Summer Storm

Chapter 10

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Falen trotted along at her father’s side as they strode through the corridors of the palace. She wanted to ask him a whole host of questions but couldn’t seem able to find the words and he made no effort at conversation. They reached the open double doors into the audience hall. The guards saluted and announced the king.

Unruffled and every inch the king, her father strode regally into the chamber. Falen did her best to emulate his poise, even though she was now acutely aware that she was still wearing her scruffy trousers and her hair resembled a bird’s nest.

Well-dressed figures turned to regard Falen and her father as they made their procession down the hall. Lord Baylan Sigard and his son sat on chairs at the front. The king strode up the three steps and took his seat on the throne.

Falen took the seat reserved for her next to Lord Malwyn. As she sat Malwyn raised an eyebrow and his eyes roved up and down, taking in her un-brushed hair and lack of proper attire. Falen stared dead ahead, ignoring him completely.

The Lord Keeper rose from his seat and took his position in front of the throne. In a strident voice, belying his great age, he said, “Your Majesty, Your Highness, high lords and ladies of Variss. By the will of the Great Warrior and the compassion of The Mother, we are gathered for a most prestigious ceremony…”

Falen’s mind wandered. She began running over her stormglass plans. Tomorrow she would take her plans to the glassblower and get them to run her up a prototype. Then she would go to the library and dig out information on quicksilver and how to obtain it.

Her eyes came to rest on her father. He had sat back in the throne, almost slumped against the polished oak. One hand rested on the throne’s arm and his fingers were drumming on the wood. His eyes had an unfocused look and kept continually moving over the crowd as though looking for something. Nobody else seemed to have noticed, fixed as they were on the Lord Keeper’s droning speech.

Finally, the Lord Keeper fell silent and turned expectantly towards the king. He was staring out of the window and there was a moment of heavy silence before he seemed to realize all eyes had fallen on him.

He snapped to attention and bellowed, “Who claims to be a warrior of Variss?”

Lord Malwyn surged to his feet. “I, Lord Malwyn Sigard, do so claim.”

“Who judges this warrior worthy?”

Lord Baylan stood. “I so judge him worthy.”

“By what deeds do you judge him so?”

Now there followed the endless recitals of Lord Malwyn’s prowess in battle. Although considering Variss had been at peace for decades, Falen wondered how he could have achieved said prowess. Whacking dummies on the practice court or disarming a squire too terrified to put up a fight hardly counted, in Falen’s opinion.

At last, the list of Lord Malwyn’s accomplishments stuttered to a halt. The king stood and made a great show of staring down at Lord Malwyn, as though weighing up everything he had heard before he made his decision. Then he nodded.

“Lord Malwyn Sigard. You are indeed a worthy warrior of Variss.”

He took the ceremonial sword from the Lord Keeper and touched the flat of the blade to each of Lord Malwyn’s shoulders.

“Arise, Sir Malwyn, knight and true warrior of Variss.”

Malwyn rose and turned to take the applause of the crowd. Falen dutifully joined in although her clapping was somewhat slow and lacking in enthusiasm.

“Excellent!” announced the king, rubbing his hands together. “I’ll see you all at the feast tonight!”

And with that he descended the dais and strode from the hall, leaving the onlookers gaping after him. Falen sat upright in her chair. What was he doing? What about the speeches? The congratulations to the newly knighted and his father?

Low mutterings broke out as everyone, like her, began trying to figure out exactly where her father had gone. Lord Baylan was staring after him, a tiny vein throbbing in his temple. If the situation wasn’t salvaged, this could turn out very poorly indeed.

Cursing under her breath, Falen stood, walked to the top of the dais and turned to face the crowd. She smiled even though inside her stomach was churning.

“High lords and ladies of Variss. My father begs your indulgence. He has been suffering with an illness today that has kept him from performing his most treasured duties. He begs your forgiveness and promises to see you at the feast tonight. He has left this afternoon’s ceremonies in my hands.”

She grabbed a glass of wine from a nearby servant and raised it high. “A toast. A toast to Lord Malwyn, newly appointed knight of Variss!”

As the others followed her lead, and the angry muttering died away, Falen felt a tiny sliver of relief. Mostly, though, she felt annoyed. How dare her father leave her in this predicament? But one thing was sure: if he ever dared lecture her about her responsibilities again, she would throttle him!

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