The King's Man

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  “I could have used this when I was a little girl,” Caroline said, looking down at the ring. “My parents would have loved to be able to call me home.”

  “It sounds like a nightmare,” I said, remembering days I’d come home late and sworn blind I’d lost track of time. “You’d have no deniability at all.”

  “Hah.” Caroline shrugged, then leaned forward. “What did you spend your childhood doing?”

  “Working in the shop, when I wasn’t at school,” I said. I couldn’t bear the thought of going back to working in the shop again, particularly as I wouldn’t inherit anything. And besides, I’d probably drive customers away. Toni could have the shop, and welcome. “What about yourself?”

  Caroline looked lost, just for a second. “Studying,” she said, finally. “And trying to be what my parents wanted.”

  I felt a wave of sympathy. I wasn’t sure what my father had wanted either. I had no doubt the old man had wanted three business-savvy children, who’d grow the business and marry well until they - and the family - were completely unchallengeable. Toni was good - I gave her that much - but Nora and I were less interested in standing behind the counter and trying to sell overpriced crap to people. Father’s dream seemed as unattainable as ever. I put the thought aside and smiled, grateful I’d found a new life. Father would be happier with one less mouth to feed, now that I’d left school.

  “I don’t think we need to worry about making our parents proud,” I said, as I sat back on my haunches. “We just have to attain our knighthoods.”

  “And make Sir Griffons proud,” Caroline said. She reached out and held my hands. “I think I have an idea.”

  I shivered as she pushed magic through her skin, into mine. It felt like an intimate touch, but ... one I didn’t want, one that creeped me out as it grew stronger. I flinched, pushing back. I sensed a wave of revulsion from her as my magic brushed against her. She didn’t like the touch any more than I did. I was suddenly very aware of her beating heart, of every fibre of her body. I forced myself to pull back as she gasped and let go. We were no longer touching, but I could still feel her. It was hard, so hard, to put the sensation into words.

  “Close your eyes,” Caroline ordered. “And reach for me.”

  I nodded and obeyed. My eyes were firmly closed and yet ... I could see her. Sense her. The magic was calmer now that we were growing used to the sensation. It felt almost as if we were one person. Caroline lifted a hand and threw a punch. I blocked it with almost casual ease, as if I’d had all the warning in the universe, then threw a punch back at her. She deflected it, giggling. I felt her amusement brushing against my magic. I couldn’t help being amused too. Perhaps, just perhaps, we were on the right track.

  My eyes snapped open. The connection broke. I reeled, feeling almost as if I was drunk. The floor seemed to move... I had to take a deep breath and focus before I could convince myself that the floor wasn’t on the verge of collapse. I could still feel her, but ... the connection was gone. It was all I could do not to reach for her again. Her dark eyes met mine. I could tell she felt the same way too.

  Caroline let out a long breath. “This is dangerous.”

  “Yeah.” I stood, pacing the room. “And yet he wants us to do it?”

  “I guess they wanted us to be partners.” Caroline picked up her training blade and stood. “Stand on your guard.”

  I grabbed my blade, an instant before she swept forward. I knew she was coming. I wasn’t sure how or why, but I knew it. I blocked her, parrying the blow, then lashed at her. She didn’t try to block me. She just jumped back, carrying herself out of range. I came forward, slashing at her blade time and time again. She blocked me effortlessly, as if she knew what I’d do before I did it. I grunted as she thrust back at me, trying to block her. She seemed more capable of hiding her intentions than myself. I wasn’t sure how she did it.

  The strange feeling grew stronger as we cut and thrust at each other. I tried to ignore the intimacy, even as I depended on it. I wanted her. I needed her. And yet ... we’d been given strict orders not to get too intimate. I pressed forward, finding it harder and harder to remember why I should listen to Sir Griffons. Caroline smiled widely, sweat dripping down her face. She’d never looked more beautiful. I wanted her, yet I couldn’t have her.

