afterward stretched well into the following day, when drunk and stumbling clansmen and citizens found their way off the mount for another year, often leaving the keepers with a mess to clean up.
Ghisla and the other daughters had gone to bed with music and laughter echoing up from the square and woke to a temple in mourning.
Dred of Dolphys had made another claim, and Bayr, his face bruised and battered, spent the day being prepared to leave for Dolphys.
“What has happened to Bayr?” Juliah asked.
Ghisla thought it likely that the king had taken out his rage on the boy, and Bayr had been unable to keep it from his uncle, and Dagmar and Dred of Dolphys had joined forces to remove Bayr from his clutches.
Bayr did not want to leave.
“Who w-will w-watch over the d-daughters?” he protested again, looking over his shoulders at Ghisla and her sisters as he was urged forward, out of the temple, to his waiting grandfather. His eyes met Ghisla’s, panicked, and she knew what he was asking. Who would watch over her? Who would protect her when the king summoned?
“We will. I will,” Dagmar said again. “I will watch over them all.” His voice was firm but Bayr shook his head, doubtful, despairing. Bayr didn’t believe his uncle could protect her. Ghisla didn’t think so either. But the matter was clearly out of Bayr’s hands.
Master Ivo and the purple-robed keepers descended the stone steps of the temple, surrounding Bayr and Dagmar. Ghisla and the other girls trailed behind them, trying to hold back their tears.
Dred and the warriors of Dolphys were mounted and waiting, their postures as grim and apprehensive as those of the keepers.
“Word has spread. We must go now, Bayr. We must go now,” Dred urged, waving him forward.
But it was too late.
The chieftains, led by Erskin and the king, were striding into the temple square, three dozen warriors following behind them.
“You cannot claim him, Dred,” Erskin shouted as they drew near. He sounded fearful and almost desperate, as if he too could not imagine the mount without its protector.
“I can and I have,” Dred returned. “He is my daughter’s son. He is my kin. I have no other. I would not deny you, Erskin. Why do you seek to deny me?”
“He is the Temple Boy. He swore to guard the daughters of the clans,” Lothgar of Leok brayed. “We stood on these steps, gathered around this flame, and Bayr of Saylok promised to protect them the way he has protected the princess. He cannot break that vow. He must remain on the temple mount.”
For a moment, Dred was silent, as if stunned at the development. Ghisla realized suddenly that Dred had not been present the day the daughters were brought to the temple. Dred had not seen the Highest Keeper light the Hearth of Kings and promise that it would continue burning in their honor. He had not seen Bayr swear to serve the daughters of the clans.
Bayr stepped out from among the robed keepers, his warrior’s braid so long it touched the new blue sash tied around his waist.
“Why does he wear that sash?” Ghisla whispered. She still understood so little about the customs and traditions of the clans.
“Because he has been claimed. Now he wears the colors of a clan,” Juliah said, almost wistful. “I wish I could wear the colors of Joran.”
“You cannot deny a clan their chieftain,” Dred said.
The Dolphynian warriors beside him grew still. Bayr drew to a halt halfway down the steps, and Dagmar froze beside him. The king and the chieftains balked as well, and the metallic whisper of swords being drawn shivered through the square.
“Return inside, Daughters!” Keeper Amos insisted, as if afraid that a skirmish was about to ensue. But none of them moved.
“What chieftain?” King Banruud hissed.
“Dolphys has yet to choose a chieftain,” Dred said. “The boy must present himself to the clan to make a claim.”
“You will be chieftain, Dred of Dolphys,” the king retorted. “We all sat at council when it was decided.”
“One old man for another?” Dred asked. “That is not in the best interest of my clan.” His clansmen shifted again, uncertain, but still they did not protest.
“You have the blessing of the keepers, the support of the chieftains, the nod of a king. Why do you insist on claiming the boy?” Aidan of Adyar asked, his voice thoughtful, his gaze narrowed.
“I am not the best choice. If given the opportunity, I have no doubt my clan will