The Captive

by Paul Lauritsen

  There was a slight hesitation, then the door swung inward to reveal Aralye. The huntress had changed into dry clothes and seemed to have mostly recovered from her ordeal. She saw Khollo lying in his hammock, half of him swathed in bandages, and winced. She shut the door and sat down in a corner, back against the wall.

  “Are you all right?” Khollo asked quietly.

  Aralye laughed bitterly, a low, broken sound that ended in a half-sob. “I’m not the one with cracked ribs and a head wound.”

  Khollo shrugged. “Believe it or not, I’ve been injured before. And,” he added ruefully, “I’ll probably be injured again.”

  Aralye nodded reluctantly. “I just . . . I just wanted to apologize,” she said quickly.

  Khollo frowned and sat up a little. “Apologize for what?”

  “I just about got us killed!”

  “The storm just about got us killed,” Khollo corrected.

  “But . . . you wouldn’t have been out there if it wasn’t for me,” she protested. “I put you at risk.”

  “Maybe,” Khollo admitted grudgingly. “But, I don’t blame you.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, Aralye frowning at the floor and picking at a splintered board. Khollo shifted in his hammock so he could see her better, then spoke again.

  “You’re afraid of the sea,” he said quietly. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  Aralye started guiltily, then quickly arranged her face into hard lines. “I fear nothing!” she growled. Khollo simply maintained eye contact with her, letting the girl know he wasn’t fooled. After a moment, she wilted slightly. “How did you know?”

  “It was the only logical explanation,” the young Keeper replied. “You’re not a weak person. In fact, you’re pretty tough. But being on this ship seems to have been hard on you. At first I thought it was just seasickness, but when the storm hit – ”

  “I couldn’t move,” she muttered. “I was convinced I was going to die.” She looked up at Khollo, amber eyes bright and troubled. “Thank you for risking your life for mine.”

  Khollo shrugged uncomfortably. “You would have done the same. We all have to look out for each other now. This life we’ve chosen is dangerous, and we need to face its dangers together.”

  Aralye nodded distractedly and got to her feet, lurching against the wall as the ship rocked. “I’ll let you rest,” she said, moving to the door.

  “Aralye,” Khollo said, stopping her. “It’s all right to fear. It doesn’t make us weak.” His ribs twinged and he winced. That brief distraction allowed his mind to wander back to memories he would just as well forget. Dark memories, things he had not thought of for a long, long time.

  “After all,” he added quietly, “We all fear something.”

  Aralye turned back hesitantly, the question on her lips. She hesitated for a moment, then curiosity got the better of her.

  “What is it you fear, Khollo?”

  Khollo gave her a weak smile. “There are many things,” he said. “Which is one of the reasons I don’t like to think that being afraid makes us weak. But above all, I fear I’m not good enough, that I’m not prepared for what’s ahead.”

  “For the Keepers or – ?”

  “The Keepers, yes,” Khollo agreed. “But more than that. This is a big world, Aralye, and there are many things in it I don’t understand. And here I am, heir to an ancient legacy, trying to bumble my way through it all.” He shook his head slowly. “I’m not ready.”

  Aralye bit her lip and looked away. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

  Khollo shrugged. “Maybe not,” he mused, “But I’m glad you did.”

  The girl nodded slowly, then tugged the door open reluctantly. “I should let you rest. Do you need anything? Should I send Halena to check your wounds?”

  “No,” Khollo said, “Thanks for asking, but all I need is rest. Everything will heal with time.”

  Aralye left then, shutting the door quietly, and Khollo was alone again. He sighed, staring up at the ceiling, his hammock swaying back and forth. He closed his eyes and lay back, but sleep was a long time in coming.

  Chapter 17:

  Regents to the King

  Relam struck and parried, dancing back out of Sebast’s reach. The Garenes heir chased after him, pressing the attack. Relam parried again, then swiped sweat from his brow with one hand.

  “It’s . . . been a while . . . since I’ve . . . done this,” he grunted between blows.

  Sebast grinned fiercely. “Do you yield then?”

