by Dave Duncan
situation for Raider than being King Ambrose's
guest at Bondhill, but that instinct had not
changed its opinions. If this freak ability of
his was more than just the ravings of a fevered imagination,
then it was a wild card in the game, one that
Ambrose could not have anticipated. Whatever the
Fat Man had planned to do with a captive
Baelish atheling, he would roar when he learned that
the man had escaped.
Counting the hours, Wasp concluded that he had
completed half of his first day as a Blade.
Alone among the coastal nations of Eurania,
Thergy never suffered Bael trouble. This was partly
because its own extremely efficient navy made it
dangerous to bully, and partly because it did not let
ethics interfere with business. Baels could bring
anything into port there and sell it without having
to explain the bloodstains. Except slaves.
Thergians did draw the line at slaves. So
the Baels shipped prisoners south to Morq'a'q
or Afernt and marketed inanimate loot in
Thergy.
The capital, Drachveld, was a great port,
a place of clean streets, neat houses, tiled
roofs, and excessive dullness, insipid even for
two young men who had not set foot in any city
since their childhood. But its very dullness was an
advantage. Wasp needed time to adjust to his
new status, and Raider--according to Raider--was not
going to make any decisions until he had more
information.
He began by finding modest lodgings for them at
an inn. The bed was small, but he was the
only one who slept in it, and his Blade liked
the potential escape route over the rooftops
outside its window. Raider spent most of one
day hawking Janvier's cat's-eye sword around
armorers' shops. The price he finally accepted
was more than five thousand gilts, which the admiring
Wasp mentally translated into almost seven thousand
crowns. Most of it went on language
conjurations at an elementary--temporary working
facility for both of them in Thergian and a costly
permanent fluency in Baelish for Wasp.
Thus Sir Wasp became Waeps Thegn and
was not at all sure he approved of the change.
"What's Radgar?" he demanded. "I thought
Baelish names all meant something."
"Most do, but they rarely make sense. My
father was Firebrand son of Fire-relic son of
Famous-blaze. Cousin Wulfwer was
Wolf-man son of King-wolf. Gar is a
poetic word for spear. Rad could be the same word
as raid in Chivian, but my name is quite old and
probably came from roed. So
Wisdom-Spear."
"Very appropriate."
"Thank you."
Wisdom-Spear also spent enormous sums
at men's outfitters, dressing himself and his
Blade sumptuously: shirts, jerkins,
doublets, hose, breeches, fur-lined cloaks,
boots with silver buckles.
"I had no idea you had ambitions to be a
dandy," Wasp remarked, pirouetting in front
of the first full-length mirror he had ever seen.
A starched ruff scratched his neck, but he loved
the feel of silk next to his skin.
"My good looks deserve to be well
displayed." Radgar had his reasons--he always had
reasons. For himself he spurned the haberdashers'
suggestions of greens and blues, staying with browns
that made his hair less conspicuous, and choosing a
hat with the broadest brim he could find. He
shaved every morning and wore a short sword, a
weapon fashionable gentlemen sported because it would
hang vertically and not bang into things. In fact it
was very little shorter than Wasp's rapier and would be
almost as deadly in a Blade's skilled hand.
He soon located Hendrik's Bierhuis,
an elitist waterfront establishment within whose
cosy rooms and secure courtyards burghers and
brokers met with ship captains to quaff
ale and negotiate contracts. Its value to him
lay in its boardroom, where clerks chalked up the
names of vessels currently in port, their
masters, and destinations. Common sailors and other
riffraff were not welcome, but two young nobles
were.
Baelish vessels arrived and departed on every
tide, and these he unobtrusively inspected.
Every one seemed to be an honest trader, but it was
understood that the longships among them all had a red
sail and dragon's head posts stowed under the
gratings. Seeing Baels in bunches remained
an ordeal for Wasp, for his heart still knew that they
were vicious animals even if his head could accept
that these were only seamen like any others. He sweated
a lot, but his binding kept him under control. One
day Radgar undertook to educate him about Chivian
behavior and some of the ghastly things that had been done
to Baelish prisoners of war.
"If they'd stayed home they wouldn't have
suffered," Wasp retorted. "I'm sure they
deserved every bit of it." He sulked for the rest of the
evening.
In general he was happy to wait upon events.
A good Blade never interfered in his ward's
affairs unless they seemed likely to be
dangerous, and Thergy was certainly a safer
place for Radgar than Baelmark. But about the
tenth day, as they strolled the docks in the morning
sun, he demanded to know what Radgar was planning.
He got the usual answer.
"Can't decide until I know more about the weather
back home."
