“That’s what I said, when I was your age,” Father said. “And do you know how close I came to utter disaster before you two and your sister were born?”
“No,” I said.
“Yes,” Toni said. “You’ve told me often enough.”
I blinked. “You never told me.”
“No.” Father shook his head. “There were things I didn’t want to discuss, not until you were an adult. Call me a coward if you like.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” I said, truthfully. Calling someone a coward, in Water Shallot, was a guaranteed fight. Father had a mean right hook and years of experience at fighting dirty. I’d once seen him pick up a would-be mugger and throw him into a brick wall with tremendous force. “But shouldn’t we be discussing them now?”
“This evening, if you stay.” Father took one last look at the documents, then passed them back to me. “I don’t think you should be doing this, Adam, but you’re enough like me - when I was your age - that I know you won’t listen if I forbid it. So go and be careful, and make sure you get everything in writing.”
“And write to us,” Toni said. “I’ll be sure to write to you.”
“And send you pointed little reminders if you fail to write back,” Father said. “She picked up that habit from your grandma.”
I nodded, remembering how my paternal grandmother had used to write sarcastic notes when we didn’t answer her letters quickly enough. The old lady had had quite a sharp turn of tongue. I hadn’t met anyone quite so sarcastic until I’d gone to school, where I’d discovered that making mistakes could draw an equally sharp comment - and detention - from my tutors. And, somehow, my grandmother had been far more fearsome.
“Thank you, Father,” I said. “I just couldn’t spend the rest of my life here.”
“You don’t know how lucky you are,” Father said, curtly. “Do you?”
“I do,” I said. “But ...”
“Hah.” Father shrugged. “What else do you have to tell me?”
“Nothing much,” I said. “What about yourself?”
“There’s lots of chatter about Prince Jacob of North Cairnbulg coming to town,” Toni said. “Miss Higgins was insisting the prince is going to visit Water Shallot.”
“I doubt it,” I said. I’d heard rumours about Prince Jacob, but nothing felt really solid. It was very easy to get nasty rumours in Polite Society. For one thing, Polite Society wasn’t really polite. “Unless they want to get him killed.”
“You never know,” Father said. “There’s also stories about a challenge to the merchant guild’s representative on Magus Court. Someone else might be putting their hat in the ring.”
I frowned. “You, Father?”
“I don’t have the backing,” Father said. “It could be just a pointless challenge, something designed to get concessions from the guild rather than deliberately trying to unseat their representative, but it’s hard to be sure. The guild normally has things sewn up well before voting rolls around. Everyone knows which way to cast their votes and all’s well on the night. But this time, there are odd rumblings from the working men’s clubs. They might have a new leader.”
“They might?” I shook my head. “I thought they were impossible to lead.”
“So did I.” Father looked down at his dark hands. “The working men’s clubs have numbers, but they’ve never been a coherent political force. They’ve had too many problems remaining stable for that. If that’s changed, they could swing the voting balance through weight of numbers alone.”
“Which would be hard luck for the merchant’s guild,” I mused. “They can’t beat up dissenters if the weight of the working men is on the other side.”
“It might be hard luck for us too,” Father said. “If they start demanding higher wages, we might be in some trouble. We don’t hire many people ourselves, but our suppliers certainly do. If they have to raise wages, they’ll have to raise their prices too. And we’ll have to pass it on to our customers.”
“Who are already unhappy at rising costs,” Toni commented. “If we were the only ones raising charges, Father, we’d lose all our customers. Believe me, it would be pretty bad.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Father said. He scowled. “Perhaps it’s for the best, Adam. You’ll be away from the city by the time something blows.”
“If it does,” Toni said. She smiled. “I’ll be sorry not to have you working for free, but ...”
“Go boil your head,” I said, with more maturity than I thought the jibe deserved. “I’d be plotting to remove you within the week.”
“You would, too,” Toni said. She snorted as she stood. “Do you want something to eat, before you go back to school?”
