A Rising Darkness

by Nikki Dorakis

  “Sire?”

  “You are to reinstate the Ez’n’s White Guard. The choice of the men who comprise it is entirely yours. Construct it as you will, Ez’n.”

  †

  CHAPTER 6

  THE WHITE GUARD

  THE KING’S instruction to reinstate the White Guard was as clear as it was mystifying. Anubis’ Squad, the White Guards, had been disbanded after the signing of the Pentageonate Treaty. He vowed at the time that he would never again go to war, and I was certainly no soldier. Dancer and gymnast, certainly. Scholar?—Well—when I could be bothered. Ez’n? Well, in title at least—and more by accident than by design it had to be said. So what could Janir possibly be thinking in ordering me to rebuild the troop? Why should I need a guard, let alone a squad of men under my own command?

  Unless, of course, the king was intending that I should be part of his campaign . . .

  Well, I thought, be that as it may, I have other more pressing matters to attend to. I turned my attention to the tracts and papers on the desk.

  Myrna had done a sterling job or organising the documents and had tidied to the desk to the point where it was so well ordered that I could not actually find anything. No doubt we would get used to each other’s ways of working. Myrna turned out to be an excellent scribe and very adept and handling difficult petitioners and, it seemed, errant Princes.

  Myrna, though indeed rather plain as Zhartal had told me, had the most beautiful eyes and a gentle, warm disposition. She also had a very attractive figure and so, although bitterly disappointed by her entry into my employ, Jae’nt soon found reasons to visit my offices and engage the young woman in conversation. Myrna, however, had grown up in a military family and was immune to Jae’nt’s easy grace and charming wit; a fact which seemed to irritate him more than anything else.

  I smiled at the thought and settled myself at the desk.

  I had not been working long when I was disturbed by a knock at the door. It was Myrna.

  “Your pardon Ez’n. Prince Jae’nt is without.”

  “Without what?” I asked irked. Much as I enjoyed spending time with Jae’nt the young man would really have to come to terms with the idea that we were not children anymore and I had work to do. I sighed. “Very well, Myrna.”

  “That girl is the most annoying creature in the world.” Jae’nt told me as he settled himself by the study fire and helped himself to some tea and oatcakes.

  “Second only to you, Prince Jae’nt.”

  “I don’t know how you tolerate her.” Jae’nt affected not to notice the tease and took a hefty swig of his tea. “Mind you she has a very attractive pair of . . .”

  “Is there something particular you wanted to see me about, highness?”

  “I thought we could go riding at mid-morning and spend the night in the southern forest.”

  I regarded the prince stonily. “Jae’nt it is only just past midwinter.” I pointed to the pile of scrolls and documents on my desk. “Besides, I have work to do. And no,” I said as the Prince went to speak, “it cannot wait until later.”

  As Jae’nt went to speak again Myrna appeared in the doorway to announce the arrival of one Colonel Garrik, the commander of the Royal Guard. Jae’nt took his leave sullenly and stalked past the older man barely bothering to return his salute.

  Aarin and Iannos appeared a breath later with refreshments and set them out on the table in the corner of the office. I gestured to the seats and as we settled Iannos poured the rubyspike tea.

  “And so, colonel?”

  Garrick pulled a scroll from under his cloak and unrolled it carefully. “My recommendations for your house guard, Ez’n.”

  I scanned the list carefully, set the scroll aside and took an oatcake from the plate. “Thank you Iannos, I will ring if I need you. Tell Myrna I do not wish to be disturbed until the commander leaves.”

  The youth made a short bow and left.

  I picked up the scroll again, my eye stopping at Faedron’s name. “I see you have included Faedron on this list. Why would you put a soldier whose expertise is as an archer and javelineer on house duty? And I see eight names that I know, commander and one that I do not. Who is Idril? Oh. Wait. He is a Captain of the Second House is he not?”

  “Yes, Ez’n. A man of skill.”

  “And one with a fondness for the bath-houses of the Western Quarter I seem to recall.”

