“I know, I know!” Jo despaired. “It’s just that I don’t understand why there should be a difference between addressing an empress and a queen! But I’ve got to learn, Braddoc, I’ve just got to! I want so much to be a knight like Flinn—and he was so good at etiquette, too, even after all those years away from court.” Jo’s voice rose in vexation. Her long legs had lapsed into a brisk pace, and she had to slow down when she realized Braddoc was trotting to keep up.
“Ask Sir Graybow,” Braddoc answered lightly. “He’ll be able to explain it to you in a way you can understand.”
Jo stopped suddenly and looked down at her friend. Her eyes narrowed and she bit her lip. “It’s just that—it’s just that I feel so … so at a disadvantage around the other squires, Braddoc.”
The dwarf’s eyebrow rose. “Why?” he asked in astonishment.
Jo shrugged and looked away. “I figured it out the other day, Braddoc. Do you know, I’m the only orphan here? I’m the only one without any formal schooling, without any family lineage. Why, I don’t even remember my parents’ names!”
Braddoc sighed heavily and looked down at his polished boots. He rubbed the tip of one with the other, then looked back at Jo and shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell you, Johauna,” he said slowly, “except that I’m proud of you. You’re here on your own merit—that and a little luck and persistence.”
The dwarf pointed at the other squires gathering by the courtyard’s entrance. “Coming from royalty myself, I understand what it’s like to have lineage and money, like those folks have. But lineage and money don’t make me respect them. You I do respect—and so did Flinn and so does Sir Graybow. Just keep that in mind the next time these kinds of thoughts get you down.” He tapped Jo’s arm with his battle-axe. “Now, let’s get you inside for that etiquette lesson.”
“You’re right, my friend,” Jo responded positively, her eyes shining down at the dwarf. They continued to walk toward the archway. In some ways I have it much easier than the other squires, Jo thought suddenly, and I shouldn’t complain. I’d hate to learn etiquette from Madam Astwood; she and I would have come to blows in the first lesson. Besides, none of the other squires has the opportunity to study with Sir Graybow, and he’s the most respected knight here in the castle. Jo smiled shyly at the thought of her new mentor, then noticed that the eyes of one of the other squires followed her: Colyn Madcomb, the young man who couldn’t fire a bow. He was holding one of the doors to the western tower open for Jo and Braddoc, and his smile at Jo was merry and interested. Jo turned her head aside and swiftly entered the tower. She didn’t wait for Braddoc.
“Wait up, Johauna!” Braddoc scrambled after her, his short legs trying to keep pace with Jo’s long ones.
Jo told herself to relax and slowed her pace. They entered one of many side stairwells in the western tower and slowly began to climb. A few weeks back, a large delegation from King Everast XV and a contingency from Duke Stefan Karameikos had forced Jo and Braddoc out of their guest chambers in the central tower. Sir Graybow had kindly invited both Jo and Braddoc to share his spacious quarters rather than bunk down in the soldiers’ building, and the squire and the dwarf had readily accepted.
Although the political envoys had left the castle, Sir Graybow extended his invitation, stating that he enjoyed their company. The castellan had a floor of his very own in the western tower: a bedroom for each person plus a spare for guests and a wide open area connecting all the rooms. There was even a kitchen, and Sir Graybow had his own cook and scullery maid. Jo had never lived in such luxury before, and she still wasn’t accustomed to the idea of having someone do the drudge work for her. She frequently dismissed the cook and the drudge, particularly when Sir Graybow was away.
“Too bad Dayin and that witch left us. The old crone would have loved climbing all these steps as much as I do,” Braddoc said, slightly out of breath as they entered the fourth level of steps. The stairs were designed for human legs, and Braddoc detested climbing them. They wound their way up the middle of each tower and were tightly formed. He had to constantly lean into the next turn even as he was taking the next step.
Jo smiled down at her friend. “You know, Braddoc,” she said mischievously, “that’s only the third or fourth time you’ve mentioned that this week. I think you miss Karleah as much as I do.”
“Humph!” the dwarf snorted, but said no more.
Jo and Braddoc reached the castellan’s floor and entered through the only door. A sparsely furnished living area surrounded the circular stairwell. Only two rugs dotted the floor; woven of red and black, they helped counter the room’s austerity. The furniture was utilitarian, though comfortably upholstered. A few fine tapestries graced the rough white walls. Jo never tired of gazing at them and asking the castellan for the stories woven there. The bedrooms and kitchen branched off the living area. Candles in sconces lit the chambers at night, their delicate golden glow further endearing the chambers to Jo; she found the magical lantern light in the rest of the castle too harsh for her eyes.
Jo hung her short sword and the bow on the pegs in the wall next to the stairwell, but kept Wyrmblight beside her as she always did. Sir Graybow’s fine silver long sword hung in its black-and-gold sheath in its usual spot, and she knew the castellan was already here.
The door to Sir Graybow’s room opened, and the aging castellan entered the living area. The man’s face, grim and shadowed, broke into a grimace at the sight of Jo and Braddoc. “I’m glad you’re both here. I have some news for you.”
Jo and Braddoc drew closer, the squire holding on to her sword. The dwarf set his gear on the green marble floor near his bedroom door. “What is it, Sir Graybow?” Jo asked. Braddoc merely grunted.
The castellan kept his eyes on Jo. “It’s about the dragon—Verdilith,” he said heavily.
Jo’s heart sank. He’s dead! she thought. And I—I mean Wyrmblight—didn’t strike the killing blow!
“What happened?” Braddoc asked. “Did your knights find the lair with the directions I gave them?”
“Directions?” Jo turned on Braddoc. “You gave directions to Verdilith’s lair? Why?” She turned back to the castellan. “Tell me whats going on here! Is Verdilith dead? Did you send out a party after the dragon without telling me?” Her fingers clenched on Wyrmblight. “I’ve sworn an oath to avenge Flinn’s death, and—”
“And you’re not skilled enough to complete that oath without the loss of someone’s life—” Sir Graybow interjected “—most likely yours.” He took a step closer to Jo, who fought the urge to back away. “Jo, I asked Braddoc for directions to the dragon’s lair. He gave them to me, and I swore him to secrecy.”
“Why?” Jo whispered, though she knew the answer. “Because you would have gone after them,” the castellan said coolly, “and you simply aren’t ready” He sighed. “I sent five knights and two mages to corner and slay the dragon. That’s my job. I couldn’t let Verdilith heal and plot while we waited for you to be ready for your vengeance.”
“Flinn—” Jo began.
“Fain Flinn would have been the first to have agreed with me,” Sir Graybow reminded her, “ And you know that.” The castellan gestured with his hands. “Jo, others here—knights, not squires, mind you—are as eager to slay the wyrm as you. With eager hands and a wounded dragon, I had to proceed.”
Jo glanced at Braddoc, who pursed his lips and shrugged. The squire turned back to the older knight. “What—what happened with the party you sent?” she asked at last, trying to instill her voice with a knightly reserve.