Ascendant

by Craig Alanson

  “Yes, your Maj-Highness. Am I really to live in the castle?”

  “You are, Koren,” Carlana confirmed, delighted to see the joy on the boy’s face. Then, mindful of Paedris’ warning not to let anyone know there was anything special about Koren, she added, “Not in the royal palace itself, of course. There are many servants living in the castle; cooks, gardeners, maids, why, even the stable hands could be said to live inside the castle walls, if they stretch the truth a little.” Carlana had been reluctant to have Koren ride in the royal carriage with them, but Ariana had raised such a fuss about it, and Koren was still sore from the wounds he’d received while saving the crown princess, after all.

  Koren relaxed back against the cushions of his seat, grinning. There had been no feast in his honor, and no knighthood, and no land granted to him, but whispered word of Koren’s deeds had spread anyway. “Fancy me, Koren Bladewell, living in a palace. Why, my pare-“ he had been about to say that his parents would be proud, but of course, his parents didn’t care about him. He caught himself quickly, and continued “-pair, pair of shoes are the most expensive thing I’ve ever owned.” He lifted his feet to admire the fine leather shoes Duke Yarron had given him, along with a complete set of clothes, including a warm winter coat.

  Carlana had not been fooled by Koren’s verbal trick, when he was about to say ‘parents’, she had looked way out the window, to avoid embarrassing the young man. When Ariana heard that Koren had been abandoned by his parents, she had demanded her mother send soldiers out to search for them. So far, there was no sign of Bodric and Amalie Bladewell, and Koren’s uncle Ander said he didn’t know where Amalie’s cousin lived. Carlana had made a few discrete inquiries about the Baron who ruled Crickdon county, and learned the man cared little about the affairs of his commoner subjects, unless such matters filled his purse with gold, or his belly with food. And rumor had it that the Baron cared more about food than gold. Carlana’s heart went out to the boy, now all alone in the world.

  Worse, she couldn’t tell him what Paedris had said, that Koren’s reputation as a jinx was caused by his uncontrolled magical ability. The stories Koren had told, of exploding beer vats, and broken waterwheels, Paedris said were all manifestations of Koren exerting his will on the world, without knowing what he was doing, or having any ability to control the result. Truthfully, Carlana could not blame the people of Crebb’s Ford for wanting the destructive boy out of their village before he caused any more damage. His parents, however, Carlana could not forgive. Whether they believed their son was a jinx or not, there was no excuse for abandoning an eleven year old boy in the wilderness. Koren still thought of himself as a jinx, in fact, the boy had been miserable when he warned Carlana about what a menace he was, and said that it was best if he went away, before he hurt someone. Paedris, bless the old scoundrel’s heart, had laughed when Koren said he was a jinx, and announced such talk was utter nonsense, and he should know, he was the most powerful wizard in Tarador! Carlana wasn’t sure Koren quite believed that he wasn’t a jinx, but the boy had stopped talking about it. “I am sure you will enjoy living with Paedris.” Carlana said quickly, to take the boy’s mind away from his troubles. “Do you know, there are chambers in Lord Salva’s tower that even I have never been into?”

  “Really?” Koren asked in surprise.

  “Really,” Carlana laughed. “I hear that old rascal has spells blocking the doors inside the tower, and no one can enter unless he gives permission.”

  “Be careful in that tower, Koren,” Ariana pleaded, “it is old and dusty, and sometimes there are strange lights and noises coming from there at night.” The girl shuddered.

  “I’m sure Lord Salva will keep you safe, Koren,” Carlana added hastily, “as long as you follow his instructions, and don’t go poking your nose into places you don’t belong.”

  “Oh, no, your highness, I would never do that,” Koren said, with a guilty little feeling in the back of his mind that, of course he would go poking his nose around the wizard’s tower some day. Who could resist such temptation?

  “You will come to the palace, to visit me?” Ariana asked. “We can have so much fun in the palace, and we have gardens, and stables for riding horses, and lots of games-“

  “And much for you to learn, young lady, if you are ever going to rule this land.” Carlana scolded. “There is a time for learning and a time for play. Koren may come to visit you, when you are finished with your lessons.”

