The Legend of Nightfall

by Mickey Zucker Reichert

  Kelryn and Edward spent large amounts of time discussing the merits of foods and fabric, which left Nightfall more than enough chances to purchase a grappling hook, rope, knives, and a container for shartha petals as well as obtaining capital to cover the prince’s acquisitions and still leave silver in his pocket for their rooms and board. Though engrossed in his own activities, Nightfall spared more than enough attention to keep Edward safe. He could not help but also overhear much of the conversation between prince and dancer. They chatted about the pros and cons of myriad products as if they had done so together all their lives, though Kelryn had never shown interest in such talk when he had courted her. Apparently, there was much about Kelryn he had never known.

  That night, Nightfall sneaked Willafrida another flower.

  * * *

  Datlinst left for Tylantis the following day, without any reluctance to indicate he knew about Willafrida’s mysterious suitor. That satisfied Nightfall. If the duchess-heir chose not to discuss such events with Datlinst, it either meant her tie to him had not become serious or she had trivialized the gifts. No matter the reason, secretiveness would only enhance the romance of the anonymous flowers.

  That evening, as dinner drew to a close, Nightfall dragged Prince Edward outside on a pretext. He chose that moment for two reasons. First, they had left Kelryn in a crowd, presumably safe, so Edward could concentrate on other matters. Second, Nightfall suspected Willafrida would already lie in wait to see whether Datlinst or some other suitor was leaving the presents. This time, he wanted to confront her directly. For that purpose, he carried a grapple and rope ladder hidden beneath his cloak.

  Prince Edward and Nightfall stepped from the tavern into a hovering evening grayness that fled before their lantern and seemed to thicken as they watched. Though they walked side by side, Nightfall passively chose the direction, trying to make it seem as if Edward had done so. Most of the citizens had gone home to cook or eat and rest, but a few still wandered the streets, mostly young couples or prostitutes.

  "What’s wrong?" Edward asked, naturally assuming Nightfall wished to talk for personal reasons. "Nothing’s wrong," Nightfall admitted. “I just wanted some time with you away from Kelryn to make sure your needs are being taken care of. I know having her around probably sometimes makes- it hard for you to talk as prince to servant, and you’ve been so quiet."

  Prince Edward smiled, shaking his head with obvious admiration. "Always worrying about me, aren’t you, Sudian? I’m fine. I’m just not certain where to go from here. I think our next action might have to be a meeting with King Idinbal or King Jolund. We can find out what dire troubles or enemies they might have and use our skills to aid the kings.”

  Nightfall suppressed a grin, realizing he had not wholly squashed the innocent kindness and naiveté. "Master, from what I’ve heard, right now King Jolund’s biggest problem is a duchy that needs a duke."

  Prince Edward looked away with a noncommittal noise.

  Nightfall would not let him escape that easily. "Are relations between Alyndar and Shisen so strained that King Jolund would not invite a prince of Alyndar to his games?"

  "I was invited," Edward admitted.

  Nightfall raised his brows awaiting further explanation.

  It came, though it seemed inadequate. "I’ve chosen not to go."

  Nightfall stopped walking and stared, incredulous.

  Two paces later, Edward also came to a halt, though he did not turn.

  "Master, am I still barred from questioning you?"

  "It’s still rude." Edward remained in place. "But that’s not stopped you before." Finally, he faced Nightfall. "You know I won’t hit you."

  Though eager to get on with the conversation, Nightfall maintained the necessary politeness, clinging to his role. Edward seemed uncharacteristically irritable, and Nightfall suspected the reason was intimately tied to his insistence on missing the Tylantian contests. "I’m not worried about hitting. I’m worried about offending.”

  For a moment, Prince Edward lost his regal confidence, wincing at the impact of his words. In the light of the new information Kelryn had given him about Nightfall’s past, his sarcastic comment about hitting might have seemed cruel. Though the statement had not bothered Nightfall at all, he relished the discomfort that would make Edward feel more obligated to explain. "Ask your question. I won’t let it, nor the mere act of asking, offend."

  Nightfall started walking again with a slow, thoughtful stride. "You need to become landed. King Jolund wants to give away a landed title. Master, it seems perfect. Why would you choose not to go?"

