Fletcher

by P. S. Power

  Rather than answer directly, Anders deflected, bowing and moving backward.

  “I shall try to do better, in the future. Several people have mentioned the need for such in the last days. I…” There was a real pause then. “Thank you. I know that you don’t have any reason to take time to see to me this way.”

  The Master bowed back then, perfectly, as far as form went.

  “True. It is rewarding to have a student that is willing to learn quickly and well, I must allow. If you wish to repay my efforts, that is the way of it.”

  On those words, Anders got out of the room moving at best walking speed across the castle, tracing back to the correct doors. When he got to them, instead of knocking, he had to bow. Three men were standing there, in front of the thing, speaking in hushed tones.

  One was Prince Robarts, the other man, next to him, being only an inch or so taller, was Prince Alpert. The last man was the one that required him to use the second courtly bow. At least he thought so. He was the King after all. It was probably still a bit formal, since they weren’t in court proper at all. Still, Anders would rather be mocked for being wrong than for giving insult by being too casual.

  They all stopped speaking, with one of them at least, smiling at him. Prince Robarts. The other Prince swallowed and glanced at his hand, seeming to linger on the paper there. They all bowed back, which was more of a head nod for the older man. He was a bit heavy around the middle and had a thick gray beard, even if that wasn’t the fashion at court.

  When they stood, the elder man moved in and took the letter. Read the words on the front and passed it over to his eldest child.

  “For you, it seems, Robarts. Thank you for making the delivery…” He paused, searching for something.

  Prince Alpert started to speak, only to be cut off by his older brother.

  “This is Anders Brolly, my-” The man, still less than three decades old, seemed hard on the matter. Assertive. Prepared to argue the point of parentage.

  His brother boldly spoke over him.

  “This is our man in with the new Ambassador. Anders Brolly. Erold got him into place.” Looking at the letter he opened it there, reading it. Then it was passed to the King.

  Matheus did his own scanning of it.

  “Very good. You collected this for us… Anders, was it? Is there anything else?” It was difficult to tell if the man wanted him to leave or to come up with other information that hadn’t made it into the missive.

  There was a bit, if not very important stuff.

  “Only that Depak Sona is planning to take up the bow again. I’ve been set to making a horn bow for him, in a few days. Then he can attend my lessons in it while he practices. I figured the merriment of watching me flounder and fail would be an amusement for him. There was mention of dark things happening and need to make himself ready.” At least that was how Anders had taken his words.

  The older man, the King, looked at him closely for a bit.

  “See to that, then. A bow from your hand is also one from mine and all our people, so it must be fine work. Perhaps you should also see to your bow work, Alpert? It would do no harm to befriend… What was it boy? Depak Soma?”

  He bowed then.

  “I was told it was Depak Sona, Your Majesty. It means the same as Master Depak, while allowing an air of mystery and the exotic. Those were his words on the matter.”

  That got a laugh. A real one, from the King himself.

  “Indeed, it does. Thank you, Anders. We might have other tasks for you, soon. If your schedule allows? Perhaps you could see to that Alpert?”

  “Certainly, Father.” The tone was lighter this time. Less strained.

  “We could meet to talk on the matter, Anders?”

  That gave him an idea.

  “Would you be free now? I need to walk to the weapons yard. Captain Ford has been having me observe Prince Erold. I was told he won’t be there today but that it would be rude not to attend to his teachings, regardless.”

  That got a stiff nod from the Prince himself. A worried look from the King and a smile from Prince Robarts. The last man bowed to him, which he returned, using the first courtly bow and moving backwards. The King nodded his head again and Prince Alpert simply waved at his brother and Father, walking away.

  They didn’t speak until they were well outside. Then the Prince spoke to him in hushed tones.

  “So, is it a knife to the back or just a sound thrashing for my transgressions against you? Please hold Aisla harmless in this. The breach of honor was mine. She’s an innocent, from a different land, who could not know why such words would harm you here.”

  Anders didn’t even look over at the man.

  “Neither. I have a message. One from Princess Aisla, in fact. A thing that she wants to be in your hand, without it happening where eyes or ears might find you doing so. We can use that archery practice as an excuse to pass things in the future? I don’t know why such a letter was sent with me. Probably to make certain I was trustworthy in passing such things.” He had to take the letter from inside the bottom fold of his tunic.

  A move that had the Prince stiffening again until paper came out.

  Clearly expecting a blade, instead.

  There was a sigh of relief as he took the thing, opening it and quickly reading the words inside. They weren’t in code, just in Scara. As soon as he was finished, the man looked around and passed the letter over to him, as if he were supposed to read it. Which he did. They were stopped, near the woods by the far commons. It was a bit out of the way, though they could claim it was toward the weapons yard. Clearly they were speaking and reading something. What that would be might be harder to determine.

  The words were a bit darker than he would have suspected.

