"Steady isn't the problem just now," Kel told Peachblossom. "Clean is the problem."

Raoul waited for her at the end of the field. "I haven't seen you do that in a while," he remarked cheerfully.

"I thought I was getting better," she grumbled. She hated to lose.

Raoul grinned. "The day you can best Wyldon is the day they put up a statue to you in front of the palace. He's strong, he's fast, he's got powerful horses, and he always knows exactly where to hit," he said. "The last fall I got from any man was from him, ten years ago."

"You've beaten him since?" Kel asked, thinking he might share his secret.

"Mithros, no - I just don't joust with him anymore. I have my pride," Raoul said.

thirteen.

THE IRON DOOR.

Three days before Midwinter's start, the progress returned to the palace. Prince Roald was scheduled to take his Ordeal over the holiday; his parents wanted to be on hand.

Kel visited the Chapel of the Ordeal as soon as she'd unpacked Raoul's gear. No one had entered it to clean for the Midwinter rites yet. A film of dust lay everywhere.

She went directly to the door, determined to do this and get it over with. She had no idea what drove her to keep testing herself against the Chamber, only that she had to do it.

Gingerly she brushed a finger over the cold, dark surface. No dust, she realized. Dust probably doesn't have the nerve to settle here. She wiped her hands on her breeches, bracing herself to put her hands on the iron.

It was a tilting accident, or rather, a joust she had lost, that had crippled her for good. She remembered that loss often as she struggled to learn to walk with a crutch. Her shoulder, broken in the same joust, healed sloppily.

She never got a satisfactory answer as to how a novice healer who specialized in childbirth would be the only one available for a squire who'd taken lances in a shoulder and a hip. Now Kel lived with a shoulder that was so much lumpy meat, and a leg that was too weak to take her weight.

She was limping down a village street with a basket on her back when she heard shouting. Men, armed and mounted on horses, galloped down the street, coming straight at her. One leaned down, longsword in hand. "We don't need no cripples, dearie!" he cried as she fought to shed the basket. Her bad leg collapsed; she toppled as the man's sword bit deep into her good shoulder. She lay on her side in the dust, blood pooling under her, unable to move or close her eyes.

Armed men killed two small children, then grabbed their mother and a teenaged girl and slung them over their saddles. A local man came out waving a rusted old broadaxe. He was shot through the throat by a raider bowman. The temple was on fire: she heard the screams of those trapped inside. No matter how hard she struggled, she couldn't get up. She couldn't put a stop to it. She was helpless and dying in some dusty street.

When the door freed her, she raced outside the chapel. She reached a small, snow-covered garden just in time, and threw up till she had nothing more in her belly.

Lies, she told herself grimly. All lies, to make me lose my nerve. And I won't. I won't ever lose my nerve.

Kel scrubbed her face with snow, ate a handful to clean her mouth, and shoved more over her mess.

Then slowly, holding her shoulder and limping, she walked to her rooms.

Cleon's was the first name drawn of the squires who faced the Ordeal. He would take the ritual bath at sunset on the first night of Midwinter, with two knights there to instruct him in the laws of chivalry. Next would come his solitary vigil in the chapel throughout the night with only his thoughts for company. At dawn he would enter the Chamber. Though he didn't mention Cleon, Raoul gave Kel the first day of the holiday to herself.

That morning she put on a pale pink shift, pink wool stockings, and a fine wool gown in a delicate brown Lalasa called "fawn". Over her clothes she wore a hooded wine-colored coat with the look of a kimono. Lalasa had a.s.sured her it was the newest fashion. Kel chose dress boots to walk in. Ladies wore wooden pattens outdoors in winter, to lift their feet clear of the slush, but whenever Kel put them on, she turned an ankle. Boots were safer.

Seeing herself in the mirror, Kel thought she'd made herself into the girl she would have been had she not tried for her shield. The feeling was odd, more good than bad. Maybe I'm the same whatever I wear, she thought. It's just easier to fight in breeches.

