Dralin (20 page)

“Keep your head up,” he commanded. She
snapped her chin up in the air, but her jaw was set firmly in an
attempt to control her emotions. Pelya’s least favorite thing in
the world was being reprimanded. Gilron put a gentle hand on her
shoulder. “You’re young, only eleven. Even at such a young age,
you’re better with hand-to-hand combat and the sword than many
adults, but there’s still a lot left to learn about life.”

He folded his arms and stared at her for a
minute. She looked up at him nervously, wondering what was going
through his mind. “I’m sorry I judged him. I didn’t mean to,
Sir.”

“No, no. It’s alright. He was being an oaf,”
Gilron said, dismissing the recruit with a wave of his hand, much
to the embarrassment of the man. “Here’s the thing, Pelya . . .” He
paused, considering his phrasing. “You need a little less combat
training and a little more life experience. Come with me.” The
weaponmaster wrapped his arm around her shoulders, took the sword
gently from her and tossed it to one of the recruits who
immediately fumbled and dropped it. “The rest of you get back to
work!” he boomed suddenly. The frightened trainees scurried in all
directions, not knowing what to do.

Gilron led Pelya out of the practice yard
back toward the barracks where she lived with her father and his
squad, a different barracks than when she was a baby. He didn’t say
anything right away because there were a lot of people around. In
addition to saluting the commander, they all said hi or gave a
little wave to Pelya, who smiled weakly in return. She had a sick
feeling in her stomach from worrying about what he was going to say
to her.

A few minutes later, they were at the
squad’s quarters. She now had her own small room in the back where
she slept and was able to keep the things she had been given. For a
young child, Pelya was pretty well off. Her aunts and uncles, as
she liked to call nearly everyone in the City Guard, kept giving
her little gifts even when it wasn’t her birthday. They also gave
her the occasional copper or even a silver piece now and then so
she could get a treat or something nice for herself. With thousands
of aunts and uncles, it translated into quite a bit of money over
time. She tried to refuse after a while, but everyone still kept
slipping her coins.

Pelya was one of the few people in the guard
who had a room with a lock. She unlocked the door and invited the
commander in. A few coppers had been shoved under the door and she
kicked them aside. “How much money do you have?” Gilron asked,
noticing the motion.

She shrugged and did a quick count of the
coins on the floor. “With those, I have sixty eight gold, nine
silver and four copper. Most of it’s in the City Guard’s bank, and
I converted the values like I learned in math classes.”

The commander stared at her incredulously.
“I don’t have that much money,” he whispered in awe, looking at the
coppers on the floor.

“I get money everyday,” she replied with
arms spread. “I’ve been telling everyone they don’t need to do
that, but they keep giving coins to me anyway. It’s usually
coppers, but there are so many of them that they add up.”

“You said you have it in the bank. Is it
under Frath’s name?” Gilron asked. He sat on one of the two chairs
by the small table in the room and gestured for her to sit in the
other. There was also a bed, nightstand, water basin and a sturdy
chest of drawers in the room. A carpet given to her by Lady Pallon
covered most of the floor and she even had two paintings and a
small tapestry on the walls.

“No, Daddy made them put it all under my
name. He said he makes enough to support us and the Guard takes
care of most basic expenses anyway.”

“I see,” he replied. For a minute, he just
stared at her. It made Pelya uncomfortable. The commander made
almost everyone uncomfortable because he had the ability to stare
into a person’s soul and take their measure. He rarely did it to
her though. She decided to stare back.

He chuckled. “You’re not at all intimidated
by me. I like that, lass. You weren’t intimidated as a baby and
you’re still not.” Then he sighed and drummed his fingers on the
table. “You’re my favorite person ever, Pelya. I don’t like anyone
as much as I like you. Thank you for being in my life.”

“Thank you, Uncle. You’re one of my favorite
people too,” she replied with a smile, realizing that he was
speaking to her on a personal level, not as an officer.

“You can practice for one hour per day, but
that’s it from now on. The rest of the time, you need to do
anything else,” he told her abruptly. “In fact, you don’t have to
do even that hour if you don’t want to.”

