The proclamation I had just fixed to the Almshouse notice board outlawed the exploitation of any inmate of the haven and further prohibited the seduction or prostitution of ungirdled males and any females under the age of sixteen cycles. And for good measure I had appended a codicil prohibiting the presence of any child under the age of sixteen cycles in taverns and barracks unless they were with a parent.
Galen stood wide eyed as he read it. “I think this edict will displease some very powerful men, lord Ez’n.” He said quietly. His furtive glance towards the Castle spoke volumes.
“Then it is as well that the only man more powerful than the man who drafted it is the king who signed it.” I answered.
I had not been settled in the barracks long when Prince Balten approached me with some of his friends with an invitation to partake of a jar with them. Aenar and Maegor moved tables. Dthor-Aid’n turned slightly towards me so that he straddled the bench but otherwise remained where he was. He leaned over slightly slouching on to the table in a way that tilted his sword across his abdomen and closer to his right hand.
The action though not particularly threatening was clear enough; he was ready to strike if the need arose. Balten gave the captain an easy smile and seated himself. One of his number poured a measure of wine into my quaich before serving Balten. I sat watching the Prince—waiting for him to drink first. He gave me a vindictive smile and took a mouthful from his cup making great play of swallowing it. Then I drank.
“I see that your shelter for the homeless of the upper city has opened Ez’n. I see too that you have managed to get my father to legislate against prostitution.”
“Only insofar as it involves children, Crown Prince.”
“I must confess I am curious, Ez’n. How do you suppose such a law can be enforced?”
“If it is necessary, Prince Balten, I will create a unit of Enforcers to make it so. Make no mistake if any man is proved guilty of breaking this law I will behead him myself.”
“That sounds like a most solemn pledge, Lord Ez’n.” the prince almost growled at me.
I nodded. “It is.”
The Crown Prince leaned suddenly towards me. Dthor-Aid’n shifted position just enough to make it clear to the royal that he should not move closer. “When I am king, you little Medran whore I will feed you and your loin leech captain here to the lammergeyers on Kor-Sian,” The prince hissed.
I smiled. “I do not think so, Highness. For when you ascend Zetaria’s throne I am certain we will save you the effort by throwing ourselves to them.”
†
CHAPTER 11
THINKER
THE MORNING was pleasant and bright. A welcome warm zephyr breathed in from the south bringing with it the hope that Spring was not far away now. The day looked so beautiful, in fact, that I was almost tempted to have the large shutters opened so that I might enjoy breakfast on the balcony. The sight of the snow that still remained on the parapet, however, gave me pause for thought and so I contented myself with sitting by the window and looking out over the city.
Below me hawkers and other peddlers were taking advantage of the good weather plying their various wares on any who would tarry to look. Guards swapped shifts and children ran hither and thither stamping around in the pools of freshly thawed snow only to be scolded by parents or the guards they had splashed in their sport. I became aware of a presence beside me. It was Jalin.
He had made a swift recovery once the shock had worn off and was keen to be back at work. I had insisted, however, that he only involve himself in light duties and concentrate more on the studies he had missed. To his credit, the boy had more than made up for lost time in the lunation since his encounter with Jae’nt and his cronies both in his studies and in his growth.
He had sprouted up nearly a head taller than I, and the benefits of the sword training I had arranged with Faedron were beginning to show in both his bearing and his physique.
“May I ask you something, Ez’n?”
I smiled at him. “That rather depends on what it is, does it not?”
“I was wondering . . . well . . . about Prince Jae’nt.”
“You were wondering why he is in chains no doubt.”
Jalin nodded. I motioned the boy to the stool beside me and explained exactly what had happened after the incident with the spears.
“But it was just sport.” Jalin said.
“It was irretrievably stupid sport,” I corrected. “If the spear had not been defective it would have killed you.”
