“Yes, Sir, even if I did make Warleader Third much too soon.”
“What did the king want, Stavin?” Dahvin asked.
Stavin shrugged. “He wanted me to stop killing so many of his young lords.”
Charvil asked, “And?”
“And he found a novel way to do it,” Stavin said before ducking his head under the water to rinse his hair before continuing. “He named me a Ward of the Crown, so--” he stopped talking when Dahvin began cursing. “What?”
“A Ward of the Crown?” Dahvin almost shouted. “Stavin, he just made you his son, and Marina your sister. He’s all but adopted you.”
Stavin said, “Oh, Gods Below,” in a breathy whisper as he submerged once again.
Chapter 23
STAVIN’S LATEST CHANGE OF STATUS WAS announced that night at the evening meal, but the king made his decision very clear to everyone long before: Stavin was seated at the king’s table, at Princess Marina’s right hand. He kept himself in check by will alone as he received baleful glares from throughout the room. Many lords and many more ladies fixed him with eyes full of suppressed rage as he worked his way through the feast.
The king finally stood and the room fell silent as the assembled nobles waited for his announcement. “My noble lords and ladies, I see by the expressions around the room that most of you already know this, but I’ll say it anyway. As of today, Friend of Evandia Stavin Kel’Aniston is named a Ward of the Crown. Anyone who challenges him from this point forward is committing an act of treason and will be treated accordingly. This is for the protection of our hot-headed young men. I cannot allow Stavin to continue killing everyone who challenges him, and after seventeen deaths in just four days it is evident that he will do exactly that.”
There were looks of shock all around the room, as if not everyone was aware of the body-count that Stavin was accumulating in Twin Bridges. Lord Zel’Havar walked to the center of the room and looked at the king. He looked to have aged ten years in the few days since Varil’s execution, and his hands shook. From the expression on his face, he seemed to be in a towering rage. “Your Majesty, I seek redress of wrongs committed against me and mine by your ward before he was afforded such protection.”
“State your case,” the king commanded.
“Your Majesty, your ward slew my son in a dishonorable fashion, using a knife like a common street thug.”
The king looked at the old lord, then at Stavin. “Answer his accusation, Stavin.”
Stavin stood and bowed to the king, then again to the lord before speaking. “Lord Zel’Havar, your son issued a challenge and I accepted it. He never asked what weapon I chose to use.”
Lord Zel’Havar shouted, “You carried that ridiculous staff of yours into the circle.”
Stavin bowed again. “I did. But again, your son never asked what weapon I chose. As the challenged, it was my right to choose any weapon I wanted, and, if I had so desired, I could have forced your son to fight with the same weapon. I left him his sword so he’d have his choice of weapon in his hand, but I was under no obligation to do more.”
“How can anyone have a chance against you when you won’t even use a civilized weapon?” the lord demanded.
Stavin’s voice shifted and he spoke as if he were in a classroom when he answered. “Lord Zel’Havar, the Dragon’s Tongue dates back to the dawn of our civilization. It started as a simple bronze thrusting spear in the time before the founding of Lux. The second point was added during the reign of Emperor Neraval Zel’Cordav and the twin-pointed weapon was named in honor of Dandarshandrake’s forked tongue. The forging of fine steel blades waited for seven hundred years, but much of the continent was united by armies armed solely with Dragon’s Tongues. It wasn’t until the thirty-second year of the reign of--”
“What is this, a history class?” Lord Zel’Havar demanded, interrupting Stavin.
Princess Marina giggled and addressed the lord. “Never ask a Scribe a question if you want a short answer.”
Stavin looked at the princess, then the king, and a flush of embarrassment crept across his face. He gave the offended lord a half-bow and said, “Your forgiveness, Lord Zel’Havar. I sometimes get carried away.”
“A scribe!?” a voice shrieked from down the room. An older woman in an elegant dress strode forward to stand beside Lord Zel’Havar. “He’s a killer! A cold-blooded killer! Yet you expect us to accept that he’s some kind of scribe? Preposterous!”
