by David Drake
I picked a green tunic with gray cross-stripes; I’d worn it before and knew that it was cut looser than some, which I wanted for sparring. I thought it looked fine, too, but I didn’t care about that.
“You’re still determined to make Osbourn jump through all the hoops this way?” May said.
Pulling my trousers on gave me an excuse not to turn around. I said, “Love, you know me. It’s best for your cousin to go through like everybody else. You know how many people think I used magic to beat Lord Baran. Even some Champions think that, I guess. It won’t make Osbourn’s life any easier if folks think I pulled strings to get him into the Hall.”
That was all true, but it wasn’t why I refused. The Leader sent one or two Champions at a time to where there was a problem. Mostly the Champions’ job was to get arguing parties to come to Dun Add and put it in front of Jon and his Council. Every once in a while, though, a Champion has to knock heads together—
And a Champion always has to be ready to knock heads together—and to convince angry people that he could knock their heads together. It was a job that would have required a company of regular soldiers every time if people throughout the Commonwealth didn’t think the Hall of Champions was full of mighty heroes with no equal in the world.
If people didn’t believe that—believe that myth, if you like—the job would be a lot harder and more dangerous. There’d always be somebody willing to try it on with a Champion if they weren’t in their hearts convinced that it’d be suicide. It wasn’t really a myth, either, because anybody with the equipment and training to make it through the selection process was a match for just about anybody who hadn’t done that.
I wasn’t going to cut corners for May’s cousin and risk the lives of my fellows in the Hall of Champions. Osbourn wasn’t going to have the title until he proved he was a Champion.
“I don’t ask you for much, Pal,” May said. “I could count on Uncle Albrecht when there was nobody else, and I want his grandson to become a Champion while he’s still alive to see it.”
“Love,” I said, “all of us want Lord Osbourn to become a Champion—you, me, and the Leader himself. We’re going to get him there.”
Another time I’d have leaned back over the bed and kissed May goodbye, but now I went out the door and closed it behind me. May was never going to see things the way I did, and the fact that I had all the power on this one didn’t mean that my life would be pleasant if I told her just to shut up because we were doing it my way.
We’d given Osbourn the room across from ours—the third floor was a banquet hall with a tiny room for Dom and Elise. “Rise and shine!” I called as I opened the door. The windows were shuttered, but I walked to the outside wall and opened them.
The sun wasn’t high enough to be bright yet and it was overcast besides, but it was enough to wake Osbourn up. He groaned and turned his face away from the windows. He’d sprawled across the bed with his clothes still on—except for the shoe I’d stumbled on, heading for the shutters.
Osbourn had been drinking pretty steadily while he was waiting to come back to the house, and with dinner he’d had two bottles of wine—less a couple glasses for May. That was all right. I wasn’t the only rural kid who’d thought the Champions were all spotless heroes, but we were dead wrong.
Every time Jon sent a Champion on a mission, there was a good chance somebody or something would try to kill him. You’ve got to have a way to unwind from that. Some guys do that with women; I’d been told not long after I got to Dun Add that a Champion could have pretty much any woman that he wanted, and that was as true as sunrise. Others drank, and some of them drank a lot. That was all right too, as long as it didn’t keep you from doing your job.
Mom had raised me as a prig, and I guess I still was one. The few times I’d gotten drunk didn’t make me want to do it again, either. I was lucky to be a Maker, because losing myself in a complicated artifact relaxed me completely.
Now I kept my opinions to myself, and I’ve learned that my opinions about things aren’t necessarily the Almighty’s will. Even if Mom taught me that they were.
Osbourn moaned. “We don’t have to get up this early, do we?”
“Yes,” I said, “we do. We’re going to get you squared away in the Aspirants’ Hall, and then I’m going to see how you handle your hardware. May is determined that you’re going to meet the requirements while your grandfather’s around to see it, and I always try to do what May wants.”
That was true, though I made it sound like a joke. I know a lot of guys who think that doing what a woman wants makes you less of a man. Lord Osbourn might have been raised that way.
