Fletcher

by P. S. Power

  “The first courtly bow! I didn’t save your life! These things are important. Do it again.” The man let himself be mollified on the second attempt.

  Anders drove all of the new information into his mind, holding it there, layered in a dark hallway, in order of their names. The first courtly bow, with a man shaped image showing the important points. The second a step down. The familial version on the other side, to the right, with an image of Lyse performing the correct action. All of it designed to help him recall the correct movements later.

  When he stood, Master Belford nodded at him.

  “Better, again. We should take time to review courtly graces, if you have time from your busy schedule of hiding and playing, Master Anders? While you recover. We can sit while doing most of it, which I’m certain will be restful for you.” The words were sour in tone, speaking of the idea that he already understood that Anders wouldn’t be doing any such thing.

  Truly, that was correct, for the most part. The boy was, or had been, lazy and fearful of minor discomfort. Even while fancying himself a strong man who would make an excellent soldier.

  Using the first courtly bow, doing it correctly, even if he felt sick, Anders schooled his face. He didn’t love the man in front of him. Even the part of him that was Farad could see good reason for that. The fellow held information that might be useful however and had trapped himself by the rules of the place there. He’d offered a thing, in front of others. Even if he’d been insulting in his use of the term master, for a boy.

  “That would be most welcome, Master Belford. We can do that now, or at your convenience?”

  He wasn’t certain that he’d done it correctly, until Prince Erold chuckled a bit.

  “We should then. I guess if we need to be stuck inside on a nice day such as this, we might as well do that. Still, you could go softer on the lash, couldn’t you Master Belford? I can’t imagine bruises and lacerations will aid in his healing from this latest setback.”

  The words were polite, though a bit dry. Indicating that the younger Prince was actually a bit upset with the man. Probably about the use of the stick in his hands. It did sting, when it was used.

  The man actually smiled, seeming to mean it.

  “Hmm? I suppose we might, if Anders is going to actually attempt to learn for once? It seems nearly dying was good for you, boy. Come. This place could use some freshening. We can sit in the outer commons for today. Will that serve, do you think?”

  The question was put to Master Franken, who nodded. The outer commons were the fields outside the castle walls. Near the groomed forest, on the western side. There was a fresh creek that ran in that direction. One just large enough for fishing, at certain times of the year.

  It was, he thought, still early spring.

  They bowed themselves out of the room, since getting to lessons seemed to be an actual task they were expected to see to, in the minds of the adults. At least if the younger Prince was going to take part in things without creating an issue for his tutors. They didn't race to the outer commons or anything, since that would, as Master Belford explained blandly, be rude to the ailing man.

  “His current weakness should not be exploited or mocked. If he is strong enough to move at all, we should seek to put him at his ease, not racing about to tire him. A measured pace is needed for that.”

  It truly was hard to summon the needed energy. His breathing wasn’t labored and his chest felt free and loose. A thing that he knew well meant he was decently healthy. Compared to an old and dying man. It took nearly twenty minutes to reach their destination, given that Master Belford had need to collect supplies for their day’s lesson first.

  One of those things was a blanket, which was laid out by the Prince.

  “For you to sit on, instead of the ground, Anders. Move over a bit, for the rest of us.” There was a playful grin and the cloth was large enough for the three of them. He sat with his legs crossed, where Master Belfort copied him and Erold lounged back, propped up on a single arm.

  The first order of things, it seemed, had to do with eating. Not that they had food in the basket that Belford had brought with them. Which was fine. Anders would have been ill if he’d been forced to even smell food at that moment.

  Instead, a fine plate was set out, with a smaller one above it, away from Anders. Then silver, the real kind, not the wooden spoons and knives he was used to was set out, arrayed in front of him. A napkin made of linen was folded quickly and placed on the plate.

  “First, as soon as you sit, take the napkin, unfold it slowly, and put it on your lap.” The way of doing that was more complicated than he’d been told, so he was hit. Tapped on the knee. It hurt a bit.

  Anders didn’t respond at all to the move, merely correcting things when he was told.

  Then he placed the names of the various objects in front of him in an alcove of the courtly manners hallway, in his thoughts. The instructor of the moment sneered at him as soon as he finished that part.

  “Repeat what I told you. What is that?”

  “The first spoon. Used for broth or soup.”

  The stick was used to point, the cross-legged man looking at Anders, not what he was pointing at directly.

  “This?”

  “The opening fork. Used for the small salad. Sometimes for an opening fruit dish. That would depend on the service and time of year.”

  They covered everything in front of them, several times and in different orders, trying to throw him off. Except that the names were already in his head. That made the whole exercise decently simple. It was shown to him by the fact that he wasn’t being beaten constantly. A thing that Anders was confused by. Not Farad. It was clear to him that the unpleasant man was both being kind, in his own harsh way, to the ill boy and impressed that he was learning at all.

  A thing not associated with him in the past.

  Packing the plates and silver up, he nodded.

