Kings of the North - Elizabeth Moon [41]
“There is a thief in Vérella. Well, he says he’s not a thief—”
“Paks mentioned a thief helping her after—”
“When I sent word that I wanted more of her story, he came to one of the granges and asked to speak to the Marshal. His version has been written down, but it did not prepare me for that circle on her brow.”
“I will miss her when you take her away,” Dorrin said, “but I know she must follow the gods’ call. I do wish I had her touch with children. I have no idea how to be a proper aunt, let alone parent. I brought that tutor from Vérella, as you know, but—what now?”
“You were a child; you must remember—”
“Nothing good,” Dorrin said. “I told you. I do not know how it is possible to have a childhood free of fear and evil. That’s what I want for them, but if there is more …” She shook her head.
“I find it amusing—no, ridiculous—that I, leading a Fellowship which did its best to rid the world of nobles like you and households like this—should be asked for advice by one. And yet, before I was the Marshal-General, I managed a grange, and then a group of granges, as High Marshal. Though I never wanted children of my own, I loved the children of my grange.”
Dorrin glanced at her and saw an expression she associated more with mothers than warriors. “So—do you have advice?”
“Think far ahead, Dorrin. What do you want for them when they’re grown? Surround them with people who are that—the kind of adults you want them to be. Children are such mimics … if they see honesty and fair dealing and kindness, they will copy that.”
“Paks has been here four or five tendays—”
“And you saw how they were when you arrived. Was that a big change?”
“Yes,” Dorrin said, thinking back. “They were improving, I think, before that, but not this exuberant.”
“Do they have chores, or do the servants do all for them? Peasants, you know, teach their children to work.”
“I don’t think they do,” Dorrin said. “I would have to ask the nursemaids.”
“Well, those above seven winters should, in my opinion. We have children in the grange do simple things—things they can see are useful. We think it’s good for them, as long as they’re not overworked and underfed.” They rode on a little ways before the Marshal-General spoke again. “And I know you will want them taught skills of arms, but do not value those over the skills of peace, or make everything a competition.”
“That I understand,” Dorrin said.
“Do any of them have mage-power like yours?”
“Not that I know of,” Dorrin said. “But beyond looking for those who had invaded others, I haven’t looked for it.”
“You must. Like any talent, it must be trained for the right reasons, in the right ways.”
When they got back to the house, they found Paks and the squires at weapons practice, surrounded at a safe distance by fascinated children. Dorrin and the Marshal-General joined them, hot as it was. They had not yet crossed blades; Paks waved the others away to give them room. Dorrin stretched first, as did the Marshal-General, and then suggested they use practice blades.
They began slowly, with the usual drill, speeding up as each found the other able. They were well matched in height and reach, but Dorrin’s years of battle experience soon told, and she made two quick touches with the blunted practice blade.
“Too much sitting; not enough fighting,” Arianya said, breathing hard. “I should spar with you again.”
“Every day, if you like,” Dorrin said, feeling pleased with herself. Sweat rolled down her back, tickling under her clothes. “But perhaps in the morning or late evening. It’s a bit warm.”
The Marshal-General laughed; her own face was sweat-streaked. “Next time with hauks, if you have them.”
“I’m sure we do, somewhere,” Dorrin said. “Or sticks, if nothing else. And I’m not as practiced with them.”
Two days later, the Marshal-General and Paks rode away; the children had cried when they knew Paks was going. Dorrin looked at her squires. They had