“What are they like, really?”
“Much as you see them in the outside world: hardworking, honest, tough, skillful in their crafts.”
“The … uh … gnome women? You mentioned children last time—”
“Very reserved. Seldom seen; some, I’m told, never leave the stone-right. All we see in our travels are males.” He was not going to tell Mikeli more than Mikeli needed to know.
“Don’t they mind?”
“No. For them it is home and perfectly comfortable.”
“Dark inside?”
“No … and I do not know if the light is by gnomish magery or something they grow on the walls. They do cultivate things that glow.”
“I was wondering if they could help protect our western border. How many do you have?”
Arcolin explained how few. “Supposedly all gnomes are trained in basic weapons skills, but these were evicted from their former home. They came without weapons, and I have no idea if they’re able to fight. However—” He paused a moment. He had written Mikeli about the Aldonfulk prince’s communication. “I think all gnomes would be appalled by the mage-hunters, though they were not fond of the old magelords. They value children highly, and child killers of any kind would be considered outside Law. There are other princedoms—”
“How many? Where?”
“I may not know them all,” Arcolin said. “Lord Prince Aldon told me of those he thought I might meet in Aarenis, but I’m sure you’ve heard of Gnarrinfulk, west of the pass to Valdaire.”
“I’m not sure where they are,” Mikeli said. They were at the library now, and he entered. One of the librarians came forward. “We need maps of northern Tsaia,” he said. “Especially from the Finthan border to the North Marches.”
“At once, sir king.” The librarian went to a rack of map sticks, checked labels, and plucked out two. He hung each from a separate frame. “This one’s the most current.”
His neighbors’ boundaries—both with Fintha and with the North Marches—were clearly marked. “When the trouble in Fintha began,” Mikeli said, “I asked all the holders who bordered Fintha to look to their boundaries, make sure the markers—fence or wall or stones, whatever they might be—were clear and firmly set.”
“Thank you,” Arcolin said. “I will send word to my gnomes of their limits of stone-right and to my neighbors, confirming the existing boundaries.”
The ceremony of Jamis’s investment as Arcolin’s kirgan did not take long. Dukes Mahieran, Marrakai, and Serrostin stood as witnesses for the Council; Kolya Ministiera, on the village council in Duke’s East, and Captain Arneson, as Arcolin’s military liaison, stood as witnesses for Arcolin’s realm. Calla’s parents and Arcolin’s squire Kaim were the only guests.
Jamis, wide-eyed and subdued at his first visit to the palace, wore the lace collar without commenting on the itchiness, along with a new maroon velvet tunic with silver buttons, a snowy white shirt with a frill of lace at the wrists, maroon velvet short trews buckled at the knee, black hose, and new shoes adorned with silver buckles. The shoes, a little too big and stuffed with tags of wool, clumped when he walked.
Calla and her parents stood on one side; Kolya, Captain Arneson, and Kaim stood on the other, forming an aisle. Arcolin and Jamis walked up the middle of the room and bowed to the king.
Mikeli questioned Jamis a little, questions Arcolin had anticipated and explained to Jamis, but then nodded decisively. “Duke Arcolin, I approve your choice of heir. Jamis Arcolin, kneel and place your hands in mine.”
Jamis knelt and held out his hands. Mikeli took them between his own.
“You are too young for the oath of fealty a man gives, Jamis, but here is an oath for a boy. Repeat after me: I promise to obey my lord, my father, and obey the king’s command—”
Jamis repeated this in a voice that shook only a little.
“I promise to tell the truth and to deal honestly and fairly with all. I promise to obey the Code of Gird in Tsaia.”
Jamis’s voice steadied as he repeated that as well.
“I promise that when I come to manhood, I will take a man’s oath of fealty. By Gird’s Cudgel and the High Lord and the grace of Alyanya.”
Jamis repeated all that.
“Then rise, Jamis Kirgan Arcolin, and take from my hand this gift of your king.”
Jamis came to his feet; the king held out a dagger in a sheath with the tooled design of a foxhead, the Mahieran rose, and Gird’s initial on it, already fitted to a belt with “Jamis Arcolin” carved into it. “Take this blade, Jamis, as a sign of my favor, but draw blood with it only as your duke commands—and I am sure that command will be only to save a life, yours or another’s.”