by Guy Antibes
The problem was that he didn’t know how much energy he had left. Lotto’s eyes began to develop spots and he blinked them away while he studied his opponent’s style. Actually the man had more talent than he originally gave him credit for, but there were tell tale moves that he made every time and Lotto tested to make sure there was no trickery, remembering Kenyr’s style. Both of them were winded from the previous fighting. They parried and thrust and slashed at each other.
“Lesson time is over,” Lotto said. He had one move remaining before his strength ran out. Feinting a thrust to the man’s unprotected neck, Lotto quickly brought the sword down and then up between his opponent’s legs. His sword sliced through the velvet and ran up through the man’s stomach. The hem of his opponent’s chainmail shirt followed the tip of the blade up the man’s middle until the sword reached his foe’s breastbone. Lott pushed the sword with the last of his strength. His opponent toppled over, his eyes wide with surprise, his mouth groping for air. Lotto backed up to find his friendly wall and sat back down, his sword ready for another opponent, but he admitted that he didn’t have any more fight left in him.
He groped around for another bandage as Lessa ran into the court room with twenty or so men. Lotto thought that the captain ran to him, but the men gathered over the gravely injured man he had just fought.
“Your majesty,” Lessa said. “I think you are hurt.” Lotto didn’t hear much concern in Lessa’s voice. “It would appear that your days as ruler of Prola are over.”
Lotto heard a sigh and could see the king, whom he had just bested, relax. He couldn’t help but sigh himself. The battle had ended and the Prolans won. He smiled and went back to struggling with his bandage as the ever-building pain in his hand spread out to his wrist and up his arm. Other smaller injuries began to make themselves known as Lessa turned around and looked at Lotto’s sword.
“You?”
“He wanted to show me how good of a swordsman he was.” Lotto smiled, not really feeling the bravado of his words, but he felt Lessa expected some such comment.
“He beat me more than once,” Lessa said.
Lotto shrugged and didn’t have the heart to tell Lessa that he defeated the king of Prola, injured and left-handed. “Maybe today just wasn’t his day.”
The captain brightened. “Certainly not.” A soldier ran into the room and whispered in Lessa’s ear. “A contingent of Dakkorans fled to the harbor and sailed away. I’m sure it wasn’t their day either.” Lessa grinned and Lotto tried as he could to mimic, but couldn’t quite manage.
~~~
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
~
THE SLOW, EVEN PACE OF THE HORSE, lulled Lotto to sleep as he commanded the column taking wounded soldiers back to the capital. While they moved through the countryside, their numbers dwindled as some soldiers elected to muster out as they passed roads to their homes.
Lessa and his council had wanted Lotto to stay and act as the ambassador to Prola, but it seemed that the Valetan ambassador came out of hiding soon after the storming of the castle. Evidently the Dakkorans had threatened his life if he had communicated with Valetan.
The battlefield promotion had bothered Lotto and he didn’t feel that he had earned it. The men in his dwindling column treated him as a real officer, so Lotto tried to maintain as much posture of command as he could. His thoughts went to the report from Captain Applewood, sealed in a messenger case to keep him from reading it, to give to Mander Hart. What kind of twist would Applewood put on the events in Prola? Would his efforts be praised or minimized? Lotto didn’t know and wondered if it made a difference. He could tell the truth to Mander and that would just have to do.
At first, his wrist demanded constant care and became a little infected on his ride. He kept it wrapped up in a poultice, but his entire arm continued to throb. Lotto tried to ignore his injury, but the pain seemed to have become part of him.
By the time the walls of Beckondale appeared, the pain had begun to decline and the healers had already started to ignore him and suggest that he drink wine or ale if his arm ached. Perhaps that’s what made soldiers heavy drinkers? Lotto thought not, but he ended up being slightly drunk as he rode through the last of the pain.