With her worst fears realized, Pelya’s heart
instantly sank into her stomach and bobbed there unhappily. Tears
flowed and she didn’t even care. “I don’t want to do anything else.
I like being in the Guard,” she said, her voice broken and
trembling. Pelya had nightmares that she would be kicked out of the
Guard someday and it sounded to her like the weaponmaster was doing
exactly that.

He held her hand with one of his and patted
it gently with the other. “This is not a punishment. You need to
learn a little bit more about the world outside.”

“But I’m not allowed outside the Guard
District!” she wailed. “I don’t want to go into the city. It’s evil
and everyone wants to kill everyone else and it’s terrible.” Pelya
almost never cried, but she was young and this was the worst news
she had ever had. All she could do was cry.

“What’s going on, Commander?” a voice asked.
It was Herman, one of her best uncles who had remained with Frath
and Pelya. She liked him because he always had a quick joke and
smile ready for her. Now he was concerned and possibly a little
angry.

Pelya rushed to him and held onto him while
crying uncontrollably. Her life was ending. She wasn’t allowed in
the Guard anymore. She was sure that was what was happening. All
her life Pelya had known that she would be a member of the Dralin
City Guard. “I have to leave!” she wailed at Herman.

“Leave?! What?!” Herman bared his teeth at
the weaponmaster. “What has she done? Tell me!”

“NO!” Gilron yelled. “I didn’t tell her she
had to leave. She misunderstood.” He buried his face in his palm as
the other five members of the squad who were in the barracks at
that moment rushed in, demanding to know what in the world had
happened.

It took a moment for things to calm down and
the commander was unable to stop one of the squad from rushing out
to find Frath. Gilron leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs
out in front of him until Frath got there. Pelya stopped crying
after a few minutes and finally sat back down. She took the
handkerchief one of the guards handed her to blow her nose. The
sniffles didn’t go away though.

A few minutes later, Frath came running in.
“Who says Pelya has to leave?! Over my dead body!” He saw Gilron.
“Commander! What’s going on?” Pelya immediately latched onto his
waist and he put an arm around her shoulders protectively.

“Relax, Corporal. I didn’t say she had to
leave,” he replied with a weary wave of his hand.

“That’s good, because she’s not!” Frath
insisted, supported loudly by the others crammed in the room. Pelya
began to feel hope.

“At attention!” Commander Coodmur yelled,
jumping up from the chair. It sounded like an avalanche of rocks
falling down a mountain. To an individual they snapped to attention
facing the commander and put fists on their hearts in the worldwide
gesture of a salute, even Pelya. “Are you listening?” he asked
testily, hands on hips.

“Yes Sir!” they yelled in unison.

“Good. First of all, Pelya does not have to
leave. Nobody has to leave. Is that clear?” he barked out
firmly.

“Yes Sir!”

“Good.” He folded his arms. Pelya could see
he was mad and she didn’t like it when the weaponmaster was mad at
her. Gilron ground his teeth side to side for a moment and then
said, “I told her that she needs to learn about life outside of the
Guard. All she knows
is
the City Guard. She has no empathy,
compassion or even a simple, basic understanding of anything
else.”

Frath broke attention and rested his hands
on her shoulders, gripping them gently in relief and reassurance.
Pelya realized she was still at attention and relaxed too. The
others gradually took their ease and considered the words.

“I told the lass that she’s allowed to
exercise for an hour per day. She may also continue her studies,
but that needs to be kept reasonable too, perhaps two hours a day
or so. After that, she needs to do something else,” Gilron
insisted. “Perhaps she can find someone to play with. She is a
child after all.”

“I am not!” Pelya protested vehemently, even
though she knew, technically, that she was.

The weaponmaster chuckled. “Yes, you are.”
He squatted down so they were eye level. Pelya was tall for her
age, so he didn’t have to bend too much. “Pelya, you’re more
mature, well read, stronger, and wiser than many adults, but you’re
still a child and you need to get a better understanding of . . .
things,” he finished lamely.