  I sensed something shift, an instant before Sir Griffons thrust himself into our dance. I jumped back, stunned. Where had he come from? It felt as if we’d been duelling for hours. Sir Griffons laughed and raised his blades, lashing out at both of us. This time, I wasn’t surprised. Caroline and I moved as one, raining blows on him from both sides. We thrust our blades at him, parrying his counterblows as we struggled to bring him down. He had the edge, in strength and skill, but we were one. I threw myself forward, forcing him to concentrate on me. His sword struck me in the chest - I grunted in pain, stumbling to my knees - as Caroline stabbed him in the back. Sir Griffons laughed as he joined me on the floor. I swallowed, hard. The fencing master at Jude’s would have called that a dirty trick. He’d have given us both detention for years. But here ...

  “Very good,” Sir Griffons said. He pulled himself to his feet, grinning down at us. “You could have pressed your advantage a little more, both of you, but you did well.”

  “Thanks.” It felt almost like a dream. My memories were hopelessly scrambled. “Does everyone manage to make it work?”

  “Not everyone.” Sir Griffons met my eyes evenly. “Some people are better at it than others. We try hard to spot people with the power to make it work, but ... we’re not always successful.”

  “Great.” Caroline watched as I stumbled to my feet. “What’s the point of it?”

  “Being able to fight as one comes in very handy, if you’re badly outnumbered,” Sir Griffons said. “Didn’t they make you study the Defence of Duffer’s Drift during training?”

  I nodded. I wasn’t sure I believed the story. The defenders had been outnumbered a hundred to one. Odds like that didn't care how good you are. But they’d woven a complex network of wards and traps to force the enemy to come to them a few at a time, ensuring that they could be picked off one by one. The story had impressed me, when I’d heard it, even though two-thirds of the defenders had been dead by the time the relief force arrived. They’d stood their ground, despite being massively outnumbered. They’d probably saved the entire kingdom from defeat.

  “They all fought as one,” Caroline said. “But will we need it here?”

  “You might.” Sir Griffons gave her a warning look. “The City Guardsmen will be taking you on patrol tomorrow. They don’t like us, unless they want us to solve a mystery for them. Expect to be tested.”

  “Yes, sir.” I sighed. It was an article of faith in Water Shallot that only thugs, bully-boys and incompetents joined the City Guard. The honest guardsmen were the ones who stayed bought after collecting their bribes. I wondered - sourly - if any of them would recognise me. Father was one of the merchants who paid through the nose for extra protection. “Are we allowed to hit them?”

  “Only if they hit you first,” Sir Griffons said. “We really don’t want an incident, if it can be avoided. Our superiors will not be pleased.”

  Caroline leaned forward. “Sir ... how many Kingsmen are there in the city?”

  “As far as I know, just me.” Sir Griffons smiled, humourlessly. “You two don’t count. Not yet. And there’s a strict cap on the number of Kingsmen who can enter the city at any time.”

  “So we were told,” I said. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

  “There are agreements. Treaties.” Sir Griffons met my eyes. “And those treaties have been in force long enough to make them extremely difficult to evade. What few loopholes there are have been exploited so heavily that everyone knows they exist.”

  “Ouch,” I said. I rubbed my aching sides. Sir Griffons had hit me hard enough to hurt, despite the charms. I wanted a hot bath and a painkilling potion. I had the feeling I wasn’t going to get either. “Wh
at now?”

  “You two can have the afternoon to yourselves,” Sir Griffons said. “I suggest” - I knew it was an order - “you spend it familiarising yourselves with this building, before you go out to get the lie of the land. Or the lie of the land.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, resisting the urge to groan at the terrible pun. We’d been taught we needed to know what was normal in the city, before things became abnormal. “Can I go home?”

  “I’d advise against it,” Sir Griffons said. “Get yourself used to being here first, before you tell your family you’re back in town.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, reluctantly.

  “You can show me around instead,” Caroline said. She shot me a smile. I had the feeling she wanted to get out of the building for a while. “And then we should probably go to bed early.”

