,” she said to them in sullen tones. It was
clear that she wasn’t thrilled with company, or her dress, or . . .
anything really.

“Hello,” Pelya said in return, frowning at
the girl as though trying to understand what was wrong with
her.

Frath had met her a few times and was used
to the melancholy attitude. “Hello, Ebudae. It’s good to see you
again.” He actually liked the young lady and was always pleasant to
her, figuring she needed some kind of smiling face since Lady
Pallon never let her out of the estate.

“Pelya dear, why don’t you sit in the chair
next to Ebudae,” Lady Pallon suggested. “Mary, give them each a
slice of cake and cup of tea.” She then sat down in the chair Frath
held for her while Mary served everyone. Frath sat next to her.
“How are you, my friend?” she asked him.

“I’m well,” he answered sincerely. “I like
my position training recruits, my sergeant is a good man, I respect
Commander Coodmur more than anyone I’ve ever met, and Pelya is
doing well.”

“That’s wonderful. Gorman is your sergeant’s
name, right?” she asked, sipping her tea. Pelya and Ebudae were
both sipping theirs while staring at each other suspiciously.

Frath shook his head. “Master Sergeant
Gorman works directly with the commander. Sergeant Yengin is my
squad sergeant. She’s quick with a sword and with a smile. It’s
been fun.”

“You have to start coming more often, my
friend,” Lady Pallon insisted. “Once or twice a year simply isn’t
enough.”

“Alright. I will,” Frath agreed. He took a
large mouthful of the delicious cake and watched the two girls for
a minute. Neither was saying anything, nor did they look as though
they had any desire to do so. Lady Pallon discussed boring details
about the way wizards were running the city. Frath enjoyed it,
relaxing in the comfortable atmosphere and breathing the aroma of
plants and flowers while sipping the excellent tea.

When everyone had eaten their cake, Frath
asked, “Pelya, would you like to see where your mother’s ashes were
scattered?” Pelya had asked recently about her mother’s death and
how the body had been handled. Frath hadn’t known the proper way to
answer, so he had just told her the truth about everything. When he
was done, she nodded and gave him a hug before going back to
playing.

She didn’t answer right away, but looked
thoughtful. Frath noticed that Ebudae was sitting up straighter,
waiting for the answer. Finally, Pelya nodded. “Yes, Daddy. I’d
like that very much.”

He stood and held Lady Pallon’s chair again
while she stood. The girls followed the adults into the backyard.
Glancing over his shoulder, Frath noticed Pelya looking at the few
buildings in the yard as well as all the secret areas the willows
seemed to hide. In addition to the ponds, various old statues lent
it a creepy feel.

They reached the fountain and rosebushes,
which were just the same as when Frath had visited a week after the
ceremony. The water still sparkled in the sunlight and the roses
were dark purple, growing with no regard to anything around them.
He would come there sometimes and sit on the edge of the fountain
for hours just thinking of Sheela.

“The flowers are beautiful, like mother’s
ring, only purple instead of gold,” Pelya stated intuitively. She
stood next to one bush and sniffed. Frath knew they had an aroma a
bit sharper and earthier than most rosebushes. He had come to enjoy
the scent where others might not.

“They also have three times as many thorns
as normal roses and they’re extremely sharp,” Ebudae said, coming
up next to her. She stuck a finger out and tapped it against one of
the thorns. Then she held it up so Pelya could see the blood
running down her finger. The fact that she hadn’t flinched or
reacted to the pain at all worried Frath a great deal.

Pelya looked at the blood for a second then
reached out and tapped one of the thorns too. “Ow,” she yelped
instinctively before looking at the blood on her finger.

“Pelya!” Frath reached his hand out too late
to do anything.

Ebudae stuck her finger in her mouth and
sucked on the blood while watching her new friend. Pelya looked at
her, looked at her finger, and then back at her before shrugging
and sticking her own finger in her mouth.

Frath closed his eyes and rubbed his
temples. Lady Pallon put a hand on his shoulder. “See, I told you
they’d be perfect for each other.”

Chapter
12

“By the Gods, man, how could you let an
eleven-year-old girl beat you so easily?” Commander Gilron Coodmur
asked the stunned recruit who was sitting on his behind in the hard
dirt. The warmth of a late spring day caused sweat to bead on their
foreheads. They were in a practice yard for new recruits and the
young man being spoken to had just joined the Guard.

Gilron was doing inspections and had come
over to see how the lanky girl was doing. Pelya had been helping
Sergeant Bava test and train young men and women who were in basic
training. The man on the ground was a cocky sort of a person who
thought he was better than anyone else, so Bava had placed him
against Pelya to teach him a lesson in humility.

Now all the new trainees in their practice
leathers were standing around to listen. Pelya shook her head as
she stood over the man with one hand on her hip and a look of
contempt on her face. The flat blade of the wooden sword was
resting on her right shoulder. The commander studied her for a
minute. “Why are you staring at him in such a manner, lass?”

It startled Pelya and she stood straight,
resting the tip of the sword on the ground in front of her.
Commander Coodmur was someone she respected and loved. The thought
that he might be upset with her sent a jolt of panic through her
nerves. Ignoring the man’s groaning, she answered, “He did
terribly, Sir. His form was bad, his balance was nonexistent, and
he was overconfident. It was almost as though he’s never held a
sword before.” Her sapphire eyes flashed in disdain as she shook
her head, flinging her ponytail to the side. Unlike most of the
guards who kept their hair to the shoulders, she let hers grow to
the middle of the back.

“Well now, that’s probably because he
hasn’t
held a sword before.” Mirth danced behind the
sternness in Gilron’s eyes. Shock crossed her lightly tanned face
while she considered the concept. “Few people are raised with a
sword in their hands like you. Fewer still have your talent and . .
. umm . . .
intensity,
shall we say?” His chuckling grew
into a rumbling laugh. A few other recruits joined in
half-heartedly, not sure whether or not they were allowed to
laugh.

Pelya’s face reddened because of the
laughter aimed at her, but she considered his words seriously. The
thought that anyone would grow up without learning how to use a
sword seemed foreign to her. Ever since she could remember, a sword
had been part of her life. Theoretically, she knew that other
people in the world lived in nice houses and never used one, but it
didn’t seem real to her.

The commander had stopped laughing and was
helping the man back to his feet. Gilron looked closely at Pelya.
“I’m serious about the words, but you don’t have to take it so
gravely, lass.”

She took all things regarding weaponry very
seriously. Looking at the commander, she saw the humor dancing
across his eyes. “Are you jesting me?” she asked suspiciously. “Has
he truly never used a sword before?”

“Nay, lass. You have an amazing amount of
skill, talent and knowledge, but you’re very naïve about the world.
Most of these recruits come here without experience. As you know,
it’s our job to train them so they can survive within the guard.”
He stood tall and his tone became serious, taking his familiar air
of command. “Everybody’s path in life is different. You and your
father hate it when people say that you are disadvantaged for being
raised in the Guard. Why would you judge someone else’s abilities?”
His manner changed to disappointment. “You are an amazing person,
but you’re still a child and I’ll not have you looking down your
nose on anyone. Is that clear, Pelya?”

She felt her face heat in mortification and
lowered her head. “Yes Sir.”