A Call to Arms: Book One of the Chronicles of Arden

by Shiriluna Nott

  “Could you deliver this for me?” She extended a letter to him.

  Gib looked at the sealed envelope. “Yes, m’lady. Where should I take it?”

  “To Dean Arrio’s office. I expect when you’re done with the task, it will be time for midday meal.” She winked at him. “Let the others clean up after themselves for a day.” She smiled.

  Gib returned the gesture. He didn’t mind pulling his weight, but it would be a lie to say he enjoyed the duties. He imagined he wouldn’t make a very good servant.

  “Thank you, Lady Beatrice.”

  “No, no. Thank you, Gibben. I’ll see you in class later.”

  She dismissed him and he turned to make the trek to Marc’s office.

  It was odd being in the halls during class time. He was the only person there and his lone footsteps echoed off the high arches and limestone ceilings. An eerie feeling rose on the back of his neck, and he turned once or twice to be sure he wasn’t being watched. Only the stone gargoyles which perched atop the pillars stared back at him, uncanny and unmoving. He hurried along.

  As the dean’s office door came into view, Gib nearly broke out into a full run to get to it. Red-faced, he rapped a fist on the maple wood and waited. The shuffling of feet came on the other side, and when the door opened, he forgot his manners and began to advance without permission.

  “What is your business here?” The snide voice of Diedrick Lyle caught him unaware.

  Gib cleared his throat. “Uh. I’ve been sent with a message for Dean Arrio.”

  The Instructions Master stuck his nose in the air, but Marc called out from further within. “Who is it, Lyle?”

  “One of the students. He says he has a message for you.”

  Gib thought to look around Lyle but, true to the nature of any stubborn mule, the Instructions Master refused to move even a little. It was only when Marc gave the word that Diedrick rolled his eyes and stepped aside.

  Gib squeezed through what little space had been given him. He could feel shrewd eyes on the back of his head as he made his way to the dean’s desk. With a bow, he extended his arm, letter in hand. “Lady Beatrice asked me to bring this to you.”

  Marc hesitated for just an instant before saying, “What does my wife want? Couldn’t she have come down here herself?”

  “Your wife?” Gib almost dropped the letter but managed to grab it before the paper could slip through his fingers. “I didn’t know Lady Beatrice was married to you. I would have never even imagined you—” Gib quickly tried to think of how to correct his blunder.

  His words were met with laughter. “Yeah, I could see that. She’s smarter than me. I got lucky. I’m still not sure why she said yes when I asked her to marry me.”

  “Well, I didn’t mean—it’s just that she’s not—you seem more free-spirited than she.” Gib gave up there and groaned. “Sorry. Forget I said anything.” He handed over the letter.

  Marc’s dark eyes danced as he took it and waved toward one of the plush chairs. “Thank you, Gibben. Have a seat for a moment if you have one to spare. She may have requested a response.”

  The door slammed behind them and Gib was sure he heard Diedrick Lyle muttering under his breath about not being able to get any work done.

  Doing as told, Gib ignored the Instructions Master and sat in the same chair he’d barely touched on his first visit to the office. Without looking up from his letter, Marc cocked an eyebrow and pressed coyly, “Ah, good. I see you’ve gotten over your fear of chairs.”

  Gib snorted a little. “It took some work, but yes. I’ve also grown accustomed to sleeping in an actual bed.”

  There was some sniveling from Diedrick’s corner of the office, but Marc must have had years of experience in ignoring the Instructions Master.

  Eyes still dancing, the dean smiled broadly at Gib. “Good to hear. How’s your hand faring?”

  “It doesn’t hurt. I think it’s healing well.”

  “Good. Apparently Nawaz can do something right when he applies himself.” The dean glanced toward Lyle, who was not looking at them as he scribbled ferociously with his quill. Marc lowered his voice a little. “He’s a little like me—lazy and unfortunately smart enough to get other people to pick up the slack for him. Sound about right, Lyle?”