  Soon, Edward’s long strides brought him even with Nightfall, and the smaller man increased his speed to keep pace with his long-legged master. "I’ve chosen not to go. You may question my actions for clarification, but don’t challenge my motivations.”

  Nightfall hesitated, thrown by so many difficult words at once. "I still don’t understand.”

  "I don’t wish to go."

  "Why not?”

  “I don’t wish to go." Rising anger tainted Edward’s tone. “That is all."

  "But why not?" Nightfall continued to press, not the least put off by Edward’s annoyance. Like alcohol, strong emotions, such as rage, fear, and love, tended to goad people to say things propriety would otherwise gag. At best, he might discover some truer incentive beneath Edward’s loyalty to himself and to the downtrodden. At worst, he would listen to another tedious discussion of manners.

  “It’s pointless to go," Edward’s strong voice verged on a shout. "Why waste time on a contest I can’t win.” The prince’s words seemed so uncharacteristic, Nightfall halted in his tracks before he realized he had stopped, and it took Edward several strides to notice. "I can’t believe you just said that."

  Edward turned, brow wrinkled, seemingly perplexed by his own comment. Nevertheless, he stood by his words. "It would waste my time to go."

  "Master ..." Nightfall paused, finding a response as difficult as he wanted it to appear. “Are you the same man I pledged my services to? The one who set out to end generations of slavery and poverty single-handedly?"

  "I am," Edward said, the anger fading into thoughtful consideration. "And I still plan to do it."

  "So, as I understand it," Nightfall put the situation fully into perspective, "you’re willing to fight or lecture every person in the world involved with bondage or injustice. But you’re not good enough to win a joust?" He began walking again, wanting to get closer to the duke’s citadel.

  Again, Edward caught up swiftly. "It’s not that. It’s just, well, I know some of the people who’ll be there, men who’ve fought wars. Men who consistently bested me in practice."

  "Master, you’re a great warrior."

  The prince smiled, but his attitude seemed more tolerant than agreeable. "Your faith in me is touching, really it is. But I’m not experienced, and I know my limits."

  Nightfall did not believe he had ever heard a more false statement in his life. Knows his limits, indeed. This from a man who frees slaves without warning and expects no complaints from their owners. This realization cued Nightfall to something deeper. Whatever kept Prince Edward from the Tylantian contest had only partially to do with the belief that he would lose. "But, Master, don’t you want to know for sure? Were I highborn, I would at least wonder where I stood among the others."

  "I have no need for that knowledge.”

  "But what could it hurt to try‘?" Nightfall knew he had passed the boundary of pressing too hard, but to drop the subject now might leave him no chance to raise it again without Edward immediately ending the discussion. Fresh wounds made men talkative; old anger spurred avoidance.

  He tensed for the tongue-lashing sure to follow his insistence.

  But Edward did not yell. He spent several seconds in deep contemplation before replying. "It’s my brother, you know. He’s so much more skilled, it makes no sense for me to go. He’s always beaten me." His voice went so soft, Nightfall had to strain to h
ear. "He’s always made me look like a fool."

  Nightfall spoke nearly as softly. "All the more reason you should go. So you can show your brother what you can do. So you can show him you’ve become a man, not the toddler he remembers."

  "And if I wind up looking more foolish?"

  "You won’t."

  "But if I do?"

  "Then at least you tried."

  Edward went meditative again, while Nightfall laughed. "What’s funny about that?”

  "You’re always so strong and confident. It’s good to see you have some doubts for a change."

  "It doesn’t make me look weak?"

  “Just the opposite, Master." Nightfall quoted Dyfrin once again. "A fool fears nothing and calls it courage. A hero conquers what he fears."

  Edward nodded appreciatively. "Very well stated."

  Nightfall refused to take the credit. "I heard it from a wise man, the closest I ever had to a brother. Sometimes I wish I had listened to him more."

  Apparently noting wistfulness, Edward asked the obvious question. "What happened to him?"