  “Never spit at the table. If you must remove food from your mouth, do so carefully and place it on the edge of your plate. Like this.” He pantomimed the motion, which Anders did in return. Earning a nod.

  “Exactly. That’s a good bit of learning on that topic for now. We’ll go over that again in three days’ time. Now, when you meet an attractive young lady, what do you say to her, Prince Erold?”

  The question was designed to get the other boy into trouble, since he might have drifted off, the boring lesson being about how he ate at every meal, no doubt. Nearly so. When he shared that with Anders they just shoved food in their faces, like anyone else.

  “Well met, Miss. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” There was a smile and a small bow to go with it. That required standing to do. It was different than the others Anders had seen.

  They all had to get up then, with Master Belford waving at the Prince rather gracefully.

  “Correct. Demonstrate the flirtatious bow. Pay heed here, Anders.”

  He did, since getting things wrong could still lead to a beating. Even if it came later, when he was well again.

  The move was tucked into the correct portion of his memory, with lines running to different areas outside the hallway in his head. Things dealing with young women, in this case. That way, if it ever came up for him, the event would lead him to the correct idea. How to bow toward a woman, if you wanted to gain her attention.

  Except that there was no other version of it, other than being formal. With a lady, it was expected that you would flirt and flatter, each time. Even if you didn’t find them attractive in particular. All women then, were to be treated the same that way. It was very different than what Farad was used to.

  In his life women were in the audience at times as he recited histories, tales or books and almost never spoken to, much less courted. That was only about himself as an individual, due to his calling. A thing that Anders had no reason to live by at all. In fact, it would be harmful to make him do so. An odd thing that would be noticed.

  He was bowing flirtatious
ly toward Erold when another man strode up. He smirked a bit, seeing the lesson at hand. Then he bowed himself. The man was dressed in rougher clothing. Military garb, rather than the finery that Master Belford or the younger Prince had on in the moment.

  Anders knew who the man was, of course. Captain Ford, of the castle guard. The Prince’s weapons and fighting tutor.

  They all responded with the first courtly bow. Given he wasn’t hit, it seemed Anders had gotten it correct the first time, without being prompted. The other man stood and nodded.

  “We have two students today?” The man didn't seem upset by the idea. In fact, he sized Anders up, and nodded. “I heard you were recently ill. We can use that. You’re still weakened?”

  He nodded.

  “Yes, Captain. I also don’t really know anything about fighting, putting me at a disadvantage that way, as well. I can barely run and can’t fight to defend myself.” The Anders portion of him felt weak, saying the truth on the matter.

  The guard in front of them, who was in his fourth decade or nearly so, simply smiled. Meaning it, as far as he could tell. It was hearty, without being sly or sneering at all.

  “Which means only that you need to learn. No harm in that. Let’s go to the weapons square then. Today you simply watch and pay attention. Come.” That was barked a bit, and got the two boys to follow, even though Master Belford simply packed his basket up.

  “We meet in the morrow at the same time, gentlemen.”

  That was enough of a statement it seemed, along with murmurs of until then. At least Erold said it and was copied by Anders. The Captain ignored the whole thing, not speaking until they were well away, nearly halfway back toward the large stone castle wall. The gray thing loomed above them, since it was thirty feet high. There were guards on the top of it, walking to and fro. None of them seemed concerned with who was coming or going in particular.

  “As a common man, under my tutelage, you’ll be required to practice three hundred flights with the long bow, every day, Anders. Most in the cities and towns only have to practice on the seventh day, for three hours. That isn’t enough, if you want to be good with your weapons. You’re thirteen?”

  That got him to shake his head.

  “Twelve.” It was probably a bit impolite not to use the man’s title each time he spoke to him.

  The Captain didn’t seem to care, which was nice to see.

  “That’s good. You’re big for twelve. That will probably mean you’re going to be a powerful man, if you work at it. We can start you on light bow now. That and spear work. Dueling sword and dagger as well, just for fun. That way, once you learn a bit, you can work with Prince Erold. He needs someone his own size to practice with, from time to time. Like you, he won’t be a small man, and there’s a skill to dealing with people that aren’t larger than yourself, just like the other way around.”

  The man didn't stop talking as they moved. It occurred to Anders that he needed to add a different hallway of the mind for what they were discussing. Parts of it were technical, with the rest being things that were probably common knowledge in the circles a guard Captain lived in.

  When they got to the weapons practice area, the man waved to a bench.

  “Sit and soak this in. It’s a bit different than what you’ll be learning at first. Still, the basics are the same. Ready, Prince Erold?”

  The boy nodded and as soon as they had weapons, long swords in this case, they started practicing. The things were made of metal, without the shining line along the edge that would indicate being sharpened. The ends were rounded as well, which didn’t stop the Prince from making a noise when the thing was punched into his middle.

  Still, they didn't stop due to that and didn’t have armor on. That part was explained as they worked.

