He glanced at Leomin and noted that the Parnen’s head hung loosely on his chest, and though his long dark, braided hair obscured his features, it was easy enough to tell by the steady rise and fall of the Parnen’s chest that the man was asleep. As for Owen, the thin man sat nervously, his hands, when they weren’t fidgeting at his shirt in a failed attempt to make it fit better, clasped tightly in his lap like a child who’d been up to mischief waiting for his punishment.
Adina, on the other hand, grew angrier and angrier as Aaron watched, her frown a slight thing at first, now a steady scowl in truth as she got up for what must have been the tenth time and moved to the officious looking older woman sitting behind the desk by the door. “How much longer until we are allowed to see the queen?” Adina said, her exasperation evident in her tone, “The news we carry is urgent.”
The old woman glanced up from some papers she’d been looking over and shook her head slowly, apologetically, though Aaron thought he could detect a certain satisfaction in her eyes, “I’m afraid I’m not sure, princess. The Queen does not see fit to divulge her schedule to one as lowly as I, after all. Still, I was told she was very excited at the prospect of your visit and, no doubt, you will be allowed in shortly.”
“That’s what you said an hour ago.”
The woman didn’t answer, only smiled benignly at Adina. Finally, Adina let out a huff and walked back to sit down beside Aaron. “This is ridiculous,” she said.
“Well,” he said, wincing at the soreness as he adjusted his seat in the straight-backed wooden chair, “at least the chairs are nice.”
“You would think,” she said, apparently not having heard, “that she would be, oh, I don’t know excited to see her sister who’d she thought was dead. Instead, it is the same games as always, the same stupid demonstrations of power. All nobles play the game to a degree, I suppose, but Isabelle has always been the worst—or best—at it, depending on your view. Still, I would have thought she’d grown out of it, changed by now. It has been many years since I’ve seen or spoken to her.”
“My experience,” Aaron said, “People don’t change unless they’re made to, and I don’t think there’s too many around here that are going to make your sister do anything except what she wants to do.”
Adina still didn’t seem to be hearing him, too busy being angry, feeling the urgency just like Aaron himself did, feeling like every minute counted, including the last hundred or so they’d spent sitting in contraptions that he could only assume were overflow from the torture room. After all, it wouldn’t be long until Belgarin decided to bring his army to bear against Isabelle or his brother Ellemont. With Avarest, they were the only powers of any size worth mentioning, the only armies that could possibly have a chance of standing against him and even still he’d have the greater numbers—assuming Adina’s own troops threw in with him as well, which seemed likely. If Belgarin’s wasn’t on its way already, it would be soon.
As if her thoughts had been running a similar course, Adina rose up out of her chair again, stomping toward the door. “Princess, I’m sorry—” the woman began, but Adina ignored her, banging on the wooden door as loud as she could, slamming her fist against it.
Aaron raised an eyebrow and stood, making his way to her. They’d taken his sword from him when he’d come into the castle which was too bad. He had the feeling that if Adina’s anger didn’t cool—and it showed no signs of that—he might have need of it before long.
Finally, just about the time Aaron was getting ready to tell Adina she’d better hold off before she broke her hand, the door swung open and two frowning guards, their swords drawn, stared back at her. “We have journeyed a long way,” Adina told the men, “and I do not intend to be kept waiting all day when I’ve important news for my sister. Now, get out of our way.”
The two guards glanced at each other then moved forward, intending, it seemed, to grab Adina and force her out. Before they could, a voice rang out from back further in the hall, “Adina?” Came the woman’s voice, filled with pleasant surprise, “is that you? Well, men put those swords away please before you hurt someone. That’s my royal sister you have before you.”
The two guards did as they’d been ordered, scowling as they moved to either side of the door, and Aaron and Leomin followed after. Owen trailed behind them, his head bowed low as if he expected to feel the bite of the headman’s axe at any moment.