  “What about Koren? Doesn’t he need to learn, too?”

  Carlana couldn’t help the frown that flashed across her face. “Lord Salva will take care of Koren’s education.” She clasped her hands on her lap to stop a cold shudder from running up her spine. The wizard could not entirely be trusted. What plans he had for Koren, Carlana didn’t know, and was quite sure she didn’t want to know. Better the boy didn’t know, either. “What Koren needs to learn as a wizard’s servant is very different from what you need to learn as a crown princess and a lady.”

  “But, mother-“

  “Don’t you 'but mother' me, young lady. And I don’t think Koren is really interested in learning heraldry, or court etiquette, or needlepoint, now, is he?”

  All of that sounded deadly boring to Koren. “Uh, I don’t think so, ma’am, I mean, your Highness.” He sat back and looked out the window, the royal carriage was now passing through roads in the outskirts of the city of Linden which surrounded the royal castle. He had never imagined a city so big, never seen buildings bigger than the Golden Trout back in Crebbs Ford. The Golden Trout looked like a broken-down shack, maybe even a chicken coop, compared to most of the buildings here, and they were only yet in the poorer outlying section of the city. People were out in front of the buildings, enjoying the mid-day sunshine of a clear, late autumn day, waving and cheering as the royal carriage went by, everyone straining their necks to get a glimpse of the crown princess and the Regent. Koren was amused to see the excited, then perplexed looks on people’s faces as they saw a boy staring back at them from the shadows of the coach, and realized they had no idea who this boy was. He waved back, at first gesturing enthusiastically, then mimicking Carlana’s restrained, refined wave of holding up her arm, and gently rotating her wrist. The odd gesture was, he figured, some strange thing royal people did, like having more than one fork at the table. Koren had survived the multiple-fork test, the first night the royal party had stopped at a inn, by waiting to see what other people at the table were doing, and not doing anything unless the Regent or Ariana were doing it. For example, Koren noticed that royal people didn’t eat soup in any way that made sense. The best way to eat soup was to hunch over the bowl, tilt it towards you, and scoop it into your mouth. But no! Royal people, Paedris had shown him, tilted the soup bowl away from them, and also tilted the spoon away from them, so that the side of the spoon closest to them didn’t actually get any soup on it. While Paedris had explained that technique ensured there was no soup to drip off the near side of the spoon onto your fancy clothes, Koren thought it was only good for ensuring that so little soup got onto your spoon with each scoop, that the soup would be cold before you were done. Of course, since the soup was served, not in a proper bowl, but instead in a shallow dish that held barely two spoonfuls of soup, letting it get cold was not a problem.

  Koren had only eaten dinner with the Regent and Ariana that first night on the road, after that, Koren ate his meals with the guards and other servants, and he traveled with them in their wagons. Carlana had explained to Ariana it was best to avoid drawing attention to Koren, and that explanation worked, for a while. It was on the last morning, as they approached the castle, that Ariana put her dainty little royal foot down and insisted that, since the royal carriage was ‘royal’ only because she was in it, Koren was going to be in the carriage, or the carriage wasn’t going anywhere that day. Her mother the Regent discovered that no amount of arguing, ordering, scolding or pleading was going to change her daughter’s mind. Carlana was torn between extr
eme annoyance at her stubborn young daughter, and being proud of the future ruler of Tarador asserting herself so forcefully. The royal guards obeyed the Regent by getting the carriage ready that morning, but when Carlana instructed them to bring the crown princess, the guards had stood around, shuffling their feet awkwardly, looking off into the distance, and generally making it clear there was no way those guards, who were trained and pledged to protect the crown princess with their very lives, were going to touch her against her will, no matter what the Regent wanted. The impasse between mother and daughter ended with Carlana allowing Koren to ride in the royal carriage, and Ariana realizing that she had pushed her mother about as far as she ever would.