Stavin looked at the woman and bowed. “Lady, I am an apprentice scribe in Kavinston during the off season. It is my desire to one day be Kavinston’s Master Scribe.” He said the last with a sense of pride that he didn’t feel about the twin hollowed stars that now adorned his armor.
“Then why are you here?” the lady demanded.
Stavin bowed again slightly. “It is my duty to my community to make five expeditions to the lowlands to earn the gold that allows us to buy the things we cannot produce for ourselves. All men of my people swear to that.”
Another older lord strode forward now. “From what I hear, you could just give them the gold and avoid coming here at all.”
“That would be dishonorable,” Stavin replied, his tone taking on an ominous note. “I swore to make five expeditions. The only way I could be released from that oath would be because of injury or physical infirmity. No matter the status of my account with the Gold Merchants, if I do not complete my five expeditions I will be forsworn in the eyes of my people. Honorless, less than a man, I would be made a servant in the household of an honorable man.”
Lord Zel’Havar looked at the king and said, “Your Majesty, this is ridiculous.”
The king regarded him for a moment before answering. “No, Lord Zel’Havar. What is ridiculous is the assumption by you and your friends that Ward Stavin is under an obligation to let your young men have a chance to kill him. You’ve apparently forgotten that trial by combat is exactly that, and Ward Stavin is an expert in many forms of combat. All of his people are. That is why we’ve been employing ten of them to train the Royal Guards for more than a moon. General Zel’Kordil, what is your assessment of the progress your men have made under Warmaster Kel’Horval and his men?”
The general stood and bowed to the king before answering. “Your Majesty, I estimate that our effectiveness has doubled in the last moon. The instruction that we have received from the Kel’Kavin warriors has shown us our weaknesses and reinforced our strengths. On our last test against them, we stopped all of them before they reached Lord Sarvan. On the first test we only stopped one, and that was probably by accident.”
There was a murmur of shocked voices rolling through the room and the king let it go on for a moment. He tapped his glass with a fork and the room quieted. “I believe the question posed of Ward Stavin has been answered. Are there any other questions?”
A different lady stepped to the center of the room and faced the king. Stavin saw Marina’s mouth pull into a tight, angry line as her eyes shot daggers at the woman. Oh, Damn! She was about Marina’s age, maybe twenty-four by Stavin’s estimation, and it was clear that Marina knew her very well. No stranger could engender that level of rage in anyone.
“Your Majesty, I accept the decision of the court that this--person--has not disgraced Princess Marina or Evandia, but I know he has been spending an inordinate amount of time in her chambers. I ask for an explanation from either or both of them: Why is he spending so much time alone with the princess?”
Stavin laughed. He knew he shouldn’t, not at a formal court evening meal, and certainly not after the question that had just been asked, but he couldn’t contain it. Standing, he bowed deeply to the king and princess as laughter bubbled on his lips. Turning to the woman, he answered her as he fought not to laugh in her face.
“Lady, Princess Marina gave me free access to her library. All of this--all of these deaths--could have been avoided if someone had bothered to ask instead of jumping to conclusions.” He looked around the room and shook his
head slowly. Such a waste. “And I’d like to say that whoever started those rumors has a dirty mind.” He was watching the woman closely and saw a bright blush cover her face as she turned away. Others saw it as well, and Stavin saw several lords and ladies treat the woman to the same kind of glares they had been directing at him moments before.
Stavin returned to his seat and heard the king ask, “Why didn’t you tell me that, Mary?” in a tone that only Marina was meant to hear.
“You didn’t ask, father,” she whispered back. She still sounded angry. “You just started in on me about Stavin being in my bed.”
The king shook his head and stood again, drawing the attention of the nobles. “I thank you for joining us tonight, but I believe this evening is at an end.” Everyone rose and stood still, then he escorted Marina out of the room.
Sarvan caught Stavin’s arm and led him to the same door. “I didn’t know Marina had given you access to her library. When did that happen?”
“While I was recovering,” Stavin answered, looking to the side so he was facing Sarvan. “There isn’t much of a library in the Prince’s Room, so she said I could visit her library any time I wanted. I continued after I was back on my feet, but she was seldom there.”