  “Quite,” Sir Griffons said. “You’re expected to be ready to depart at seven in the morning.”

  “So we’ll be leaving at nine,” I guessed. The City Guard wasn’t known for being punctual. “Or maybe even ten.”

  “Be ready for seven,” Sir Griffons said. His voice was very firm. “I won’t have you two showing me up in front of the City Guard.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. There was no point in arguing. “We won’t let you down.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “That’s the City Guard?”

  “Probably,” I said. Caroline was peering out the window as I tightened my tunic and checked my spellcasters. “It’s only eight o’clock. They’re being remarkably efficient.”

  I stepped up next to her and looked down. Five tough-looking men stood just outside the wards, wearing rusty armour that looked as if it would shatter under a single spell. The armbands they wore were the only things that marked them as guardsmen. Otherwise ... I thought I might have mistaken them for mercenaries or hired thugs. I scowled as I glanced at their weapons - their swords looked as rusty as their armour - and then led the way down the stairs. There weren’t many people in Shallot who respected the City Guard. They were widely seen as nothing more than deeply corrupt bully boys.

  Sir Griffons opened the door as we reached the ground floor. “Captain Dale,” he said, indicating a man who looked like a half-shaved gorilla. “Allow me to introduce my new squires, Adam and Caroline.”

  Dale looked at me - his eyes managing to give the impression that he’d seen more impressive people in the bars, drunk out of their minds - then at Caroline. I saw a hint of a leer cross his face before he thought better of it. I gritted my teeth as he held out a hand for me to shake, then bowed to Caroline. This wasn’t going to be fun. Dale nodded politely to Sir Griffons and then led us out of the building. The remainder of the guardsmen eyed us with a mixture of indifference, fear and amusement. I tried to ignore the way they looked at Caroline.

  “Stay close to us,” Dale ordered, as the patrol started to move. “Don’t draw your weapons without my command.”

  I glanced at Caroline as we fell into step. The guardsman didn’t so much march as amble down the street. Despite Dale’s command, they kept their hands close to their weapons. I had the feeling they expected trouble, even though the streets weren’t that busy. But then, we were in North Shallot. Things would be busier - and more exciting - in Water Shallot. Dale kept up a steady line of chatter as we took the long way around, staying well clear of the mansions. The aristos didn’t want the guardsmen lingering around. I didn’t blame them. I had no doubt the guardsmen would drink the wine, leer at the staff and do as little as possible if they were called. Besides, the aristos had armsmen of their own. They were hired to do the dirty work and keep their mouths shut afterwards.

  The streets grew busier as we crossed the bridge into South Shallot. Children were heading to school, looking about as enthusiastic as convicted criminals heading to the gallows. Their parents were walking beside them, glancing nervously at the guardsmen as they ambled up the road. The shops were already open, shopkeepers waving to potential customers and shaking their fists at independent stallkeepers and hucksters running up and down the street trying to make sales before the locals drove them away. The guardsmen ignored the growing tension as they turned up the next road, walking past a potions’ store I recalled visiting - once or twice - when I’d been in school. Caroline touched my hand lightly, indicating a pair of young men on the corner. They looked ready to commit some kind of mischief.

  “They’re back,” Dale said, stiffly. “Look.”

  I followed his pointing finger. Someone had stuck a poster to the wall, inviting all and sundry to the local Working Men’s club for ... for what? The bottom half of the poster was already torn, obscuring the message. The guardsmen didn’t look impressed. I heard them muttering about socialists and garbagemen as they tore the remnants of the poster from the wall, crumpled it up and dumped it in the gutter. I exchanged glances with Caroline as the guardsmen resumed their march, heading further up the street. There were four more posters waiting for us. They were rapidly torn down and destroyed.

  “What’s going on?” I wasn’t sure I could trust whatever Dale said, but there was no one else to ask. “Who are they?”

  “We have orders to shut down all socialistic chatter,” Dale snarled. “The bosses told us to make sure the posters are destroyed before ...”