The woman seated on the throne was, if not as fat as the Duke Claudius had been, a close second, Aaron thought. She wore a fine ostentatious dress—far more frills and embroidery than Aaron’s own shirt, thank the gods—and her long hair fell in lazy blonde curls about a face that was nearly as round as a dolls, bloated and pink with over indulgence and excess.
The fabric of the white, orange, and gold dress, Aaron thought, would have been enough to fit Adina four times over with some to spare. Three tables formed a U-shape on a level below the queen’s throne and in the center of them stood three men with dueling rapiers in their hands.
Two of the men were dressed in the simple, ragged browns of commoners, and they held the dueling blades awkwardly, clearly not trained in their use. The third wore a uniform of white, gold, and orange that was nearly as ornate in its embroidery and finery as the Queen’s own, and held the blade at his side, a small confident smile on his face.
The finely dressed man turned to them, and his smile faded to a look of slight disgust as his gaze seemed to settle on Aaron, choosing him out of the lot as the one at which to direct his ire. No surprise, really. Aaron knew such men—had had occasion to deal with them in the past. Men who always felt they had something to prove and looked for someone easy enough to prove it. Evidence of that stood in the dueling circle with him, the two commoners, no doubt farmers or sailors, who were breathing heavily, the man himself composed and relaxed, enjoying the game he’d been playing and angry at its interruption.
“Adina, but it is a pleasure to see you,” Isabelle said in a cooing sort of way that Aaron found strange, as if she was speaking to a child.
“I had wondered about that,” Adina said, and Aaron could hear her forcing civility into her tone, “as we have been kept waiting for near on two hours. Forgive me, sister, but I had almost begun to think that you had forgotten about us. That, or, perhaps, that we’d been made to wait intentionally for some reason, though I cannot imagine what such a reason might be.”
The queen laughed softly, waving fingers as thick as sausages, “Oh, of course not, dear sister. Forgive me, it’s only that we were in the middle of a show, you see. The captain of my guard here,” she said, nodding at the uniformed scowling man, “Francis, has been putting on quite a display for us, hasn’t he, my lords and ladies?” The dozen or so noblemen and women seated at the tables smiled and murmured their agreement. “Quite a show,” the queen continued, eyeing the captain the way a starving mongrel might eye a steak. Truly, an impressive demonstration of skill and valor.”
The scowling man smile deeply, bowing his head low to her, “Ah, my queen is far too kind, and it is my honor to show what small skill I have for the entertainment of her and such lords and ladies as are gathered here.” He turned back to look at Aaron when he’d finished speaking, the look in his gaze making Aaron suspect that, just maybe, he wasn’t included in that group.
The queen’s mouth opened in a pleasured cooing sound again, and she motioned with a finger, a pretty young girl hurrying forward in servant’s garb to set about fanning her face. Gods, Aaron thought, what a job, keeping that cool. Might as well try to take the heat out of a fire. “My, but dear Francis you do have a pleasant way with words, don’t you? Quite a speaker.”
The man bowed his head again, “I strive to be whatever my Queen requires, of course, your Majesty.”
The queen let out a titter at that, “Please, Adina,” she said, motioning to a few empty seats at the end of the table farthest from her, “have a seat, you and your companions. You have arrived just in time for, what I suspect
,” she said, eyeing the two obviously weary commoners, “will be the end of our little show.”
Aaron glanced at Adina as she visibly gathered herself, pushing her anger down. “This, I’m afraid, is not a social visit, sister. I have matters of some import I would like to discuss with you.”
The queen made a pouty face, “Oh, Adina, please. Not during the feast,” she said, motioning at the heaping piles of meats and pies and pastries littered on the tables, “surely, it can wait until after.”
“It has waited already, sister,” Adina said, “Two weeks hard travel in the woods, an hour at your gates, and another two in your room there,” she said, motioning stiffly with her head, “I do not think it wise that it should wait any longer.”
“Yes, yes,” the queen said in a pouty, put upon voice, “I see that you feel it is important, whatever it is. And we will hear the reason of your coming soon enough, once the show and feast are done. So please, sister, do sit. Have something to eat—there are all matters of delights and delicacies laid before you.”
