“If we had been using live steel, that would not be a bruise on your chin,” Trevan retorted venomously.
Raelyn spun, whipping Tempest up under Trevan’s chin before he had time to react. Trevan’s eyes snapped open in shock. “Don’t for a moment think I couldn’t kill you, boy,” Raelyn snarled. “I’ve killed men on the battlefield, men with more experience than you’ll ever have. When I was your age I was killing Coscan raiders in the hills of Northkeep, not playing with blunted swords and pretending to be a Lord of the city.” He glared at Trevan contemptuously. “I’d slaughter you like a fatted calf, don’t ever doubt it.”
Raelyn pulled Tempest’s tip away from Trevan’s throat, sliding the blade effortlessly into her sheath. “Your father hired me to teach you how to fight, not to bow down to you while you insult me. I’ll be back the same time tomorrow.” He picked up the wooden case and turned to leave the courtyard. “When you show up, leave your attitude at home. I’m not going to be so gentle with you next time.”
Chapter Two
“Thank you for coming, Raelyn.” Lord Perinor smiled as he rose, but his smile was thin lipped. The messenger who had discovered Raelyn in the Whitestone Tavern had not looked pleased.
I guess they’ve all seen Trevan’s wrist by now, Raelyn thought ruefully as he walked across the hall of the manor, crossed to Lord Perinor and clasped his forearm in greeting. A bruise on the cheek is one thing, but that hand needs to be looked at. Perinor doesn’t pay me to beat his son up, and I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear any excuses. He waited for the lord to sit before he did the same, sighing silently to himself in relief that it seemed that the meeting would be informal.
Perinor looked at Raelyn intently, his eyes settling on the nasty contusion on his jaw. It had been throbbing all afternoon, and the three or four flagons of ale he had drunk at the Whitestone hadn’t done much to alleviate the pain. Even worse, he hadn’t eaten anything substantial that day, and the bread and roasted lamb they had prepared were far too chewy to get down. He had been waiting for the clam and bacon chowder to finish cooking in the Whitestone’s kitchens when he was summoned.
“That’s a bad mark you have there.” Perinor gestured to Raelyn’s face. “It looks as though you were struck quite soundly. Did Trevan do that to you?”
“Yes,” Raelyn replied weakly. “He was able to land a solid blow. You would have been proud to see it.” Although I doubt you’d be proud to see him lose control like that, he thought.
“I saw what you did to my boy.” Perinor’s voice gave no indication of his feelings on the matter. “I don’t think he wanted me to see, but he kept reaching for things with his left hand. The bruise on his face was nothing, but the injury to his wrist concerned me.” His voice held an unusual tension.
I hadn’t thought he’d be this upset, thought Raelyn, beginning to get nervous. I didn’t think the wound was that bad. Or the lesson, for that matter.
“Did you send him off to see one of the women of Erosan?” Raelyn tried to keep the anxiety out of his voice. “I told him they’d be able to fix his wrist. He shouldn’t have trouble using it for more than a day or two, with the right herbs and unguents.”
“He did mention that you had suggested it, and I told him it would be wise. He devotes himself to the worship of Moradarn, though, and I believe he feels conflicted. I have tried to convince him that the Lord of Justice cares not whether we seek Erosan’s supplications when we’re sick or injured, but Trevan makes his own mind up about these things.” Lord Perinor paused for a moment, looking into Raelyn’s eyes as if searching for some hidden answer within. He had the same quick mind as his son, honed by decades of rule, and the same piercing gaze. “You don’t approve, do you?”
“I would not presume to disapprove—or approve, for that matter.” Raelyn picked his words very carefully, well aware that he was on dangerous terrain. “If I had a son, I might be more inclined to command rather than suggest those things that I thought fitting for him. He’s a devout lad, well educated in religion, but seems uneducated in some things more… practical. If he’s to rule your holdings when you decide to turn your title over to him, he had better learn the value of praying in the house of all the gods in their season. Even giving a show of respect for the Coscan god might do him some good.”