“The spear was not defective, master,” Jalin asserted, “you destroyed it. I felt you do it.” He gave me a small, secret smile. “That is why I don’t like magic,” he explained, “I can feel when it is working, I have a sense for it. I do not enjoy it.” He stared past me for a moment, his head cocked to one side as he listened to the sounds of movement beyond the chamber door. “Could you take the chains off?”
“I could.” My tone made it clear that I was not entirely in favour of so doing. “Has Jae’nt said anything to you?”
Jalin shook his head. The prince had not so much as passed the time of day with him since his recovery. “Which is a bit strange,” the boy observed, “considering he tended me all the time I was unwell.”
“I see. And why should I have his chains struck?”
“I bear the prince no ill-will, master. And,” he paused as sounds from the kitchens filtered into the room. He glanced over at the door, “and I cannot bear to see him chained like a dog. It’s horrible. No-one should be chained up.” He gave me a deep, pleading look. “Prince Balten used to do that to me whenever he . . . whenever I was reluctant to serve him. He would have me chained or tied so I couldn’t move while he . . .”
“I understand, Jalin,” I told the boy, and I did. I understood only too well and determined to spare the boy having to reveal the sordid details of the services he provided to the Crown Prince.
“And so?” Jalin asked, “The Prince?”
“You think the prince has learned his lesson do you?”
“He thinks you a hard but just Master,” Jalin responded candidly. There was a brief pause, and when he spoke again his voice sounded fuzzy and distant. “And the Crown Prince thinks you an obstruction to his plans and wants you dead.”
“What did you say?”
“That Prince Jae’nt thinks . . .”
“No. After that.”
“I did not say anything, Ez’n.” The boy regarded me seriously for a moment. Then said, “Yes. I am a Thinker. I have had the skill since I was five. It is growing stronger, though I can only pick up things that are strongly felt—and from you, Ez’n, nothing at all, even at your most passionate.” The boy continued to regard me seriously, almost fearfully.
Skills such of the kind that Jalin possessed were often coveted but in the main they were feared, reviled even—much as my own skill would be feared were it known. People understood or at least accepted the thaumaturgical magics, conjuration of fire, wind, rain, storm and even to a point were comfortable with spell-casting and the like, but the more esoteric and obscure skills were viewed with suspicion. I could see why Jalin was now very much on edge. It was now well within my power to have him slain.
“And what now, my lord?” Jalin’s voice was hushed and clearly filled with dread. In his one unguarded moment he had laid his life on the very tray on which he had served my tea.
I regarded the boy carefully. “And now? Now it shall be as you ask, Jalin.”
“I meant . . .”
“I know what you meant, Jalin. Your secret is safe with me. I ask only that you keep your “ears” open. Now, go to the Provost and ask him to bring the strikers.”
Jalin was gone almost before I had finished speaking, reappearing a scant heartbeat later to make the bow he had overlooked in his excitement before running off to fetch Aenar.
I sat quietly thinking about what had just been revealed. So, Jalin could hear thoughts and send them could he? He had no doubt used it t
o ensure his survival in Balten’s service, probably using it to divine the things most likely to excite the Crown Prince and bring his own ordeal to a swift end. And he would also know how and where to hide when the Prince was looking for him.
Properly honed and focused, this could be an intensely useful skill and one I could use to great advantage in realising Janir’s plans for the throne.
Janir regarded me stoically before moving to his credenza and pouring himself a goblet of wine. I shuffled uneasily. His silence was brooding and rather unnatural. He stood for a long while staring at the wall and drinking his wine. Finally he turned.
“You trust this boy, Ez’n?”
“I do, my king.” I answered as Janir turned to face me. “He did not have to reveal his skill to me, and had he not I would have been none the wiser.”
“What else has he revealed to you?”
“That Balten wants me dead, your majesty.”
Janir laughed and passed me his cup. I took a sip and passed it back. “It does not take a Thinker to divine that, Meriq.”
No it did not. And on that point I had to agree.
“Does the boy know you have told me?”
