by Garon Whited
If only he’d stuck to land—I’d have had to chase that thing he rides, and that’s a fool’s errand if ever I heard one! But he went aboard a ship—made it look like he hijacked it, too, but I know whose ship it was. I think someone gave him the thing, and the hijacking was an act. I can’t prove it, but I’m not trying too hard, either; saving the man’s wife puts him in debt to my wizard, and I can’t blame the man for repaying it.
But Halar built that magic glass of his too well. The priests got to it—not Ander; he’s too lily-handed for that—and set fire to the ship, despite the fact he was obviously defending it. I guess if a wizard builds it, he can guard against it. The ship was in serious trouble when something happened to the wizard’s glass; it broke into a thousand pieces. I would wager he undid his own work to save himself. That must have hurt him, because I know he was proud of it. I wish he’d found another way; it was a fine weapon.
As it is, the ship’s boat got away around the horn of the Eastrange. The ship went down right about sunset. I don’t know if he made it or not. I hope he did, because he’s a good man and I could use a dozen more like him.
Peldar stiffly rolled the letter back up, adding coldly, “That is all there is that concerns the wizard.”
The magician leaned over and whispered to the Duke; the Duke eyed Peldar with a frown and said, “You do not yet stand accused, Sir Peldar. But that day may come. Your deliberate misrepresentation of your father’s words is no small thing. You will see me in my chambers after this.”
Peldar flushed again. “Yes, your Grace.”
“Have you anything further to add?”
“Yes, your Grace.”
“Speak on.”
“This man also consorts with the lowest sort of filth,” Peldar said, pointing at me. “He has been here but two nights, and has spent both of them carousing in the brothel in lowtown.”
The Duke raised an eyebrow. “Is this true?” he asked of me.
“I have been in a brothel both nights, your Grace,” I admitted. “The same one, both times. But not to carouse.”
“Speak on.”
“I have healed the sick, your Grace. The ills to which the flesh is heir—and which befall the unwary soldier—I have labored to undo. Last night, I also hired a bath, and service for my garments, knowing this meeting would come today.”
The Duke glanced at the magician; the magician, an older man with a portly look about his middle, shrugged and nodded.
“Well, a noble sentiment,” said the Duke. “But, to return to the matters addressed in the Baron’s letter… while he may hold no love for the Church—a fact evidenced by his choice of words—it is still not seemly to have invaded it. Why did you do this?”
I shrugged. “They kidnapped Shada.”
“Your woman?”
“At the time, yes.”
“I understand she was arrested.”
“Perhaps so. To me, it was a kidnapping. I did attempt to request her freedom, but the high priest, Ander, could not aid me. I did not kill him, but merely bound him so he could raise no alarm. I killed only when it was needful to rescue my lady.”
The Duke glanced aside; the magician nodded again. I was wondering how the hell he could tell if I was lying or not. I have spells to protect against mental crap. Maybe he was just making it up and hoping he wouldn’t get caught. That suited me fine, as long as he kept agreeing with me.
“And you did this in defiance of the Church?”
“I did.”
“What of your oaths?”
“I was not a knight then, your Grace; only a wizard. I had no duty to protect the weak and defenseless; I only knew what the Church did to her was wrong.”
There were murmurs in the hall at that, but they were quickly stilled. I couldn’t tell if that answer went over well with most people or not. The priests present looked less than happy.
“Yes, I can see that,” the Duke murmured. “Having heard your exploits in gaining your knighthood, I am inclined to believe it. But tell me of how it came to be that you were knighted; I would hear of it again.”
“Your Grace, if I may, I would allow another to tell that tale.”
“Why?”
“Your Grace… I cannot.”
The Duke frowned. “Why not?”
Raeth stepped forward to my right side and spoke up. “Noble Duke, may I speak for him?”
“Speak on. Why can he not tell it himself?”
