The chamber door opened and Garris looked in. “Aha! I thought I heard you stirring. What can I do for you?”

“I need a shirt,” Kieri said. “Something I can get dirty, not one of these elegant kingly ones.”

Garris touched a panel and it slid aside. “It’s that ivy leaf,” he said, pointing it out. “And what are you planning to do, dig in the garden?”

“Loosen my muscles,” Kieri said. “Is there a salle?”

Garris grinned. “Is there a salle? You’ve never seen anything like it, Kier—Sir King.”

“Quit that,” Kieri said, pulling on one of his old shirts. “I know you have to be formal some of the time, but I told you in Vérella—call me Kieri, at least when we’re alone—and where is Lieth, by the way?” He unrolled a pair of socks and put them on, then pulled on his boots.

“I sent her to the kitchen to fetch sib.”

“So—where is this miraculous salle?”

“Kieri—can’t you wait until the sib comes?”

“I could—but I’d rather not.” He went to the bed and lifted down the great sword. As always, the jewel flashed as he touched it.

“Well, then. I’ll take you.”

As they came into the passage, they met Lieth, carrying a tray with a steaming pot and several mugs. “Where are you going?” she asked.

“To the salle,” Garris said. “Our king is not only awake, he’s ready to poke holes in us.”

“Sir King—?”

“Lieth, it is my habit: swords before breakfast. I would like to do that here, as well. I understand this is a change for you—”

“It is no matter, Sir King,” Lieth said. “Do you want sib before, or should I bring it—?”

“Let’s each have a mug,” Kieri said.

She set the tray on a table in the passage and poured; Kieri noticed she took only a half cup, but Garris drank a full one. Then they walked together down the passage, down stairs to the main level, back the length of the main passage there, right into a narrower passage that turned sharply twice, to an outside door that opened onto a small paved court. Facing them was another wall, with a taller door; Garris opened it wide and gestured Kieri in.

He sensed a large empty space—dark at first, but slowly brightening, the pale pearly glow he associated with elf-light. Nearest the door, a smooth wooden floor covered perhaps a quarter of the length. Beyond was stone—uneven, like an old paved street—and beyond that more stone, even rougher.

“Have you ever seen one like this?” Garris asked.

“No, but it’s what I always wanted,” Kieri said. “A salle for serious fighters.” He looked around. To the heart-hand side of the door stood a weapons-rack, beautifully carved.

“The King’s Stand,” Garris said. “You’re the only one can use that.”

“Practice blades?” Kieri asked, hanging his sword on the stand.

“Here,” Lieth said, opening a chest full of wooden blades. “And bandas.” Kieri put on a banda and took one of the wooden blades.