“If you had a son, you might feel differently,” Perinor replied. “He was trained to be a priest of Moradarn until his eleventh year, when Mardal was killed and he was brought home to learn politics. He still sees the world as black and white, and he has a hard time reconciling anything that conflicts with his beliefs. And he pays homage to all the Oervan gods, and recognizes that the blessings of his life come from each of them, not only Moradarn. I don’t think he’ll ever recognize the importance of Yefuol, though, nor give his Coscan subjects the respect that I give them on their holidays. But his brash demeanor will mellow with time, as does that of all men.”
“Much like yours?” Raelyn asked, still wary. It wasn’t meant to sound like a challenge, but he knew the moment he had spoken that it would. Stupid, he thought, mentally kicking himself. The last thing I need to do right now is to make him angry—he’s already upset about what I did to Trevan. And without his patronage, I’m just another sell sword. He realized that he had stopped breathing for a moment.
“My greatest fear is that my son will not grow up to be the man that I am.” Lord Perinor said, his gaze cutting into the younger man. “What is your worst fear, Raelyn?” The lord rose from the table, not waiting for a response, and Raelyn reflexively did the same. “Come walk with me in the garden. The shade trees will keep away the worst of the heat. There are matters we must discuss, and I prefer privacy in these things.”
They walked down the hall, passing the servants’ quarters and into the kitchens. Women were at work preparing meals, and a large haunch of meat was roasting slowly over the open fire in the corner of the room. Raelyn’s stomach tightened at the smell of beef, carrots, and fresh baking bread, his mouth flooding with desire.
The two men crossed through the kitchen and out into the servants’ alley that ran the length of the grounds, the lord still biting his tongue. What can be so urgent? Raelyn wondered, his concern growing. This must be more than my boldness with his son. He wouldn’t be so careful if he was only going to scold me. They travelled down the narrow path, their boots echoing on the cobblestones, Raelyn noticing the lord’s suspicious glances as he passed servants that he usually paid no attention to. What’s so bad that you think everyone could be a spy, Perinor?
They finally entered into the small walled garden, encased in hedges. The garden was sculpted around a small pond and stream and was a place of tranquility. A natural spring welled up from the ground, one of the many small streams that ran into the Alewine River on its way to the Bay of Galavan, and fed the plants, hedges, and trees planted and tended by the servants. The lord liked to come here to relax and reflect, Raelyn knew, but its best value to the lord was for counsel. Among the sounds of the fountain and frogs, and with the soft grass and bushes surrounding them, it was difficult to hear the conversations that Lord Perinor had in low tones with his close counselors, even for the most trained of ears.
They sat on the wicker bench alongside the fountain, the lord’s favorite spot, and Perinor invited him to draw closer. Raelyn glanced around, looking for eyes and ears that could have been missed. I should know better, he thought; Perinor has eyes like a hawk, sees everything that goes on in its grounds. His servants know to stay away from his garden when he holds counsel—and they know that they’ll be seen by those eyes.
“I have received ill word this morning,” Perinor began. “Sir Aertis Millson, one of the representatives of the Craftsmen’s District in the Chamber of Freemen, has been murdered.” He paused for a moment, to let the weight of the words sink in. So this is why you are so upset, Raelyn thought, concealing his relief. Lord Perinor’s tension suddenly made sense.
“I am concerned. What few details I ha
ve heard seem strange to me. He was killed in his home, perhaps last night, and his home was ransacked. Some items of value were taken, but a great number of others were left behind. It appears as though a robber was surprised in the midst of his burglary, and slew the unwitting Chamberman, but I am not certain that is the case.”
Lord Perinor paused again, and Raelyn waited. “Corlwyn is investigating.” Raelyn bristled at the mention of the name, and got ready to speak; but Perinor raised his hand, as if in warning. “I know what you want to say. But Corlwyn is the best investigator in the city, and Lord Elotarn put him in charge of this personally. Nothing escapes his notice, and there is no one in the city who does not fear his questioning. Lord Elotarn places great faith in his skills—as do I.”
“Why summon me, then?” Raelyn kept his voice formal. If it weren’t for Corlwyn, how different would my life be now? First Man of the Watch might have been my position.