He began to wean himself from the wine the last two days in the saddle and sat straight up on his horse when he realized that Restella had returned to the castle. The Moonstone couldn’t deceive him. Would his dreams become troubled with visions of the princess? That concern filled his mind as he rode through the gates at the head of his column of wagons. They headed to the barracks and Lotto dismounted, washed the worst of travel dust off of his face and sought out Mander.
~
For once Restella appreciated the solitude of her own rooms in the castle as she sat back in her bath and winced as her wounds flashed with pain as tender skin hit hot water. Taking Ashington had worked and Silver had done a marvelous job, but her forces bore the brunt of the fighting and if it weren’t for getting advanced notice of Ashdown’s army attacking from a side road, she might reside permanently and deeply in Ashdown country.
She had adopted the habit of keeping her sword close by as she rested, but she kept her hand away from the Moonstone. She had resisted seeking out Lotto ever since the battles began in Ashdown. She didn’t want the distraction. What had she become that she would become so attached to her weapon? She had noticed the same behavior of fellow soldiers. Fellow soldiers. She smiled at the thought. Her military service would forever define her. Her finger touched the Moonstone and instantly Lotto’s face appeared in her mind.
“Oh, no!” she said to the empty room. More dreams of him? The shock of his close proximty began to build as Restella just about stood up in the tub.
“Friends,” she said to calm her emotions. “We are friends.” Her emotions dissipated and the image became less threatening. This time she would seek him out and come to an accommodation. Silver always gave her excellent advice and she vowed that Lotto would become a friend. Well, perhaps not a friend, but not an object of horror.
She took a series of deep breaths as she tried to control her attitude. What had brought him back to Beckondale? The last time she had checked, weeks ago, he had penetrated deep into Prola. She would see Mander, since the man knew everything.
The loose dress felt soothing against her bandages and her skin as she hurried down the corridor to Mander’s office. The guards didn’t know whether to bow or to salute, so most of them did both, bringing a slight smile to Restella’s lips. She purposely left her sword in her rooms to keep her link with Lotto at a minimum. Still, she felt his presence in the castle like the heat of a thin sun on a cold day, faintly warm.
Stopping at Mander’s office door, she fiddled with her fingers and entered into the anteroom. Two young men sat at desks, buried in paperwork piled on their desks. A messenger bowed to her as he rushed out of the room. The men stood up.
“Is Mander Hart in?”
“He is with someone.”
Restella twisted her mouth. Perhaps a little royal pique might expedite things. “If it isn’t my father, then I’ll join them.” She knocked and walked into Mander’s office. The force of the link made her blink as Lotto sat conversing with Mander. She nearly fled from the room, but put her hand to her stomach for strength.
“Princess, have a seat, Lotto and I were talking about you.” Both of them stood and sat when she did.
Lotto had his arm wrapped in a fresh bandage and his eyes had a wild look that indicated he might spring from the room at a second’s notice. That gave her the strength to repress the exact same feeling. She took a deep breath—time to be nice. “An injury. The last time I looked, you were in Prola.”
“Looked, your majesty?” Mander said.
She couldn’t help making a face. “The link. There’s no use denying that the Moonstone links us, is there?” Her own voice felt forced and nervous. Lotto’s face looked abashed. “You knew I returned to the castle?” She turned and looked at him di
rectly in the eyes.
“I did, your highness,” he said.
Restella pursed her lips. “I give you permission to call me Restella, if you’ll give me permission to call you Lotto. The link should give us that level of intimacy, even if you are a common soldier.” Mander looked pleased at her statement.
“He’s not a common soldier, Restella.” Mander had ceased with her titles since she had been a child. “He currently holds a battlefield promotion of Captain and recently returned from Prola. His injury is due to a personal fight with the king of Prola, who I’m afraid did not survive the encounter.”
Lotto looked down at the floor, his face had gotten redder, if anything.
“The king of Prola? He had a reputation as one of the best swordsmen in his country. What put you in a position to kill him?” Restella’s jaw dropped, shocked at the news. A battlefield promotion? Captain?
“It’s a long story… Restella. Perhaps another time,” Lotto said.