  The scribbling stopped abruptly, and the Instructions Master turned his pinched, scarlet face upward. “Is that funny to you?” His mouth gaped for a moment, and then he stabbed his quill into the inkwell, going back to work with more tenacity than ever. He muttered and spat under his breath about being undervalued and how not everyone would put up with such an insufferable supervisor.

  Gib bit his bottom lip to keep from smiling.

  Marc laughed. “Yes, yes, Diedrick. You’re good for putting up with me. That’s why you get to take extra time off as needed.”

  If the Instructions Master heard him, he made no indication of it.

  Gib looked at the floor to keep from grinning. It really wasn’t his place to laugh at someone so much older who held such authority, but it was difficult to be civil to someone so miserable.

  Gib was glad when Marc dismissed him, not because he wanted to part ways with the dean but because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could handle Diedrick’s scalding glares without bursting into flame. Marc had no return message for Lady Beatrice, so Gib found himself in the same deserted hallway once more, meandering toward the dining hall. It wasn’t time for the midday meal yet, but the bell was due to ring any moment.

  As he passed through the corridors, another eerie sensation rose within him—not the feeling of being watched so much as the feeling of not being alone. He rubbed his injured wrist in an attempt to ward off the chill, but it did little to help. I’m not running again. He set his mouth in a firm line and refused to speed up.

  “There you are. I was beginning to think you’d abandoned me.”

  Gib whirled around, but the empty hall was all that awaited him. Where did that voice come from? He started to call out but stopped short when someone else replied.

  “So long as the pay hasn’t been compromised, I’m still here.”

  Gib didn’t know where either of the voices came from nor were the voices familiar. I should keep moving. As he took another step, the sentinel trainee realized a door stood slightly ajar to his left, which was where the two voices must have come from.

  “Yes, yes. Don’t worry about your pay. Worry more about whether I and the others trust you or not.”

  “Trust? You’d trust a murderer?”

  Gib froze in place. Murderer? What were these two talking about?

  “Watch your mouth,” the first voice hissed. “There are eyes and ears everywhere.”

  “Soon there’ll be all the more. Better make this quick, before the bell rings.” The second voice was rougher, not as well trained as the first.

  The first man snorted. “Then take this and be gone. You know where to go and when. Don’t be seen.”

  Coins jingled, and the second man spoke. “This is only half.”

  “As agreed. You get the rest when he’s dead.”

  “And the plan remains unchanged then?”

  “Of course. Radek is overly confident. He’s not as smart as he thinks he is. You do as we’ve agreed and you’ll have free access to him.”

  Gib’s stomach churned. Radek? The royal family? He glanced around, wishing the dean were there with him. Marc would know what to do.

  The second man snorted. “I’ve never known a king to be unprotected.”

  The hall tilted and Gib wasn’t sure he’d be able to catch his balance. This is about the King? They mean to murder King Rishi? A terrible humming rose in his ears.

  The first voice leered, “Rishi Radek is unlike any king Arden has ever known. It’s under his idiocy that women and commoners are able to lord around as if they’re the equals of the learned men. It would be dangerous to leave him on the throne. His arrogance can be used against him.”

  Gib grasped the wall
with his good hand. His knees felt weak. What should he do? He didn’t know who was in the room and couldn’t risk opening the door to look. He clutched at his side and tried to will away the panic.

  The bells began to ring. The two men in the room stopped talking and Gib could hear their feet shuffling. His fear spiked when he realized they would have to come through the door he was standing beside.

  Gib backed away knowing he would be caught if they emerged. A moment later, students swarmed the corridor and he looked for a teacher. He saw only students. Who could he tell?

  He waited a moment more to see if the door would open, and when it didn’t, his feet moved of their own accord toward the door. He could open the door and pretend he’d come to the wrong place. But at least he’d have seen their faces.

  Gib’s stomach knotted. He was likely to get a slit throat or gashed gut for his troubles, but he had to act quickly. Palms sweaty and breath held fast, he slammed his eyes closed and pushed the door open. The blood was rushing in his ears as he waited for whatever fate would befall him. Maybe they would bash him over the head or break his neck. Maybe they’d tie him up and drag him away to do something worse. Maybe they’d leave him there to die of heart failure.