  The commander gave me an easy smile which I liked little and trusted less. “What a man does in his off duty time . . .”

  “Have you forgotten how much time I spend in the company of the Royal Guard? I do not care that the man may be dissolute in his off time; but his activities are not limited to this are they? The man is unreliable. If I am to have a guard contingent dedicated to my house, I expect the soldiers to be just that—dedicated. And now to my first question?”

  “Your first question?” the commander echoed, clearly flustered by having his selections questioned.

  “The archer and javelineer.” I prompted.

  The commander flushed quite deeply and his hesitancy in replying served only to compound my rising suspicion that, regardless of Faedron’s sword skills, Garrick’s inclusion of the corporal in the house guard was based purely on the speculations of a liaison. Garrick fidgeted, looking everywhere except at me. “I—eh—well . . .”

  I leaned back in my chair. Suddenly I was feeling immensely satisfied by the man’s discomfort. I had never particularly liked him, and neither had Anubis who regarded him as a slippery, toadying kind of man who would do almost anything for advancement. I gave the man a smile which I imagine did nothing to ease his mind. “Come now, colonel, this is no time to be coy.”

  Garrick cleared his throat. “Well, Ez’n, I thought you might find it more convenient and discreet to have the corporal stationed in the household.”

  I rose abruptly, my demeanour making it more than clear to the colonel that he had made one assumption too many. “Thank you for your recommendations, commander. I will not have Idril appointed. Provost Sergeant Aenar can head the men until I decide upon a suitable Captain. I will make do with just the eight that are known by me.”

  “As you wish, Ez’n.” The commander made a brief salute and took his leave.

  Setting the commander’s scroll aside I turned my attention once more to the Morlan treaty.

  Anubis had done most of the work on it. There remained only a few unresolved clauses but the main contention for me was a large blank space in the midst of the rules of engagement. This, above all else perturbed me greatly for I had no idea what Anubis might have been planning to place there. He had left copious notes on all other aspects of the treaty, but this one section was devoid of any such annotations or memory joggers.

  Well, I told myself, things would no doubt become clearer once the Morlans arrived in the Spring. And that, I reminded myself was just three moons away.

  “So, Ez’n, What plans do you have for your birthdate celebrations?” Janir asked as we completed our morning conference.

  I regarded the king blankly. “Plans sire? I have never celebrated my birthdate. It is not my way.” I paused to order my thoughts. “Neither was it Anubis’ practice.”

  “Yes, Meriq, I know that.” The king replied. “But all the same, you are a public figure now and your anniversary is but two settans away.”

  On that point the king and I were in agreement, but I was not wholly disposed to have a party over something as trivial as the day of my birth. The king, on the other hand, seemed determined that it would be made into some kind of state occasion and immediately ordered his clerk to organise a banquet in my honour.

  “It really is quite unnecessary, sire.” I told the king.

  “In your opinion, Ez’n.” The king said with such finality that I knew at once that arguing any further would simply be no more than an exercise in futility.

  “As my king wishes.” I said.

  Janir laughed at me. “Could you sound any less enthusiastic,
Meriq?”

  “Give me a little time, majesty and I am sure I could manage it.” I answered and took my leave.

  I looked from the king’s note to the captain, over at the Treaty and then over to where Aenar, Faedron and the remainder of the morning guards were seated awaiting their morning meeting with me. Excusing myself I left the apartments escorted as always by Dthor-Aid’n, his squire trotting behind us like a dutiful pup.

  “This treaty will be the death of me.” I complained as we approached the king’s private quarters.

  “I have not seen you look so pained since you rode from Kalina to Morkopia and back, lad.” Dthor-Aid’n smiled as the squire ran ahead to announce our arrival.

  “Possibly because the pain from the treaty is in the same place,” I answered glibly.

  Dthor-Aid’n laughed, “Of course, there was the night of your birthday banquet,” he added.