May knew more about most things—not plowing, but things in Dun Add—than I did, so she made most of the decisions here for both of us. I guess anybody who didn’t think I was a man could challenge me and find out.
It took Osbourn a while to get moving, even with me there keeping him to it. He washed his face in the basin and changed his suit: he’d slept in what he’d worn yesterday. He’d walked through mud—he must’ve gotten off South Street—but Dom had cleaned his boots overnight.
While we waited, I looked at Osbourn’s equipment. His shield was a good one: it was light, but the boy would have to build up the strength of his arms before he’d be able to handle a shield that could give him better protection.
I put the shield down and took a look at his weapon. Instead of switching it on—I don’t like to do that inside, especially with an unfamiliar piece of gear—I sat on the empty chair and went into a trance. I can learn as much about a weapon that way as by using it, though I learn different things. This time I was startled at what I saw.
I came out of the trance and saw Lord Osbourn staring at me. He swallowed and said, “I just said that I suppose I’m ready to go. But if you want to wait…?”
“Sorry,” I said. “I was in a trance. May did tell you I was a Maker, didn’t she?”
“Oh,” said Osbourn. “She did say something, yes, but I thought I must’ve misheard her. Since you’re a Champion, you know.”
I put the weapon back in the holster. Osbourn had a very fancy embroidered bandolier to carry his gear on. I wondered if May had done the embroidery.
“It’s not common,” I said, “but some of us do both, yes. I’m nothing like good enough to make a living in Dun Add as a Maker, but if I hadn’t had some talent I’d wouldn’t have had any equipment on Beune. Weapons and shields don’t turn up there.”
In fact, I hadn’t had any equipment by the standards of Dun Add. I learned that real soon when I got here. I can still feel the beating I took in learning that the first day I was in the capital.
I kissed May goodbye in the drawing room as we passed, then headed up the street. I glanced at Osbourn and said, “I was looking at your weapon, Lord Osbourn. Do you use it only for thrusting?”
“Pretty much, yeah,” he said. His expression became worried. “Is that wrong? I’d always heard that it’s what the really good people do. ‘The cut wounds; the thrust kills.’“
“That’s what they say,” I agreed, “but a Champion has to be ready to use whatever’s right for the moment. Your weapon’s optimized to provide ninety percent of its power on a thrust.”
“Is that bad?” Osbourn said. “It’s always worked really well in the past.”
He was looking really worried now, but he also seemed confused.
“It’s not bad, exactly,” I said, “but your weapon’s almost useless for defense.”
“Defense?” Osbourn said. His face relaxed. “Oh, that’s all right then. I defend with my shield. You had me worried there.”
Not worried enough, I thought. I remembered how young he was—and realized he was even younger than that in his attitudes. The Count of Madringor wasn’t a name to command respect in Dun Add, but I could guess that the grandson he doted on walked on water at home.
That was a problem that the Aspirants’ Hall would take care of pretty quickly. I was more happy than
ever that I’d demanded that Osbourn go through the normal routine. Not that I’d ever been in doubt about my decision.
We entered the palace through the door that led directly into the lobby of the Aspirants’ Hall. A group of Aspirants carrying their equipment came down the big staircase chattering about what they were going to do to one another on the field.
It was friendly banter, and it brought back memories of me and my roommates when I came back to Dun Add with proper equipment. I was now a respected Champion, known for my skill—and for having the most lovely woman in the court for my mate. I was rich, too, if you thought about that.
But in those days less than a year ago, I didn’t have to worry about anything except whether Garrett was going to crack me over the head again when I didn’t get my shield up in time. Well, I also worried that Welsh was going to open the wrong door when he came in drunk and throw up over my legs again.
I couldn’t imagine having May’s cousin to babysit back then. On the other hand, I couldn’t have imagined having May, either.
The Clerk of the Hall was Mistress Elaine, who was on duty most of the times I’d been in the lobby. She had reliefs—the Hall was open at all times, and everybody sleeps eventually—but Elaine didn’t seem to have a life outside here.