Mander laughed. “The boy is too humble. He faced down the Prolan army, nearly single-handed, and convinced them to surrender.”
“It didn’t take much convincing since the king had turned into an awful ruler, under the influence of the Dakkorans,” Lotto said. “Their leader asked me to represent Valetan when we marched on Mountsea, so Captain Applewood made me a Captain while I rode with the Prolans. Now I’m just a soldier, again.”
“And he used his magic to open the otherwise impregnable gate at Mountsea Castle and fought through to the court room where he encountered the king.”
“I didn’t open the castle gates, I kept them from shutting,” Lotto said in a low voice.
“Magic!” Restella said. “We haven’t had a real warrior with magic since before Fessano’s time. Battle mages rarely know how to use weapons.” She looked at Lotto with new eyes.
“I fainted after I fused the doors open. Not much of a battle mage, but the rest is true.”
Mander raised a sheaf of pages and slapped them with the back of his hand. “Indeed it is. Captain Applewood called his performance ‘brilliant’ in his dispatch.”
Lotto looked up, surprised as if he hadn’t known of the importance of his actions.
“Let me be one of the first in the castle to congratulate you, Lotto.” Restella put out her hand to Lotto, but he wouldn’t take it.
“We can’t touch!” he said moving back.
Restella furrowed her brow. “Can’t touch? I’m the princess!” How dare he? She jumped to her feet as a flash of anger returned.
“You can’t feel it like I can, but something might change if we touch again.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what will happen. Forgive me if I offended your majesty, but it’s something that I feel.”
She couldn’t help putting her hand to her mouth. “We might change back to what we were?” The thought of shrinking appalled her and, it appeared, that his terror became her own.
Lotto shrugged and shook his head, in some kind of mental pain. “I don’t know. Do you want to chance it? I don’t”
Restella had to take some long slow breaths. The two of them waited while she composed herself. The entire episode had been an embarrassment but it also alarmed her as much as it must have shocked Lotto. “We can still be friends?”
A look of incomprehension came from him, but then she could see Lotto think. His eyes were so intelligent. She had never noticed that before. The village half-wit couldn’t be seen at all. This was an impressive young man and her feelings twisted inside. She refused to look at him as an eligible man. That would be dreadful. Restella wanted to escape from Mander’s office, but she couldn’t, not yet.
“Certainly. I’ve never felt otherwise,” Lotto said, lifting his chin and giving her the ghost of a smile. “I’ve never looked on you as an enemy. We fight for the same side, you in your way leading and me in my way…” he paused and grinned, suddenly he looked at ease. “I don’t know what my way is, but you understand. I didn’t mean to upset you.” The smile took the tension out of the room and Restella relaxed. Could the link have confused Lotto’s feelings as much as her own? The thought made her shudder.
Her cue had come; she stood up and straightened out her dress. “I came to talk to Mander about you and the link. It appears we have done so. I know you didn’t mean anything insulting by your reluctance to touch, but we will have to be careful, you and I, won’t we?” She leaned over Mander’s desk and shook his hand in a military way.
Lotto’s mentor smiled and said, “Captain Beecher. Thank you for seeking me out and your words with Lotto was all that I could wish. I don’t mean to speak for him, but he wants to function as normally as your unique relationship will allow.”
“Thank you both.” Restella repressed the urge to salute and left the room. She headed for her rooms not knowing if the encounter worked. Still, she had faced Lotto, the enemy. At least she had made a first step in battling the furious emotions that raged inside.
~
“You were serious about the touching, weren’t you?” Mander asked.
Lotto sat back in his chair. The sweet fragrance that surrounded the princess remained in the room as they had sat for a few moments, stunned by the meeting.
“I was and I know that something will happen when we do. Maybe we have to both touch the Moonstone, I don’t know exactly. Fessano might not know, either.”
“He’ll seek you out as soon as I tell him about this,” Mander waved Applewood’s report.