  “I would rather forget that, thank you, captain.” I told the man. It was not that the evening had been particularly disastrous, but more that I had found it acutely embarrassing to be accepting gifts and lip-service from those nobles who had made it clear that, before my elevation as Ez’n, my very presence with Anubis and anywhere near the Royal Court was an affront to them. I concluded, however, that Janir, had insisted on the celebration as a means to consolidate my position and make a political statement of his own concerning his confidence in my office.

  “Well of course it was lad,” Dthor-Aid’n said confidently as we approached the king’s chambers. “There are always a number of lethal vipers in any court. The King obviously wants it clear that he is behind you and his judgement on appointing you is not open to question.” The captain knocked on the king’s door, standing back as I went into the anteroom where Janir was already waiting for me.

  “Do you wish me to wait to escort you back, Ez’n?” The captain asked.

  I turned, surprised. He had never asked permission to escort me before. He just simply did it—often to my intense vexation. “Thank you, Captain, but I would not want to trouble you.”

  “It is my duty and an honour,” the soldier responded. He took the hand I offered bowing low and touching it to his forehead. Bending his knee to the king he left leaving me staring after him. When I finally pulled my attention back to the king he was regarding me quite intently.

  “Meriq, you seem distracted,” the king observed.

  “Apologies, my king. But the captain’s conduct seemed . . . unusual.

  “Is he not always polite, then?” The king asked as we repaired to the inner chamber.

  “Always, sire.”

  “And so . . . ?”

  I rubbed my right hand thoughtfully, still feeling the pressure of his forehead against my knuckles. I shook the sensation clear of my mind. “I am sure it is nothing. I was just surprised that he asked permission to escort me.”

  “But you are sixteen now, Meriq. No longer a boy in the eyes of the law.” The king gave me an easy smile. “Wine?”

  “Tea.”

  “And then to the Treaty.”

  “But before we discuss the treaty, Sire, I need to speak with you regarding the Prince Royal.”

  “And what has the Royal-thorn-in-my-side done now, Meriq?”

  I explained that over the past few settans I had fielded a number of complaints from tavern and brothel keepers in the city concerning both Jae’nt’s conduct and that of his cohort; the most recent mischief being the almost total destruction of “The Bell-keepers’ Tavern” in the middle city. “The Prince and several of his cohort, it appears, behaved rather indecently with one of the serving girls and when she rebuked them they did the same with one of the serfs. He apparently rebuffed them somewhat more physically and a brawl ensued. The tavern was almost demolished, the serf and his father, the tavern-keep, were quite badly hurt.

  Janir scowled. “Are you telling me that Jae’nt tried to tupp a girl and when that did not work he attempted to rape a young man?”

  “No sire. From what I gather they were trying to get the girl to guess who she thought was the best endowed. When she wouldn’t they decided the tavern-keep’s son should decide—after they had stripped him of his breech cloth.”

  Janir poured himself a goblet of wine and took a hefty gulp. “I see. This can hardly be put down as youthful high spirits can it?”

  “I do not believe so, Sire.”

  “Do you have any suggestions—short of hanging the wretch by his thumbs?” The king began to smile, “or perhaps his manhood?”

  “I have suggested to Captain Dthor-Aid’n and the Provost that the Prince and his cohort be confined to barracks until the next black moon. He is merely waiting on my word.”

  “I agree. If the brat cannot behave in public he should not be allowed out in public.” The king took another drink. “And now, Ez’n, to the treaty.”

  Much as I had anticipated the king was not pleased to discover a gap in the middle of his treaty. And even after spending most of the day with him, there was little I could say to Janir except that I would do my best to fill the gap before the Morlans arrived to join forces. And so I would do—except that I had not the slightest idea what to do about it other than get Myrna to visit the archives and get me copies of the Pentageonate Treaties that might shed some light on what was meant to be there.

  I sat in the consulting chamber for some time after the king had left considering the possibilities for the empty space. Nothing came readily to mind and so I decided that since it was now growing dark I would return to my rooms.

  As I emerged from the king’s apartments Dthor-Aid’n snapped to attention and his squire scrambled to his feet.