“The Conclave of High Lords will be assembling this evening,” Lord Perinor said in a low voice. “I want you to be there. If it is indeed assassination, I would like to know if you sense the involvement of any of the other high lords. Glean what you can from the conversation, so that we can discuss it later. You will be attending as my guard, of course. I suspect that the others will bring men who they trust, men whose skills are similar to your own.
“We will be meeting at Lord Elotarn’s estate, over the river, at nine o’clock in the evening. I want you to come in my retinue, dressed as my man. It will put to rest any question as to why you are there. I know that you have fallen out of favor with many in the city, and I do not know if any there tonight will be those who mistrust you, but if you come in my livery, nobody will speak ill of you or to you. Your presence will not be questioned.”
“As you will, my lord,” Raelyn replied formally. Lord Perinor gave a curt nod and his lips pulled tight in satisfaction. It’s odd, the mixture of formality and camaraderie that Perinor demands, Raelyn thought. It’s as though he can’t make up his mind if I am his vassal or his trusted friend. One moment he is my lord; the next, my brother.
Lord Perinor went on. “I want to let you know something. This is of no small concern to me, for political as well as personal reasons. Aertis was a friend of mine. He and I had dealt with one another on many things. He was a cloth maker by trade, before being elected to the Chamber of Freemen, and has served the interests of the craftsmen of the city very well. He was of aid in securing support among the craftsmen for many measures that I believed in, particularly in reducing taxes on landholders in our territory. He was also a firm believer in relaxing the restrictions on our Coscan citizens and increasing the city owned portages. If his successor is of a different mind, I will become suspicious of the motives of this murder.”
“I remember Aertis,” Raelyn replied, recalling the large, jovial man. “He’s been here many times, and I’m sure what you say is true, that he was a good man. I also know that he had truck with gamblers and whores in the Wharf District, and that despite his reputation among the members of the Chamber and the Lords, he owed both coin and favors to a lot of people.”
“I know this,” replied the lord. “I have heard the rumors, but I don’t have the ability to gather the kind of information that you can. I want to know his creditors, know anyone who might have had a grudge against him. I want to know why this murder was committed. I know Corlwyn’s abilities—and I know yours. I know you can talk to those who would be too frightened to speak with the Lord Inquisitor.” He used the title that Corlwyn had earned down at the docks rather than his official title, driving the point home.
Raelyn shrugged. “I know how to talk to people, regular people. Sometimes Corlwyn gets overzealous in his desire to enforce Moradarn’s justice.” Or please the Council of Lords, even at the expense of justice.
“That’s one of the reasons why I keep you in my employ,” Lord Perinor responded. “You can go where I cannot in the city. You can be eyes and ears where I cannot afford to.”
“You’ve never asked me to be your spy before,” Raelyn mused. He fixed the lord with hard eyes. So this is how I repay you for your patronage? What will you ask me to do?
“I am not asking you to spy for me. There is no espionage in this. I ask nothing more from you than the service you once gave to the city, and I ask you to give it to the city once again. If you investigate this murder, you will be working for the good of the people. And you will not be constrained as you were in the service of the city.”
“And I will be paid more,” he responded, hoping that he wouldn’t offend Perinor with the suggestion. “I make more training your son and working with your guard than I ever did working as an investigator. And that’s just what little I work for you. What will you pay me to work this case?” The question was out, and he held his breath, waiting for a response.
Lord Perinor considered him for a moment. “I would think you would be willing to do this for me,” he replied. “Considering all that I have done for you.”
“Make no mistake, my lord, I’m in your debt. You’ve supported me since I’ve lost my position for the city, and I’ve served you well in that capacity. But we’re not talking about eight or ten hours a week of instruction and drilling.” He was talking fast, and Raelyn looked into Lord Perinor’s eyes, saw the calculating expression. There was a moment of tension, and then Raelyn’s gaze softened. “I am not trying to demean the honor you have bestowed on me, Your Lordship. I only ask because there are expenses associated with what you request of me. And a certain danger, as well. If people think that I am your agent, there are many who would no longer trust me as they do now. Some who might think that I was betraying them, who have sharp knives in the shadows.”