  “Not on your life!” Relam retorted. He deflected a thrust from Sebast, then slid past the lordling towards the open center of Tar Agath’s training ground. Sebast growled in frustration and spun to face him, practice sword at the ready. Relam backed off a few steps to catch his breath, then went from standing still to a full sprint in a split second.

  Sebast wasn’t caught off guard, though. He deflected Relam’s thrust, and the side cut that followed from the opposite side a moment later. Those blows didn’t matter though. Relam grinned as he brought his right foot around to catch Sebast’s ankles.

  The lordling stepped into Relam, knocking him off balance. Relam, unprepared for such a move, stumbled backwards, arms flailing. Sebast struck with an overhead cut that sent Relam’s practice sword flying, then rested the point of his wooden sword on Relam’s shoulder.

  “Victory to Sebast!” Tar announced from somewhere behind Relam. At this announcement, raucous cheers broke out from the twenty or so cadets who had gathered to watch the fight. Sebast lowered his sword and shook hands with Relam, both of them dripping with sweat.

  “A good fight,” Sebast said quietly.

  “You’ve gotten better,” Relam told him. “And who taught you to watch for the leg swipe?”

  Sebast grinned. “Haven’t you heard? One of my friends happens to be a sword master.”

  Relam glanced back at Tar with a mock frown. The sword master saw his expression and laughed, moving quickly to join them.

  “Well fought, both of you,” he said eagerly. “And that was nearly perfect timing, Sebast.”

  “I almost missed it,” Sebast muttered, shaking back his dripping dark hair. “The fight went longer than I thought.”

  “I still can’t believe you were watching for that move,” Relam muttered. “Or that Tar told you how to beat it.”

  Sebast shrugged. “It was how you beat me during the trials, remember? I wasn’t going to let it happen again.”

  “And Sebast is a good student when it comes to this sort of thing,” Tar put in helpfully. “All of the others have been, actually.”

  Relam groaned. “Does this mean I can’t use my tricks on any of them now?”

  “Maybe Jatt,” Sebast replied, grinning, “Or Knet. But with the rest of us, you might get a surprise of your own, if you try those tricks your father taught you.”

  Relam laughed. It felt good to be doing something as simple and physical as sparring, surrounded by friends. The other lordlings joined them now, while Tar’s cadets began to wander off and make their way home. Relam and Sebast’s fight had been the last for the day, so there would be no more bouts to watch.

  Tar looked around at the circle of young faces and shook his head in wonder. “I have never had a group of my students bond this way,” he said curiously. “You six seem to be as close as they come, on the training field and in the rest of your lives. I’m happy for all of you. It’s good to have friends to rely on. To trust.”

  “It is,” Relam agreed. “This way is much better than how it was before.”

  “I don’t know,” Delan drawled. “Our previous dynamic had its own charm. There was never a dull moment during those times, that’s for sure.”

  Cevet nodded ruefully. “That’s not necessarily a good thing, Delan. When I think of some of the petty squabbles we all had . . .” He shook his head. “How did we end up here?”

  “You grew up,” Tar told him. “All of you, and very qui
ckly. Last year you had more adventure than most men will see in their entire lifetimes. Now, you are regents and kings ruling this kingdom. Those sorts of experiences and responsibilities change people. In this case, it seems, for the better.”

  Relam sighed contentedly. “Well, thanks for letting us disrupt your class today, Tar. It was good to have some practice bouts again. It’s been too long.”

  “You are always welcome, Relam, as are the rest of you.”

  The young king nodded gratefully. “Thanks, Tar. Do you want to come back to the palace with us? The staff has prepared lunch.”

  “Tempting,” Tar said, eyes twinkling, “But I think I will stay here. There are some administrative things I need to catch up on if I want to keep training my students.”

  Relam nodded. “All right. Well, everyone else, to the palace!”

  Sebast, Delan, and Knet cheered good-naturedly, but Cevet stepped forward quickly. “The rest of you can go ahead. I need to speak with Relam and Tar for a few moments if that’s all right.”