“Because his humility is too strong, your Grace, and it is a tale of heroism,” Raeth smoothly replied. I didn’t agree, but, well… he saw it that way. And now was not the time to argue the point. I didn’t feel like explaining while a magician watched me for lies.
“Very well. Say on.”
And Raeth did. He pulled out all the stops. He didn’t report, he spun a tale. And the magician kept nodding as Raeth spoke, only once in a while whispering to the Duke. Raeth was embellishing, but any good storyteller does the same. By and large, it was the same story again.
The Duke nodded when it was done. “Fairly spoken, Sir Raeth. But is there any other who would argue this man’s knighthood?” Nobody stepped up. “Well enough. Are there any else who will stand for you, Sir Halar?”
Bouger stepped up to my left side. “I will.”
Then Sir Dele stepped over next to Sir Raeth. “I will.”
The Duke’s eyebrows rose. “You, Sir Dele?”
“Your Grace, I have fought this man on the practice field,” he said, calmly. “He bested me by great strength and some skill of arms. Today, I have heard that which confirms what I suspected: he is a good man and true, with both ferocity in battle and generosity in victory. If he will give me his sword, I will take it up.”
I marveled at him, myself. I was on trial, for crying out loud, and he was willing to what?
“I think you may discuss that later, but I shall take the thought for the deed in this matter,” the Duke remarked, dryly. “Will any other stand for you, Sir Halar?”
“Your Grace,” I said, and it was a struggle to keep my voice normal; Sir Dele’s speech had caused a lump in my throat. I had to swallow before I could continue. “There are at least a hundred in your domain who will toast my health, and thrice that in the barony of Baret who will tell you I set their bones and knit their flesh together. There are mercenaries abroad who were freed with Sir Raeth and Sir Bouger, and who have promised themselves to my service if I ever have need of them. But of those here present, only these three stood forth, and I thank them for it.” I gulped and blinked, trying to clear my eyes.
“Then I will render judgment.”
And the old scoundrel paused. I could hear my heart beating. I knew he had to find in my favor, but… well, I didn’t know it. I just thought it would be obvious. But Peldar is a Baron’s son… and I’m not a political animal; I have no idea what ties are involved among the peers of the realm.
A moment later, I realized that nobody was breathing. Even a nobleman likes some drama, I guess.
“Sir Halar,” he said, formally, “you are a knight by the laws of the Kingdom of Rethven, and a knight by your heart and deeds. I charge you to be true to that heart and to let it lead you to noble deeds. I have spoken.”
And then Bouger was pounding me on the back and Raeth was shaking hands with Dele and a lot of people were all talking at once. I didn’t see what became of Peldar, but he was nowhere around. Besides, I had to deal with a hug from all three of my knights, then much congratulations from everyone else present. I got introduced to about twenty people—including the magician Brennick—and tried to remember all their names through a haze of relief.
The Duke had apparently dismissed us with his “I have spoken” line, since everyone started talking at once after it. The Duke himself simply got up and walked out, accompanied by a pair of guards. The rest of the spectators took the time to shake my hand and congratulate me before moving on to their own business. Before too long, it was Raeth, Bouger, Dele, and I.
&nbs
p; “I’m a little short on swords,” I remarked, eyeing Sir Dele. “Can it wait?”
“That it can, my lord,” he replied. He unbuckled his own swordbelt and held it out. “Will you accept a gift from an admirer?”
I blinked, but Raeth was nodding a near-frantic yes at me, so I did. “With my thanks, Sir Dele.” Then I partly drew it and examined the blade; it was a good one. Old, but finely tempered and much used. I slid it back and held it out to him. “Will you accept this sword from my hand?” I asked him.
“Gladly, my lord,” he answered, and buckled it back on. Ah, the lovely technicalities of chivalry!
We went out into town together to have a small celebration; I showed them where I had been working. The whorehouse was pretty quiet in the mornings, so we had the common room almost to ourselves. I showed them where to get a hot bath and noted the service on cleaning and mending clothes was excellent.