My stomach rumbled. “If you don’t mind,” I said. I hadn’t told them I was coming. I could hardly expect them to be ready for me, not with a three-course meal. I didn’t want them to think they had to provide. “But don’t worry about it. I have food waiting for me at school.”
“I should hope so, given the fees,” Father grumbled. “You make me proud, alright?”
“Yes, Father.” I stood and shook his hand. “Thank you. For everything.”
“My son joining the king,” Father said. “Alack the day!”
Toni put a frying pan on the fire, produced a packet of bacon and eggs and started to cook with practiced ease. “You’d better drop in and see Nora before you take off,” she said, as the bacon started to sizzle. “She’ll miss you when she gets home for summer.”
“I’ll have to keep it on the down low,” I said. I took the bread and started to slice and butter it. “She won’t thank me for visiting her in public. Upperclassmen are supposed to ignore lowerclassmen.”
“Really.” Toni shot me a sharp look as she started to fry the eggs. “I guess that explains a lot about your school, doesn’t it?”
“I suppose,” I agreed. “I’ll find a way to approach her without being noticed. It won’t be easy, but I can do it.”
“You should just ignore tradition,” Toni said. “What would you do if she was in trouble? Or if there was an urgent message from home?”
“That would be different,” I said. Toni hadn’t gone to Jude’s. She didn’t know the rules. “But if I speak to her without a good reason, I’ll just make life harder for her.”
“Bah,” Toni said. She ladled bacon and eggs onto a plate, then thrust it at me. The smell was heavenly. “Eat up. Then you can go.”
I nodded. I knew she was upset. And there was nothing I could do to make her feel better.
.
Chapter Five
I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, the day I took the stagecoach to Haddon and walked my way down to Haddon Hall, but what I saw was nothing like it. The estate was further from the town than I’d realised, surrounded by a high brick wall that was topped with spikes and nasty-looking curses to deter intruders. I kept walking, clutching the paperwork in my hand until I came across a solid-looking pair of wrought-iron gates. The guard greeted me, inspected the paperwork and then pointed me up the driveway to the mansion itself. It looked as if someone had been trying to make an elegant-looking fortress and dismally failed.
Magic crackled all around as I walked up the steps and into the entrance hall, unable to escape the feeling I was strikingly out of place. I was sure they knew I was coming - the wards wouldn’t have let me enter if I wasn’t invited - but there was no one inside the hall. The walls were lined with statues and portraits, including a large painting of the king and his grandson. There was no sign of the king’s son, not after his role in the attempted coup. I wondered, morbidly, what that meant for the poor grandson. Was he still in line to inherit the throne?
A tall man stepped out of the shadows. “Adam Mortimer?”
“Yes, sir,” I said. I was fairly confident he already knew. “I’m sorry I’m late ...”
“You’re not too late,” the man grunted. He opened a door that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “Step right in, pour yourself a gla
ss, take a seat and wait.”
I nodded and stepped through the door into what looked like a comfortable sitting room. A large drinks trolley dominated the rear wall, crammed with bottles labelled with everything from dockside rotgut to the finest wine. I reached for a bottle, then hesitated. It might be a test. I poured myself a glass of water instead and sat down, grateful I’d thought of it before swilling wine like water. Getting drunk on the first day would be embarrassing, even if it didn’t get me kicked out.
The armchair was surprisingly comfortable. I nearly drifted off as I waited. A handful of others - five in all - joined me over the next few hours, all clearly as nervous as myself. They had a lean and hungry look - I guessed I must have it, too - that spoke of a desire for new challenges. Magic flickered as they took drinks and sat down. We didn’t speak. We were too nervous to say anything.
I studied them, carefully. There was a tall girl with light chocolate skin and long brown-black hair that fell to her hips. She was striking, holding herself in a manner that suggested utter self-confidence. There were two pale-faced boys, both as muscular as myself. Another girl, with a sour expression that suggested she thought we were all below her. And an odd-looking boy who might have been foreign. I wasn’t sure. Shallot had inhabitants from all over the known world, including half-caste children descended from Hangchowese sailors, but I’d never seen anyone like him. I wondered, suddenly, where the other five came from. I’d never seen any of them. They couldn’t have come out of Jude’s, or I would have known them.
