Lady Knight by Tamora Pierce

wasted no time in giving out assignments. Two days after they reached Bearsford, Kel, the other first-year knights and fifty senior knights accompanied Duke Baird and his healers to Fort Giantkiller. Lord Wyldon of Cavall, Kel’s former training master, commanded there; he would give out their final postings. Lord Raoul would ride a day or two with them before he turned west to take command at Fort Steadfast.
    “Do you know where these forts are?” Kel asked him as the last of the army prepared to break up.
    “I’ve been informed,” Raoul said drily. “You actually know Giantkiller. Third Company named the fort we built with them last summer that, supposedly in honour of me.” He made a face. Third Company of the King’s Own had waited until Raoul wasn’t there to protest before they named the fort. Raoul continued, “Vanget moved Third Company to Steadfast. He’s sending regular army troops to Fort Giantkiller.”
    He hugged Kel briefly. “Gods all bless, Kel. Trust your instincts - they’re good. Try to survive the summer. I don’t want your mother or Alanna coming after me if you get killed.”
    Kel grinned as he swung into the saddle. She wished she were going with him, but she knew that everyone who mattered wanted to see how she did without his protection.
    “Lady knight, come on,” Neal called. “Let’s go and see if the Stump’s forgotten us.”
    Kel mounted up. “Don’t call Lord Wyldon that,” she told him as they rode out of Bearsford. “I doubt he’s forgotten you. He never threatened anyone else that he’d tie his tongue in a knot.”
    “Threats are the last resort of a man with no vocabulary,” Neal said, nose in the air.
    “Well, I have a vocabulary,” said his father, riding behind them. “I have often wished I could tie your tongue in a knot. Several of them. I can describe them, if you like.”
    “It’s my fate to be misunderstood,” Neal announced. He fell back to ride with the more sympathetic Merric.
    As the knights shifted riding order, Kel found herself beside Duke Baird. She had often seen Neal’s father for healing after her fights in the palace and felt comfortable enough to talk to him. “Your grace, if you don’t mind my asking, what are you doing here?” she enquired. “As the royal healer, shouldn’t you be in Corus?”
    “My assistant has to show whether or not he can step into my office,” Neal’s father replied. He was a tall, lanky man. His eyes, a darker green than Neal’s, were set in deep sockets. His hair was redder than his son’s, but his nose was the same. “It’s time to see if he can handle the nobility alone. And I have experience in the layout of refugee camps.”
    “Refugee camps?” Kel repeated.
    “When villages are destroyed and there are too many people for single lords to take in, someone must care for them. That’s particularly true here, where people scrabble to feed their own.” He gestured towards their surroundings: thick woods and stony ridges, the unforgiving north. “We need camps for the refugees. We also need field hospitals for the wounded now that we’re faced with all-out war.”
    For a moment Kel said nothing, thinking of the grim picture he’d just painted. Could she bear the sight of hundreds who’d been cast from their homes? “How do you stand it, your grace?” she asked quietly.
    “By doing the best I can,” Baird replied, as quiet as Kel. “By remembering my wife, my daughters, and the sons I have left. I can’t afford to brood - too many people need me.” He sighed. “I worry about Neal,” he confessed. “He tries to hide it, but he’s sensitive.”
    Kel nodded. Baird was right.
    “If you are stationed together, will you watch him?” asked Baird suddenly. “He respects you, despite the difference in your ages. You’re sensible and levelheaded. He listens to you.”
    Kel stared at the duke, then nodded again. “I will look out for him if I can,” she replied honestly.
    They reached Fief