The Spark by Drake David

The Spark by Drake David

Author:Drake, David [Drake, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Fiction, Science Fiction, Action & Adventure, Space Opera, General
ISBN: 9781625796158
Google: mB43DwAAQBAJ
Amazon: B075X27FCV
Goodreads: 34466819
Publisher: Baen
Published: 2017-11-07T07:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER 18

Proper Behavior

Me and my roommates came out the south passage from the castle, heading to the jousting ground with our dogs. Welsh had been telling us about an officer in the army who might be willing to sell his weapon.

I didn’t figure gear owned by a soldier was going to be much of a step up from what Welsh already had, but I kept my mouth shut. If it made Welsh happy to think that there was a practical way out of his problem, I didn’t see any benefit—to me, him, or the world—in dashing his hopes.

There were benches along the path here. The woman sitting on one stood up as we approached, stroking the tortoise-shell cat in the crook of the other arm.

It was—she was—Lady May.

“Lord Pal?” May called. “I wonder if I might borrow you for the afternoon?”

“Ah…?” I said, looking from Garrett to Welsh.

“Go ahead, kid,” Welsh said, clapping me on the shoulder. “We can get along without you knocking us black and blue for an afternoon, and you sure don’t need the practice.”

“If you turn your back on luck like that,” Garrett said, “we’ll throw your traps out into the hall. Even if it takes both of us to do it.”

“Thanks, guys,” I said. I clucked to Buck as I peeled off toward May.

“Hello, May,” I said. “Is there anything you want?”

“I was hoping you’d carry flowers back for me after we visit the Lady’s garden,” May said. “It’s not far up the Road from here. And—”

She looked sidelong at me.

“—I was hoping you’d be a little more enthusiastic when you saw me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am,” I said as we walked through the trees on the way to landingplace. “It’s just that the Aspirants’ Tournament starts in two days and that’s all any of us have been thinking of for the past week. Us Aspirants.”

“So,” May said. “Are you worried about your chances, then?”

We’d reached landingplace and were heading toward the Road. The hawkers ignored us, but Maggie was standing in the hatch of my boat. I waved but broke eye contact by looking toward May again. She was in pale blue today with rings of honeysuckle in bloom embroidered around the throat, sleeves, and hem of the frock.

“Not exactly worried, ma’am,” I said. “But unless I finish in the top quarter, I won’t be allowed to challenge for a place in the Hall of Champions.”

“What are your scores on the machines, Pal?” May said. “Fifty percent is required to enter the tournament, I believe.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said.

“Yes, May,” she said. “Unless you want me to go back to calling you Lord Pal.”

“I don’t want that, May,” I said. I decided it wasn’t bragging if I just answered her question. “I’m averaging about eighty-five percent on foot, ninety-seven percent if I’m with Buck. But the machines aren’t the same as fighting real people.”

We stepped onto the Road. I switched my perceptions to Buck’s and the russet stems—the brush fringing the Road here looked like a stand of sumac to me—went gray-brown but became a lot sharper.



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