Hoff put the class at the sand rail for the noon bout. He did not put them in the stands. He stood at the end of the row with his arms folded, and he looked at Kade the way he looked at a crack in a wall.
Kade had dressed for it. He wore the coat he had brushed twice on the road. He had tied a strip of red cloth around his sword arm, and he said it was the Duke’s colour.
Calen stood beside the rail, a step behind Liss. From there he could see the gate, the sand, and the rows of faces above it. He could see the count’s heir too.
He was a tall boy in silver and blue, with a cape the colour of wet slate and a face that had been taught to look bored.
“Duke Kade Ansel of the Northern Road,” Kade said, when the judge let him speak.
The stands laughed. Kade did not stop. He told the crowd about the Northern Road, which he had never seen, and about the Dukes who had ruled it before him, whose names he did not give.
He spoke about the honour of standing on sand before the Crown.
