Exile's Valor

“Alberich!” Selenay called from amid a heap of furs and cushions piled on a high-backed settle that had been brought down from the Palace, her cheeks glowing, her eyes sparkling. “What’s to do between now and the Feast?”

“More races,” he replied. “The really serious ones; all the champion skaters that could get here in time are going to be competing. Out there will be some intense rivalry; the prizes for the adult races are considerable, and to claim one bragging rights will bestow for a decade.”

“Really!” She looked entirely pleased. “How exciting! Have we referees along the course?”

“Absolutely,” Keren replied, before Alberich could answer. “Not only is there the prospect that someone is likely to cheat, there’s the fact that if someone goes down, there might be a fight over it. He’ll probably claim he was fouled, and he might take a part of the field with him. We have this sort of thing every Midwinter where I’m from.”

“And there is, I hear, much gambling over the outcome,” Alberich added. “So, more incentive there is, to cheat.”

“And if someone’s accused of cheating?” Selenay looked from Keren to Alberich and back again. “What do I do? Whoever is accused will deny it, no doubt.”

“Depends on how and where in the race, and if a referee saw it,” Keren said judiciously. “Let the referee handle it, unless enough people got taken down. Then, if you’re inclined, you can have ’em run the race over again. Presumably, everybody’d be equally tired, so they’d all be on the same footing. If I were a betting person, I’d lay odds you’ll have to rerun at least one race this afternoon. This is going to be the climax of the Festival for a lot of people—not even the Feast is going to eclipse it. Feelings will be running high.”

“Which is why I have plenty of the Guard stationed on the course and off it,” Selenay replied, nodding. “The Seneschal warned me about that, after he watched the semifinals.”

“You won’t be able to jail everyone who starts a fight—” Keren began dubiously.

Selenay laughed. “And we won’t try! Instead, anybody who gets out of hand is going to find himself hauling wood and chopping wood for the spits and the cauldrons!”

Keren laughed, too. “Good enough! Work the energy out of a hothead and leave him too tired to fight!”

“That was the plan,” the Queen agreed, looking pleased with herself. “So, besides the races, is there anything else for me this afternoon?”

“Only a skating pageant,” Alberich replied, having seen the preparations going on for the thing nearly every day since the Festival began. “Like a street pageant.”

“Only instead of you riding along the street and stopping at every display, you’ll be the one sitting, and the groups doing the displays will pass in front of you, stop, and make their presentations,” Keren said helpfully.

Selenay made a face. “I suppose,” she sighed, “that everyone would be very disappointed if I didn’t watch the whole thing.”

Alberich didn’t blame her. There were only so many badly-rhymed paeans to one’s beauty and goodness, sung by shrill and slightly-out-of-tune children’s choirs, that a sensible person could stand.

“Very,” said the Seneschal, who had just entered the Pavilion himself, in his firmest voice.

“Can I watch it on Caryo instead of in the grandstand?” she asked hopefully. “It’s warmer on Caryo—”

“But the purpose of the pageant is as much for you to be seen as for you to view the presentations,” the Seneschal pointed out, in a tone that made it very clear that Selenay would not be watching the affair from her saddle.

She sighed. “I hope you have lots of these furs,” she said.

***

The races were just as exciting as Keren had predicted. And a great deal more dangerous for the participants than Alberich had anticipated. In fine, the contestants were no longer holding back, at all, to save something for the climax. This was the climax, and every one of them was determined to go home bearing the champion’s medal. The putative honor of entire villages depended on the results, at least for the next year or so, and the skaters were in competition not only for themselves, but for all of their backers.

They wore a lot less for the actual racing than Alberich would have thought wise, but then, moving at the speeds these folks did, perhaps they burned up so much energy they simply didn’t feel the cold once they got moving. Or maybe their exertions kept them warm. Whichever it was, when it came time to form up along the starting line, they all left off coats and cloaks, keeping only thin, knitted woolen trews bound closely to their calves, and thin, sleeved, knitted woolen tunics, with scarves wrapped close around face and mouth, and knitted hats and