“He knows that I intend to because I told him I would.”
“And you believe he cannot read you?”
“Yes I do. And no, Sire, I do not think Balten knows of his skill and neither do I believe he placed the boy in my household to act as a spy. I think he believes he has gifted me a dog handler and a highly skilled boy-whore.”
“And one that is wasted, by all accounts,” the king observed dryly, passing me his cup once more.
I gave him a stony look over the rim of the cup as I drank. “You seem to know rather more of my bed habits than is either necessary or proper—your majesty.” I handed the king back his goblet,
Janir smiled. “Your lack of bed habits,” the king amended. “Don’t be such a prig, Meriq. I truly admire both you and your ethics and,” he added, “the fact that you are saving yourself for Love and not giving yourself over in Heat is truly heartening.”
“All the same, my king, I would much rather not be having this conversation with you.”
“I realise that, Meriq. But there is an old Zetan soldier’s saying—“Trust neither a warrior who does not dance nor a man who does not mate.”
“And which old Zetan soldier said that, King Janir?”
The king laughed. “My great-grandfather, in point of fact.” Janir replied lightly, “but I think the last bit refers to celibate priests all of whom he loathed as freaks of nature; witness the Morlan priests of Morgul.”
“Given the talk that abounds concerning my purported activities with regards to the soldiers of the Royal House, majesty, and the fact that you know how well I dance, I think you have little to worry about concerning my trustworthiness. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to get back to work on your treaty.”
“So that you are aware, Meriq . . .” the king called as I reached his chamber door, “. . . the Morlans are at the river.”
I nodded and left, hurrying back to my chambers as if the few moments I would gain by running would make any difference to the empty space that remained within the Treaty. I stopped suddenly and redirected my steps to the Royal Barracks. With the short time remaining I determined that I should at least spend it in pleasant company.
So, the Morlans had reached the river had they? “They are possessed of more stamina than even the stories about them report,” I muttered to myself. If Janir’s intelligence was accurate, and there was no reason to suppose it would not be, then King Keelan and his soldiers would be arriving in the Capital much sooner than anticipated unless the river was swollen by the Spring thaw. This was unlikely, if the view of the mountains was anything to go by for they still seemed to be buried under the snow. That being the case the river might well still be frozen or at low ebb which would probably allow the Morlans a swift crossing. Given their single-mindedness, they would probably dispense with the use of the rope ferry and simply bridge the river or ford it. And when they arrived it would be to find Zetaria without a workable Treaty, without a Prince Royal and, as if this was not sufficient, Janir’s treacherous Queen and his simpleton son could scarcely be more than three days’ ride from the city gates.
When I arrived in the Soldiers’ Refectory it was to be assailed by questions regarding the proximity of the Morlans. I told the men what I knew—what the king had told me and then sought out Maegor and Aenar where they sat at their usual table adjacent to the ingle. Dthor-Aid’n, as always, occupied a seat near the weapons rack almost opposite them.
“Does he never join you?” I asked as Faedron arrived off Gate Guard and brought over a platter of savoury bread and some cured meat.
“He is the Captain,” Faedron stated, as if this made perfect sense—which it did not, at least not to me.
I shook my head as if to clear it. Sometimes Faedron was just too obtuse for words. “He should not be left to drink alone, it is not proper.”
“Well you go and invite him then, Meriq.” Faedron answered, flinching as Maegor kicked his ankle as if chastising him for his familiarity, “I mean . . . perhaps he would respond to an invitation from someone of higher rank, Ez’n.”
I shrugged. Well, whatever. I had no sense from Dthor-Aid’n that he was a man to be influenced by rank, and neither did he seem to me to be particularly conscious of his rank except when it counted. I rose, taking off my circlet and handing it to Faedron before making my way to Dthor-Aid’n’s table.
The soldier rose as he saw me approach and gave a short, formal bow. “Would you care to join us Dthor-Aid’n?” I indicated our table.