  The celebratory mood evaporated immediately. “The project again?” Sebast asked quietly.

  Cevet nodded gravely. “It’s gotten more complicated. I’ll fill the rest of you in during council next week, but there’s some things I need to tell Relam now.”

  “All right,” Sebast said, shrugging. “As long as we find out eventually. We’ll try and save some food for you,” he added, grinning, as he led the other lordlings out through the front gate.

  Relam watched them go, then turned back to Cevet. “One of your tails turn something up?”

  Cevet shook his head. “Not yet. But I’ve been hearing some interesting things from the rest of the underworld.” He glanced around the training ground, hesitating.

  Tar stepped in immediately. “We can use my office,” he suggested. “No one will overhear us there.”

  Cevet nodded gratefully, then he and Relam followed the sword master into the long, low building that was Tar’s combination living quarters and office.

  The main room was the kitchen and dining area, spartan and utilitarian. A well-scrubbed square table with four chairs stood in the center of the space. To the left, a door led into Tar’s private quarters, while to the right another door led into a room cluttered with almost as many papers as Relam’s study. Tar led them into this room, then shut and locked the door behind them. Relam looked for a place to sit, but every chair was covered in stacks of parchment.

  “You really should throw some of these away,” Cevet observed. “Tar, this is from ten years ago!”

  “Hmm?” Tar asked distractedly as be busied himself clearing three chairs. “Oh, well, I like to hold on to some of these things,” he explained. He took the sheet Cevet had been studying and blinked in surprise. “But I don’t think I need this grocery list anymore.” He tossed it into the fireplace behind the desk, where it joined a mound of crumpled up balls of parchment. The sword master moved a final stack of reports, then gestured for Relam and Cevet to seat themselves on the recently-cleared chairs. Cevet sat carefully, right on the edge of his seat. Whatever news he had brought seemed to have him worried.

  “So,” Relam said, “What did you find out, Cevet?”

  The Thius heir frowned at the floor. “Relam, this project is more dangerous than we originally realized. Word has reached me of a wealthy underworld faction that has been stepping up its activity recently. The Council of Masks.”

  “Who?” Tar asked.

  Relam frowned thoughtfully. “I’ve never heard of them.”

  “No reason why you should have. They operate entirely in the shadows, but they don’t participate in any of your typical crimes. They don’t have crews stealing and carrying out burglaries. They aren’t bribing tax collectors or other officials, and they’re not scamming them either. In fact, no one’s really sure how they support their organization. But, somehow, they have a lot of money to spend.”

  “Interesting,” Relam muttered. “What else do you know about them?”

  “There actually is a council,” Cevet replied. “Or at least, it’s rumored there is. Supposedly they all wear gold masks to conceal their faces, and not even the members of the council know who the others are. That way, they can’t give each other up.”

  “Gold masks?” Tar asked skeptically. “Seems a little, ah, flamboyant for your average criminal organization.”

  “Yeah,” Cevet agreed. “The underworld has been speculating for years that they’re actually nobles, but they weren’t of much interest until recently. They’ve been hiring, discreetly making offers to select operatives. Those who have refused have gone missing. Including two of Narin’s eyes and ears.”

  Relam scowled. “This isn’t good, Cevet. Is this a whole separate player we didn’t know about? Or is this Council of Masks just a group of D’Arnlo’s supporters?”

  “I don’t know,” Cevet muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “Like I said, the Council of Masks has been around for years. Their timeline doesn’t line up with D’Arnlo’s.”

  “So they’re separate?” Relam guessed. “Great, another faction to deal with. What’s their objective?”

  “Unknown.”

  “Unknown?” Relam asked in disbelief.

  “Well, the underworld types have their theories, of course,” Cevet said, rolling his eyes. “But they’re fairly unimaginative and they don’t know I’m with you. They think the Council of Masks has been prepping to take over the entire underworld and unite it into a criminal empire that spreads across the entire kingdom.”

  “A criminal empire?” Relam demanded. “Is that even possible? Wouldn’t they all just stab each other in the back at the first opportunity?”

