“That’ll do,” the sword master announced. “Commit those to memory. We’ll do more work on them tomorrow afternoon, maybe add in number thirteen while we’re at it.”
“Is that it for the day?” Relam asked, surprised.
Oreius raised an eyebrow. “The day is nearly over, boy. Or can you not tell time by the sun? Has everyone started using those finicky water clocks now?”
Relam looked up at the sky and realized that the sun was indeed sinking towards the horizon. “I had no idea we’d been at it so long,” he said truthfully. “I should be getting home.”
“Yes, you should,” Oreius agreed. “Rest up, and be back tomorrow morning.”
“Same time?” Relam asked.
“Of course,” the old warrior replied. “Now, get going.”
As Relam turned to go, the old man paused and looked back. “Incidentally, this is the best one of my students has ever done on his first day. Congratulations. I’ll have to make tomorrow harder to compensate.”
Then, the old man dismissed Relam, walking back towards his house, whistling as he passed through the garden. Relam shook his head in surprise, then began the long, painful walk back to the palace.
The River Road was crowded with people heading home from a long day’s work or making a last-minute run to one of the markets. Students were leaving Tar Agath’s facility when he passed, shoving each other and chatting good-naturedly, excited to be leaving after a day’s hard work. Relam wished he had their energy, that he wasn’t stiff and sore and discovering new muscles by the expedient of identifying where he hurt.
As he was passing the Citadel, a voice hailed him from nearby the wall. He paused, turning, trying to identify the source, then a man in armor shoved his way through the crowd to join him.
“Your highness!” the guard called again. “Master D’Arnlo just dispatched me to the palace, asking after you. He was wondering if you would care to meet him in his office. If you like, I can take you to him now.”
Relam frowned. He did not like the idea of D’Arnlo summoning him to the Citadel, or conducting any sort of meeting on the nobleman’s home field. “The master of the Citadel may come to the palace himself,” Relam told the guard quietly. “I’ve had a very busy day and there are other things I need to attend to at the moment. I will be free in two hours’ time if that would suit the master.”
“I’ll convey your message,” the Citadel guard replied, bowing. “Thank you, your highness.”
The guard retreated, ducking through the gate and into the Citadel, the doors closing behind him. Relam wondered briefly what D’Arnlo wanted to see him about, then shrugged. He’d likely find out this evening, if it was at all important.
The young prince returned to his room just before dinner was due to be served, with barely enough time to wash away the grime and sweat from his training. When he emerged from his room, he was pleasantly surprised to find his father sitting in the main room, in one of the armchairs close to the fireplace.
“Father!” he said brightly, moving to stand beside him. “How are you?”
“Fine,” the king grunted. “I can only stay for a moment, then I have to get back to work.”
“Um, you live here,” Relam pointed out. “You’re perfectly welcome to stay.”
“Business to attend to,” his father muttered, eyes darting around the room. “I’ve been away too long already.”
Relam sighed, smothering his frustration. “Very well. What did you want to discuss?”
“I’ve chosen a new guard commander to replace the traitor we had executed.”
For a moment, Relam was confused, then he remembered that Narin was supposedly dead and buried. “Oh, right,” he said, nodding. “Who did you choose?”
The king turned to the door. “Eckle, attend me.” He turned back to Relam. “Meet the new commander of the guard, Rom Eckle.”
The door opened to admit a tall, burly man in full armor, a two-handed broadsword slung over his right shoulder. Eckle was extremely pale, as though he had never seen the sun, but Relam could tell he was immensely strong and powerful from the muscles rippling on his frame as he moved.
“You called, your majesty?” Eckle said, kneeling before the king.
Relam’s father nodded. “Commander, this is Prince Relam. Relam, Commander Eckle.”
Eckle rose and bowed deeply to Relam. “It is an honor, your highness,” he said.
“Are you new to the guard?” Relam asked curiously. He couldn’t remember seeing this man before.
“Yes,” Eckle agreed. “I was brought on by former commander Narin, to replace one of the guards killed in the failed assassination attempt last year. Before that I served at the Citadel.”
“Ah,” Relam said nodding. “You must be a good fighter.”
“One of the best.”
Relam’s eyebrows shot up in response. And incredibly modest, he thought privately.
“You will need to choose men for your personal guard, your highness,” Eckle continued. “I’ll assign them to stick with you day and night.”
“Excuse me?” Relam asked.
“Sorry, highness. I was speaking about arrangements for escorts for you. I think we should start with eight guards for now-”
“I don’t need an escort,” Relam said bluntly.
Eckle smiled patronizingly. “Be reasonable, my prince. You need the extra protection in these uncertain times. Really, it’s the intelligent thing to do.”
Relam ground his teeth in frustration. “I don’t need more guards, commander,” he said, adding emphasis to the man’s title.
Eckle merely smiled again. “I’ll send a list of names over in the morning,” he announced. “And await your choices tomorrow evening.”
Before Relam could retort angrily to this high-handed treatment, his father broke in. “Thank you Eckle. We’ll let you get back to your duties now.”
“Of course, your majesty. Good evening.” Eckle bowed and backed out of the room, closing the door noiselessly behind him.
