Gargaron lifts an eyebrow. I think he is going to laugh out loud. Instead he turns the butterfly mask in his hands and raises it so he looks out at my father through slits cut for prettier eyes than his. “You have not permitted your daughter to run the Fives?”
“Of course not! Why would you even insult me with such an accusation?”
Gargaron lowers the mask. His gaze flickers to mark me as he covers his mouth with a hand as he smiles. What sort of awful man would enjoy my consternation and my father’s ignorance?
“I fear I must then accuse you of a graver misapprehension, Captain Esladas. You seem not to know what is going on in your household at all. I would hate to think the entire scheming cabal of females has been concealing the truth from you all this time. For it is sure that one of your daughters has been running the Fives. But perhaps you would like to ask her yourself.”
14
Father did not become a highly decorated captain by being slow to observe the obvious. He turns. Surprise flashes through his face but he absorbs my presence swiftly, for he is a man who never hesitates, even when the tide of battle turns against him.
“Jessamy! Tell Lord Gargaron that none of your sisters runs the Fives.”
“None of my sisters runs the Fives,” I echo obediently.
“There, my lord! Your accusation is unfounded.”
“I have made no accusation,” says Lord Gargaron. “There is nothing illegal or criminal in a girl wishing to run the Fives. Although I perfectly understand why you would not wish it known among your peers, Captain Esladas. The half-blood daughter of an ambitious man like yourself must behave in keeping with the old customs of the Saroese homeland, where daughters are few and kept indoors until they are safely married to a respectable husband. I would not like to see the lords and officials at court laughing at a man I had sponsored because his concubine’s daughter was running Rings around him.”
The moment Father realizes what my echoed answer means, his expression darkens with a look of such betrayal that all I can think about is the recrimination in his eyes.
“Come inside, Jessamy,” says Lord Gargaron in a voice that cannot be disobeyed.
I enter the study. It would have been better to be crushed in turning Rings and my body dropped all bloody to the sand.
All at once Father acts decisively. He strides forward without the lord’s permission, and rings the handbell on his desk to summon a steward. As we wait in silence, Father stares at the rug. The knotted wool is framed by a border of immortal firebirds as rosy as dawn. For years Mother saved coin from the household budget and engaged in a bit of marketing on the side to earn enough to buy him this carpet as a gift.
Footsteps approach, and Polodos halts at the open door, eyes wide as he takes in the scene.
Father speaks in a cold tone that scares me. “Polodos, go fetch…” He is about to say “the Doma” or “the mistress of the house” but these are titles he cannot give to my mother in front of Lord Gargaron. “I wish Jessamy’s mother to attend me at once. Then make sure we are not disturbed.”
“As you command, Captain.”
Polodos closes the door as he goes out.
Lord Gargaron smiles his thin smile, and I shudder. The three tiny gold rings in his right ear mark him as a man who commands a palace household, although he is not himself born of royal lineage. “Tell me something, Jessamy,” he says.
I wish desperately he would stop using my name in such a familiar way but I cannot object.
“You ran impressively against my nephew. Why did you allow a lesser adversary to win?”
Instead of answering I look at the rug. I have failed Father in the worst way: I have caused him to lose face. He knows it, and so do I.
“Answer Lord Gargaron, Jessamy.”
“I did not dare win, my lord,” I say in a low voice.
“Why is that, Jessamy?” Gargaron asks.
“Because the winner must unmask, my lord.”
“You did not want your father to know you run the Fives, is that it?”
“Yes, my lord.” I finally look up.
Father is actually too stunned to speak as the extent of my insubordination hits him.
Lord Gargaron oozes on, his unctuous tone like slime in the air. “Garon Stable is shorthanded in promising young Novice adversaries. Your daughter appears to have real skill. More than that, she possesses an aptitude for the finer points of the Fives. My nephew Kalliarkos is a good boy, a pleasant lad, but he doesn’t have the edge that determines loser and winner just through sheer guts. You know what I mean, Captain. You see it among the men you have fought beside, those who, like you, have the necessary grit to see the battle through. Your daughter takes after you in that way. Do you not think so?”
