right from the start that morning. Kardeen, Parthet, and I left the throne room together while people continued to stare.
“I wish somebody had warned me what to expect in there,” I said when we were out in the corridor. “Remember, I’m a stranger here. I don’t know the right things to do and say.”
“I’m sorry, Highness.” Kardeen sounded like he meant it. “I keep forgetting.”
Lesh and a boy who said his name was Timon met us in the antechamber beyond the great hall. Timon looked to be about eight or nine years old. He said he was to be my page. The armorer and Kardeen’s clerk joined us a moment later. The armorer was carrying a real load.
“I’m supposed to wear all that?” I asked.
“Just the necessities, Your Highness,” the armorer said. He held up the mail shirt, small chain links attached to a heavy leather foundation. Timon and Lesh took off my pack and sword belt. The armorer draped the mail over my fatigue shirt and I gained a quick twenty pounds or more. When he tried to clap a steel-and-leather skullcap on me though, I rebelled.
“I have my own headgear,” I said. I whipped the Cubs cap from my back pocket and slipped it on.
“But …” Lesh started. I cut him short.
“No way! I’m not even real crazy about this steel straitjacket. The tin pot is out.” Lesh didn’t argue in front of the others, but he handed the helmet to Timon, who held on to it as if it were the Grail.
The shield was round and two feet in diameter. A wood core was sandwiched between layers of sheet metal and leather, with scores of rivets holding the whole thing together and adding their own measure of protection. In the center there was a raised boss with a six-inch spike protruding. That shield was meant as much for offense as defense. I slipped my arm through the one loop on the back and gripped the wooden handle. It was heavy, but it felt good.
“I hope I can hang this thing on the horse when I don’t need it,” I said. The armorer assured me that the saddle had provision for the shield.
“How about food?” I asked. “I don’t recall anyone mentioning food.”
“Taken care of, Highness,” Lesh said. “I’ve been on a campaign or two. I saw to it myself.”
“And here’s the map you wanted,” Kardeen said, taking a bulky scroll from his clerk. I untied the leather thong and unrolled the scroll, an eighteen-by-thirty-six-inch sheet of parchment. For a rush job, it looked damn good. Roads, towns, villages, castles, and streams were marked for all of Varay and the nearer portions of Dorthin and the Isthmus of Xayber; mountains in the south, sea and isthmus in the north. There was even a large forested area north of the route to Castle Thyme marked with the warning “Here there be dragons.” What more could I ask for?
“Admirable work,” I said, smiling at the clerk. He smiled back and bowed.
We went out to the horses. Walking in chain mail, with the shield and everything else, was something like wading through Jell-O. I’d have to shed some of the weight if I wanted to accomplish anything. Putting my pack in a saddlebag was a start. Hanging my shield from the skirt of the saddle was even better. I got light enough to mount without help.
The horses were a mixed lot. I had a decent-looking stallion the size of a Clydesdale. Lesh’s charger might have been the sire of mine. It looked old, but still fit. Timon’s pony looked like a runt even without comparing it to the big animals. And Parthet—well, someone had dug up an old swaybacked nag that looked as if it came from a Three Stooges short. Someone had a sick sense of humor, I thought—putting a hunchback on a sway-back.
“She’s a fine animal,” Parthet said as I was about to blow some steam. It was almost as if he had read my mind. “I’ve ridden Glory here before, lad. We’re comfortable with each other.
I still needed a moment to cool off. “Then I guess we’re ready,” I said. I hadn’t done any riding since
“I wish somebody had warned me what to expect in there,” I said when we were out in the corridor. “Remember, I’m a stranger here. I don’t know the right things to do and say.”
“I’m sorry, Highness.” Kardeen sounded like he meant it. “I keep forgetting.”
Lesh and a boy who said his name was Timon met us in the antechamber beyond the great hall. Timon looked to be about eight or nine years old. He said he was to be my page. The armorer and Kardeen’s clerk joined us a moment later. The armorer was carrying a real load.
“I’m supposed to wear all that?” I asked.
“Just the necessities, Your Highness,” the armorer said. He held up the mail shirt, small chain links attached to a heavy leather foundation. Timon and Lesh took off my pack and sword belt. The armorer draped the mail over my fatigue shirt and I gained a quick twenty pounds or more. When he tried to clap a steel-and-leather skullcap on me though, I rebelled.
“I have my own headgear,” I said. I whipped the Cubs cap from my back pocket and slipped it on.
“But …” Lesh started. I cut him short.
“No way! I’m not even real crazy about this steel straitjacket. The tin pot is out.” Lesh didn’t argue in front of the others, but he handed the helmet to Timon, who held on to it as if it were the Grail.
The shield was round and two feet in diameter. A wood core was sandwiched between layers of sheet metal and leather, with scores of rivets holding the whole thing together and adding their own measure of protection. In the center there was a raised boss with a six-inch spike protruding. That shield was meant as much for offense as defense. I slipped my arm through the one loop on the back and gripped the wooden handle. It was heavy, but it felt good.
“I hope I can hang this thing on the horse when I don’t need it,” I said. The armorer assured me that the saddle had provision for the shield.
“How about food?” I asked. “I don’t recall anyone mentioning food.”
“Taken care of, Highness,” Lesh said. “I’ve been on a campaign or two. I saw to it myself.”
“And here’s the map you wanted,” Kardeen said, taking a bulky scroll from his clerk. I untied the leather thong and unrolled the scroll, an eighteen-by-thirty-six-inch sheet of parchment. For a rush job, it looked damn good. Roads, towns, villages, castles, and streams were marked for all of Varay and the nearer portions of Dorthin and the Isthmus of Xayber; mountains in the south, sea and isthmus in the north. There was even a large forested area north of the route to Castle Thyme marked with the warning “Here there be dragons.” What more could I ask for?
“Admirable work,” I said, smiling at the clerk. He smiled back and bowed.
We went out to the horses. Walking in chain mail, with the shield and everything else, was something like wading through Jell-O. I’d have to shed some of the weight if I wanted to accomplish anything. Putting my pack in a saddlebag was a start. Hanging my shield from the skirt of the saddle was even better. I got light enough to mount without help.
The horses were a mixed lot. I had a decent-looking stallion the size of a Clydesdale. Lesh’s charger might have been the sire of mine. It looked old, but still fit. Timon’s pony looked like a runt even without comparing it to the big animals. And Parthet—well, someone had dug up an old swaybacked nag that looked as if it came from a Three Stooges short. Someone had a sick sense of humor, I thought—putting a hunchback on a sway-back.
“She’s a fine animal,” Parthet said as I was about to blow some steam. It was almost as if he had read my mind. “I’ve ridden Glory here before, lad. We’re comfortable with each other.
I still needed a moment to cool off. “Then I guess we’re ready,” I said. I hadn’t done any riding since
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