“Lord Pal!” she called from behind the counter. “An honor to see you, your lordship.”
The Aspirants fell silent and glanced sidelong at me as they scuttled through the door from which a trail led down to the jousting ground. I could hear the buzz of conversation pick up again when I was out of their sight. I wondered whether they were disappointed. Champions tended to be big men, and even some of those who aren’t—Lord Clain isn’t any taller than me—have a presence that stood out like a lantern in a dark room.
I couldn’t claim that either. If I was in dress clothes—as I pretty much was all the time nowadays if I was going to the palace—people took me for a clerk. In the clothes I wear to the jousting field, I look like a hick from Beune—probably come to the capital to see the sights.
“Hey, Elaine,” I said. “I’m bringing Lord Osbourn here to enroll him.”
“Do I have to check his equipment?” Elaine said as she looked back at the board on which she kept track of room assignments.
“No,” I said. There are women besides Elaine who can use weapons and shields, but bloody few of them. I guess it could be something to do with women’s brains, but I suspect it was a choice the Ancients made before they smashed the world into what it is now. “His shield’s first rate and his weapon’s good enough for to get in. We’ll look for something better when he needs it.”
“Good enough for me,” Elaine said. “Do you care how many he’s in a room with?”
“See here, good woman!” Lord Osbourn said on a rising note. “Don’t I get a say in this? I want a room by myself! Don’t worry—I’ll pay for it. My grandfather sent me with a purse of five thousand silver Dragons!”
“You don’t pay if you’re accepted,” Mistress Elaine said calmly. “And no, you don’t get a say. Lord Pal?”
“Not one of the barracks,” I said. “Two or three roommates would be about right, I think.”
“Well, I tell you what,” Elaine said, looking over her shoulder at the board. “There’s thirty-seven. Which means climbing some stairs.”
“Good exercise,” I said, grinning at the clerk. We were rubbing Lord Osbourn’s nose in his status to the world of Dun Add. I shouldn’t have joined Elaine in doing that, but his sneering “good woman” had gotten up my nose just about as bad as it had hers. I was likely to hear about this from May, but I was mad enough that right now I didn’t care.
“There’s one guy there now and he just moved in two days ago,” Elaine said. “It’s a three-room suite, though, and I may be moving somebody else in later.”
She didn’t raise her eyebrow, but I knew she was asking my approval. It was just what I’d hoped. I said, “I was in a three-room suite myself, and I think I learned as much from my roommates as I did in the practice hall. I don’t mean just about getting knocked around, though it was that too.”
Garrett, one of my roommates, had exceptional reach. He got me once on the back of the head, reaching around my shield while he faced me. That was a lesson not only in reach but also in thinking you can get through a fight just by following the script you figured out ahead of time.
Osbourn kept his mouth shut, which showed he could learn. He was mad as a hornet but he hadn’t lost control. He came up the stairs beside me, but he didn’t say a word.
I thought about those five thousand silver pieces he claimed. That was a lot of money for a place like Madringor. It could be that Uncle Albrecht thought of it as an investment: a Champion could become lord of as many nodes as he added to the Commonwealth. The Leader wanted the Commonwealth to include every human settlement, and he was happy to reward those who brought that closer to completion.
More likely, though, Count Albrecht was just determined that Osbourn should have all the advantages that money could buy. I’m not sure that was a good idea, but nobody was asking me. I don’t take orders from Albrecht, though, so things were going to be done my way for now.
Room 37 was off the top of the stairs. I carry a little folding knife in my trouser pocket; I left it closed and rapped it on the door panel.
“Your roommate is here!” I called. “We’re coming in.”
I’d reached for the latch, but before I could act, the door was pulled open from inside. The husky dark-haired youth who gestured us in said, “Hi, I’m Andreas from Clove and—”
He stepped back and stared at me. “Great God Almighty!” he said, staring at me. “You’re Lord Pal! You killed the Spider and won Castle Ariel with all its treasures!”