“So, what, exactly, have you been doing down here?” Bouger asked, once we had a seat and some wine.
I explained about the spells. Raeth and Bouger followed it; they’ve been studying to be wizards, after all. Dele just watched us, rather wide-eyed,
“Pardon,” Dele broke in, “but are you all wizards?”
“Yes,” I said, as Bouger and Raeth both said, “No.” We chuckled and I went on to them with, “Oh, aren’t you?”
“Well, not real wizards,” Raeth said.
“Got a brazier in your room?”
“Why, yes. Of course,” he answered, startled at the question.
“How did you light it?”
“I concentrated on making the particles of the charcoal vibrate… against… oh.”
“I think I’ve made my point.”
Then Hellas came in. I swear, Bouger flinched.
She saw me and came straight over. Everyone stared at her in what, to my mind, was something less than a pleasant welcome and more of a horrified fascination.
“My lord, the smith says he cannot do such work,” she said, and handed me back the money, along with my dagger. I accepted both and put them away.
“Well, it was good of you to try. Thank you.”
“Will my lord need anything further?” she asked, looking both eager and nervous at once.
“Not right now. But do see to it that people know I will be here in the evening, will you?”
“Right away, lord.”
I put a hand on her arm to keep her from dashing off. “No, not right away. I know you’ve been up all night—and no one is around to listen to you at this hour. Rest if you like; this afternoon is quite soon enough.”
She relaxed a little; she did seem tired. “As my lord wishes.”
“Also, know these three, my stalwart companions—Sir Raeth, Sir Bouger, and Sir Dele. Gentle sirs, this is Hellas.” Each nodded in turn, a courtesy to a woman.
“Charmed.”
“Hello.”
“A pleasure.”
She blushed. I don’t think she knew what to say with four knights looking at her and being civil.
“That will be all, Hellas.”
She nodded and headed for the stairs. A youngster I’d thought an apprentice waiter was sleeping by the stairs; he couldn’t have been more than four. She picked him up without waking him and carried him upstairs with her.
Raeth shook his head but said nothing. Dele also kept his peace. Bouger, though, watched her go upstairs and shuddered again.
“What… what was that?” he asked, sounding serious.
“One of the ladies for hire,” I answered. “Really.” I was busy thinking about the boy.
He shuddered again. “I’ve seen where you work. Can we go now?”
We laughed and left the place.
It turns out that Raeth had already found the tailor; I simply wanted another shirt and some underwear, myself. The tailor was working on some sort of small blanket or shawl while a pair of boys were stitching carefully on a new cloak—Raeth’s new cloak. Bouger decided to get a new one himself, and Dele joined in too. Since they were all getting the same thing, I thought we might as well match; I ordered one for myself. They were all to be a rich green with a yellow-and-orange braidwork trim. Rather nice, I thought. It almost gave the impression that the edge of the cloak was on fire. We were promised they would be ready soon—Raeth handed the man a takar, which means crown. In this case, a fairly large gold coin, stamped with a crown on both sides, worth about twenty silver decius—and we took a walk.
The town really didn’t have much to recommend it. By day, it was just more active. The streets were starting to thaw—the sun had come out, but it was still rather cold—and squelching from the morning’s moisture; it was only wet enough for a thin layer of mud. It wasn’t too bad. I still wondered how they kept this firetrap from burning to the ground, though.
Dele turned the topic back to wizardry.
“You are all wizards, yes?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“Although Bouger and I are not so good at it,” Raeth qualified.
“Is it difficult?” Dele asked. I let Raeth answer.
“Yes and no. It isn’t complicated… most of what I know, that is. But it involves…” he trailed off.
Bouger supplied, “Thinking differently.”
Dele frowned. “How so?”
“You have to be able to step outside yourself and be someone who can do it.”
We all looked at Bouger. He looked back, unabashed.
“Well, that’s how I see it. I know I can’t make a fire start by staring at it. But I can when I’m a wizard.”