“I would not ask you to serve me without rewarding you, Raelyn. Did you truly think that was my intention?” Perinor smiled, and the tension relaxed. “I had considered asking you this: that you accept your weekly stipend as payment for every day you serve me in this manner. You will also be reimbursed for any expenses you have. I will, of course, expect a full accounting in writing for my seneschal. Drian manages my household, and I leave it to him to deal with the minutia of my finances, so you will need to go to him for any funds for your endeavor.” He paused for a moment, judging Raelyn’s reaction. “Does that seem acceptable?”
“More than so, my lord,” Raelyn replied. Forty four silver tares a week is a good wage, four times what an average laborer makes. He’s willing to pay that per day. And no matter how much it may be for me, it’s still nothing to him. And it’s nothing compared to what we earned raiding down the Ravenspine mountains, sacking Coscan villages in the Vashtik wars. “But I have to make sure we both understand one another. This type of affair may involve paying for certain services that are beyond the law. Certain things like bribes. Is this permissible to you, or would that strain your purse and conscience.”
“Do what you must, Raelyn. But do it quickly and discreetly. I put a great deal of trust in you, trust that others would chastise me for. Ensure that it is not misplaced.”
“Aye, my lord. I will do so.” Raelyn rose, giving Lord Perinor a stiff bow. “I will go now and prepare myself for this evening. I must have a word with Jethu before then, to ensure that the rest of your guard is prepared. And I will speak with Drian about the matter of expenses and accounting. I will ensure that every expense is properly handled as per his instructions.” Raelyn stepped back, giving Lord Perinor the formal courtesy that the situation demanded.
“One more thing, before you leave.” Lord Perinor’s voice was grave. “I have another reason to do this. If you excel in this task, and bring Sir Aertis Millson’s killer to justice, it will not go unnoticed. Not by anyone in the city. You will have a chance at resurrecting your career, regaining honor for yourself and your name. You will have my full backing, and the backing of many others as well. You will have your life back.”
My life, Raelyn mused. And what would that be? A drunkard? What was I really, before
I lost my position? A broken down soldier, a mercenary, a barbarian? A murderer and rapist along the Ravenspine Mountains? A criminal who terrorized Coscan villages, and on your command no less? He cast a look at Lord Perinor, the man who he had followed into hell.
“I will do as you ask, Lord Perinor.” His voice was cool, detached. He paused a moment, deep in thought. Perinor gazed at him, expectantly. “But I will not do it as your lackey. I have served you before. You have been my commander. You have been my lord. You have been my patron. I will do this, but I will do it under one condition.”
“What is that?” Lord Perinor replied, his eyes wary. He waits for me to impose conditions, for me to leverage my position against him. He has always done so. What does he expect from me? That I am his enemy, kept in close counsel?
“Only this,” Raelyn said, breaking the silence after a moment: “That I do this not as your servant or hireling, but as your friend. And that you accord me the same friendship in return. I don’t want your money or your title or your holdings; I want your trust.”
The lord smiled, an easy smile. “Of course, Raelyn. You have my friendship. There are none I trust as I trust you—not even my own son. That is why I come to you with matters such as these.”
“Then stop the pretense, Perinor. While we’re away from other prying ears, treat me like any other freeman in the city would treat me. You may be a lord, but you’re still just a man.” He hadn’t meant it to come out like an admonition, and again he cursed his tongue.
Lord Perinor laughed, an open laugh touched by a mirth that Raelyn had rarely seen in him since the death of his son. “Alright, alright. I am sorry. I’ve become so accustomed to being a lord that I forget how to be a man. Friendship is a foreign word when you’re in a position of high importance, when nobody comes to you unless they want something from you. It’s much easier for a freeman! They know their friends and their enemies, and they don’t have anyone making false promises to advance their position, wondering who they should take into close counsel and who will betray them. When friendship is a word used to barter favors and advance your position, you forget how to be a friend.
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