“Well, yes,” I said. “But right now I’m showing around my friend Lord Osbourn. He’s been assigned to this suite.”
“Glad to meet you, your lordship,” Andreas said, shaking hands with Osbourn but then immediately looking back to me. “Lord Pal, may I ask how you were able to kill the Spider by yourself that way?”
“There wasn’t any science to it,” I said. “When it came through the walls—it was from the Waste, you see; or maybe from Not-Here. There wasn’t time to think, so I just waded in. I’m not sure thinking would’ve been much help anyway.”
I hadn’t thought about that morning for a long time. I’d been terrified—not so that I’d have run if there’d have been a way to do that (which there wasn’t). Too frightened to think, though.
“When I saw that thing coming, part of it Here but part of it not…” I said. I was talking aloud, but not really to the pair of Aspirants; the words were echoing in my mind. “I was like a horsefly. I was sure it was going to kill me, but I was going to draw blood first. Though it wasn’t blood, it was green and it stank and so much poured out when I cut its belly open that I like to’ve drowned.”
I brought myself out of the memory. I think a reverie is supposed to be a good thing, which this surely wasn’t; it was a dream of sorts, though. I looked from Andreas to Osbourn and tried to manage a smile. I said, “There was no science at all,” I repeated. “You’ve got nothing to learn from that one.”
“We can learn not to run,” Andreas said. “We can learn not to give up, regardless what the odds are.”
I took a deep breath. “That’s something you’d best learn before you enter the Hall, here,” I said. “Look, why don’t the three of us go down to the tavern here and I’ll buy you both a beer? Tomorrow I’ll take Lord Osbourn out to the field and he’ll show me what he’s got.”
“Do they have wine, Lord Pal?” Osbourn said. “It’s just that I’m not used to beer. Ah—I can pay for my own drinks.”
His look of injured dignity seemed to have melted during the discussion. Listening to the Clerk of Aspirants’ Hall had taught Osbourn where he stood in Dun Add; listening to Andreas—and I guess hearing about the Spider from me—showed him where I stood. I’m sure May had said
I was a great hero, but she would say that, wouldn’t she? About the guy she was sleeping with. I wasn’t likely to impress Osbourn myself, though, any more than one of his grandfather’s tenants would have.
“I can afford a bottle, I guess,” I said, “though I’ll stick to beer myself. It’s what I was raised on. Osbourn, remember we’re going to want to upgrade your hardware before long, and a good weapon is going to make you glad your grandfather set you up so well.”
The tavern beside Aspirants’ Hall would serve anybody but mostly it was for Aspirants who wanted a drink with their buddies after a day of practice. It was open in the morning, but there were only three customers besides us. I said, “You guys get a table and I’ll fetch the drinks. Andreas, what’ll you have?”
“Ah—red wine for choice,” he said. “If that’s all right?”
“It’s all right,” I said. There were big windows in the south wall through which the light flooded. It gave me a better view of Andreas than I’d had when we met.
His clothes were sober—dark blue with black piping—but of better quality than I’d expected. His hair was black and his eyes dark blue. They were set closer together than I find attractive. He struck me as bright and eager, but some of that may have been contrast with Osbourn, who cultivated a look of bored indolence.
I got a lager and a bottle of wine with two mugs. I hadn’t asked the Aspirants about varieties, because it was all the same. The wine here was serviceable, as was the beer. If you wanted a choice, there were plenty of bars in Dun Add, some of them very bloody fancy.
I plunked the drinks down on the table before my guests and took a third chair. As Osbourn poured, I sipped my beer and said, “Master Andreas, what’s your background before you came here? Is your father an armsman?”
“Oh, heavens no, sir!” Andreas said. “That is, no, your lordship. My father’s a merchant. He does a fair amount of business for Clove, but he’s very small by Dun Add standards.”
“My dad,” I said. “Foster father, really, but I didn’t know that. He was a farmer and not big even by Beune standards. But I read the romances and knew I wanted to help the Leader bring civilization everywhere. To all of Here.”