I nodded. It made a sort of sense, in a way.
“Could I learn?” Dele asked.
“It takes work,” Raeth cautioned. “And a harsh taskmaster.”
“Do I not have such a one?” Dele asked, glancing sidelong at me, grinning.
“Only if you keep mocking me,” I replied, lightly. “But yes, you can learn. If Raeth and Bouger are willing to try and teach you what they know, I’ll help. It’ll do them good.” It’s always a learning experience when you have to teach what you think you know. I recall the first time I tried to explain thermogoddamics to a sophomore class and still shudder at my blundering. Dele might not thank me for the suggestion.
Dele looked eager. “When may we begin?”
“How about after lunch?” Bouger asked. “I’m hungry, and I think we can buy a decent meal down here.”
“It’ll be expensive,” Raeth warned.
“Yes, but our lord has steady work.”
A laugh exploded from me as I heard that; the others chuckled. “Your faith in me is reassuring,” I offered, “but don’t think I’ll buy lunch every time.”
So we found a man selling food from a tray; none of it was appealing, but we asked him about his supplier. He directed us to a house was a good way off; it had a moderate farm attached to it. I wondered how they managed to keep their chickens from being stolen.
The lady of the house was quite willing to roast us a whole chicken, though; we wound up eating two of them, along with her entire stock of eggs. We paid heavily for it, too. But it was good, very good.
At last, we wandered back to the keep and the practice field. It was a good walk, and we were in shape to get out and bash on people by the time we arrived. Since I wasn’t in my armor I sat on the sidelines to watch.
In truth, it was interesting to watch without being preoccupied by the knowledge I was going to beat or be beaten soon. Fighters have their own styles and preferences, and I’ve learned enough to appreciate the differences. I saw a lot of moves and combinations I liked, things to add to my repertoire someday, after a lot of patient practice. And then more practice. And some practice on top of that.
I also watched Dele get beaten a lot. He didn’t lose all the time, only about half; Raeth and Bouger lost only rarely. I got the impression Dele was about average, for a knight; I already knew R & B were knights of quality.
I noticed people kept looking at me. I suppose I
shouldn’t have been surprised; how often do you see a knighted wizard, acquitted of disrespecting the Church, wandering around your practice field? I didn’t mind it. Or not much.
The only bad part about it was the priest. There were a dozen priests in and around the keep; the keep has its own chapel inside and does a brisk business in maintaining the souls of those who feel they need a spiritual mechanic. There are no formal services, but there’s a steady trickle of people wanting to pray, pay for a prayer, get absolved, or otherwise feel a connection with a higher power. This particular priest walked right up to me.
“You are Sir Halar, the wizard?” he asked.
I looked him over. He was almost my height, had darker hair, a full beard, and a little surplusage around the middle. He wore white robes (slightly muddy around the hems) with some designs stitched into the front. Working clothes for the field, I guess, rather than the ornamental, high-ceremony robes. He also carried a staff with a stylized sunburst at the top.
“I am.”
“Then I pronounce you outcast!” he declared, pointing at me. This drew a lot of attention. The priest rapped—well, squelched—the butt of his staff on the ground and declaimed in a loud voice my blasphemy or heresy or whatever it was. I had defiled a Temple, killed an Inquisitor, and damned some poor woman to eternal torment by dragging her away from those who could have saved her soul. Therefore, I was outcast now and forever from the protection of the Church.
When he finished, I just looked at him for a second. It had been a good speech, and I wish I’d paid more attention to the words.
“So, this means I can’t go to services?” I asked.
“Never!”
“I don’t tithe, either?”
“No.”
“Basically, as far as the Church is concerned, I don’t exist?” I continued.
“You exist,” he admitted, “but shall not be saved from the doom of the eternal night.”
“So,” I probed, “that means I’m never, ever, under any circumstances, going to have to do anything at all for the Church ever again?”