Particularly the girl, I thought. I couldn’t have missed her.
We straightened up as a tall man wearing a long black robe stepped into the room. “Stand up,” he ordered with authority. We were on our feet before we knew it. “Let me have a look at you.”
He studied me for a long moment, his eyes seeming to gaze into my soul before he turned his attention to the others. I tried to stare back at him, but it was hard. I’d never met anyone quite so sure of himself, even among the aristos. There was no doubt in his eyes that we’d do whatever he told us, whatever it was. I felt a sudden desire to prove myself to him, as if the newcomer’s approval meant more - all of a sudden - than anyone else’s. I wanted him to be proud of me. And yet, I knew it wouldn’t be easy. This was a man who’d been there and done that, and come home to tell the tale.
“I am Sir Muldoon,” the man informed us. “For your information, princelings, I am your training supervisor. My job is to get you ready to serve, first as a squire and then as a Kingsman. You’ll find me a harsh master” - he grinned, challengingly - “but if any of you want to leave, just say so. There’s no shame in admitting you can’t handle it.”
Except the shame of knowing we quit, I thought. I would sooner die than quit. I don’t want to go home a failure.
“This estate serves as our first training centre,” Sir Muldoon continued. “You’ll spend the next three months, give or take a few days, learning how to handle yourselves in all kinds of situations, from basic brawling to high society dinners. If you complete your exams, you’ll be handled over to a qualified Kingsman and serve as his assistants until he believes you’re ready to be raised to Kingsman status yourselves. If that happens, we’ll welcome you into the brotherhood and - from that moment on - you will be one of us till you die. If you fail, on the other hand, you will be returned home. There are no second chances.”
I swallowed, hard.
“If you want to leave, say so,” Sir Muldoon repeated. “If you want to stay, you have to work for it.”
He gave us all a sardonic smile. “There are rules to living and training here. If I - or one of the others - gives you an order, we expect you to obey. Immediately. If you disobey the order, you’d better have a damn good reason. If you fail to convince us that you had a good reason, you’re out. If you put someone else in danger, without good reason, you’re out. I’m going to be drilling these rules into your head time and time again over the next week, just so you know what not to do. After that ... if you break the rules, you’re out.”
I tried to keep my face under tight control. It wasn’t easy. Jude’s had never been so blunt, never warned me so sharply that I could lose everything in a moment. I’d never even been threatened with expulsion, even after pulling a whole string of pranks. But here ... I tried not to show my dismay. The slightest mistake could get me kicked out on my ass. I wondered if I’d have the nerve to go home and show my face after I failed so badly. Father wouldn’t be impressed. My sisters would laugh. I promised myself, silently, that I wouldn’t fail.
Sir Muldoon waved at the chairs. “You can sit down now,” he added. “We’ll work on proper respect later.”
I hesitated, then sat. My fingers itched to take the glass of water, but I didn’t dare. It would just have drawn Sir Muldoon’s attention. He was studying us, thoughtfully. I was sure he was trying to determine which of us was going to fail first. I hoped he wasn’t thinking about me. I really didn’t want to fail.
“The Kingsmen are the eyes, ears and hands of His Majesty,” Sir Muldoon said, when we were all seated. “In the Crown Lands, our authority is absolute. We answer only to the king himself. Outside the Crown Lands, in semi-independent cities like Shallot, our authority is bounded by treaties that were signed hundreds of years ago. We still have authority, but it’s limited. Bear that in mind at all times. There’s a great deal of flexibility built into the treaties, but also some pretty hard limits. The Great Houses see us as a check on their power, and they don’t like it.”
Of course not, I thought, sourly.