Sarvan shook his head slowly. “I told Uncle Kal over and over again that there had to be another explanation, but by then the two of you were grist for the rumor mill.” He grimaced and looked down. “I never thought to just ask her why you were in her room so often, either.”
Stavin sighed as he walked behind the king. His change of status had been accompanied by a change of lodgings as well. He was once again in the Prince’s Room, by the king’s order. Sarvan left him at the door of his bedroom and went on to his suite while Stavin went in to face off with his newest batch of servants.
One man was waiting for him and stood as soon as Stavin entered. Stavin recognized him, and bowed his head slightly. “Valet Fel’Cortas.”
“Ward Stavin, I am pleased to serve you again.”
Stavin sighed deeply and asked, “Can we agree that I can see to most of my own needs?”
The valet smiled and bowed. “I informed the king’s chamberlain of that fact, Ward Stavin. That is why I am the only one here. He had intended two valets and three maids.” Stavin rolled his eyes at that idea. “I did draw a bath for you when I heard the banquet had ended. Is there anything you require?”
Stavin shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Are all of my clothes here?” The valet walked over to a large wardrobe and opened it. Stavin’s few clothes were neatly hung or folded as the outfit required. Stavin nodded his satisfaction. “I’m going to have to get more clothes. I only have four shirts and two pants left. We’ll arrange that later.”
Stavin bathed himself and put on a long nightshirt. He walked out to find Jarel waiting. “Is there anything you require, Ward Stavin?”
“No, I’m fine. Where are you staying?”
“In the servant’s quarters,” he replied, walking to a narrow door at the side of the room. “If you need anything, there is a bell on your bedside table.” He turned and bowed as he said, “Good night, Ward Stavin.”
“G’night,” Stavin said through a yawn as he went to the bed.
Chapter 24
MORNING ARRIVED AND STAVIN BEGAN PREPARING for the day, but his preparations were cut short by the king. “Why are you putting on your armor, Stavin?” the king asked as he peeked in to see if Stavin was up yet.
“Snowcat is on duty today, Your Majesty,” he replied as he fastened his armguard in place. Charvil had painted his honors the night before. Two hollowed stars now adorned his shoulder.
“You are no longer part of Snowcat Watch, Stavin,” the king said. “You’re now one of the ones Snowcat is watching.”
Stavin froze. “Your Majesty, I can still function as a guard. No one would dare challenge me.”
“No, Stavin. You are a Ward of the Crown. You are to be protected, not one of the protectors.” The king saw the look on Stavin’s face and smiled as he said, “Sorry.”
Stavin sat heavily on the footstool he’d been using as a bench. “Then what am I to do with myself all day, Your Majesty?”
“You, Scribe Stavin, will be joining the Royal Scribes and teaching them those new glyphs Marina told me about. I asked my Master of Scribes about the book in Coravia. He knew about it, and had actually seen it, but thought it was gibberish. The idea that you could read it was almost more than he could accept.” The king chuckled. “In fact, he did make a comment that he spent more than a span apologizing for as soon as he realized what he’d said.”
Stavin nodded. “I’m afraid I can imagine, Your Majesty. I’ll have Jarel lead me down there when I’ve changed.”
The king patted Stavin’s shoulder. “Have him make an appointment for more clothing to be made as well. You can’t wear your armor, so you’ll need more outfits.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The king left as Stavin began removing his armor, and Jarel came out to help him. “Meaning no disrespect, Ward Stavin, but--”
“You told me so. I know, but it was worth a try. You heard what the king said about more clothes. After I get something to eat, I’ll need a guide to the Royal Scribes.”
Jarel smiled. “Your guards will lead you there, Ward Stavin. While you are occupied, I’ll see about getting some tailors to come see you.”
“My guards?” Stavin asked in a barely audible tone.
“There are four Royal Guardsmen waiting for you outside the door.”
Stavin put his head in his hands. “This just keeps getting worse and worse.”
