The anticipation in the arena was palpable. Tahlia could feel it in the buzz of conversation that ran about the wooden stands, and the stone tiers of the observation tower. She felt more than a little pleased at the thought that much of what was being discussed was centred on herself. Being at the heart of so much positive attention was unusual, and she was enjoying it immensely.

The same could not be said of Dak. She was sitting in the chair next to her, looking uncomfortable as she constantly tried to adjust her dirty Engineer's tunic, plucking at its sleeve and trying to cover the bandage wrapped around her arm. Tahlia thought it only reasonable that her friend should feel ill at ease. She was the only Engineer in the tower's tiers, and even though few of the knights and ladies seated about them had been given the chance to change out of their riding clothes and into their finery, she still stood out like a rock among gem stones.

The Field-hand was also embarrassingly badly turned out, although, much to Tahlia's annoyance, he seemed less perturbed by the high company he was sharing. Maddock sat beside Dak in his coarse working clothes, his head still wrapped in bandages. His older brother sat beside him, and Tahlia wondered what he had done to earn such a place of honour in the tower.

She was still wondering at it when she felt her mother's arm tighten around her shoulder. The embrace was probably a sign of affection, but Tahlia only felt its restriction. It seemed that ever since her mother had entered the Infirmary, breathless from her speedy return from her hunting, she had not let her, or her new brother, out of her arms. She sat there now, Tahlia pinned to her side with one, while Kralmir slept peacefully in the other.

Tahlia rolled her eyes upwards to take in her mother's features, and saw that they were still quite serene. There was a calmness in her eyes, a calmness detached from the agitation around them. The tension in the arena had been growing since the bell at the observation tower's summit had chimed to mark the beginning of the hour of Fortak. Another clock had been raised at the arena's far end, and on it Fortak's dial had completed half of its rotation, but her mother seemed unperturbed by it.

As Tahlia watched her, the expression on her face changed to something odd. A strange combination of sorrow and happiness shifted there as she turned to look at something over Tahlia's shoulder. She released her tight embrace so that Tahlia could at last straighten herself in her chair, and she turned to look at what had caught her mother's attention.

Grifford was making his way along the tier. Her brother looked as grim faced as ever, but his back was straight and his shoulders high. As he passed Maddock and Dak he lowered his head and nodded to them both. Tahlia saw the Field-hand raise his eyebrow at the gesture, and Dak flushed with embarrassment, casting her eyes down at her borrowed boots.

When Grifford reached her, their mother rose to her feet, not giving him time to make a formal bow before she wrapped her arm around him. He returned the embrace, and she lifted her head to kiss his cheek, and Kralmir, clasped in her other arm, stirred in his sleep.

"I have heard how you saved your brother's life," she said as she stepped back and placed a hand on his shoulder. "And your father's honour."

Tahlia pointedly cleared her throat.

"Yes, daughter, I know." Her mother reached down and absently ruffled her hair, then she looked in turn at the other children before her. "We have you all to thank."

Dak looked awkward, the Field-hand Maddock looked pleased, and Grifford just looked odd, because he was smiling.

It was only a brief demonstration of happiness, because he then bowed his head to look at his sleeping brother, and his face became serious again.

"Come, my son," said their mother. "Sit beside us."

"I will be glad to, mother," replied Grifford.

Their mother moved Kralmir gently from her left arm to her right, and Grifford took her arm as she returned to her chair.

Tahlia felt the heat of vague annoyance rising in her chest. Her mother had not treated her so warmly after she had told of their exploits in rescuing her brother. She was about to remind her of her own involvement, when she saw Master Tzarren making his way along the tier.

"Lady Tahlessa," the High Lance-master said when he reached her mother's side, and gave a formal bow.

"High Lance-master. I am glad you could join us."

"It is an honour, my lady. Fortunately my dealings with Commander Galder and his squire did not detain me for long."

"What is going to happen to Tasker?" asked Tahlia eagerly, her previous chagrin forgotten.

"The Commander has stripped the boy of his rank. He is being held in disgrace to await the judgement of the Order."

Tahlia glanced across at her brother to gauge his reaction, but Grifford was staring out across the arena, his face strangely calm.

"And have you attended to the other matter?" her mother was saying.

"I have, my lady."

"What other matter?" asked Tahlia.

"You will see, daughter, but you must first show some patience."

"Oh, mother!"

"This heat is stifling. I think some refreshments are in order."

"Allow me," said Master Tzarren, and he signalled a page, who had been waiting attentively at the end of the tier.

Once the children had been furnished with cups of iced juice, and Master Tzarren and her mother with hive wine, they sat in silence to wait. Her mother, uncharacteristically considering their adventures that morning, did not bombard her brother with questions about his wellbeing. She simply sat silently while Kralmir slept in her arms, and the arena clock continued to count off the minutes.