"But what do you want to do? Go home?"
"If I return from the dead, I will change
everything. The Nyrpings, Tholings, and even the
Scalthings will unite against me--and my uncle will
put me on trial for Wulfwer's murder."
Wasp shivered. Few Blades lived to see
their wards go on trial. "You really mean you may
choose not to go home?"
"If I learn that whoever killed my parents
has been identified and suitably punished--
fatally punished, I mean--then I will have no
reason to."
This news was too good to believe. "What about
your inheritance? What about the crown? You won't
make a play for the throne?"
Radgar pointed to a group of bare-chested youths
swaggering ashore and strutting off in search
of a grog shop. "Baelish thegns. See the
rowers' arms and shoulders?"
All Wasp could see were necks that ought to be
throttled in hemp. "Frog scats! Those
muscles came from an elementary. The older men
don't have them. They're conjured."
"I'm sure they are. But that just shows how
different I am, because I can't imagine wanting
to look like that or wasting good money to do so. While
I've been sleeping on sheets and eating
regular meals in Ironhall, those men have been
sailing and fighting together all over the known
world.
They've fought side by side a dozen times--
trading and raiding, slaving and whoring. Every one of
them has half a hundred friends tested in
battle. When the time comes to side, he'll vote
for his friend or his friends' friend." He watched the
raucous, quarrelsome gang disappear into the city
with a wistful expression Wasp had never seen on
him before. "I am not one of them, Wasp! I'm a
stranger, three-quarters Chivian, unknown,
untried. Adolescence is when men forge their
truest friendships and I spent mine in a far-off
land. At my age my father was a ship lord with his own
werod. I am already too late to think of a
political career in Baelmark."
"Ironhall was bad for you, you mean?"
"I made good friends there, didn't I?"
Radgar flashed a toothy grin to change the
mood.
Wasp returned it. "So did I."
"And it kept me alive when I needed
refuge. But as for claiming my father's throne ...
My only qualifications for that are my Cattering
lineage, which won't carry much weight with the thegns,
and a skill at fencing that they will consider a fancy
way of cheating. Who wants a tanist or earl
who can never be beaten? You're stuck with him until
he dies of old age. No, my waspish friend,
you will never be a king's Blade in Baelmark."
His patience paid off. The next morning,
stalking along through the dockside crowds toward
Hendrik's, he halted so abruptly that Wasp
almost ran into him. He said, "Aha!" and pulled
his Blade aside to the shelter of a line of market
stalls. A group of young Baels came parading
toward them, arguing loudly in a dialect other
than the one imprinted on Wasp and paying no
heed to the citizens they were shouldering
aside. They had the sweaty, thirsty look of men
who had just unloaded a cargo and felt they had
earned a drink or two.
Radgar let them go by. Then he said,
"Better!" but let the next two follow their
companions. In a moment he added, "Perfect!"
and stepped out in front of a solitary youth
hurrying to catch up. "Aylwin Leofricing!"
The thegn thus addressed was no older than he
was and no taller than Wasp, but wide as a
wagon and all massive muscle. He slapped
a hand on his sword hilt and glared up
pugnaciously at the dandy who dared accost him.
He was bare-chested and filthy and his breeches were
indecently tattered; his red-gold mane was a
floor mop that had just washed out a stable. Then
came recognition. The killer thegn swayed like a
highborn lady about to stage a dramatic faint
and neither tawny beard nor heavy wind burn hid
his sudden pallor.
"Radgar?"
"Of course Radgar, you great ugly sight for
sore eyes!"
"Alive!"
"Just as alive as you are!"
With howls of joy, fop and ruffian grabbed
each other in bear hugs, pounded each other on the
back, leaping around and generally appalling all the
straitlaced Thergians in the vicinity. Wasp
felt danger rumble like thunder.
Throwing a brawny arm around his long-lost friend in
a way that set Wasp's teeth on edge, thegn
Aylwin hustled him along the dockside, babbling
questions even as Radgar tried to answer them.
"It wasn't an accident," Radgar said.
"My parents were murdered and--"
"What? But how can you--"
"Whoever did it tried to murder me too."
"But my dad was--"
"Wulfwer and those two thugs of his dragged me
off down to the harbor like a--"
"Then how did you manage--"
The Bael's destination proved to be
Hendrik's. He shouldered the door open and
propelled Radgar inside, ignoring Wasp.
The entrance hallway was dim and probably kept
that way to put intruders at a disadvantage. The
doorkeeper who loomed forward to challenge the
unseemly newcomer was taller than
Radgar and wider than Aylwin; he had the
battered features and crooked knuckles of an
alley thug, although his gilded livery had been
crafted by skilled tailors and would have passed in
any ducal mansion. He hesitated when he
noticed the lout's companions.