  "Who?" Backtracking through the conversation, Nightfall realized Edward had referred to Dyfrin, probably believing him one of Kelryn’s siblings. “Oh, him.” Nightfall avoided names. Caught talking about actual events from the past, he changed the subject quickly. "Nothing as far as I know. We just went in different directions. We seem to find each other every so often." He wondered if Dyfrin would have reason to attend the contests and doubted it. He had not seen his old friend in longer than two years. "Do we go to the contests?"

  "Don’t push me," Edward warned, good-naturedly. "Yes, I suppose we go. But you’ll need to prepare my fighting gear now and on the field, things such as armor, weapons, and my destrier. And we’ll need new colors. We can’t represent Alyndar when the crown prince is there. We’ll have to find something not already being used as the symbol of another house."

  Nightfall found the details trifling, yet he guessed those with wealth needed some means of occupying the time commoners spent working to keep warm or searching for food. His first thought, to place the prince in a single, unadorned color such as flat black, passed quickly. Once Edward got an idea in his head, he acted on it swiftly and with vigor. He would want to leave for Shisen at once, and it would take at least a few days without other suitors to win, the hand of Lady Willafrida. Success here might make the contests immaterial, but having the competition as a backup plan relieved Nightfall of some of the urgency wooing the duchess-heir had held. Rousing love in a day seemed difficult, but no more so than rigging several mock battles in Edward’s favor without getting caught in the act. The need for a seamstress to create their colors could hold Edward here for the time Nightfall required. Now, he needed only to think of some symbol so compelling it charged Edward to his usual frenzy. “An opened shackle and a majestic eagle flying free from it." He waved the hand carrying the lantern to indicate the scene as if it stood before them. The light cut a saffron arc through the growing darkness, adding grandeur as well as possibly attracting Willafrida’s attention. "In golden weave, of course. All on a background of clear sky blue."

  Edward stared into the darkness where Nightfall had conjured the image, a grin creeping slowly onto his features. "We’ll make it deep blue. More contrast and easier to see from a distance. I like the rest. It won’t be the first emblem with a bird of prey nor the only one in blue and gold; but the motif will make it different enough." He waved a hand, as if to clear the same area for his own picture. "A captured eagle flying for freedom. How appropriate."

  Nightfall believed they had come to an excellent breaking point in the conversation, and they had walked near enough to the citadel for the next stage of his plan. "Master, excuse me a moment please. I’m afraid I had a bit too much beer." He offered the lantern.

  Prince Edward took it. "As you need, Sudian."

  Nightfall did not wait an instant before striding, then dashing, off into the shadows. The oath-bond set off its alarm the instant the prince’s form disappeared into the gloom, reminding him he had left his charge alone in sparsely traveled territory. Nightfall ignored it. He would leave for only a few moments, and his need to land the prince took as much precedence. When vows clashed, he had to choose according to situation. If he remained glued to Edward’s side, the prince would never own property; and Nightfall’s soul would become Gi1leran’s possession as fully as if the prince had died. He doubted Ritworth had tracked them yet. Even if he had discovered the town, he would have to search for specific location as well as risk attacking a prince out in the open where witnesses might come upon them.

  This time, Nightfall used the grappling hook and rope ladder. It would look suspicious for a squire to know how to scale walls without such equipment, and this time he planned to reveal himself to Willafrida. He worked swiftly, swinging and flinging the grapple into place on the window ledge on the first try, tugging to embed the teeth. The time for strategy and consideration had ended. Now, it only remained to set the plan in motion. Nightfall paused just long enough to pluck a perfect flower from one of the citadel’s tended beds, then scurried up the rope.

  Nightfall hesitated near the top, guessing darkness cloaked him well enough to hide his identity, especially given the soft glaze of light in the duchess-heir’s bedroom. He hoped the romance of a single nightly flower slipped anonymously into her room would make her curious and proud rather than threatened. He would need to act swiftly if he met anyone other than Willafrida in her room. Quietly, tensed to jump, Nightfall peered inside.

  Willafrida perched on the bed, the curtain of veils dangling from the canopy closed. Through their silk, Nightfall could make out her silhouette. She wore a flowing dress or gown, her long hair piled on her head. She had struck a provocative pose, her arms back to accentuate the small breasts, the dress flopping away from a shapely leg drawn seductively to her chest that drew attention from the generous hips and buttocks. Seeing, hearing, and sensing no others in the room, Nightfall quietly climbed inside, careful to affect a light noise that would notify her of his presence without making it obvious he meant for her to catch him.