  “Mid-weight long sword. It’s the largest blade that is commonly carried off the battle field. Used in serious duels, when first blood isn’t enough. Notice that we keep fighting, even when hit? You can’t afford to coddle a cut or even a stab in a real fight. Even with light blades, that can get you killed.” Then the man called out what he was doing, which let Anders memorize the names and actions. Some of them he had to see several times. It would be different when he did them himself, as well. Still, having the basic information was better than not having it.

  In the course of two hours, he increased his knowledge of fighting by several times. Not just for Anders, who clearly knew nothing on the subject, outside of daring tales he’d heard. Farad had been little better off that way, in his own long life. He’d lived a cloistered existence, for the most part.

  When the exercise was over, the Captain waved him over to where the Prince was standing. Others were working in the background, so they moved off to the side.

  “Anders, you’ll need a bow and some arrows. I’ll put word in with the castle bowyer to expect you in the coming days or weeks. Start with the heaviest weight you can pull.” He stopped, shrugging at the boys. “I mean for you to make your own. It’s a useful skill to have. Fletching as well. Understood?”

  The last word was harsh and a bit cold. As if he didn't expect him to actually be willing to listen or do any work at all. It showed the kind of reputation he was fighting against then. One well earned, it seemed. They all stood for a moment, allowing him to bow toward the Captain.

  “It will be done, as duty allows.” He smiled then. “Which I have to admit is pretty light for now. Do I come here each day, or…” That part was a risk. There was no real reason for the Captain to bother with him, after all. Even to get a training partner eventually for the younger Prince.

  The man clapped him on the shoulder. It was a hardy thing that nearly pushed him sideways.

  “Do it. We meet several times a week for lessons. I’m here every day.” There was a hint in the words, that it might pay for Anders to do the same.

  He nodded, the move still awkward for him.

  “Thank you, Captain Ford. I should visit the bowyer soon?”

  That got him hit on the shoulder again.

  “When you feel up to it. I’ll put in word with him tonight. The shop is behind the main barracks, out back.”

  Which was a thing that he actually knew. After all, he’d grown up at the castle there. Some places were off limits. The King and Queen’s quarters and hallways. The high dining room and the court areas. The throne room as well. The places that the guard frequented were open to everyone. At least no one had ever screamed when he’d gone around or watched them work. He even knew who the bowyer was, if not how to do his job.

  They all bowed, using a different form. No one hit him when he got it wrong, though Prince Erold did demonstrate it for him.

  “The first martial bow. Hands in front of the body, palms touching, so that you can defend yourself at need in case of attack. You only bend over slightly, head up, eyes locked on the hands of the person across from you. Like this.”

  They went over it a few times. It was a thing that he’d seen before, without really understanding why it was done that way. After that they were allowed to walk back to the castle. Erold looking at him strangely.

  “Are you feeling well? Normally you would have begged off of being around me for that long.” The words weren’t totally playful sounding, though there was a bit of a hint of that to them.

  He thought about it for a moment, then took a deep breath. The answer was going to take a bit of lying, after all. The trick there would be in making it close enough to the truth that he wouldn’t make a mistake with it in the future.

  “It was never about avoiding you, of course. Just the lessons. I… Last night, I nearly died. I mean, for real. Not a horse kicking near me or almost falling into the river. I was fading, when Master Healer Franken saved me. It cost him a magical crystal. He only had the one. An irreplaceable wonder. That was used to save me. Anders the lazy.” He waved his hands a bit, as if throwing the idea away from him. “I decided, when I could think again, that I might want to be a bit more than that, if I h
ave the chance. I can’t pay for my life, really. All I can do is try to… Not be what I was, any longer.”

  The Prince nodded as they kept moving. Not going all that fast.

  “I see. How long do you think that will last? This new and more disciplined Anders, I mean?”

  The thing there was that he was torn, inside. Anders, the feckless and lazy boy knew that such a thing had probably already run its course. Farad however, understood that to learn about the world he was in and get ahead, he was going to have to seek out knowledge at every point he could.

  Also, that Farad was the larger portion of their being now. Meaning that the traits of the boy were going to eventually, possibly instantly, give over to the wishes of the man.

  Saying that would have him labeled either insane or possessed, both things that existed for the people of Istlan. Which meant he tried to seem pensive in the moment.

  “I don’t know. If I get too lazy, borrow that stick from Master Belford and beat some sense into me? I think you can do that. I can’t beat you with a sword anyway.” That part was just clear. He’d never touched that kind of thing in his life, after all.

  Erold nodded.

  “Well enough, if you’re that serious. I should come get you for lessons in the early afternoon then? After the mid-day meal. Where will I find you? In your bed?” The boy wasn’t even making fun of him over the idea.

  He was still ill after all and might well need the sleep.

  “That sounds about right. I’ll try to be with the bowyer though, if the man doesn’t toss me out as a distraction first. I can’t promise I’ll make that tomorrow.”

  That got a serious nod.

  “Good then. I should be off to the evening meal soon. I have to dress for it. After we go over which fork to use a few more times we should get you invited to it. Just for the practice of the thing. It would be poor form not to put all of Master Belford’s hard work with you to use, don’t you believe?”