She saw Cleon before he saw her. He stood at the foot of King Ja.s.son's statue, where the Palace Way met Gold Street. He missed her as he scanned the crowds coming down from the palace. Kel slid back her hood and smiled when he finally looked at her.

"A dress?" he asked, grinning. Kel opened her coat. "You look beautiful," he said, taking her hand.

"It's not me, silly, it's the gown," Kel told him. "Lalasa can make anyone look good."

Cleon pulled her into a nook in the base of the statue and kissed her warmly. "It if you, silly." He kissed her again, then held her tight. "I love tall women. Pearl of squires, have I mentioned how lovely it is not to have to bend in two to kiss you?"

"Only a hundred times," she replied. They let go of each other reluctantly. Cleon looked to see if anyone they knew was about. Finding no one, he signaled "all safe." Kel walked out to join him, covering her hair again.

They had lunch at a quiet eating house, where they could hold hands as they talked. Then they visited Raven Armory to covet the displayed weapons. "One of those swords would cost Mother a year's income," Cleon said. "But I can dream. Maybe I'll do something heroic, and the king will reward me. He does that, with knights who serve the Crown."

"I know," Kel replied. "Conal, Inness, and Anders all got purses for things they did." As Inness's squire Cleon knew her older brothers.

On they walked through the crowds. If Cleon was nervous about his Ordeal, he said nothing. His grip on her fingers got tighter, the stops in alleys and corners for kisses more frequent, as the afternoon wore on. When a shopkeeper placed lit torches on either side of his door, they knew their day was over. They found one last doorway. Wrapping their arms around each other, they kissed long and hard. Kel felt Cleon's heart beating against his ribs. She clung to him with all her strength as he clung back.

A street boy saw them and chanted obscene rhymes until they separated. Cleon shook his fist at the boy, then drew Kel's hood up.

"Who's instructing you in the bath?" she asked, straightening his stubborn red curls with fingers that shook. "Inness, and...?"

"It's a very great honor," Cleon told her, cupping her cheek in one large hand. "Lord Raoul."

Kel shook her head. "He didn't say a word."

"You know those big fellows - sneaky." He kissed her softly one more time. "Midwinter luck, Kel," he told her with a smile.

She kissed him. "Midwinter luck, Cleon."

"Y'goan t'start again?" The street boy was unimpressed by their farewell. Cleon sighed, flipped a coin to the boy for luck, and began the long walk back to the palace.

She lingered briefly to savor the warmth that filled her veins when he kissed her. Then, whistling, she took the street to the Temple District to say Midwinter prayers.

Even the monarchs were tired of entertaining. They chose not to hold large parties this year, though Kel would have liked to have something to do. She settled down to read the night away, but with Jump and the birds asleep, the silence was too big, the time between the Watchmen's calls too long. When Raoul came in after his part in Cleon's vigil was done, he and Kel played chess. Kel nearly had him boxed in when someone knocked.

It was Prince Roald, Princess Shinkokami, Inness of Mindelan, Buri, Neal, Yuki, Jerel of Nenan, and Owen. All had cakes, fruit, jugs of cider, and other things to eat and drink. Raoul and Kel welcomed them with relief.

They talked, played games, and traded songs, Tortallan for Yamani and K'miri. The night was well along by the time everyone left. Kel slept without dreaming.

Despite her late bedtime she woke before dawn, as usual. Together with the sparrows and Jump, Kel went to the Chapel of the Ordeal. Cleon was inside the Chamber by the time they arrived. They waited.

Kel bit down a feeling of panic at the sight of the iron door, suddenly afraid it would send her a vision. It can't reach to the back of the room, surely, she told herself as the sparrows huddled in her lap. She covered them with her hands and tried to ignore the Chamber door. Instead her mind presented her with a roll call of those who had failed their Ordeal. Kel squelched that fear, too. Counting the failures since the time her oldest brother became a page, she had less than a handful. Cleon would be fine.