  Thus it was that Koren found himself dressed in fancy clothes that, he had to admit, fit him perfectly, and riding in the royal carriage with the crown princess and the Regent of Tarador, winding its way thru the city on its way to the royal palace. The royal carriage was near the front of a long trail of lesser carriages, wagons and men on horseback, all there to protect, provide for, and accompany the crown princess and Regent on their long tour throughout Tarador. Such a thing happening to poor farm boy Koren Bladewell, he had never imagined, not even in his wildest dreams back in tiny Crebbs Ford. He grinned ear to ear, continued to wave to the people, and gawked at the increasingly large, numerous and substantial buildings, as the royal carriage wound its way thru the city, up toward the gray castle on the hill.

  While Koren was looking out the window, watching the city roll by, Ariana was watching Koren. Not openly staring at him, Ariana had been trained for far too long on how a proper princess had to behave, instead she looked out the window on his side of the carriage, with her attention on Koren, and not on the waving and cheering people who lined the road. When she saw that Koren was imitating her mother’s restrained waving motion, she bit her lip to keep from laughing. That feeble gesture, which looked ridiculous even when her mother was doing it, was absurd when done with Koren’s rough, strong hands. She had little memory of Koren holding onto her while they plunged down the raging river. He had touched her hand, briefly, when they met after Paedris declared the farm boy could get out of bed, but they had met in the duke’s formal receiving hall, surrounded by people, wearing stiff, formal clothes. Ariana had been limited to holding out her hand, palm down, so Koren could kneel on one knee, take her hand in his, and kiss the back of her hand. Touching his future monarch was, according to her mother, supposed to be all the honor a common boy like Koren could ever want. Since her mother had never been a commoner, Ariana couldn’t see how Carlana knew what common people wanted. Ariana herself didn’t truly know what common people wanted, but certainly kneeling and brushing your lips on the back of a princess’ hand could not compare to a real reward; like land, or money. Or a knighthood.

  At the thought of Koren’s hand touching hers, and his lips oh so briefly brushing against her skin, she unconsciously brushed the spot where his lips had lingered, tracing a circle around the spot with her fingertips.

  While Ariana was watching Koren, Carlana was watching her daughter watch Koren, and the Regent knew exactly what the expression on her daughter’s face meant. Knew what it meant that her daughter was brushing the fingertips of her left hand across the back of her right hand. Ariana was completely, hopelessly infatuated with her hero, this handsome, fresh-faced, young man who had risked his life to save a girl he didn’t even know. He had saved her, not because she is a princess, but because she had needed rescuing, and because he was there, and because he could, or at least thought he had to try. He had saved her when the grown men who were there to protect her could not. Carlana was not surprised that her daughter’s head was filled with romantic notions about her true hero, this handsome young man with the tangled curls of dark hair falling around his face, and the dreamy brown eyes-

  Yes, Carlana could quite easily understand how her daughter could look at Koren the way she did. The mother of the crown princess needed to make sure the infatuation did not go too far, for Ariana could not be seen as becoming involved seriously with any young man now, especially not with a lowly commoner. Dangling the prospect of Ariana marrying a son of a duke was a way to keep the dukes supporting Ariana becoming queen on her sixteenth birthday. Without that prospect, it was far from guaranteed that an untested young girl could hang onto power, surrounded by powerful, ambitious and scheming dukes who lusted for the throne themselves.

  Carlana would allow Ariana her girlish daydreams for now. Once they were in the palace, and Koren was busy with the wizard, there would be little time, Carlana thought, for Ariana and Koren to be together. Then Ariana’s crush on Koren would fade over time, as she became distracted by everything going on around the royal palace.

  The Regent had forgotten just how determined a young girl in love could be. And, in particular, she once again underestimated the determination of the young woman who would soon sit on the throne and rule Tarador.

  After passing thru a busy section of the city that had many tall, stone buildings, the road was now in an area that did not appear to be as prosperous. Among the people lining the road, Koren saw a family of three; mother, father, and a boy around his age. The father had one hand on the boy’s shoulder, and the boy was holding his mother’s hand. The woman did not look much like Koren’s mother, having blond hair and being quite tall, but this woman had her hair tied in a blue ribbon. Amalie Bladewell often had her hair tied with a blue ribbon, a ribbon that Bodric purchased new every year, without fail. Blue dye being rare and expensive, it was not a color most farm families in Crebbs Ford could afford; most people wore clothes of simple gray wool, or cotton in various shades of off-white or tan. Occasionally, clothes were red, if enough iron could be found to provide a color wash. But blue was unusual among poor people, unusual enough that it always reminded Koren of his mother.

