“We cannot know for certain,” Dorrin said. “It may have been Gird—I think it likely—but it might also have been Beclan’s own fear.” Before Gwenno could say more, she went on. “And you are right in one thing—it is not fair. But here is a truth to ponder: many things are not fair. You will have unfairness in your life, and you will then decide how to handle it. Will you bleat ‘Unfair, unfair’ like a child or make the best of the situation you can like an adult? Like a knight of Gird or Falk?”

Gwenno said nothing for a long moment. “Beclan does not complain.”

“No. He was shocked, and hurt, and frightened, but he has chosen to make the best of it.”

“I just wanted to … to help…”

“You have a good heart, Gwenno. As you learn, you will find other ways to help Beclan—or anyone else. What he needs now from you and Daryan is respect and acceptance. Nothing more. He will fight his own battles.”

“It comes of being the oldest sister in my family,” Gwenno said, flushing a little. “Mother warned me. I—I thank you, my lord.”

“I’m not scolding, Gwenno. I would rather have squires care about one another, defend one another, want to help one another, than be at odds. And all three of you have grown since last summer—remember that quarrel about grooming horses?”

Gwenno laughed. “Yes, my lord. We were prickly then, for certain.”

“I do caution you, Gwenno, as I cautioned Beclan: he is not to practice his magery around you or show you how it is done. Your father does not think there’s any magery in his family, but if you have any buried talents of that kind, we do not wish to wake them. It will be tempting, I’m sure, but do not try.”

“No, my lord, I won’t.”

“Good. Now, is there anything else?”

“No, my lord. Oh—just that I finished the stable supplies tally you asked me to do—” She fished a group of tally sticks from a pocket and handed them over.

“Thank you,” Dorrin said. “If that’s all, I need to finish these accounts.”

“Yes, my lord.” Gwenno bowed and went out.

Daryan came next to report on the patrol he’d been on most recently. Everything had been calm, he said; no sign of brigands or vagabonds. “About Beclan,” he added.

“Yes?”

“Shouldn’t we call him kirgan? I mean, when I meet Kirgan Mahieran or Kirgan Marrakai and I’m a squire, I have to give them the honor—”