The reign of Istar

'If you're fighting him, either way, what's the difference?'

Moran leaned forward, hands on the table. 'Suppose someone tormented you for months and you challenged him and demanded an apology. If he didn't give one, you could fight him. But if he apologized sincerely, you'd have no choice but to accept it and not fight. That's the difference.'

Steyan muttered under his breath.

'Is that a problem?' Moran asked quietly.

The tall boy scratched his head, looked from side to side for help, and finally said, 'It's hard.'

'It is.' Moran intentionally dropped the Mask and spoke as a simple human being. 'Honor, when it's easy or you can't avoid it anyway, tastes better than food or drink. When you don't want it, it eats at you, day and night.'

Tarli, looking unusually solemn, said suddenly, 'What if one kind of honor fights with another?'

Moran did not reply immediately. Finally he said, slowly and carefully, 'Learn this, and learn it well. There is only one kind of honor. Don't ever believe that a conflict with the Oath or the Measure means that there's a conflict of two honors.'

He relaxed. He alone knew what a crisis of faith that sort of question produced in a man. 'There are, however, conflicts between kinds of duty,' he added.

Late in the summer she said playfully, 'Are you a family man?'

'I've told you.' Moran had shown her his family tomb, recited most of his ancestors' history.

She poked him in the ribs teasingly.

'I mean, would you be good to a child, no matter who the child is, or what it's like?'

'Of course I would.'

She waved her arms, laughing at him, but there were tears in her eyes, too.

'I mean look after and train, and see to its needs. Do you promise, even if that child comes between you and something else you want to do?'

Her laughter faded.

'Please — '

Unhesitatingly he said, 'I'd do all that and more. no matter what I had to give up.'

He picked her up easily and kissed her repeatedly. He promised that he would always, for her sake, 'Look after and train' children.

Looking back, he realized that his promise had made him the best teacher the knights had ever had.

Out in the courtyard, Moran squinted at the sun. 'Awfully bright, don't you think?' he asked casually. In the past month, the novices had learned to dread his casual questions.

He stared around in surprise. 'No? Ah. You're young. You don't notice. Don't worry. I'll take care that you don't hurt your eyes by squinting.'

He handed each boy a blindfold, told him to put it on. With some misgivings, he gave Tarli's to Saliak. The older boy tied it around Tarli's head, all but planting his foot in Tarli's back to pull the knot tight. Tarli, raising his hands to his head, made a small, startled sound.

'Something wrong?' Moran asked.

'Not really.' Finally Tarli said hesitantly, 'This is so tight, it hurts.'

'Think of the pain as a distraction. You may have to fight in pain someday.' He held the boy's shoulder, mostly to keep him still. 'Now you tie on Saliak's blindfold.'

Saliak flinched. He hadn't thought about that. Tarli, his skin puckering beneath his own blindfold, grinned. Saliak didn't make a sound when Tarli tightened the blindfold, but Moran saw the older boy grimace in pain.

Moran passed each blind and groping boy a dagger. Maglion yelped when he pricked his finger on the point; the rest jumped at the sound.

Moran guided each of them, stood them against one of the walls. 'And now,' he said calmly, 'all you have to do is walk across the courtyard without being stabbed. Simple enough, I'd think.'

It was. If you used your ears and remembered that defensive weapons were as important as offensive, the task wasn't hard at all. The novices began to shuffle tentatively across the courtyard.

It wasn't as dangerous as it sounded; most boys were afraid to strike at all, sure that they were exposing their hands to a blade.

Moran moved among them with a short sword, occasionally parrying a novice's thrust, more often touching a novice's back to remind him he was exposed.

Tarli, from either uncommon sense or recklessness — Moran couldn't decide which — skipped halfway across the yard before the others had gone a step. Alone in the center, he cocked his head, listening carefully and stepping around each of the approaching novices, who were tiptoeing and shying away from each other, striking at nothing and ducking from the same.

Tarli reached the opposite wall in record time and stood listening. Moran felt a burst of pride in him.

Saliak, nearly halfway across, called softly, 'Here, kender. Little Kender Stew, come on, boy.' He clucked his tongue. 'I've got something for you.' He sidestepped away from the target spot his own voice had defined.

Tarli smiled and stepped back into the courtyard. He moved behind Saliak and matched him step for step.

Saliak called in a sweet voice: 'Here, kender. Don't be afraid, little fella. Do you want my surprise?'

Tarli licked one of his fingernails, then reached up and pressed it against Saliak's neck.

'Depends. What is it?' Tarli asked conversationally.

Saliak froze at the feel of what he thought was the cold point of a dagger.

Faron, hearing Tarli, shuffled toward him, dagger thrust out.

Tarli stepped back from Saliak, who all but leapt away.

Faron made a quick thrust, low enough to pierce Tarli's heart.

Tarli, his head cocked, caught the rustling of cloth. He turned and smacked Faron's wrist with the dagger's hilt. The other boy yelped, dropped his dagger, and Tarli snatched it up.

Faron fell to his hands and knees, searching for his weapon. Tarli stood beside him and called loudly, 'Janeel!'

Janeel lurched toward him, fell over Faron, and lost his dagger as well. Tarli stepped between them and shouted, 'Paladine help me! Steyan! Somebody! They've got my arms pinned.'

A number of boys advanced on what they thought was easy prey. After the first few went down in a heap, the rest were inevitable victims.

Gradually the groans and mutterings of the defeated pile of arms and legs sank to nothing. Except for Tarli, only Saliak, feinting determinedly around the empty courtyard, was still upright.

'Dein?' Saliak sidestepped. 'Faron?'

Faron and Dein, half-buried in the pile, were cursing each other and Tarli.

Saliak had wrapped his shirt around his arm in a makeshift shield and used his dagger as a probe to find someone. 'Janeel?' He sounded afraid. 'Anybody?'

Then he did something that impressed Moran. Saliak ran end-to-end in the courtyard, his fingers outstretched. When he touched the far wall, he spun around and ran the other way.

As luck would have it, both times he missed the pile of novices. He stood still and called out, 'Is everyone all right? You sound like you're in pain. Do you need help?'

The worst among them is becoming a knight, Moran thought with satisfaction.

Saliak was now thoroughly frightened. 'Answer me!' He leapt to one side, as though something he couldn't see had lunged at him. 'Sire, tell me they're all right!'

Although he remained silent, Moran was moved.

Tarli tiptoed over to Saliak.

'Booga-booga-booga!' Tarli yelled and poked Saliak in the ribs with his finger.