  Koren’s hand froze in mid-wave, as he locked eyes with the boy standing with his parents on the side of the road, and felt a sharp pain of homesickness. He half rose out of his seat, enough so that his face was no longer in shadow, and the people could see him clearly. The family looked puzzled to see an unfamiliar face staring back at them from the royal carriage, and they waved uncertainly. Then the carriage swept past, and the family was gone. Koren slumped back in his seat, stricken. An unbidden tear welled up in his left eye, and trailed down his cheek.

  Ariana had seen the family, having watched Koren, and guessed the significance, if not of the ribbon, then of the family, and the boy Koren’s age. With a catch in her throat and a tear forming in her own eyes, she reached out to touch Koren’s arm, but her mother nudged her foot. Shaking her head, Carlana silently mouthed ‘give him privacy, Ariana’, and the Regent put a hand over her own heart, to show she understood the pain Koren must be feeling.

  Koren quickly discovered there were many children his age in the castle grounds, both royalty like Ariana, and commoners like himself. One of the first boys he saw, he met on his way to Paedris’ tower. Koren was clutching his bundle of clothes and looking at the tower, trying to figure out how to get there from where he was. He was gawking up at the colorful flags flying from the battlements, when he collided with another boy. “Oof. Sorry.” Koren said, as he dropped his bundle onto the ground.

  The other boy had golden, shiny hair falling about his shoulders. He wore a magnificent red tunic, on the front of which was a hawk, embroidered in silver. And he looked down his nose at Koren, as if Koren were something foul he’d just stepped in. “Watch where you’re going, you stupid oaf.” The boy snapped, checking his tunic for damage, or dirt.

  “Said I was sorry.” Impulsively, Koren held a hand out. “I’m Koren Bladewell.”

  “Bladewell? Of?” The boy stared at Koren’s hand, unsure what to do.

  “Oh, of, um, of Crebb’s Ford. It’s in Crickdon County.”

  “Crickdon? Is that Winterthur province? So, the Bladewells of Crickdon. Never heard of you. You have the honor to be speaking to Kyre Falco, eldest son o
f Duke Regin Falco of Burwyck Province.”

  “Regin Falco?” It was Koren’s turn to be confused. “Never heard of him, sorry.”

  “Never, never heard of Duke Falco?” Kyre sputtered, shocked.

  “Um, never heard of Burwyck province, either.”

  “What? How could you have never- what kind of backwater farm boy are you?” Kyre took a step back. From the way Koren was dressed, Kyre assumed he was the son of a minor, unimportant noble, such as a baron or a viscount, perhaps a mere knight. But now Kyre considered that Koren might be a commoner servant. And Kyre had wasted his time talking to the low-born boy? “What are you doing in the castle, boy?

  Koren shrugged and picked up his bundle, hoisting it onto his shoulder. “I’m Lord Salva’s new servant.”

  Kyre looked at Koren in disgust. “Then, be along with you, boy! Hurry on about your business, and be more careful around your betters.”

  Koren remembered what Carlana said about how to address a Duke. He wondered if that applied to their sons as well. Koren bowed his head slightly. “Yes, Your Grace. Sorry to have disturbed you.”

  “Huh. You have proper manners, at least, boy.” Kyre stepped around Koren and didn’t give the servant boy another look.

  When Kyre arrived at his quarters in the palace, he found Niles Forne lounging on a seat by the window. The Duke had sent Forne to the palace with Kyre, supposedly to help his son navigate the various intrigues in the royal court; Kyre knew the man was nothing more than a spy for his father. A spy, who in Kyre’s opinion, paid far too much attention when Kyre did something bad, and barely noticed Kyre’s many, many triumphs. “Forne.” Kyre said dismissively as he removed his tunic and held it up to the light.

  “Something wrong with your garment, young Sire?” Forne asked, looking down his long, narrow nose at the boy, without getting up from his seat.