  His voice trailed off as he spotted another poster. I watched him tear it down, muttering a spell to burn the paper to ash. I didn’t understand. The Working Men’s clubs were hardly a problem. They kept men off the streets, men who might be eating the sawdust in dockyard pubs or picking fights with the City Guard. I’d been in a couple of them, when I’d been a child. They’d been far safer than the average pub. The customers had been surprisingly friendly.

  “Why are they putting up posters?” Caroline leaned forward. “And why do you have orders to tear them down?”

  “I don’t ask questions,” Dale growled. The look he gave her was far from friendly. “I just carry out my orders.”

  I shrugged as we resumed our march. We weren’t going to get any good answers from Dale. I guessed he didn’t have the seniority to understand the rationale behind his orders. I made a mental note to follow it up with Sir Griffons later, then put the thought aside as we marched across another bridge and into Water Shallot. I felt a twinge of shame at marching next to the guardsmen. The locals eyed us warily, their eyes burning with hatred. I knew they thought we were the enemy. We were right next to the enemy.

  The sense of unfriendly eyes following our every movement grew stronger as we marched through the gentrified side of the island. I saw tough-looking men watching us, shadowing us; their heads popping in and out of alleyways as if they were plotting to lure us into a trap. A handful of women - prostitutes - turned their heads away, refusing to make eye contact. I didn’t blame them. The guardsmen would demand freebies, in exchange for not harassing the streetwalkers. And then they’d probably arrest the poor girls anyway. The hell of it was that a night in the cells would probably be better than another night on the streets.

  One of the guardsmen muttered something unpleasant as we turned and headed back to the bridge. I ignored him as best as I could. We weren’t going really deep into Water Shallot, then. I wasn’t surprised. There were places towards the docks where no one would willingly go, not without a small army at his back. The City Guard knew better than to trespass in gangland territory. The smugglers would hand them their heads if they so much as peeked into the docks. Even the Great Families trod lightly there. The guardsmen might go in, but they wouldn’t come out again.

  We’d be better off going alone, if we had to go, I thought. A gust of warm air struck me as we marched back into South Shallot. The streets were even busier, somehow. The guardsmen would just draw attention like moths to flame.

  “Interesting,” Caroline said, as she pointed to another poster. “What’s that?”

  Dale sounded annoyed, although not with her. “Prince Jacob of North Cairnbulg is campaigning for support,” he said. “H
e wants Shallot and the Great Houses to fund his bid for power in North Cairnbulg. Or something like that. He’s currently trying to drum up support in Magus Court.”

  I blinked. That was a more useful answer than I’d expected from Dale. “Why did he come here?”

  “He thinks the Great Houses will support him.” Dale spat, rudely. “He’s sitting on his ass, eating and drinking at taxpayer’s expense, while we have to protect him against his enemies because we can’t let him die here or we’ll look like bloody fools. Or worse.”

  “He’s actually here?” I remembered hearing about Prince Jacob, but I hadn’t thought he’d moved to Shallot. “Why?”

  “Like I said, he thinks we’ll help him.” Dale gave me a look that suggested he thought I was stupid. “And you know what, there’s a whole bunch of aristos who think helping him is a really great idea.”

  Caroline nudged me. “Wouldn’t that be a treaty violation?”

  “Probably,” I agreed. I had the feeling it wasn’t our problem. “We should probably ask Sir Griffons and ...”

  “Move,” Dale snapped. “Run!”

  The entire patrol started to run, chasing a young boy who clutched a handbag in one hand. I realised, as I picked up speed, that he’d stolen it from an elderly woman. I heard her screaming curses and spitting magic in all directions as we ran past her, chasing the boy. He was fast, but not fast enough. I hit him with a tangle spell, sending him crashing to the ground. The guardsmen jumped him before he could recover. I stared in horror as they punched him again and again.

  “Stop,” I snapped. “You got him!”

  “Teach the little bastard a lesson,” Dale snarled, as he hauled the thief to his feet. Blood was streaming from a cracked jaw. “He won’t be stealing again ...”