  “Assassins come, from lands far south. We need to be on our guard.” The words were muttered, softly. “She has that from the Ambassador, who used the winds to race those others here. To his figuring he might be as much as a week ahead of them, unless magic was used to speed their journey as well. Unfortunately, he doesn’t really know who they are or what they might seem to be when they arrive.”

  The words got the Prince to take a deep breath.

  “I thought it was something like that. I can’t read Scara well. A bit. That she sent this through you means that it is most dark and she fears watchers. We need to destroy this. I don’t suppose you have a fire stick on you?”

  He didn’t but took the paper, balled it up and set it on the ground. Then he focused, putting together the spell he wanted to try. Building it first and reviewing the form of each portion before placing his right first finger out, to point at the thing.

  “Ro-neg-fen.” It was tempting to yell the words, as if that would increase their power, or at least the showmanship of the move. He resisted that, not wanting to call attention to himself. He was bent over the paper, which first started to smolder then caught, turning to real flame after a moment.

  There was a low whistle from the man next to him.

  “I didn't know you were a student of magic.”

  “I started learning last night. Depak Sona tested me for that ability yesterday. Now I know why he’s pushing for me to learn, if Assassins are coming. I’m certain they will be filled with fear and awe of my paper lighting ability. On the finer side, they probably won’t bother trying to kill me at all, so there’s that gift in it. I would hazard that your Father, Mother, brothers and yourself would be the first targets? The generals of the army and then anyone that might be replaced or put in as a spy. Any thoughts as to how they might get in here?” Other than walking through the gate as a delivery person. That kind of thing happened all the time, after all. No one even asked him why he was wandering the hallways at night or in the early morning, except the one man that had only done it from personal interest.

  It wasn’t any of his business at a guess. The Prince nodded at him anyway.

  “Prince Erold is to have a visit from his new betrothed, the wedding being se
t for next month. The Princess will no doubt travel with a retinue. That could be anything from one or two attendants to fifty men at arms without seeming strange or out of place. It would be simple to slip a few killers into such a group. We’re not on friendly terms with the Modroc. Hence trying for an alliance marriage.” He watched the paper burn, until it was only ash. Then he started to walk again.

  All the way to the weapons yard. When they got there, Captain Ford was standing there, watching them approach. He smiled.

  “Wrong Prince. Is all well?” The man didn’t seem upset by the change up at all. Just watching the other Prince closely. His tone was casual, like it always was with Erold at practice.

  “There’s been news that we should cover. Perhaps tonight, after the high meal? Right now, it seems that we need to put together an archery practice time for the Barquea Ambassador. Anders is getting him a bow to use for it. I’ll be joining them, since Father thinks I should practice my own skills that way. Possibly sword work as well. I’ve been gone from such things for a while. Now it might be important.”

  There was a lot being passed there, which the Captain seemed to understand.

  “War is on the horizon then? We’ll have to step up that work for you, Anders.” There was a look at the Prince then. A hard thing. “Bow making and fletching. We might have to change his other duties to focus on that. A common boy with no proper Father is to serve if the reserves are called out.” The words weren’t hard at all. In fact, they were spoken in a bland fashion. “Even at twelve he might be required to do so. If he has skills enough he could serve making those and doing repairs. None would think less of him for it.”

  The Prince made a face. Then looked away into the distance.

  “I want him trained to fight as well. We can’t move him from the Ambassador right now either. So far he’s the only one that’s gotten any information from the man, other than Aisla. Still, I can’t hate your plan for that, Jennings. He’s also learning magic. He set a small fire just moments ago for my entertainment. Normally I’d hide that from you…”

  There was a nod from the other man then.

  “I understand. I need to know the whole of things here. Very well. I’ll set that training up. Now, Anders, what do you have planned for the day, if given time off? Seeing a girl in town perhaps? Running off to the woods to abuse yourself while thinking of the fine court ladies?”

  The words were a bit out of place. Teasing. Probably the way he would have done with one of his men, rather than a twelve-year-old boy.

  Prince Alpert rolled his eyes, without seeming upset at the words.

  Anders, the boy, didn’t understand most of what was being implied. Farad, the man did. It was simply that he was so old that the sting of such words rolled off of him, even if he wasn’t experienced with women.

  “I have a book to read and supplies in my room so that I can work on fletching. As for the other things, I rarely get into town and am still healing from the Red Fever. I doubt that I’ll be up to any adventures of that sort for a while.” His tone came out sounding dry. Old and a bit like he was annoyed with the Captain.

  Who laughed at him and patted his shoulder.

  “Good points. I want to see what you do, as for fletching work. Bring a sample with you when you come tomorrow. Until then.” He bowed, using the martial form.

  That was answered by both Prince Alpert and Anders, holding their hands in front of them, palms together, looking at the other man’s hands. Then they all backed away, to a safe distance. Even if they hadn’t been fighting. As they left the practice area, Alpert took a deep breath.

  “He’s a serious sort. Then, he has to be. I need to follow that as well, now. The younger Princes of Istlan ride to war, if it comes. Do you ride?”

