Kieri managed not to chuckle at that; Juris deserved better. “It never is,” he said. “And you never forget your first serious fight, even if it doesn’t go badly.”

“I always thought—we all did—we’d do better. We’re trained from childhood—”

“You’re alive,” Kieri said. “You and the prince, and your enemy is dead. Yes, you lost friends, but you did well.”

“My father said that. It doesn’t feel right, though.”

“No, and it never will,” Kieri said. “That’s part of being the kind of man you are—you’re Girdish and that means just winning is never enough.”

“How did you deal with it?”

A Marrakai approach—direct as a sword thrust. Kieri answered as the question deserved. “Looking back, I was an arrogant idiot for half a year or so, trying to pretend it didn’t bother me; Aliam took me out back of the camp one day and chewed me up one side and down the other. Said not admitting what I felt was as bad as dragging around long-faced as some did.”

“It bothered you less, in time?”

“Yes, or I could not have stayed in soldiering,” Kieri said. “But still—if someone I care for dies, it hurts. It’s supposed to hurt.”

“The others—our friends who weren’t there—they don’t seem to understand—”

“They will when they’ve been where you’ve been, and gods grant that it’s not exactly the same. Be patient with them. You and Mikeli and your friend Roly will always have a bond they do not have, but don’t rub it in.”

“No, Sir King. I won’t. Thank you.”

As the days passed, more applicants for King’s Squire service came in from outlying areas. Kieri had them all assessed and then, as time allowed, interviewed them one by one. All who had been rangers were hardy and skilled, but some found they did not like the prospect of living in a city or palace. They preferred the green aisles and solitudes of the forest. Those whose training came from other sources varied in their abilities; some humans were not fluent enough in elvish, and others, trained in weaponry only at home, lacked the fighting skills Kieri knew his Squires might need. A few were too quick of temper.

At last Kieri had four hands of applicants who had passed every test he devised, and who all—to his mind—would serve equally well. With the other Squires who did not wish to leave his service, that made five hands and one. Most had been rangers, as the rangers had provided the only part-elf applicants.

Organizing the Squires’ service might have taken longer if Garris, the eldest, had not offered to take over that task. “I’m getting a bit old for the rest of it,” he said to Kieri. “You can dismiss me, if you want, but I do have experience, and I can save a clerk’s wages doing the paperwork for you.”

Kieri had been wondering how to suggest that Garris might want to retire; this was the perfect solution.