Aylwin poked this grandee in the chest with a stout
finger and demanded, "Faro`edhengest--is its ship
lord here yet? Tall man with a silver
eyepatch?"
Not comprehending Baelish, the bouncer frowned and
looked around for help. Another, equally well
dressed and almost as intimidating, rolled forward
to take over. "We have seen no one by that
description, ealdor."
"When he gets here tell him to see me at
once. Beer for two."
The doorkeepers exchanged frowns. Radgar
solved their problem by flashing gold coins. "A
quiet table for three, if you please, and when the
captain of Faro`edhengest arrives, will you be so
kind as to inform him that his son wishes to speak with him
on a matter of some urgency?"
The flunkies doubled over in courtly bows.
"Isn't that what I said?" Aylwin muttered.
They were led through to a small cobbled courtyard
secure inside worn brick walls. They had
it to themselves, either because few other customers had
arrived yet or because those that had should be spared the
sight of Aylwin. Tastes vary--he won
flashing smiles from the sapphire-eyed,
golden-haired serving maid who brought them beer in
painted steins. Wasp ignored his because he
detested the stuff and the other two ignored him in the
joy of old friends reunited, both still chattering like
magpies.
By the time Radgar had completed a quick summary
of his experiences, his burly friend had fallen into an
amazed, slack-jawed silence. It seemed that
something about the story bothered him considerably, perhaps
several somethings. "What's he for?" He
gestured with a thumb.
"He's a friend, Wasp. Wasp, Aylwin
Leofricing."
Aylwin scowled. "I didn't ask his name,
I asked what he's for. It'll look bad, you
turning up with a Chivian. Don't want
to remind people where you've been. Leave him here."
"I can't leave him. He's my Blade. And
don't tell me Blades are
un-Baelish, because I know." Radgar gave
Wasp a grin, cheerful but not completely convincing.
"King Ambrose tricked him into accepting me,
Aylwin Thegn," Wasp said. "If you and
Radgar's other supporters want rid of me,
you'll have to kill me. I shall understand your reasoning,
but I will defend myself." Oh, let them try!
Aylwin quaffed beer thoughtfully.
Radgar said, "Wasp has already proved his
worth. Ambrose was planning to use me somehow.
Chivians think in terms of inheritance and ri
ghtful
heirs, so he may have hoped to use me
to blackmail Cynewulf. Wasp saw the
danger and got me out of it and I am very grateful
to him. I don't intend to be anyone's pawn,
understand?"
"I wish you luck, Atheling." The sailor
grinned skeptically.
"You'll see," Radgar said. "My turn
to ask questions. Your dad's your ship lord? Inward
or outward bound? Trading or raiding?"
"Foering to Skyrria for the winter furs
... not that we turn down anything that looks
profitable. You want a safe ride home,
Dad'll put her about. We'll all rally behind
you."
Wasp doubted that any master of a trading
vessel would cancel a voyage just to oblige his
son's young friend--or even his old friend's son.
Pirates, on the other hand ... an atheling might
be worth a sizable ransom. Ambrose had seen
some value in him. If Radgar could be used
to mount a revolution, there could be profit in it.
How did a Blade defend his ward against his
friends?
Radgar did not comment on the offer. "How's that
fat uncle of mine managing to stay on the
throne?"
Aylwin drummed black-rimmed nails on the
table. "Because no one challenges, of course.
Seems no earl can win enough support. The only
one who pushed it all the way was Swetmann, not
long after your dad died."
"What happened to dear Earl Swetmann?"
"What d'you think? By the time the moot voted
everyone knew he was going to lose, so the only
vote he got was his own. That must'a felt good!
The King sent up Big Edgar from Hunigsuge
against him--and paid him a bonus for a messy death,
it's said. Even Swetmann didn't
deserve that."
Radgar pouted. "Maybe he did. How about
in Catterstow itself? How does the fyrd feel about
Cynewulf as earl?"
The thegn turned sulky and took a long
drink. "We put up with him because he's king.
It's good for the shire--brings in gold, lets us
lord it over the others. Not that the others don't
laugh at us for having a gray-haired tub of
whale blubber for an earl, but he's their king
too."
"Catterstow stays loyal as long as he can
hold the throne? Who's his tanist?"
Aylwin scratched his tangled mop with both
hands. "You're not going to like this, Radgar."
"Try."
"Wulfwer."
Radgar winced as if he had been punched.
He took a moment to consider the news, glanced