“A friend, and I can call her Restella. Who would have thought? She smelled very nice.” Lotto ignored the conversation that Mander carried on by himself.
Mander’s lips curled into a smile. “Indeed she did. I know she’s been fighting against the link ever since she observed you at the training ground.”
“The shock today wasn’t as bad,” Lotto said. “When she looked at me from afar when I fought, I felt… naked to the world. I had to leave. I wanted to when she first walked in, but while we talked, it was like making peace. Perhaps I can manage not obsessing about it.”
“Good. So why don’t you take up residence in the bookshop until we have your status sorted out. I’m sure it needs dusting and you’ll be out of commission for a few weeks yet.” Mander filled out a scrap of paper. “Here is a pass. I may call you back to the castle at any time, but just relax. A little more physical distance from the princess, right? You might even call on Kenyr. I’m sure he’ll enjoy your latest adventure and, who knows, you just might get an invitation to dine at Lady Anna’s house.” Mander gave Lotto a wink.
~
Mander had been right. Lotto didn’t want to sit around in the barracks. His battlefield command had given him a taste for respect from others and after a couple of nights in the common soldier barracks that didn’t sit well with him for some reason, so he took refuge in the bookshop.
Had he grown soft or had he grown arrogant? Lotto didn’t know and cleaning out the shop didn’t seem to provide any answers other than a distraction from asking the questions. After finishing with the basic cleaning, he washed the grimy windows and as the sun set, he went back to the kitchen to fix some tea and gnaw on the old bread he brought with him from the barracks.
Looking at the kettle heat up from the fire in the stove, he stood up and decided he’d walk over to Kenyr’s and see if his old friend had a free night. Walking through Beckondale in the twilight brought back memories of just arriving in town after parting from Jessie and beginning his lessons. Even though only two years had passed, his time in Beckondale seemed like ages.
Kenyr’s windows were lit and Lotto walked through to the training floor. Kenyr stood with a thin pole in his hand, observing three students. Lotto remembered it giving him bruises when he displayed the wrong posture. He wiggled his fingers and still felt the pain that had made him use his left hand for most of the cleaning.
“Lotto!” Kenyr hit one of the students on the back. “Better posture. Spar for a bit.” He walked over to Lotto.
�
��Hi, Kenyr.”
“Hail the conquering hero! Mander stopped by this morning and told me about your exploits. Dispatching a rebellious king ranks right up there, boy. Your father would be proud. And stopping the Prolan army by yourself—”
“It wasn’t the entire army. They had split up, however their commander was with them and he had no taste for fighting,” Lotto said with a smile. The very act of smiling always brightened his spirits.
“That’s enough for tonight. I give you the night off. Now, go!” Kenyr told his students.
“You don’t have to…”
“I want to, Lotto.” He continued to herd his students out of his shop and locked the front door. “Come with me up to my humble abode.”
Lotto couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows. Kenyr had never invited him to his rooms above the front of the shop. When he had visited with Gully, they ate and drank in the training hall. As he climbed the stairs and Lotto caught the aroma of spices.
“I still eat like a Serytaran after all these years.” Kenyr said. “So my rooms stink a bit to a Valetan’s nose.”
“My nose is as Serytaran as yours,” Lotto said.
“Pah! You know what I mean.” Kenyr opened the door and let Lotto in.
He walked into a different world—or a different country, anyway. The room had odd furniture and beads on the doorways instead of proper doors.
“This is how your parents lived… well their palace was more tastefully done.” Kenyr’s face flushed a bit. “We sit on low chairs. My knees are beginning to complain a bit, but still. Sit.”
Lotto fell into a chair that looked like an egg cut in half diagonally. Strips of cane were woven in a complex pattern to give the chair shape and a cushion fit inside the chair. He leaned back in comfort.
“So?” Kenyr said as he disappeared into what must be the kitchen.
“So what?”
“They made you a Captain during the campaign. That doesn’t happen very often. Start at the beginning and I’ll fix you something to eat, Serytar-style.”