Sir Muldoon gave us a sardonic smile. “You’ll learn more about our history and traditions over the next few weeks,” he informed us. “All you need to know, right now, is that you are princelings. Recruits, in other words. Whatever you accomplished back home, you are - right now - at the very bottom of the ladder. Should you climb up a step or two, you will become squires and find yourself apprenticed to a master. And then you will become a Kingsman or find yourself shuffled sideways, into the auxiliaries. Don’t take that too badly, if it happens. The auxiliaries do a lot of useful work.”
His smile tightened. “And don’t look down on them either,” he added. “Like I said, they do a lot of useful work.”
“But they’re not Kingsmen,” someone muttered.
Sir Muldoon looked at him, coldly. “No, they’re not,” he agreed. “But without them, we couldn’t do our jobs. So ... be polite.”
He smiled. “Now, in a few minutes, I’m going to show you to the barracks. You’re going to be living there, until you either become squires or get kicked out. I’ll give you an hour to get settled in before we start training in earnest and” - his smile grew colder - “don’t expect me to be so generous next time. You’ll learn to dress within five minutes, when the bell rings, or you’ll be doing your training in the nude. You won’t enjoy that.”
Of course not, I thought.
“Talk amongst yourselves, if you wish,” Sir Muldoon concluded, sternly. “But don’t pry too much. Wherever you came from, whatever you were back home, you’re all princelings now.”
He stood. “Follow me.”
The six of us followed him down a long corridor, past a dozen doors that were firmly locked and warded closed, and into the barracks. I’d thought my first-year dorm was bad, but this ... there were twelve bunks, each one barely large enough for a child. Six of them had been made, with mattresses and thin sheets to cover us at night; the remaining six were nothing more than frameworks, as if they were intended to serve as a climbing frame. It struck me, a moment too late, that all six of us - boys as well as girls - were going to be sharing the same room. I blushed, furiously. I was glad, very glad, it didn’t show on my face.
“There are showers in the next room,” Sir Muldoon said, as he opened a door. “When the morning bell rings, go straight down the corridor and into the dining hall. Do not open any of the locked doors. That’s more than you can handle, at this stage. Don’t wo
rry. They’ll be unlocked soon enough.”
I felt a shiver as Sir Muldoon went on and on, detailing rules I could barely remember. I’d always had a good memory, but this ...? I didn’t know how to cope. I felt intimidated as hell, and it was only the first day! I picked one of the bunks, dropped my knapsack on the mattress and opened it up, feeling hopelessly out of place. How was anyone meant to cope? I’d thought my days of sharing bedrooms were over. Clearly, I’d been wrong.
Sir Muldoon gave us a final set of instructions, then withdrew. I watched him go, then turned my attention to my knapsack. It felt as if I hadn’t brought anything like enough, even though I’d gathered everything on the list. The Kingsmen had promised to provide everything else I needed. I let out a breath, feeling overwhelmed as I sat on the bunk. How was I meant to cope? All of a sudden, quitting didn’t seem such a bad idea after all.
“Hey.” I looked up. One of the boys was waving at me. “I’m Chance. Who are you?”
“Adam,” I said. I frowned. “Did your parents really call you Chance?”
“That’s a matter of opinion,” Chance informed me. “I say they did. They say they didn’t. And now I’m eighteen, what I say goes.”
One of the girls leaned forward. “And they just let you put Chance on the application form?”
“Let’s just say they didn’t mind, as long as I lived up to my promise,” Chance said. “Who’re you?”
“Jean,” the girl said. “Who else do we have?”
“Archie,” one of the other boys said. “And the strong silent dude beside me is Hector.”
“He talks enough for both of us,” Hector said.
“And I’m Caroline,” the pretty girl said. Her accent reminded me of Shallot, although I still didn’t recognise her. She didn’t look that much older than me. She couldn’t have been in the year above me without me knowing. Maybe she simply hadn’t been to Jude’s. There were other schools, even though Jude's liked to pretend they didn’t exist. “I guess we’re all overachievers.”
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