Aaron noticed, as she said this, that her eyes were locked on the captain of the guard, Francis, the man smiling a small, knowing smile at her. He glanced at Adina and, judging by her expression, she had not missed it either. “Truly,” the queen went on, studying Leomin, “I would be very much interested to hear what you’ve been up to of late and how, exactly, you came by such … exotic companions,” she said. Then she turned to Aaron, “Exotic and pleasing to the eye as well. A formidable group indeed. I am most excited to hear your news. After the show and dinner.”
Aaron did not need to turn to look to know that the captain was staring at him angrily and wished for the hundredth time that the damned pants weren’t so damned tight, but he forced himself to stand steady under what could only be the queen’s lecherous gaze. “Very well,” Adina said stiffly, obviously angry but deciding it was best to let the matter go. She walked stiffly to a nearby chair and sat, Aaron and the others following her lead.
Once they were seated, the queen smiled beneficently over her gathered guests then back to the man, Francis. “Now, captain,” she said, “if you and your … opponents, are ready?”
The commoners, wincing and obviously reluctant to end their short reprieve, stood from where they’d sat crouched, holding their dueling steels the way a man might hold a stick. A farce, Aaron thought, no fair competition this, never mind that there are two of them. There could be half a dozen, and the outcome would be the same.
Oh, but the nobles do love their shows, Co said, and there was that bitterness again, something Aaron intended to ask her about when they had the time.
The captain waited, motioning with his rapier for the two commoners to approach, and they did so reluctantly, knowing it was expected of them. Their swipes with the dueling steels were wide and telegraphed, and the captain of the guard sidestepped or parried them easily, doing nothing to hide his disdain for their lack of skill, not just batting their attacks aside, but embarrassing them, tripping them where he could, or sending their dueling steels knocking into each other, so they got tangled up more than once. The nobles, for their part, watched on, laughing and whispering at the show, as if those two men down there were not men at all but animals performing for their entertainment, and the captain the beast master, showing what tricks he’d taught them.
Aaron felt the familiar anger that he’d held for so long at nobles rise in him as he watched the mockery of a duel, watched the commoners pick themselves up off the ground after each embarrassment only to wade head first into the next. Finally, after having drawn it out as much as possible, the captain tripped one man, sending him to the ground and slapping his rapier across his opponent’s face, leaving a welt and drawing blood. The commoner cried out in surprised pain, but the queen and nobles laughed and clapped their hands.
The second man let out a growl and came on, swinging wildly for all that he was obviously exhausted, and the captain batted his attack aside, pushed him off balance and sent him stumbling past, smacking him on the backside as he did. The man tripped and fell, climbing to his feet with a curse, but he’d taken no more than a step when the captain’s blade was at his throat, pressed just hard enough to draw a dot of blood.
“Bravo, bravo!” The queen exclaimed, and she and the nobles clapped their hands again, laughing and bragging about the display to each other as if they’d been the ones to do it, as if it the outcome hadn’t been a foregone conclusion from the beginning.
The man, Francis, pulled his rapier away from the commoner’s throat then gave it a flourish before bringing it down to his side, soaking in the applause as a guard came forward and escorted the two exhausted commoners from the hall.
Aaron watched them go, defeated and limping, their postures slumped in a way he’d had cause to see plenty of times before. This wasn’t the first cruelty they’d experienced, and they knew enough about the world, he suspected, to know it wouldn’t be the last. They’d no doubt take some small bit of coin—enough to help them feed their families for a time—and it cost them nothing but a little bit of their dignity, something that was no doubt already in short supply.
“Oh, but my dear Francis,” the queen said, a poutiness in her voice again, “you’ve finished the show too quickly. Now, what will my lords and ladies have to keep them entertained while they finish their meals?”
The sight of you in that chair ought to be enough, Aaron thought.
“Forgive me, my queen,” the man said solemnly, bowing low, and Aaron had to struggle to keep back a snort of disgust, “I did not mean to finish so quickly.”