  Gib dared open one eye. Nothing. He opened the other. No one was inside the assembly hall. The room stood empty. Across from him, on the far wall, another door led outside. He could see through the windows that the outer courts were already teaming with people. He couldn’t tell who the two men were.

  Leaning back against the doorframe, he blew out a long breath. Was he lucky for having missed them and sparing his own life, or was he an idiot for not getting a glimpse of the traitors who were speaking about murdering the King? His mouth went dry. Who should he tell? He didn’t know where to start. Who could he find who had connections to the King and would listen to him?

  Joel. He turned and flew toward their room.

  “Joel! Joel, I have to speak to you!” Gib didn’t bother to knock before he threw the door open. “It’s important!” His boots skidded to a halt when he realized his roommate wasn’t alone. Hasain Radek was standing in front of the window.

  Joel smiled from the edge of his bed. “Oh, Gib! There you are—” His smile fell away. “Are you all right? Is something wrong?”

  Gib imagined he must look quite a sight. He knew he felt like he’d been through hell. He glanced back and forth between Joel and Hasain. Both of them scrutinized him carefully. “Hasain. You’re here too.”

  Joel nodded. “You asked that I find him for you. You had questions about the draft. But are you all right? You look awful.” He swept over, white mage robes fluttering as he moved, and placed a cool hand on Gib’s shoulder.

  The sentinel trainee looked up with wide eyes. “The King. The King is in danger but I don’t know who or when—”

  Crystal blue eyes went wide as the mage trainee put his entire arm around Gib. The embrace was warm and comforting despite Joel’s harried words. “What do you mean? What is this about the King?” He led the younger boy over to the chair at their desk and sat him down before kneeling before him. “Gib, what are you talking about?”

  Gib’s mind was muddled and confused. He squeezed his eyes shut. “I brought a message to Dean Marc. When I was done there, I came down the hall and heard these voices. Two men. I don’t know who and I didn’t get a chance to see either of them. I–I’m sorry. If I’d been faster or braver I could have—”

  Joel shook his head and behind him Hasain frowned. The mage student’s voice was calming in the middle of all the chaos. “Just tell us what you know.”

  Gib tried to refocus. “Uh—they were talking about paying the killer. They even said it would be murder. I could hear the coins jingling. The one guy said he’d pay half now and half when the job was done. They were talking about how the King was bad for the country because he’d allowed women and commoners to work their way up in society.”

  Hasain waved one of his large hands in the air. “You said you didn’t see them?”

  “N–no.” He couldn’t look the King’s son in the eye. “I’m sorry.”

  Joel glanced back at Hasain. The young Radek lord shrugged and stuck his nose in the air. “You said you heard this down by Marc Arrio’s office? It was probably a disgruntled servant or teacher. I’m sure nothing will come of it.”

  “Don’t you think you should at least warn King Rishi? What if it’s something serious?” Joel asked.

  Hasain narrowed his slim eyes further. “Joel, you’ve spent too much time with this farmer. It’s as if you’re new to the city yourself. You know how important my father is. The King receives death threats every moonturn. It almost always turns out to be someone of menial service or even a vagrant—typically the lazy people who feel they haven’t been given enough privileges.”

  Gib clenched his good hand into a fist. “No, you’re not listening. They were exchanging money, Hasain! Someone wants the King dead.”

  Hasain was as apathetic as ever. “As I already said, many people want the King dead. And perhaps money was exchanged. That is a fool’s loss. Even if they carry out their attempt, they’ll never get to my father. He’s well protected and clever. They’ll never take him.”

  Gib bit his bottom lip but knew when it was time to stand down. Joel glowered at his cousin. “I hope for your father’s sake your arrogance is justified.”

