We waited in the audience chamber where we would receive them. Father stood at the center before the long table. Grandfather took his place to Father's right, cane touching the flagstones. I stood to Father's left. The room was already crowded. Steward's clerks pressed against the walls. A few villagers had been allowed to watch, Fegarth among them, shoulders stiff, his jaw tight with unease. The banner of Godfrey hung behind us, and the morning light fell through the high windows in pale bars.
Bootsteps approached from the corridor. Captain Theo slipped inside and closed the door with careful hands. He crossed the floor and stopped two paces short of Father.
"They are at the outer gate," he said in a low voice. "Doyle has gone to greet them. I came to stand by you."
Theo moved aside and took a place just behind my shoulder. I could feel his watchfulness like a shield.
For a moment all we heard was the slow breath of the crowded room and the moan of wind through arrow slits. Then a knock came, measured and firm. The inner door opened and a chamberlain's voice lifted, formal and clear.
"From the Royal Janisarion Corps, Sir Arthur Godfrey of the First Circle, Third Banner. And his apprentice, Lugo Onestar."
The air shifted. Heads turned. Someone's breath caught. I felt Grandfather go still beside me, and when I looked his knuckles had whitened on the cane.
Arthur, I thought, and only then did the name fold itself into shape inside my head. Uncle. Father's brother. Grandfather's son.
They entered together, the shock of red armor first. Sir Arthur wore a cuirass the color of fresh coals, polished until the light broke on it. His hair was short and black, the same night color as Father's, but his eyes were a bright, cold blue that took everything in without lingering. A black cloak fell from his shoulders. At his side walked a boy of about ten, handsome and lean, with platinum hair that took the light and threw it back like a blade.
Arthur's steps rang against the stone. He let the room look at him, and he looked back. A slow sweep, table to banner to faces, as if he were measuring a field that already belonged to him.
Behind me, Theo breathed out through his teeth and whispered so low that only I could hear. "Ah. The bastard has arrived."
I did not turn. I felt the words in my spine and kept my face still.
Arthur's gaze returned to the center. He frowned, only a little.
"What is this," he said. "Why is everyone gathered here."
Father flicked his eyes to Theo. Theo understood at once and moved his hand. The nearest guard stepped forward, then another. The villagers were guided out. The clerks slipped away with the nervous speed of mice avoiding boots. In moments the chamber was left to those whose words could not be repeated in the yard.
Arthur watched them go with a trace of amusement. "Since when does House Godfrey favor crowded receptions," he asked. "Tradition must have changed along with the river. Virid'Avon looks higher and faster than when I last saw it."
"Many things have changed in these years," Father said. "Welcome, Arthur."
Arthur tilted his head as if weighing the word. "Then tell me," he said. "What is this reception for."
Grandfather answered before Father could. "Count Beaumont sent a letter yesterday. He accuses us of stealing his vassal's people. We called witnesses because there is nothing here that hides in shadow."
Arthur's mouth curved, not quite a smile. "Ah. The quarrels of small lords. If I came from the capital for every petty complaint like this, I would live in the provinces like a dung beetle in its ball." He glanced down at the boy by his side.
The boy snorted a laugh and tried to smother it. Blue eyes sparkled. Platinum hair did not move.
I felt Father harden at my side. Grandfather's jaw set. Neither spoke.
"Then why are you here," Father asked, his voice level.
Arthur turned back to him, and for the first time the resemblance between them struck me like a blow. The same lines at the brow, the same angle of the cheek, the same way of standing as if every room were a map.
"I heard you had a second son," Arthur said. "The Order has assigned a special officer for his care. Until he reaches seven years of age his needs will be provided through that office. As with every second son."
"Roderic is not yet four," Father said.
Arthur shrugged. "Three fewer, one more. The road is the same."
Heat crawled up my neck. My mouth opened before my better sense could drag it back.
"Is this how you speak to your father and your brother," I said. "They told me you were an honorable man. Perhaps one should not believe everything that is told."
The boy's head snapped toward me. "Do you know to whom you are speaking, brat," he said. "You speak before a Janisarion."
"Brat," I said. "Says the ground gnome."
"Henry," Father said. "Enough."
Arthur's eyes were on me now. The blue went cold in an instant.
"So this is Henry," he said. "I did not expect such a fierce little cub. Henry, is it. If you speak to me with disrespect again, I will take your tongue from your mouth and rub salt in your eyes myself."
The words fell like iron. My heart thumped once, hard enough to hurt. I had no answer ready. The boy beside him laughed. Arthur laughed too, short and clean, as if the threat were a simple correction of etiquette.
"Enough," Grandfather said. The cane rang once on the stone. "You may be a Janisarion, but you do not insult a count in his own hall. Not even if he is your brother."
Arthur did not look at him. "Brother," he said. "My purpose is the realm and the commands of its crown. That I was born under this roof does not make me one of you."
Something small and cold moved in my stomach. If Roderic went to them, would he speak like this in four years. Would he wear red and bring laughter like a knife. No.
"Stand down," Mnex whispered inside my head. "The probability tree is full of dead ends. Every word narrows a future you may regret."
I clenched my jaw. I heard him. I did not step back.