A clank: Kel flinched. Was the door opening? It was. Inness hurried forward to grab Cleon as he tottered into the chapel. Kel bit her lip: Cleon was pale, sweating, and shaky. Inness asked him something - Cleon nodded, and searched the room with his eyes. When he saw Kel, he smiled wearily. He was all right, or as all right as anyone who had survived the Ordeal could be. "It's a hammer," her brother Anders had described it. Cleon looked pounded.

Kel smiled back. As others crowded around him, she stayed where she was. Her knees had gone all quivery. Too little sleep, she told herself, though she knew it was relief.

For the second night of Midwinter, Raoul decided he liked parties the size of the one they'd had the night before. At his request palace servants filled a table with food and drink. Invitations went to people throughout the palace, including Third Company. Most of the men stopped in to say h.e.l.lo. Flyn, Lerant, Qasim, and the squad leaders, including Dom, stayed. When Dom saw Kel, he smiled at her. Her stomach did flip-flops. The old worry stirred: was she hopelessly fickle? She liked Cleon, but she still melted like b.u.t.ter when Dom looked her way.

Cleon was knighted at sunset. Kel thought she would burst with pride in him. That pride filled her again when he walked into Raoul's chambers. Most of her feelings about Dom evaporated.

Everyone who had been there the night before returned, including Buri. She and Raoul talked frequently, leaning against the wall side by side. Kel had to smile, looking at them: Buri stood only as high as Raoul's shoulder. They made a comical pair.

When Cleon slipped into her dark room, Kel waited a moment, then announced a trip to get more fruit. She left Raoul's, then eased through her front door into her chambers. The connecting door was ajar: she saw Cleon by the light from the party. He caught her up in a warm, fierce hug, then kissed her as if he thought he might lose her. They were fumbling at one another's clothes, to what end a sane Kel couldn't guess, when Jump nudged the connecting door wider. The sudden increase in sound brought them to their senses. They kissed again, then separated, Cleon to return to the party, Kel to get fruit.

They went home at a respectable hour. Kel slept past dawn, exhausted by late nights and relief. A hand shook her rudely awake. It was Raoul's. The expression in his eyes told her the news was odd.

"Sir?" Kel asked, sitting up.

"It's that Vinson of Genlith." Lalasa stood beside Raoul, grim-faced, hands clenched under her embroidered ap.r.o.n. Her friend Tian stood just behind her. "His Ordeal was this morning."

"He left the Chamber and requested an audience, with Turomot present," Raoul told Kel. "Get dressed. When they want something after they come out, it's usually not good." He left her, closing his door.

"How did you know?" Kel asked Lalasa and Tian as she washed her face.

"We have rooms for the holiday in the royal wing," Lalasa said. "We are finishing dresses for the princesses and her majesty."

Kel looked into her former maid's eyes. "You wanted to be here in case something happened." Vinson had attacked Lalasa once, trying to kiss her, frightening her half to death. If Peg the sparrow hadn't fetched Kel, he might have done worse.

Lalasa nodded. "Oh, no," she said, dark eyes sharp, as Kel b.u.t.toned a shirt. "You've gone and added more muscle - that shirt doesn't set right."

"Worry about my clothes later," Kel said.

Lalasa held up a pair of breeches. "Look at these pockets. My lady, you are so hard on your clothes!"

"I've been hard them for years," retorted Kel, putting the breeches on. "It's not like I'll change now."

Lalasa fed the birds as Kel finished dressing. Once the animals were tended, the three young women and Jump left. As they pa.s.sed through the halls they were joined by more sleepy-looking people, n.o.bles and servants alike.

Soon after Kel, Tian, and Lalasa took places between Raoul and Kel's parents, the door behind the dais in the Great Throne Room opened for the king and queen, Prince Roald, and Princess Kalasin. At another time Kel would have been curious about the princess, who had spent the last four years with the countess at King's Reach, but not today. Instead Kel looked for Vinson's cronies. There was Joren with his knight-master, Paxton. Garvey of Runnerspring stood nearby with Jerel. Vinson's family - his parents, uncle, and grandfather - and his knight-master, Nualt of Rosemark, stood near the throne. All looked like proud folk trying to hide fear.