“Oh, well,” Isabelle said, “I forgive you, of course,” her voice again taking on the tone of one talking to a child, “still, I do wish there was someone else here that might offer you a fair competition. Some spectacle for my lords and ladies to enjoy. I, myself, do so get invigorated by such displays of manly skill.”
Aaron sighed inwardly, knowing what was coming even before the guard captain turned to look at him, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “What about one of your sister’s men?” He said, as if the thought had just occurred. “As my queen has said, they do seem most formidable. Perhaps one of them would be so kind as to help me entertain these fine lords and ladies.”
“You, sir?” He said, looking directly at Aaron, “have you any experience with a blade?”
Aaron sighed, glancing at Adina, waiting for her to give him a slight nod before turning back to the man. “Some.”
“Some indeed!” The man exclaimed, grinning, playing to the crowd as he held his hands out, “Why, I bet you are most ferocious, sir. You strike me as, perhaps, one with great experience in such things, never mind your humbleness.”
Aaron rubbed a hand across his jaw, but did not speak. Finally, the guard captain’s smile faded some, “Well?”
“Sorry?” Aaron said, “There was a question in that?”
“My question, sir,” the guard captain said, “is if you have participated in such a contest, man against man, blade against blade, as this?”
“Like the one I just watched?” Aaron said. “No, not like that, I haven’t.”
The captain grinned again, looking around at the table of noblemen and women who laughed and tittered behind their hands as if at some joke. “No, truly?”
“Truly,” Aaron said, “generally the … contests did you call it? Generally the contests that I participate in have a lot more blood and the losers aren’t often able to walk away after. Still, I suppose the show was diverting enough, though I’d just as soon watch mean-hearted children chase a mongrel dog in the street. At least the dog has a chance.”
The man’s smile vanished. “Mean-hearted children, you say?”
Aaron nodded, “That’s right. Anyway, the kind of scraps I’ve been in, people have a tendency to walk away with a bit more blood on ‘em. If they walk away at all, that is, and it’s not treated like some cheap street show, folks pay a copper and get to see men make fools of
themselves.”
“Fools, is it?” The captain said, his face turning a deep shade of crimson. “I wonder, sir, are you all talk?” He turned, addressing Aaron but taking in the noblemen and ladies and, of course, the queen, “It’s an easy enough thing, I suppose, to sit in your chair, comfortable and at ease, and criticize better men.”
“Better men?” Aaron said, “I’m not sure. Let me know when the better men get here, I’ll tell you if it’s easy or not.”
“A challenge!” One of the noblemen shouted gleefully, clapping his hands together.
Soon, the other nobles were clapping as well, the queen looking on with a look that Aaron could only think of as hungry. Of course, judging by the size of her, he wasn’t sure that the woman had many others. “What of it, boy?” The handsome captain said, smiling and running a hand through his hair. He lifted one of the rapiers from the ground where the commoners had dropped them and held it up, hilt first to Aaron, “Why not show us this contest of yours that always ends in blood. I’m sure myself and those gathered here would love to see it.”
“Challenge,” one of the nobles, a balding, thick-jowled man shouted around a mouthful of cake then the others took it up, chanting it. Aaron sighed and glanced at Adina again. She looked around the room and shrugged, “There’s not a lot of options,” she said in a voice low enough that only he could hear, “just make it fast, will you? We’ve wasted enough time already.”
Aaron nodded, rising, “I’ll see what I can do.”
He started away, but she caught his hand, halting him, “Aaron,” she said, “don’t kill him, okay?”
Aaron gave her a small smile, “I’ll see what I can do.”
He walked to the center of the floor, between the tables, and took the thin dueling steel the man offered. He tested it with a couple of swipes and shook his head. The damned thing might as well have been a toy. No real way to hurt a man, not with such a flimsy, light thing. Unless maybe you stuck him in the eye, he supposed. If such a blade was the only thing between him and death, a man would be better to drop the thing and run like Salen himself was after him. Hope his opponent tripped and broke his neck, maybe.
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