Free Lady Knight by Tamora Pierce

it.”
    People came over to be introduced. So did others as word spread that the realm’s second female knight was present. They spoke to Wyldon, asking for news as they eyed Kel. All bore the signs of hard times: clothes that were too loose, ragged and stained; skin that had once covered more flesh. Their eyes were haunted by family and friends who were dead, crippled, enslaved or missing.
    At last Wyldon bade the refugees goodnight and led Kel back to headquarters. Inside he knelt to poke up the fire. “I hear you have a new servant.”
    “Yessir,” Kel replied. She watched the play of firelight over Wyldon’s features. “You took me there because you wanted me to feel badly for them, enough that I would take the command. But all you have to do is order me.”
    “Sometimes it’s better to have understanding than obedience,” Wyldon informed her. He got to his feet with a grimace. “I know this is not what you wanted. No matter what I say, you and others will think this is a dungheap assignment.”.
    He sat in a chair and motioned for Kel to sit opposite him. She did so gratefully. The long day’s ride and the time standing with the refugees had made her ache.
    “The truth is, you are the only one I can trust to do this job properly,” Wyldon explained. “You care enough about commoners to do the task well. I did consider Queenscove, but he is much too fair. He shares his sarcasm and his inability to abide fools with all, regardless of rank. If they didn’t kill him within two weeks, I’d have to see if he was drugging their water.” He winced as he flexed the hand on his bad arm. “Anyone else will order them about, create more resentment and turn the place into a shambles - or pursue his own amusements and leave them to get into trouble.”
    Kel rubbed her face. He was right. She’d heard her peers’ opinions of commoners, had been accused of caring too much about them. Not so long ago she had learned that the maximum punishment given to a noble who’d arranged the kidnapping of another noble’s servant was a fine, to compensate for the loss of the servant’s work. That law was being changed, but there were others like it. A noble owed a duty to those who served him, but such duty was not glorious. Fairness and consideration were unnecessary; the affairs and pride of commoners were unimportant. The noble who worried too much about them was somehow weak. Kel knew her world. Her respect for common blood was a rarity. Her father’s grandparents were merchants. Every branch of their family save his were still merchants to the bone. Perhaps it was also because her parents, as diplomats, were so used to seeing other points of view, foreign or Tortallan, that they had passed their attitudes on to their children.
    She also knew Wyldon was right about Neal.
    “Well?” her former training master enquired. “Will you do this, Keladry of Mindelan?”
    Blayce! she thought, suddenly panicked. The Nothing Man! If I’m pinned to a camp, how will I find him? How will I stop him?
    She remembered those thin faces in the barracks, child and adult alike. She remembered the courtyard at Tirrsmont, crammed with people. Looking at Wyldon, she saw trust in his face, the face of a man she respected as much as she did her father and Lord Raoul.
    Kel sighed. “I’ll do it, my lord.”
    Her first task was to choose basic supplies. Wyldon cautioned her not to get greedy. The next morning he sent Owen with her to write down her choices. When they reached the storehouse, Kel stopped to look at her unusually quiet friend. Owen wouldn’t meet her eyes.
    She put her hand under his chin, startled to feel the scrape of newly shaved whiskers, and made him look at her. “You didn’t know,” she said.
    Owen grimaced. Words tumbled from his mouth: “Kel, I swear I didn’t! He told me this morning. He - he apologized, for keeping something important from me, he said, specially when I have to learn about making camps like this,