With the monarchs seated, the Lord Magistrate, Turomot of Wellam, took a place one step down from the thrones and nodded to the guards at the doors. A herald announced, "Vinson of Genlith, squire and - " He fell silent, astonished. Vinson ran past him to drop to his knees before the dais.

Vinson's eyes were red and swollen - had he been weeping? He trembled visibly, and he still wore his vigil clothes, though surely he'd had time to change. There were marks over his shoulders, as if someone had grabbed him so hard that he'd bled through the cloth. Shadow bruises played over his face and hands, signs of a beating, or beatings. He flinched or twitched as each new one appeared, as if they caused him pain.

"I have a confession." His voice cracked, as if he'd broken it with screams. "I must - confess. I confess." He shuddered. "Two years ago, there - there was trouble in the Lower City. Two - two slum wenches, no better than - No!" he cried, raising an arm as if he shielded himself from a blow. "No! I meant, two girls of the Lower City were attacked, beaten. A third was - must I say it? - a third was beaten and raped. I did it. Sir Nualt had no knowledge. None. He'd have denounced me if he'd known. I didn't - the women made me angry. They're teases, leading a man - " He screamed then and dropped to the floor, sobbing. One of his hands swelled, turned purple, shrank. A cut opened on his scalp, bled, then faded.

The king reached a hand toward Vinson and twisted his fingers. The blue fire of his magic settled over the weeping squire. It blazed fiercely white, then vanished. "He tells the truth," King Jonathan said grimly.

"Tell the Chamber I confessed," Vinson begged, raising his face. "Tell it I did what it wanted me to. Make it let me go! Make it stop hurting me!"

The queen's face was hard. "The Chamber is commanded by no one, Vinson of Genlith. It will release you as it chooses."

Duke Turomot came forward, the bra.s.s-shod foot of his tall walking stick rapping sharply on the stone floor. "Guards!" he called. "Arrest this man on the charges of a.s.sault and rape. Take him to the provost. I want a confession in full." He looked to Vinson's family. "Send your advocate," he ordered. "You may visit him once his confession is witnessed."

The men bowed, the lady curtsied - to him or to the monarchs, it was hard to say. Then they scurried after the guards who carried Vinson away.

Kel turned to Lalasa. The older girl's eyes burned with a fierce light; there was a triumphant smile on her lips.

She doesn't realize it, Kel thought, feeling sick. She hasn't seen that if we'd reported his attack on her, he might not have hurt those girls. She begged me not to - but I knew it wasn't right. And I kept my mouth shut anyway.

The royal family walked out. The audience was over.

Kel fled out a side exit and down less-used halls, making for her rooms. She didn't want to talk to anyone. Guilt made her stomach roil; pity for the women Vinson had hurt burned her eyes. Yamani discipline helped defeat tears, as it had done in all the time Kel had been at the palace. It did nothing to lessen her guilt.

Blind with emotion, Kel turned into the hall that ended at her quarters. She didn't realize someone waited in a niche until an arm shot out and grabbed her shoulder. She reacted instantly, ramming her captor into the wall. Her free hand shoved his head up and back; her fingers touched his eyes.

Joren of Stone Mountain waited. "Are you happy?" he snapped. "You got one of us somehow, you progressives. You can't even fight your own battles - "

Kel jerked back. "You'll be a wonderful father someday," she replied. "You're good at bedtime tales."

"Once I'm a knight, you'd best keep an eye behind you, b.i.t.c.h." His voice was a viper's hiss, dripping venom. "I'll be in your shadow, until one day you won't cast one ever again."

Kel refused to dignify that with an answer or even a reaction, gazing at him with level eyes until he cursed her and walked off. No doubt she would have to keep an eye on him once he was knighted, Kel thought, but it wasn't precisely a new idea for her since his trial.

She went into her room, shutting the door firmly. A maid sweeping the floor jumped and began to babble apologies. Kel shook her head and entered Raoul's rooms. Two maids were there, talking as they cleaned.