Four guardsmen, men Stavin had commanded the day before, were waiting for him as he left the suite. They smiled and he did his best to be polite, but after he had eaten with them hovering behind him he just had to say something. “I hope you still think this is funny a moon from now.”
“Oh, we will, Ward Stavin. Especially the part about you needing guards,” one of them said with barely controlled laughter in his voice.
“Yes, Ward Stavin,” another of them said, “it’s like setting a Snowcat to guard a Dragon.”
The guardsmen led Stavin to the Royal Scriptorium next. As soon as the door opened he was oblivious to everything else. The smells, the sounds, even the sight of stacks of books, scrolls, and loose parchments drew him like a magnet. The guards closed the door behind him, but he didn’t notice.
“May I help you, young lord?” a man asked.
Stavin turned and bowed automatically to the man. He was lightly built, though taller than Stavin, and easily as old as Master Kel’Zorgan. Somewhat to Stavin’s surprise, he recognized him: He was the man who had given him his writ three years ago. “I am seeking the Master of the Royal Scribes.”
“I am Master Scribe Fel’Larin. What can I do for you, young lord?”
Stavin bowed slightly. “I am Stavin Kel’Aniston,” he replied, smiling at the surprise on the man’s face. “The king told me to report to you.”
The master scribe looked at Stavin with wide eyes for a moment, then bowed deeply. “Ward Stavin, welcome to the Evandian Royal Scriptorium.”
Stavin returned the bow. “Thank you, Master Fel’Larin.”
The master scribe looked at Stavin and shook his head slowly. “The king informs me that you know a form of the glyphs that is older than that which was handed down from Luxand. I am very curious as to how that could be?”
Stavin spent two spans explaining about the ancient parchment and the Book of Inatat. The master scribe led him to a desk while he was talking and motioned to the seat. Stavin automatically pulled a piece of parchment in front of himself and started writing.
“The glyphs are very close to the same,” he explained as he wrote, “and most of them have the same meaning. We had to decipher the meaning of some by what was around them. Master Kel’Zorgan knew more of them than I did, and he worked with Shari and I through a winter until we were both proficient.”
/> The master scribe looked at him closely and asked, “Shari, Ward Stavin?”
“My wife,” Stavin explained without looking up. “She’s also one of Master Kel’Zorgan’s assistants. He gave her Journeyman status last spring.”
The master scribe smiled and said, “Ah, a scribe marrying a scribe. Well done, Ward Stavin. It was also my fortune to marry one of my master’s apprentices, and we’ve spent half a century together in these archives.”
Stavin chuckled. “She’s more likely than I am to me named Master Scribe when Master Kel’Zorgan retires. Or dies, which is probably what will happen, because I don’t think he’d ever willingly leave the Archive.”
“Nor would I, Ward Stavin. Show me what you have there.” Stavin turned the parchment toward the master scribe and they began a discussion of the similarities and differences between the glyphs of Luxand and the ancient glyphs.
An apprentice brought food and drink some time later, but neither of them noticed. Five other elderly scribes had joined them by then, and Stavin was firmly in his lecture mode. It wasn’t until one of Stavin’s guards came in and said, “Ward Stavin, you are summoned to the evening meal with the king,” that any of them realized how late it was.
Master Fel’Larin chuckled as he looked around. “I would say this dispels any doubt that Ward Stavin is a scribe.” There were chuckles from the others as well as Stavin stood and automatically bowed.
“I shall return tomorrow, Master Fel’Larin.”
Master Fel’Larin and the other scribes all returned his bow. “You are welcome in the Archive at any time, Ward Stavin.”
The guardsmen were all smiling as they led Stavin back to his room to change. “It’s a surprise to find out that you’re really a scribe, Ward Stavin,” one of them commented.
“I wasn’t expected to be much of a worker because I’m so small, so I was encouraged to find an honorable profession where brains were more important than brawn. Scribe was about the only thing I was good at. I don’t have the talent to be a carver like my father. About the only other thing I could have been was a rat-catcher.” He chuckled at the looks of shock on the guardsmen’s faces. “I’m small enough to squirm into cubbies and cracks to get them.”
The Andarian Affair Page 16