  That was the kind of thing that should be known by the man. Which probably meant he truly did have the answer already. The question was either about making conversation or a suggestion, in a backhanded fashion.

  “I don’t. It’s been recommended to me, by Master Belford. People do that for hunting with a bow, don’t they? Depak Sona mentioned that he used to hunt, a while back.”

  “Really? We should put one together then. After some of that archery practice. Call it… A month from now? That will place us in the first main hunting season. I’ll see to that.” Then the man, waving over his shoulder, walked away.

  People were watching, so Anders bowed and held it until the man was a good hundred feet away. It would serve to have people think he was too polite rather than lacking that way. Especially now that he knew what doing that might mean.

  After standing, he hurried to his own room, using the light of the open window to read by, committing the rest of the book to memory after a few hours. Then, still with plenty of daylight, he tried his best to repeat what the fletcher had taught him. It meant stopping several times, to sharpen the small blades used for nocking. Also, to clean up the glue that he had to warm in a small pot in his fireplace. That made his room smoky, the thing not wanting to draw at first. By the time it did, hours later, it was time for the lamp to be lit.

  Then he sat on the floor with his legs crossed and reviewed the lessons from the book, with closed eyes and wicked amounts of focus on the task. Going over all of it several times. That meant the symbol, sound and feeling for each thing, done only inside of himself. He did that until it was clear to him that sleep was coming, regardless of how he felt on the matter.

  Anders did manage to change into his night shirt before falling into his lumpy straw filled bed. The pillow was uncomfortable, though he was getting used to it. Part of him had never known anything else, which helped. This time, instead of it being his young back aching, or a magical summons from a Princess, what woke him was a knock on the door.

  At first, he figured that he’d overslept badly enough that someone had come to get him for his day. When he opened the thing, it was a person that he very nearly couldn’t identify at all. A woman, dressed for the day, with very proper makeup on. She was older however and sturdy of build.

  Also the Queen. There was a strange look on her face as she pushed her way into his room. Rallying a bit, he bowed then, using the first courtly form. It was his room so not rude, he didn’t think. She stopped, after closing the door, and looked at him in surprise, then did it back, using a polite curtsy.

  “A better reception than I deserve, I must fear. We don’t have much time. Prince Erold might be in danger. I… need you to guard him, as best you might. The Modroc contingent is approaching. We’re to move out to meet them. Would you be by his side for that? A full guard might be taken amiss, where a single child might not. I cannot say more here.” She was tight of lip and face. She seemed fearful, in fact.

  Farad scrambled then. He was no fighter or warrior to protect a Prince from assassins. Nor was he suited to using magic for such a task. It was clear then that his task would be to throw himself in front of the other boy when the attack came, so that he might escape and live.

  Which he might be able to do, as long as he paid attention and moved early.

  “I understand, Your Majesty. It will be done. How long before we meet them?”

  The woman looked at him strangely.

  “Around half-noon. Three hours past sun rising. Can you be ready? You’ll need fine clothing to blend in. Weapons. Thank you. I know I have no right to ask this of you. I’m… likely sending you to your death.” She teared up, one of the things dripping down her face, leaving a single track there, in the paint and powder.

  Anders Brolly simply nodded.

  “Possibly. I’ll do what I can here. It won’t be much. If we have real guards that can be used then they should be about. For the rest of you as well. The King and other Princes. I’ll… Get with Ambassador Depak.”

  The woman clutched at her chest a bit.

  “You fear magic is upon us?”

  Really, he didn't know. The Magician did wonders with altering his own clothing though each day. At least there was alwa
ys a different look and a feeling of magic around them. Anders didn't have anything that would be fitting such a meeting at all. That sort of meeting wasn’t a thing that should have come up in his life, so no one would have ever assumed he’d need such things. His hope was to beg the man to aid him.

  Chapter nine

  It was awkward to show up at the door of an Ambassador with clothing, his own, in his arms. When he was called in after knocking, he started to speak instantly, while bowing.

  Then he spoke in rather archaic Scara.

  “The Modroc arrive today, around mid-morning. I have been tasked with the protection of the young Prince, Erold. By his Mother, the Queen. There is word, from you, that assassins might be arriving, which could be in this grouping.”

  The Ambassador didn’t hesitate or bother to bow back.

  What he did do was speak in the same tongue, if a slightly looser form of it. No doubt the more modern version.

  “I comprehend. This, that the assassins will be in this group or around it, is my thought. Have you learned enough magic to defend yourself and this Prince, if the need comes?”

  The words were harsh to his ears, if clearly not meant to belittle him.

  “No. I’ve memorized the patterns and words. I managed to set a small fire yesterday, using a simple spell. It was not done quickly or with great force.”

  Smiling, a bit stiffly, the Ambassador closed his eyes.

  “Better than I would have thought. Truly, I have feared that you, the being of the damned crystal, teacher of Ganges the Terrible, might be the killer we needed to fear. Except only that you arrived before I did. If you have such skills and are not on the side of darkness, perhaps it is now that you would bring them forward?”