On Tahlia's other side, Dak still looked uncomfortable, and the Field-hand was just sitting there enjoying his juice. Tahlia tutted in exasperation, and was trying to think of some comment that would remind the boy of his station, when the double doors to one of the readying halls swung open. The murmuring of the crowd faded as Pride-commander Galder rode into the arena. His new armour shone with the noon sun as he took his position at the jousting ring's perimeter circle. His helmet's visor was down, so his features, and any indication of his disposition, were hidden.

A squire entered behind him, carrying the knight's lance and rail-shield, and together they stood and waited as the crowd began murmuring again, and the clocks ticked off their final minutes.

Even Tahlia was beginning to feel nervous as the conversation in the arena died, and the bell within the observation tower began to strike its twelve sonorous notes. As the notes sounded, she felt the disappointment rising inside her, though it was also tinged with annoyance. Had all their efforts that morning been wasted after all?

Chief-herald Adermann had stepped out onto the balcony above the jousting ring. He looked down at Commander Galder, and then at the empty section of the outer circle opposite him. The bell's final note sounded, and a discontented murmuring began to ripple around the arena. Tahlia looked up at her mother, but before the final echoes of the bell had died, the double doors to the remaining readying-hall swung open. The pitch and ferocity of the muttering about her rose, and then soared into cheering and applause, with shoulders being struck and feet stamped as her father rode into the arena.

He wore only his riding clothes, and Hakansa was unarmoured, the fur at his neck spiked with dried blood, as was his shoulder where a deep gash of injury had scabbed. Fresh blood was leaking from the broken wound, and his tongue lolled with spittle; evidence of the necessary swiftness of his return. Her father's clothes were similarly bloodied, though he seemed uninjured himself. Squire Zemrossa, holding the Commander's lance and rail-shield, entered the arena and went to stand beside him at the ring's perimeter circle.

"Pride-commander Kralaford!" began Herald Adermann, once the cheering had subsided. He looked down into the arena with lowered brows. "You are not suitably armed and prepared for Tourney. The protocols of the ring do not allow..."

From where she sat, Tahlia saw Sir Galder unclasp his visor and push it upwards onto his helmet's foreplate.

"Herald Adermann!"

His voice was loud and clear, and reached to the very highest of the arena's stands.

"Commander Galder, I must protest your interruption!" Herald Adermann called from his position in the balcony.

Sir Galder ignored him, and carried on talking.

"Commander Kralaford has entered the ring to challenge me. His sword, lance and rail-shield are all the accoutrements required by the laws. It is of no concern to me that he has elected to enter unarmoured."

The crowd began an angry muttering.

The Herald seemed lost for words for a few seconds, before he regained his composure.

"What you say in certainly true, but there is a precedent, and if you are both in agreement, it is within the protocols for me to call a temporary recess, and Commander Kralaford could..."

"No!" The fury in Sir Galder's voice silenced Herald Adermann for a second time. "This will be settled now. Proceed!"

Sir Galder snapped his visor back down over his cold eyes. He motioned to the squire beside him, and the boy handed up his rail-shield, and helped to tighten its fore-strap. Then the boy lifted up his lance.

Herald Adermann cleared his throat.

"As you wish. Commander Kralaford; prepare yourself."

Zemrossa approached her father with his rail-shield, and he leant down to receive it.

"Knights and Ladies of Klinberg..." Herald Adermann began.

Tahlia grabbed her mother's arm.

"He cannot expect father to fight with no armour! That is not fair!"

Her mother put a calming hand on her shoulder.

"No, dear, it is not," she said calmly.

Tahlia lapsed into angry quiet.

Below them, Herald Adermann was reading the stakes.

"...Commander Galder has laid as his entry, the full share of the northern farm of Dredar, with all associated lands, people, stock and income..."

In his chair on the far side of Dak, Maddock sat up quickly.

"Karek!"

Beside him, the boy's brother was listening with equal intent.

"I know, brother."

"We will be free of Sir Galder!"

"If Sir Kralaford wins."

"Of course he will win!" snapped Tahlia, but she could not see how. By all the evidence, her father would be lucky to end the day alive.

Herald Adermann had finished his reading of the stakes. He looked down at the two knights; Sir Galder in his fine polished metal, and her father in his dust stained cloth, Hakansa still panting and weary.

"The contest may begin," he said. "And may Fortak preserve you both."

He retreated into the tower's shadow.

The arena was silent again.

The karabok horn sounded to mark the contest's start, and Tahlia looked on in mounting disbelief as Sacsensia growled and crouched, ready to attack. Commander Galder lowered his lance, and as the final echo of the horn died, he held his arm out straight. He unclenched his gauntleted fist, and his lance fell from his hand and thumped into the dust of the jousting ring.