Pelya stared at him, not having a clue what
he was talking about and not liking it. She folded her arms and
glared at him. The second his expression firmed, Pelya knew it was
a battle she wasn’t going to win.

“Frath, you need to find something for the
girl to do. She can’t go into the city alone, but with all the
aunts and uncles she seems to have.” Gilron waggled his fingers at
the others packed shoulder to shoulder in the small room, “perhaps
someone can take her out for a day here and there,” he
suggested.

Pelya looked up over her shoulder at her
father, not really knowing how she felt about the suggestion. On
one hand, the thought of not drilling every day was terrifying. On
the other hand, having a lot of days out to go see the city seemed
like it might be fun.

Frath squeezed her shoulders and nodded.
“Alright. For today, I’ll take her to Lady Pallon’s. After that,
we’ll figure out some sort of schedule.”

Pelya hung her head. She briefly considered
throwing a tantrum, but they never really worked and she was trying
to act like an adult. It wasn’t going to keep her from pouting
though.

“Can we let me out now?” Gilron asked. The
squad members, who now included members of Frath’s unit bunched up
at the door, scattered out of the weaponmaster’s way. Frath shooed
the rest of them out and they left reluctantly, saying goodbye to
Pelya and patting her shoulders in sympathy.

When they were gone, Frath closed the door
and sat down on the chair the weaponmaster had vacated. Pelya
instantly climbed into his lap and curled up while he held her.
They sat there quietly for a few minutes before he patted her on
the back. “Alright. Let’s take you to Lady Pallon’s for the rest of
the day. We’ll go with my unit. They’re not too incompetent and
shouldn’t get us killed,” he told her with a wink. She winked back
sadly then grabbed a change of clothes as he left the room and shut
the door.

Lady Pallon liked Pelya to wear nice clothes
even if it wasn’t a dress. Blue was her favorite color, so she put
on the silk tunic with silver embroidery her father had bought for
her on her last birthday. Then she matched that with black leggings
that also had silver embroidery. She liked the look of silver and
steel much more than gold. Her silver-buckled belt and nice boots
were high-quality leather, and she kept a longknife in a sheath at
her side. No one would let her carry a sword, so it was the next
best thing, even though most people didn’t realize how deadly she
could be with it.

When she came out of the room, Frath stared
at her with his arms crossed. Pelya stopped and looked down.
Everything was in place and it was a good outfit. “What’s wrong,
Daddy?” she asked.

He looked at the waiting guardspeople and
then back at Pelya, scratching his head thoughtfully. “Come into
your room with me. I want to talk to you about something before we
go.”

Pelya was beginning to develop a powerful
distaste for adults talking to her, but she followed him obediently
and sat down as he shut the door. She decided not to say anything,
waiting for him to speak instead.

He sat down across from her. Frath looked
her in the eyes with his brilliantly faceted purple ones that she
loved so much, took a deep breath and asked, “Have you killed
anyone yet?”

The words were like ice down her spine.
There was a severity to the question she hadn’t heard from her
father before and she got the impression that her answer would be
extremely important. She answered, “No, Father. I haven’t. I
promise.”

“Has anyone spoken to you about it? What it
feels like?” he asked gravely.

She didn’t like the questions at all. “No.
Nobody’s spoken to me about it. Why are you asking me all this,
Daddy? I don’t understand.”

“I’m asking because you’re wearing such a
dangerous knife at your side.” He pointed at it and she looked
down, running her fingers over leather wrapped hilt and perfectly
balanced crossbar. “You know how to use it and you’ve been trained
in fighting.” He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Have
you considered that the time may come when you have to use it?
Perhaps not now, perhaps not until you’re older, but the time may
come.”

Pelya had drilled with practice swords and
studied about how to kill people, but had always taken it for
granted. It never occurred to her to consider it as anything but
part of the duty of a guardsperson. She scrunched up her face and
thought about it for a moment while Frath watched her. Try as she
would, Pelya couldn’t think of why it would be a problem, so she
shrugged.

“Listen carefully,” Frath said, getting her
full attention. “If you are attacked or find a need to defend
yourself, you already know to take your weapon and how to use it,
yes?”