Relam turned and glared at his father. “What possessed you to make him the new commander?” he demanded, pointing at the closed door with a shaking finger.
“He’s efficient,” the king replied. “And respectful and capable.”
“Respectful?” Relam asked incredulously. “Did you not hear a word the man spoke when he was in here?”
“He respects me.”
Relam shook his head in disbelief. “And what’s this nonsense about more guards?”
His father looked up at him unapologetically. “That was my idea. I will not lose you the same way I lost your mother, son. I placed my trust in the wrong person before. I will not make the same mistake again.”
“And how do you know that Eckle is not the same mistake, part two?” Relam said furiously.
“Enough,” the king said firmly. “He is the commander and I trust him to do his job. You will cooperate with him, because I command it. Understood?”
“You command it?” Relam said in disbelief.
His father glared at him.
“Understood, your majesty,” Relam finally replied, bowing stiffly.
“Good,” the king said, rising to his feet. “I’ll be back later.”
“Where are you going?” Relam demanded, trying to block his father’s path.
But his father simply stepped around him and marched through the door, without a backwards glance.
Relam kicked the nearest chair in frustration, scowling at the floor. Eckle’s treatment of him still rankled, but Relam was more worried about his father. What was he keeping so busy with? Had sitting on the throne and brooding for hours on end become the end all and be all of his life?
The prince sank into one of the chairs and put his head in his hands. “What do I do?” he moaned. “How can I fix this?”
Not surprisingly, no answer was forthcoming from the empty room.
A few minutes later, Relam was startled back to reality by a knock at the door. “
That’ll be Eckle,” Relam muttered darkly. “Back with his list of candidates no doubt.”
The prince got up from his seat swiftly, already working out what he would say. He’d tell Eckle exactly where to put his list of candidates, then drive him off as fast as he could. If his father wouldn’t rescind his order to make Eckle commander, maybe Relam could be disagreeable enough to make the man quit.
Relam threw open the door to the royal suite, already drawing breath to tell off the new commander of the palace guards. But it was not Eckle who stood waiting in the hallway. It was an equally unwelcome visitor, Master Bene D’Arnlo of the Citadel.
“Master D’Arnlo,” Relam said, nodding stiffly. “Good evening.”
“Good evening, your highness,” D’Arnlo replied, bowing. “May I come in?” he said pointedly.
Relam stood aside, holding the door open a little wider. D’Arnlo stepped over the threshold and into the main room. The young prince surreptitiously signaled two of the guards outside to enter as well, then shut the door again, throwing the bolt home.
“Being extra cautious?” D’Arnlo observed mildly, nodding at the two guards.
“It’s standard procedure for guards to be present when we have visitors now,” Relam replied coldly. “Please, have a seat.”
“Thank you, your highness,” D’Arnlo replied, smiling as he sank into one of the chairs. Relam took a chair across the low table from D’Arnlo, one of his guards moving to hover behind him. The other stayed by the door, standing opposite the hinges so that he would not be trapped between the door and the wall if it opened suddenly.
“First of all,” D’Arnlo began. “My deepest condolences on the loss of your mother. She was a rare woman and an excellent queen. I imagine she was an even better parent.”
“Thank you,” Relam said, inclining his head slightly.
“I know that you are probably still grieving,” D’Arnlo continued. “But the world moves ever forward, whether we want it to or not. Whether we are ready for it to or not. Next week, my first-year students start training.”
“Wish them well for me,” Relam said wryly.
“Oh?” D’Arnlo said, surprised. “I had hoped that you might join us, your highness. I am here to formally offer you a place in my class.”
Relam blinked, dumbfounded. In hindsight, he probably should have expected this. No doubt Tar and Oreius had ‘forgotten’ to tell D’Arnlo that Relam already had found a master, had already started training in fact.
“I’m honored,” Relam replied at last, struggling to get the second word out. “But I am afraid I must decline your offer, Master D’Arnlo.”
“I beg your pardon?” D’Arnlo said quickly, leaning forward and scrutinizing Relam’s face for any clue as to why he was resisting training. “You do realize that I have offered to train you at the Citadel, the finest military institution in the world, and develop you into a master swordsman in your own right?”
“I do,” Relam confirmed. “That’s usually how training at this stage goes is it not? The truth is,” Relam continued quickly, not giving D’Arnlo a chance to respond. “I have already committed to learning from another master.”
“That is unfortunate,” D’Arnlo said, spitting the words out. “Because I am the very best of the sword masters in Etares. Anywhere else, with anyone else, you are only wasting your time, your highness.”
“Tar seemed like an excellent teacher,” the prince replied, raising an eyebrow.
“For the basics, yes,” D’Arnlo agreed, smoothing his dress tunic. “But I would not recommend him for the next stage of your training. Besides, he only works with cadets, as long as I can remember.”
“That is still the case,” Relam agreed. “But I have chosen a master who Tar holds in very high esteem. Many of your students applied to him as well.”
Silence stretched between the two for a moment. D’Arnlo’s eyes narrowed and he steepled his fingers in front of him, the tips pressed together until they turned white.