  Willafrida took the bait. A stubby-fingered hand appeared from a gap in the silks and brushed them open far enough to reveal her face. Cosmetics enhanced her lips and eyes, and the scent of perfumed oils wafted to him. The sleeping gown seemed as thin and satiny as the canopy veils, its maroon complimenting the sun-darkened skin and its cut revealing the inner corners of her breasts. Her gaze found him, and her demeanor wilted. She pulled the gown self-consciously around her. “Who are you?" she demanded, the romance broken. "What are you doing in my room?"

  Nightfall pretended to appear startled, dropping the flower and turning to stare. "I-I’m sorry, Lady," he stammered, dropping to his knees and lowering his head in an exaggerated gesture of respect. "My name is Sudian. I’m just a servant. Please don’t have your guards hurt me." While on the floor, he picked up the fallen flower, offering it to her with eyes averted.

  Willafrida took the blossom absently. “What are you doing here? Not trying to court me, I hope. I don’t associate with servants.”

  "Me?" Nightfall met her gaze from habit then quickly glanced away. "No. Oh, no. Me? Certainly not. My master, Prince Edward Nargol of Alyndar. I think the two of you . . . I mean I . . ." He trailed off, waiting for her to save him. Her reception suggested interest before she caught a glimpse of the scrawny, plain-looking man in livery she feared to be her suitor.

  "Prince?" Willafrida repeated.

  "Yes, Lady. Prince Edward. I believe he would wish you to call him Ned."

  Willafrida sat on the edge of her bed, one hand still holding the flower, the other clutching her night gown to keep herself as covered as possible. Apparently, Nightfall’s appearance surprised her enough to become suspicious. "Is he old?"

  "Within a year or two of your age, Lady." Nightfall deliberately did not mention those years would fall on the younger side.

  The
duchess-heir became less tense and more pensive. "Is he handsome?"

  "In all the world, from the northernmost tip of the Yortenese Peninsula to the southernmost beach of the Xaxonese, from the Klaimer Ocean to the Plaxomer, if you found a man more becoming, he could, at best, be my Master’s twin."

  Willafrida chuckled. "Loyal, aren’t you?"

  "I only speak truth."

  "Is he kind?”

  "Lady, I was not born or debted into servitude," Nightfall stuck with the prevailing lie, though he hardly needed to embellish Edwards gentleness. ‘°l chose to serve my master because of his goodness and compassion, no other reason."

  “Very loyal indeed? Though she obviously doubted his sincerity, Willafrida continued her questioning. "Is he witty?"

  Nightfall suppressed a smile and answered with truth. “He makes me laugh."

  “I’d like to judge for myself," Willafrida said. "Where is he?"

  "Below." Nightfall cringed, still avoiding eye contact. "He’s a bit shy, and he doesn’t know I’m here. I’ll walk him by the window for you to see. If you don’t find him attractive, say nothing. I’ll lead him away. If you do, speak with him or not as you choose. In a few days, though, we’re leaving for the contests in Shisen." With that warning to encourage Willafrida to work swiftly, Nightfall scampered back out the window before she could think to stop him.

  Once on the ground, Nightfall rushed back to the ball of lantern glow that indicated Prince Edward’s position. "I’m sorry l took so long, Master. I got to staring at the flower beds outside the duke’s citadel. Would you like to see them?" He reached for the lantern.

  Prince Edward returned it, seeming taken aback by his squire’s sudden interest in decoration. "It’s getting late. Shouldn’t we head back to Kelryn? I’m supposed to protect her, after all."

  Nightfall turned toward the citadel as he replied. "She’s safe in a crowded tavern. The Iceman’s not going to try to fight through dozens of men to get to her. We won’t take long." Nightfall tacked on the last as if in afterthought. Though it was the obvious thing to say, Nightfall found it more important to assure Edward of Kelryn’s safety than to worry about the passage of time. He did not want the traitorous dancer on Edward’s mind while he met the woman he was going, Nightfall hoped, to marry.