  Hasain lifted one brow, smiling wolfishly. “I give you my word, for Arden’s sake, my arrogance is justified.” The young Radek lord turned and swept toward the door. “I have to go. There will be council sessions later and Father has asked that I attend. I’ll let you know if I see any assassins.” He waved coyly and left without waiting for even one more word.

  Gib’s jaw dropped. “Did that just happen? How can he not even care?”

  Joel let out a deep sigh. “I know how it seems, but you have to believe me when I say that this is just Hasain’s way. He’s every bit as arrogant as his father and about half as smart.” He winced as if he suddenly realized what he just said. “Half as wise. Hasain is young. We’re all prone to mistakes when we’re young.”

  “I’m young but I don’t pretend anyone is invincible. I hope Hasain is right, of course.” Gib clenched his jaw. “I also hope that some form of reality rides along and topples him from his high horse.”

  Joel laughed into his hands. “Gib! Manners.”

  “It’s true,” Gib replied as he rolled his eyes. “We could tell your father. Would Seneschal Koal have a chance to hear us?”

  “He might.” Joel hesitated. “It’s just—”

  “Hasain really was right, wasn’t he? People threaten the King all the time.” Gib couldn’t force himself to believe it even as the words fell out of his mouth.

  Joel pursed his lips. “I know how that sounds, believe me, I do. But—it’s true. Without knowing who the men were or when or where they planned to strike I’m afraid there won’t be much anyone can do. It would take more time and energy to look for these men, who may yet regain their senses and call the whole thing off, than it would to simply pay closer attention to where the King is at all times.”

  Gib threw his hands into the air. “But they could at least do that much!”

  “I agree, but King Rishi is already as well protected as he’ll allow himself to be.” Joel elaborated with a patient sigh. “Our king is very stubborn. My father has gone around in circles with him for years. Queen Dahlia and the children are always guarded to the best of Arden’s means but King Rishi himself—he prefers his freedom.”

  “But he could be killed!”

  Joel took Gib’s good hand and the sentinel trainee felt his stomach roll. “I promise to tell my father what you have told me. If you’d like, you could go speak with Dean Marc. He may be willing to speak to Father as well. I just don’t want you to be terribly disappointed if nothing comes of it.”

  Gib groaned as he glared at the floor. “All right. If no one is concerned but me, I guess I’ll let
it go. Apparently in Silver, things like death threats are just another way of saying hello.”

  Joel’s face creased and Gib wished immediately that he could take the words back. Joel didn’t seem to take offense, however.

  “I promise to do what I can. Now, you should go. Eat something and get to class.”

  “Yeah. All right.” Gib headed for the door. He stopped at the threshold and looked back. His heart was hammering in his chest. “You should come with me. It isn’t good for you to skip your midday meal just because of—what others may say.”

  Joel’s fair face flushed in such a way Gib could scarcely look at him. He swallowed and seemed to look for words. “I—uh, th–thank you. I’ll eat. I promise. You may still be able to find your friends.”

  “They could be your friends too. I know we’re all younger than you and kind of bottom of the barrel scrapings, but we’re all trustworthy, I assure you.” When the young mage wrung his hands, Gib backed off. “All right. Not today. But consider it in the future.”

  Gib turned to leave and could only just make out the sound of his roommate’s small voice. “Thank you.”

  The discussion at midday meal was so cryptic Gib wondered what he was getting himself into. On their eve away from training and responsibility, the group of friends decided to go out into the city to celebrate. Gib didn’t feel like festivities after eavesdropping on the would-be assassin earlier that day, but Tarquin and the others were persistent.

  “You haven’t been to the Rose Bouquet yet?” Nage asked, mouth hanging agape as if it were some kind of huge scandal.

  Gib shook his head. Clearly he was out of the loop yet again. “What is a Rose Bouquet?”

  Tarquin and Kezra exchanged glances and snickered.

  “It’s only the most famous tavern in all of Silver!” Tarquin snorted. “Come with us. You’ll have fun.”

  “They’re accepting of everyone at the Rose,” Kezra added. A wry smile came to her lips. “Even cripples such as yourself are welcome, Nemesio.”