“Fascinating,” D’Arnlo whispered finally. “And may I ask who this fabulous swordsman might be?”
“Oreius.”
D’Arnlo snorted and shook his head. “Come now, your highness, this is not the time or place for jokes. It does not become those of our station.”
“It was not a joke, Master D’Arnlo,” Relam replied stiffly. “I am training with Oreius. That is why I must decline your offer, generous as it is.”
“There is still time to reconsider-”
“I started this morning,” Relam said bluntly. “Trained all day. And I see no reason to break my word and switch to a different master at this time.” He stood, indicating that the audience was over. “Thank you again for your generous offer,” he said, smiling slightly. “Should Oreius’ training become unsatisfactory at some point, you can be sure I will consider you as an alternative. Now, I’ve had a long day and training begins again in the morning. Good night, Master D’Arnlo.”
And before the sword master could protest or reply, he was ushered out of the room by Relam’s guards, leaving the prince alone once more.
Chapter 28
The next day followed a similar pattern to the first. Relam rose early, ate a solitary breakfast, then walked to Oreius’ house and let himself in around the side. The old man was sitting on the stone bench again, but this time he noticed Relam almost immediately upon arrival.
They spent the morning on awareness drills again. Relam did a little better than the previous day, but he was distracted and he knew that he could have done better. In the back of his mind, he was worried about how brusquely he had dismissed D’Arnlo the previous night. In hindsight, he could have handled that situation much better, but the sword master’s appearance on the heels of Eckle’s appointment had been too much for him to deal with all at once. If only-
“If you are done daydreaming, boy, can we get back to our training?” an irritable voice growled.
Relam jumped and looked up, meeting Oreius’ frustrated gaze. “Sorry,” Relam muttered. “Just a lot on my mind.”
“Hmph,” Oreius grunted. “Must be something big. Yesterday you were completely focused and in control. Today you seem a little off balance.”
“D’Arnlo offered me training last night,” Relam said finally. “He was going to summon me to the Citadel to make the offer but I told his messenger that if he wanted to talk he could come to the palace.”
“Oh, I imagine he took that very well,” Oreius muttered, eyes glinting.
“He actually didn’t mention it during our conversation,” Relam replied.
“Shocking. How did he take your rejection of his offer?”
“He didn’t believe me,” Relam said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m still not sure he does.”
“Well, it’s nothing to beat yourself up over,” Oreius grunted with a shrug.
“He’s only the master of the Citadel and I just dismissed him like a servant,” Relam countered.
“You didn’t mention that,” Oreius pointed out. “But, I’m glad you did it. It was about time someone took the overblown fool down a peg or two.”
Relam said nothing. It was one thing for Oreius to make light of the situation here in the garden in broad daylight, quite another to remember the furious light in D’Arnlo’s eyes when Relam had told him he already had a master.
“It will be all right,” Oreius said finally. “Princes have a tendency to say and do boneheaded and insensitive things. He’ll forget about it by next week. He’ll be too busy with his many students in any event.” Oreius tapped his foot impatiently and looked down at Relam, who was sitting on the stone bench. “Now, tell me what you sense.”
Relam sighed and closed his eyes. “Clear your mind,” Oreius whispered in his ear. “Don’t think, feel. Listen.”
“The river,” Relam said immediately. No matter how many times he did this drill, the river always came first. It was the most pervasive of sounds, and the most constant. The river never changed.
“A ship,” Relam added quickly, for he could hear a boat moving up river, against the current. The sound of splashing, thrashing oars was overlaying the natural flow now. “Going upriver.”
“Not downriver?”
“They wouldn’t be rowing downriver.”
“Excellent point. But there you go thinking again.”
“I felt it first, I only thought when you asked me to justify it,” Relam protested.
“Never mind that, what else do you sense?”
“The city,” Relam muttered. He could hear the rattle of cart wheels, the snorting and blowing of oxen and horses, the babble of chatter from the people of the city, the crunch of footsteps on the gravel path.
Relam froze. He had not heard Oreius move, but there was clearly somebody moving on the garden paths. “Oreius?” Relam asked quietly.
“Yes?” the old man replied calmly. The old man’s voice came from directly behind him, where the ground was flagstone.
“I think we have a visitor.”
“So we do,” Oreius agreed. “He’s been here for a few minutes now, actually.”
The tension drained out of Relam suddenly and completely, leaving him feeling a little empty and cheated. He had been preparing for battle inwardly and now that a fight was not forthcoming he felt let down. The prince opened his eyes and looked around, scanning the gravel paths.
“Good morning, your highness, Oreius,” a cloaked man called stepping forward and throwing back his hood. “I hope I am not interrupting anything.”
Relam gasped, then grinned as he recognized his former guard commander, Narin.
“You always were a tactless dolt,” Oreius growled threateningly. “Of course we were in the middle of something! That’s how training works.”
“My sincerest apologies,” Narin said formally, still grinning. He clasped hands with Oreius briefly. “It’s been a long time since you had a student, old friend.”
“Well, it had to happen eventually. My judgement seems to be deteriorating with age.”
The Prince (Heirs of Legacy Book 1) Page 34