Deeds of Honor Read Free Page B

known where Falk lived, or exactly when, or how he died. Many tales have been told of him, and some may be true. Certain it is that great deeds have been done in Falk's name, and many who call upon him have found unexpected aid in peril. Still, Falkians have dwindled since the time of Gird. Only one training hall for Knights of Falk remains, somewhere in the forests of Lyonya. There each Knight of Falk receives a small ruby, a symbol of the blood Falk shed to save others. It is said that if a Knight of Falk betrays the oath of service to Falk, the ruby disappears.
    The End

Authors Note on "Falk's Oath"
    When I was first working on The Deed of Paksenarrion , I wrote a lot of background material—legends, folktales, songs, etc. And when I had finished those books, I had notebooks filled with these very useful references. In the twenty-odd years between those books and the new Paksworld books, the Paladin's Legacy books, those notebooks—supposedly put away in a particular safe place—disappeared. Utterly. Luckily, enough remained in my memory, with clues from the books, to recreate some of the old material, though not in the same exact words. Falk's legend is older than Gird's, possibly older than the magelords' arrival in the Eight Kingdoms since he is mentioned in the "Oathsong of Mikeli," which is at least that old. Knights of Falk exist in book-now, and this is the legend they rely on.

Cross Purposes
    "That miserable disgusting cow-dung duke has turned out to be elven royalty? I don't believe it." Torfinn, king of Pargun, speared a hunk of sausage with the point of his dagger.
    "Our commander, my lord, swears—" Bradatt, the king's most trusted advisor, folded his hands on top of the reports he'd brought.
    "He would swear anything, having lost the battle and come home without sword or armor, he and his whole troop. Magical beasts...elves...a dome of light...what does he think I am, a fool?"
    "No, my lord, but—"
    "Phelan has frustrated my plans for thirty years; he and Tsaia have stolen our land—"
    "Er...it was never really ours, my lord—"
    Torfinn's fist came down on the table; dishes clattered. "It was north of the river. The damned magelords invaded, enslaved our people or threw them out...it should have been
our
land—"
    "The earthfolk warned us, my lord—it's in the archives—do not go west of the Great Falls."
    "The earthfolk—" Torfinn's voice lowered. "The earthfolk are earthfolk; who can understand their ways? They set limits on us in our homeland, giving us no way but the sea to escape when the magelords came. And again, here.
She
said it might be ours.
She
said take what you need, so long as you give me my due..."
    "I speak nothing against
Her
. She is the mistress of strategy, as my lord knows." Bradatt crossed his arms and bowed in his chair.
    "Indeed I do." Torfinn glanced around the chamber, empty now but for himself and this most trusted minister, and yet...there were drapes and shelves and scrolls and thousands of places where tiny beings might hide, from which bright eyes might watch, and he none the wiser.
    His ancestors had made peace with the Weaver, the Lady of Mystery, the—in vulgar parlance—Webspinner, Achrya. She whose smaller children captured noxious flies and other insects that otherwise brought disease and death. She whose strategems no one might ignore, without grave danger. She hated magelords—who could understand the gods, to know why? She had been their natural ally, when first the Seafolk sailed up the broad river and settled here, teaching women the spells to weave storm-proof sails.
    "It is her wish that we take back those lands north of the Honnorgat," Torfinn said. "It has always been her wish, and what has most frustrated me, in my obedience, has been that man, that Kieri Phelan. Even as a young man, he defeated my father, killed my elder brother. It is from him that the implacable enmity of the Tsaians comes...and now he is to rule the country directly across the