  Tar shrugged. “That’s what I would expect. Such an empire would be short-lived at best I would think.”

  “Not necessarily,” Cevet countered, “This council could keep their underlings in line through fear. They have enough highly skilled, loyal outlaws that they would hold the upper hand in any dispute. Besides, all the lowlifes would benefit from a criminal empire I would think. I’m not sure any would want to bring it down.”

  “Except us,” Relam muttered.

  “Yes,” Cevet agreed. “Except us.”

  The young king sighed. “Well, that’s a weighty bit of news, Cevet. A criminal council who’s stepped up their recruiting but predates our good friend D’Arnlo.”

  “Should I pass this on to Narin?” Tar asked.

  Cevet shrugged. “He knows already. I wanted to include you in case I need to reach him, Oreius, or Relam later on with a message. This way, you’ll know what’s going on.”

  “No problem,” Tar assured him. “Be careful out there, Cevet. It sounds like things are getting more dangerous.”

  “Definitely,” Relam agreed. “I’m tempted to order you to stop interfering in this.”

  “You can try,” Cevet said bluntly, “But I’m not stopping. Ignoring this problem won’t make it go away. Besides, we need to know what’s coming.”

  “Maybe this criminal empire will see the leftovers from D’Arnlo’s scheme as rivals,” Relam muttered, “And they’ll finish each other off.”

  “That would be nice,” Cevet said, grinning. “But I doubt we’ll be so lucky.”

  “We rarely are.” The young king sighed and got to his feet. “Well, the others are waiting, and we need to let Tar get back to his paperwork.”

  “No rush!” the sword master insisted. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you wish!”

  Relam chuckled. “I’m sure,” he said, “If only so you don’t have to start digging through all of this.” He looked around the cluttered study again and shook his head. “Do you even know what all of this is?”

  “Or where anything is?” Cevet added.

  The sword master scowled. “Of course! It’s all carefully organized.”

  “Fascinating,” Cevet said, grinning impudently. He leaned over and scooped another sheet off the floor. “This pile over here must be for s
hopping lists then.”

  “Give me that!” Tar said, snatching the sheet from Cevet. He scanned it, snorted, then wadded the parchment up and added it to the pile in the fireplace.

  “Not important?” Relam guessed.

  “Spare lumber for targets and practice swords, eight years old,” Tar grunted reluctantly.

  Cevet chuckled to himself. “Well, I guess we’ll be going,” he said, rising as well. “What’s for lunch, Relam?”

  “The cooks said it would be a surprise.”

  Cevet straightened. “Then we’d better hurry. Don’t want the others to eat it all.”

  “See you next week, Tar!” Relam called as they let themselves out.

  The sword master looked up from the stack of papers he was rifling through. “Hmm? Oh, yes, see you next week, Relam, Cevet. Always good to have you around. Keeps those younger cadets from getting too inflated of an opinion about their skills.”

  Relam laughed and waved farewell one more time, then hurried after Cevet. The lordling was already out in the courtyard, striding purposefully towards the River Road.

  “Wait up!” Relam called good-naturedly.

  “What?” Cevet asked, “And miss out on the food?”

  “The palace staff won’t serve until we arrive,” Relam promised him. “They’re very conscientious about that sort of thing.”

  “Oh,” Cevet said, slowing his scorching pace. “Guess we can take our time then. I wonder – ”

  He broke off as two men in full armor shoved through the crowds on the River Road, jogging up to Relam and Cevet.

  “Your majesty!” Galen said, bowing slightly. “I thought you were traveling with the others?”

  Relam sighed. “I suppose they sent you when they got back to the palace?”

  “No,” Wil said, grinning. “Galen sent us when he heard you only had Cevet along for protection.”

  “Hey!” Cevet protested. “I’m not exactly useless in a fight.”

  “Your majesty,” Galen said sternly, ignoring Cevet and Wil pointedly. “It is very difficult to keep you safe when you continually avoid having a proper escort when you are away from your quarters. The only reason we did not go with you this morning – ”