Kel tried other refuges. No matter where she went, knots of people discussed the scandal. At last she returned to her room, dressed warmly, grabbed a Yamani bow and quiver, and went out. Servants' paths and the main road to the stables were cleared, but the practice yards that served the pages and squires were two feet deep in snow. Kel stamped her way through to the archery yard and chose a target. She cleared a s.p.a.ce for herself, tamping down snow furiously, then stuffed her gloves into her quilted coat pockets. She strung the long Yamani bow with a grunt of effort and chose an arrow. Bitterly she began to shoot, concentrating on the half-remembered weapon, which she hadn't used for six years, and the target. Her arms and shoulders began to ache. This bow was drawn differently, the arrow held to the string in a thumb-and-forefinger pinch, not guided between her index and middle fingers. She had to pull the string farther back than with an Eastern bow, past her ear. It was hard work.

She improved. Arrow after arrow came closer to the center, as if she marched them in from the outer edges deliberately. Once she had emptied the quiver, she stalked down to the target, yanked the arrows free, and returned to start again. She didn't realize anyone was near until Buri said, "When one of my Riders said there was a crazy woman out here with a stripey bow, I thought he was pulling a fool's gambit on his old commander. I thought only our Yamani lilies shot those things."

"I used to," Kel replied.

"I don't see how they can ride without the horses tripping over the bow." Buri knocked snow off of the topmost rail of the fence and hoisted herself up. "When will you try our recurves? You won't want a longbow after that."

"Once we're on progress, maybe," Kel said. "I just wanted to get out."

"What's wrong?" asked the K'mir. "You walked out of that throne room as if you'd seen your death."

"Not exactly," Kel said. "I don't think I can say."

"Sure you can," Buri replied. "Leave out names if you like, though anyone who knows you can see it had to do with Lalasa. He attacked her, didn't he?"

Kel had not meant to say a word, but a basketful spilled out. "She didn't want me to report it. I should have." She tried to sight on the target, but she was so angry she couldn't steady the arrow. "She said it was her word against his. She said he'd say she led him on, then struggled when she saw me so I wouldn't blame her for dallying. I could have reported it at the G.o.ddess's temple, too, but I didn't. And he went after three more girls."

Buri sighed. Hopping down from the fence, she trudged over. "Let me try," she said. Kel gave her the bow and arrow. Her eyes watered in the cold; she wiped them with icy fingers. If she'd felt like being amused, the sight of Buri, who was not much taller than the bow, would have made Kel smile.

Buri held the arrow to the string properly. When she shot, she hit the center of the target. She unstrung the bow, coiled the string, and fetched the arrows from the target. "I've tried it, on progress," she said as she put away the arrows. "I still prefer my bow. Come on, let's get something warm to drink." She led Kel to the Rider mess, sat her at a table, then went to the servers' window. Kel had never come here; she looked around. Midwinter decorations were everywhere: holly and ivy, candles, branches of pine. Cl.u.s.ters of Riders sat at the other tables. There were only twenty or so, most still half asleep.

Buri returned with a tray. She set it down and poured hot cider into two cups. "To your health. Drink, you look frozen."

Kel scalded her tongue on the first sip, and blew on the stuff before she took a second. It set a fire warming her belly. She wasn't sure she deserved warmth.

"Were you not listening when they told you that a n.o.ble who kidnapped a maid only owed a fine?" Buri asked, dark eyes sharp on Kel's face. "The mistress of chambermaids used to call the palace cleaning women 's.l.u.ts.' Thayet made her stop, but it's coppers to a Midwinter bun that she still does, and that any maid who tells her majesty will lose her place." Buri put a Midwinter bun in front of Kel and began to eat one herself, piece by piece. "You're an idealist, Kel. I've noticed that about you. See, I try to beat idealism out of Rider trainees. It just ruins their ability to give a fair report. So long as there are n.o.bles and commoners, the wealthy and the poor, those with power will be heard, and those without ignored. That's the world."

"I don't accept that," Kel said grimly, shredding her bun without eating it.