Clandestine circle

“Yes, my lord,” Durne finally responded, although Linsha noted the tension in his jaw and around his mouth. She wondered if he had a headache from all the wine he’d drunk the night before. “Lord Bight,” he continued, “even though the construction of the aqueduct has slowed somewhat, it is still advancing. Do you wish us to keep guards posted there as well?”

The lord governor pursed his lips in thought for a moment, then answered, “We need the guards, but we need the water more. Elder Lutran tells me the city wells are going dry. Yes, keep the guards on the aqueduct as long as possible.” He stepped back from the table and crossed his arms. “Gentlemen, you are dismissed.”

The captains filed out in a group until only Commander Durne, the harbormaster, and Captain Omat, the officer of recruits, were left in the room with the lord governor.

Lord Bight beckoned to Linsha. When she approached and saluted, he sat in his chair and eyed her quietly, that oddly knowing flicker in his deep gold eyes.

“Squire Lynn,” Commander Durne’s voice cut through the stillness like a whip. “The officer of the watch told me you left the premises of the palace without permission.”

Linsha bowed her head. Even Lynn would know when to act contrite. “I apologize, sir. I thought I was supposed to help the healer, Mica, at the temple today, and I didn’t think about the rules.”

“Start thinking about them, squire. Memorize them. Drill them into your head until you live and breathe the structure of this company. It may save the governor’s life.”

“Yes, sir,” she answered firmly.

The commander turned to the officer of recruits. “Captain Omat, I want you to clearly explain the rules governing the lives of squires to this recruit and have her memorize them while she polishes armor in the training hall. Tonight she may stand watch in the observation towers.”

Captain Omat saluted briskly. Linsha silently groaned.

Lord Bight leaned forward in his chair. “Before you go, squire, did you and Mica find anything useful in the books?”

“Just hints, your Excellency. Some herbal remedies he wanted to try. A few hints about similar illnesses. Mica is still looking.” She saw his gaze search for the gold chain around her neck and knew he was making sure she still wore — the scale. Since she had carefully hidden it under her linen shirt where it could not be seen, she caught his eye and dropped her chin in a single nod. He understood.

Captain Omat escorted her from the office and followed his orders to the letter. He took her to the training hall in plain view of many of the guards, placed her in an obvious position, and gave her a stack of breastplates to polish. For an hour, while she rubbed polish into the steel and buffed it to a silvery sheen, he read her the rules and regulations and made her memorize them. Guards in the hall would come by and order her to recite a rule or offer criticism on her work, but while this happened frequently, Linsha sensed no maliciousness in their attention, only humor and the shared knowledge that they had all been there before. Linsha didn’t mind. It was all part of the experience and a small price to pay for the information she had gained that morning.

The captain left her after an hour with orders to continue until the evening meal; after her dinner, she was to report to the Officer of the Watch-properly this time-for her sentry assignment.

Linsha returned an armload of polished armor to the armory. When she came back with more, Shanron was sitting on a stool waiting for her, her long face downcast, her arm in a sling.

“I didn’t pull my shield up fast enough,” Shanron said when she noticed the look of concern on Linsha’s face. “Thankfully, Mica came by late last night to set it.” She hefted her arm a bit and grinned ruefully. “It still aches. How’s your shoulder? I heard you had a run-in with some looters.”

“I didn’t move fast enough either. In fact, the weapons master was just here telling me exactly what I did wrong. I let him get too close.”

Shanron crooked a smile. “Who? The weapons master or the looter?”

“Both,” Linsha laughed.

They chatted for a time about the guards and polishing armor, about Shanron’s home and the character of cats.

“Have you seen a large orange tomcat in the barn with the ship’s cat?” Linsha asked at one point.

“Not one like that,” Shanron said. “There are a few gray tabbies who hang around the feed room and a black who rules the aisles, but no orange tomcat. Why?”

“I’ve seen one twice now. At night.”

“Maybe the ship’s cat is in heat.”

“I don’t think so. He stays with me.”

“I can’t help you.” Shanron lapsed into silence and stared moodily across the room.

Still bent over her polishing, Linsha lifted her eyes to watch her friend worriedly. Shanron’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, and her nose was turning red. Her face seemed paler than normal. “Is something wrong?” Linsha asked in a voice just above a whisper.