The crowd began a confused muttering as the Pride-commander of Vikas Chapter urged his steed forward. Sacsensia slowly crossed the perimeter circle and passed the inner line to stand in the ring's centre. Tahlia watched as her father lifted his own lance point, frowning as Sacsensia halted. He gave a word of command and Hakansa stalked forward to the ring's inner circle.

Tahlia glanced up at her mother, and saw the same calm expression on her face that had been there since she had taken her seat. She returned her attention to the arena in time to see Sir Galder dismount. Sacsensia growled in his helm, but the Pride-commander calmed him by running his hand over the plate of one of his curved horns as he walked forward to stand below her father's saddle. He pushed his visor back and looked up at him with eyes that were as cold as always.

He drew his sword, turned it in his hands, and then thrust it into the arena's earth.

"I yield to Sir Kralaford."

His voice was loud, and echoed around the arena. There were a few moments of quiet while the meaning of his words were comprehended, and then the cheering started again. The space was filled with the stamping of boots as the crowds stood to applaud and cheer.

Tahlia sat immobile in her chair, watching the noise and chaos around her.

"What just happened?" she shouted over the noise.

Her mother leant towards him

"High Lance-master Tzarren was kind enough to speak with Commander Galder before the contest," she said, loud enough to be heard. "He brought to his attention how this morning's events would be viewed by the Order. The treachery of his squire has been revealed, and his own honour has been mired. He has little choice now but to retire, if he wishes it to be restored."

Tahlia looked around at the cheering crowds, and then down at the two knights in the centre of the ring.

"That is the true motivation for his actions, of course," her mother went on. "But it will be terribly interesting to see what reasons he presents to the Order."

The noise in the arena gradually faded.

Sir Galder looked around the stands, and up to the tiers of the observation tower. When he spoke, his voice quelled the last of the cheering.

"For ten years I have desired nothing more than to Command this Order, but I cannot deny the facts of this morning's treachery, which has patently been instigated for the sole purpose of granting me that desire. My feelings towards our enemies in the north are well known, and I am not such a fool, I cannot see that whoever is responsible have sought to make me their instrument of war."

Tahlia looked up at her mother, who caught her eye and smiled.

"You see," she said. "Terribly interesting."

"But does no one believe that Sir Galder was behind..."

"Hush dear." her mother said, patting her arm. "Your father is about to speak."

In the ring, her father raised his voice, but addressed Commander Galder.

He dismounted, and went to stand before Sir Galder. He took the Pride-commander's sword and drew it from the ground.

"I accept your blade, Sir Galder, and return it to you to carry in my service." Commander Galder accepted his sword, though his eyes remained cold and unreadable. "War with the north has gone on for too long, Commander. Perhaps it is time you abandoned your hostility towards them."

Silence had fallen on the arena. Tahlia could feel the expectation of the place as the crowds leant forward as one in their seats, straining for Sir Galder's reply. When he spoke, his voice was not loud, but it carried to the highest stands.

"You almost lost your son this morning, Commander Kralaford. I would have thought that you, more than any, would understand the cause of my enmity towards our enemies."

Her father raised his head when he spoke next, and he looked up to where she sat in the observation tower, beside her mother and her brothers. Kralmir was awake, and was staring around with wide eyed bewilderment.

"Anger towards those who threatened my son's life almost cost me my honour today," her father said, before turning back to Sir Galder. "Your own sons died with theirs, and I hope that you will keep yours, Commander, until Fortak takes your strength. The Order has a new enemy, one which cannot be defeated with sword and rail-shield alone. If we are to uncover them, we must be united; within and without. We must have peace with the north."

The cheering began again, loudest in the far stands where the common folk sat, but it quickly subsided as Commander Galder sheathed his sword and climbed back into Sacsensia's saddle.

"You have the command of Klinberg for three years, Lord Kralaford," he said in the silence that followed. "I will obey any orders you give me until that time is done, but you cannot command me to lay aside my hatred."

With that, he turned his steed and rode from the arena, and her father watched him leave. The crowds had started cheering again. Their noise was rising, and it was building beyond the arena walls as the news of his victory spread to the battle-grounds beyond.

Tahlia applauded with them, though in truth she didn't know what all the fuss was about. After all, she'd known all along that everything would turn out all right in the end.

As the heavy doors to the readying hall closed behind Commander Galder, her father, now Grand-commander of the Order of the Plains, turned his back on them and looked up at the surrounding crowds. They were all standing, stamping their feet on the wooden stands, calling on Fortak, and praising his name.

He drew his sword,and raised it high to acknowledge their adoration.