Arthur lifted his chin a fraction and looked past us toward the inner passage. "Now show me where the new member of our order is," he said. "I will perform the first checks and then I will leave this pit as soon as I am able." He dipped his head toward the boy and spoke just low enough that he thought only the boy would hear. "It seems we will smell filth for a while."
"No," I said, and the word came out loud in the room.
Arthur's head turned. "Sharp ears," he said.
I shook my head. "That is not what I meant."
He seemed amused. "Then say it. Tell me what will not happen."
"Henry," Father said. "No. Leave."
"No, Father," I said. "I will not allow Roderic to become like your brother."
For a heartbeat Arthur's face changed. Something flickered across it, quick as the shadow of a hawk. Then the mask returned and the blue eyes went smooth.
He smiled without warmth. "Let the boy speak," he said. "Perhaps he will lose his tongue and his eyes. If that happens I cannot take Roderic, but that is a price we can live with."
"Henry," Father said again, and there was warning in it.
I stepped forward. "Make a deal with me."
Arthur arched a brow. "What deal."
"Take me instead of Roderic."
That drew a real laugh from the boy. Arthur did not laugh. He looked me over with a soldier's quick eye, height to shoulders to hands.
"You," he said. "You are useless. You are thin and weak. You are also older than seven."
"I am seven," I said.
Arthur blinked once. "You are seven."
He glanced down at the boy. "Lugo is ten. Yet you are nearly the same height. A little thinner perhaps, but taller. Curious."
The boy lifted his chin. "He is lying."
"I am not," I said. "Take me."
Arthur tapped a finger against the edge of his gauntlet. He studied Father, then Grandfather, then me again. I could see him fitting the pieces together, weighing costs against orders, duty against annoyance.
"Hm," he said. "Let us do this. If you defeat Lugo, I will take you."
The room went silent. I heard my own breath. I heard Theo's armor, the leather creak when he shifted his weight. I heard the wind hiss at the windows.
Father took a step forward. "This is folly."
"Is it," Arthur said. "Your second son's keeper will arrive regardless. If the brat wants to play at honor, let him. We will end this in front of your witnesses. No one will claim later that we stole anything."
Grandfather's gaze went from Arthur to me. He searched my face, and I could not tell if he hoped I would falter.
"Say yes," Mnex whispered. "Say no. Statistics disagree. Morality demands. Survival urges. You should not play this game, but here we are."
I looked at Lugo. He did not look away. He had a swordsman's balance already, feet easy, hands loose. His eyes were proud and bright, full of Janisarion discipline.
"What are the terms," I asked. "If I lose, you take Roderic. If I win, you take me."
Arthur smiled again. "If you lose, your brother is mine, as well as your honor. The crown does not negotiate with children."
Father's hand snapped out, but the word that followed was soft. "Arthur."
Arthur met his eyes. For a moment the brothers looked like a mirror with pride in one pane and pain in the other.
Arthur let the smile die. "If Henry loses, I take Roderic," he said. "If Henry wins, I take Henry, and the caretaker assigned to your second son will be sent home with a note that the child is under house protection until seven. That is the best I will do."
Theo's voice came from behind me, still quiet, still steady. "My lord, you do not have to accept this."
Father did not answer at once. He looked at me. There was anger in him. There was fear. There was also something else, something I could not name.
"Henry," he said, "this is not your choice."
"It is," I said. "Roderic is my brother."
Grandfather set the cane's tip on the stone. The sound was not loud, but it was final. "We are in this position because we claim to let people choose," he said. "If the boy chooses to trade himself for his brother's freedom, we cannot pretend not to hear him."
Father closed his eyes. The hand that had reached for me fell to his side. When he opened his eyes again, he looked older by a year.
"Name your conditions," he said to Arthur.
Arthur spread his hands. "Simple. No blades drawn to kill. No arrows. No outside hands. Hand to hand or with practice wood. First blood if wood is used. Throw, pin or disarm counts as victory. And don't think of hiding behind magic. We fight where your people can see, since you are so fond of witnesses."
Grandfather nodded once. "Fair."
"Not fair," Mnex muttered, "but at least bounded."
Arthur gestured to the boy. "Lugo."
The boy stepped forward with a grin that showed fine teeth. He bowed to Father, then to Grandfather, then to me. The bow to me was quick.
"Courtyard," Arthur said. "Let us be done with this and leave your charming city to its smells."
I could have answered. I did not. I turned instead and walked to the door, feeling the weight of eyes on my back. Theo moved with me. When we reached the corridor he bent his head close.
"You can call it off," he said.
"I know," I said.
"You should."
"I know."
"Then why not."
"Because I am seven," I said, and I did not know if that was the truth or a shield.
Theo's jaw tightened. He did not argue again.
The courtyard was already alive with rumor. Word runs faster than boots. When we stepped out under the sky the crowd had gathered in a wide ring. Guards held a lane open. Boys clung to their mothers' skirts. Men leaned on spears. The flag on the courtyard pole cracked in the wind. The sun struck armor and made red look like fire.
Arthur came to the center as if it were a stage he had walked a hundred times. He looked up at the walls and then to the crowd and seemed satisfied.