“I am, as always, at your disposal, Ez’n.”
“Ah yes, Captain, but it is not the Ez’n commanding, it is just me asking.”
Dthor-Aid’n’s quick blue eyes scanned my face briefly. He clearly took in the fact that I was not wearing the circlet of office. “Why?” he asked suddenly.
“Why?” I echoed, “Well, because I have come here to spend time with my friends and I should like to count you amongst them.”
Dthor-Aid’n gave me a smile that did something severely unusual to the base of my spine. “Does this now mean I am safe from becoming a frog, lad?”
I grinned at him, “For the moment, soldier—for the moment.” So saying I took his hand and made to lead him back to the table. He pulled back slightly causing me to turn. His eyes were fixed on our hands.
“There could be talk, Ez’n.”
I stepped back to the man, “There is always talk, Captain. I am not concerned by it, and neither should my friends be.”
I fell back on the wall bench breathless with laughter as Faedron skipped off and grabbed Maegor to finish the third set of the reel we had been dancing. The soldiers clapped, whistled and sang along with the music. Having regained my wind I wove through the whirling bodies and returned to where Dthor-Aid’n sat keeping time to the music with his tankard. He passed the cup to me with a brief nod, much as he would do with any of his comrades and I accepted the gesture, feeling pleased that, despite the somewhat acrimonious start to our acquaintance, we had now reached this point. It was, as Janir had suggested, essential to maintain at least the semblance of civility with the Captain of the King’s First House.
There was a brief lull in the music while the players partook of refreshment and then they struck up a more sedate promenade. I nudged the captain, jogging his arm as he made to drink. “Shall we?”
He gave me a serious look in response. “Should we?”
“Captain, at some point in time I have danced with nearly every man in this building and,” I added, “it feels as if I have done so tonight. I think dancing with you will just add one more name to a dance card than never seems to empty.”
“It is not proper that I should ask you, Ez’n.”
“Really, Captain,” I teased, “How am I to trust a warrior who does not dance?”
Dthor-Aid’n rose and no
dded, escorting me to the floor and as we picked up the pattern to synchronise with the other dancers he leaned down and whispered, “There is a second part to that proverb, lad.”
“And do you think I am so callow as to be unaware of that, soldier?”
“I somehow doubt that anyone could ever seriously consider accusing you of naivety, lad.” Dthor-Aid’n stated quietly and pulled me close as we moved into the final spin turns of the dance.
The others were already at the table when Dthor-Aid’n and I returned and one of the companions was just laying out more savoury breads and meat.
“Your footwork is most impressive, Captain,” Faedron said pointedly.
“It would be hard to dance badly with such an accomplished partner,” Dthor-Aid’n rejoined easily, “The Ez’n’s skill would make even the clumsiest of dancers appear graceful.” Dthor-Aid’n turned slightly, signalling to his Squire who was seated in a corner away from the main gathering. The boy jumped to his feet and trotted over taking the pitcher that Dthor-Aid’n held out to him.
I leaned over stuffing a bread roll into Faedron’s mouth as he went to answer. “And he, at least, doesn’t tread on me,” I told the corporal with a laugh.
As the temple bell struck the midnight mark I took leave of the men to go home. I still had work to do, and taking the few hours off had afforded me the breathing space I felt I so sorely needed.
By the time I reached the barrack door Dthor-Aid’n hand already donned his cloak and was waiting to escort me. “It is only proper, Ez’n,” the soldier stated as I went to object, “Especially in view of what happened last time.”
I had to agree that there was merit in his words. I doubted that I was in any more danger, but it seemed only prudent to accept the offer of the escort.
As we approached the guard at the main door of my apartments Dthor-Aid’n slowed his pace. “Ez’n I have a favour to ask of you.”
“Which is?”
“It will be my birthdate soon—in two lunations actually—and I will be holding a small celebration with my family in the Eastern Quarter. I would be honoured if you would attend.”
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