  “Ez’n-Kyr.”

  “Captain? I did not expect to see you here. Have you been waiting all this time?”

  “Of course, Ez’n.” He turned to his squire “Polo go ahead to the Ez’n’s apartments and tell Iannos to have a warm bath and a meal ready for Lord Meriq.”

  The squire saluted and ran off as if he had been fired from a ballista.

  “He is very keen, your squire,” I observed as the boy disappeared around a corner. “But he seems a little young for the post.”

  Dthor-Aid’n paused to return the salute of a troop that passed us in the main hall. “He has twelve cycles, Ez’n, very young as you say. His parents indentured him to the House as they were no longer able to support a fourth child. I took him on as my squire to discourage unsavoury interest in him from other parts of the Royal House.”

  “Meaning the royal barracks?” I ventured.

  “Meaning whatever my lord may choose it to mean.” Dthor-Aid’n answered cutely. “I have an intense dislike of men who seduce and debauch boys too young to understand and appreciate the ways of men.”

  “An odd sentiment for a Zetan soldier,” I commented.

  Dthor-Aid’n smiled. “I am not speaking of the slye, lad, for we have no interest in a boy-children like Polo, and neither am I thinking of The Pledge. I speak of those depraved pigs who despoil innocence with lust.”

  “You sound like Aarin,” I said with a smile.

  “Then you know of whom I speak,” Dthor-Aid’n said crisply. He turned the subject swiftly. “I asked Zhartal to teach Polo letters and numbers, but he seems reluctant to take him on. He is a very bright boy; it seems a shame to waste his mind.”

  “Perhaps I can get Zhartal to reconsider.” I suggested.

  “I would not presume to ask it of you, Ez’n.”

  “You did not ask it. I offered it, Captain.” A sudden though struck me and I stopped walking. “There is one other thing.” Dthor-Aid’n raised an eyebrow giving me an expectant look. “I thought I said I did not need an escort, Captain.”

  “Your pardon, Ez’n-Kyr, but you said you did not want to trouble me. You did not actually dismiss me.”

  “That was careless of me, Captain. I apologise.”

  “A most welcome oversight, my lord.” Dthor-Aid’n responded, shrugging the apology aside and we walked on in
silence. It was not until we reached the apartments and I was settled in my bath that I actually realised we had made most of the journey in silence walking side by side as if we were friends and that Dthor-Aid’n had not offered me his shield arm, but that I had taken it.

  I set my plate aside and curled up by the ingle in Anubis’ large chair watching as Jalin stoked the fire.

  “Jalin, fetch me a quill and parchment would you?”

  “At once my lord.”

  The boy scuttled over to the desk returning a heartbeat later with the writing materials and a resting block.

  “Tell me, Jalin, do you know letters and numbers?”

  “I know a little. Enough to buy provisions and be sure the money is right. Alna and Iannos have been showing me.” He paused then added, “The Crown Prince did not need me to have ability with letters and coins.”

  I nodded. Obviously. Jalin was a very pretty, delicate looking boy whose good bones would keep him handsome into the manhood I could see was approaching. If one discounted the boy’s copper-coloured hair he was strikingly similar to Dthor-Aid’n’s squire, Polo and I was suddenly very pleased that Dthor-Aid’n had apprenticed the boy rather than leaving him to the vagaries of the barracks. “Would you like to learn letters and numbers?” I asked.

  “If it was your will, Lord Ez’n, I would learn to fly.” Jalin said quickly, then blushed and looked down. “I did not mean to presume . . .”

  “And neither did you.” I scribbled a hasty note, pausing as the great bell of the monastery in the eastern quarter opened its throat and sang out the third secta of the night. “Here, take this to Zhartal. He will be at the temple and you should be able to catch him at the end of Evens-chant.”

  As Jalin grabbed his cloak and left on his errand I left the comfort of the ingle returning once more to my desk to work on the accursed treaty that was fast becoming the bane of my existence.