"I can handle him." Cimar smiled, that sour note returning. "I may be small of frame, but I promise I earned my spurs."
Davrin shook his head. "I do not doubt you. I am sorry I did not realize you were a knight. We met when you were already a scholar in the archives, that's my only feeble excuse. If you are willing to be my champion, then I would have you gladly."
"Then you have me," Cimar said. "I will see you in the field at first bell, my lord."
He stood, and Davrin stood with him, shock and disbelief and cautious hope driving the clouds of alcohol from his brain. He walked Cimar to the door and reached out at the last moment to take his hand and lift it to his lips. "Thank you."
Cimar smiled, and Davrin's breath stopped as he leaned in and up to brush the barest kiss to Davrin's cheek. "Goodnight, my lord."
Then he was gone, leaving only the scent of parchment and ink and beeswax in his wake.
*~*~*
The rain was still there in the morning, an icy drizzle that foretold a miserable winter. Davrin shivered as he hastened to build up the fire before going to his wardrobe to pull out suitable clothes. Winter hose and shirt, and a tunic in vibrant sky blue—not quite Ballior's house color, but very close to it. Overall he settled his winter cloak, dark forest green wool lined in black fur and trimmed with gray fur. He secured it with a broach Ballior had given him: a gold dragon coiled around the great oak that was Davrin's personal crest.
He coiled his hair into a simple knot, too tired to do more with it right then. The most effort he could muster was a gold, bejeweled hairpin. That done, he pulled on his boots, which were lined with fur as well, keeping him warm as he left the relative warmth of the keep and strode across the yard and out the gates, lifting a hand in greeting to the guards.
Across the bridge and a short distance down the road was the tournament field, where every couple of years the royal family hosted a week-long festival and tournament. Ballior had loved to participate—for the challenge, the reward, the attention. He'd had no interest in love, but plenty of interest in sex, and found no lack of like-minded people at such affairs. The only thing that had ever held Ballior back was money, and that Davrin had more of than he would ever need. He'd been more than happy to have Ballior as his champion and dearest friend.
King Rorlen waited, his toady lord at his side, as well as Crown Princess Korena. She was nothing at all like her loathsome father, much to King Rorlen's vexation—but his wife had died of illness three years ago, and so far he had not married again, so Princess Korena remained his heir. Rumor had it he was going to marry her to Tekker.
If Tekker's standing and reputation survived the challenge and they were indeed married, Davrin hoped she slipped him poison.
Thinking of Tekker not surviving the challenge reminded him that it was all too possible Cimar might not survive it. Not that he doubted Cimar's abilities, even if he'd never seen Cimar as a knight. He feared what sort of underhanded tricks Grayne would employ.
Cimar had said he could handle Grayne, however, and so Davrin would trust him to do so.
Though he could not help the niggle of worry as he reached the tournament field, only to see that his champion had not yet arrived.
King Rorlen looked relieved to see Davrin arrive alone. Tekker sneered, smugness coming off him the way steam wafted off fresh droppings in winter.
When Davrin reached them, King Rorlen shifted restlessly on his horse and said, "I see you're still lacking a champion, Lord Dweller-by-the-Sea."
"Pardon, Your Majesty, but I lack no such thing. My champion is on his way."
"Well, he'd better hurry, or this challenge ends in a forfeit," King Rorlen snapped.
Princess Korena cast her father a brief look but said nothing, only peered down the road. "I believe I see someone coming."
"No one I recognize," Tekker said. "You cannot simply bribe any soldier to be your champion, Davrin."
"I know the law," Davrin said coldly, "and unlike you, I obey it."
"You—" King Rorlen broke off as the figure reached them.
Davrin swallowed. Hard.
Cimar made a beautiful knight, dressed in the finest plate and a surcoat of black and green, the front emblazoned with a silver rowan tree. His horse was a fine courser, black as ink and more comfortable in the abysmal weather than Grayne's nervous destrier.
He was also making Grayne look a poor show, given Grayne had not bothered to don armor nor even a surcoat, and wore instead clothes better suited to a training field.
Grayne, for the first time, did not look quite his cocky self. Beside him, Tekker's mouth flattened. "Sir Cimar."
"Lord Tekker," Cimar greeted, and dismounted smoothly as he reached Davrin's side. He knelt on the cold ground, one hand splayed for balance, the other across his breast. "Your Majesty, I answer as champion for Lord Davrin Dweller-by-the-Sea in the challenge against Lord Tekker Maldon."
King Rorlen looked as though someone had served him bad meat. "So acknowledged, Sir Cimar. It's been so long since I've seen you away from your dusty shelves, I had forgotten you had the right to wear spurs."
"Many do," Cimar replied.
Princess Korena leaned forward in her saddle. "What compelled you to rise as champion?"
"Lord Ballior was a treasured colleague, and I have always held Lord Davrin in highest esteem."
Tekker sneered. "More like your wife left you and took all the money with her, and we all know Davrin is an easy, desperate mark."
"That is enough," Princess Korena said, voice cracking out like breaking ice. "You will apologize at once."
King Rorlen said nothing, looking out across the field as though not part of the conversation. Fury filled Tekker's face for a bare moment, then he banked it and said, "I owe no apologies to a man who has publicly challenged and humiliated me. I speak only facts, anyway."
Korena stared coldly.
"I'll apologize for speaking the truth if he defeats me in the challenge," Tekker said.
"I appreciate your defense, Your Highness," Davrin said, "but do not trouble yourself. I've heard much the same from him and others of his sort a thousand times. His words don't bother me; they lost that power a long time ago."
"Aye," Cimar agreed. "It would be little better than being offended by the words of a child."
Tekker bristled with renewed rage, but finally King Rorlen dragged himself into the matter and stilled Tekker with a look. "The requirements of the challenge have been met. Now we've to decide what the challenge will be and to set the date. I want this matter concluded before winter's end."
"Say the frost festival," Korena said. "That seems a propitious time to hold a challenge, and this matter has already garnered enough attention, may as well make it a proper spectacle."
Davrin said, "I want the traditional five tests. Greatest number of points wins."
King Rorlen grimaced. "Five would take too long."
"I do not see why it should be more than one, and best of, not points," Tekker said.
"If this is going to be a public affair," King Rorlen said, "then it should be done properly. Five is too many, but I'll grant three. I also agree to the points system, rather than best of. Lord Davrin, did you have tests in mind?"