by Guy Antibes
“Sorting the good from the bad?”
The Captain of the Guard nodded. “Sorting out the blades that are only good for practice,” he said. “What brings you two into the armory?”
Malden patted Pol on the shoulder. “The prince has something to talk about with you. It is time for me to go.” The magician looked at Pol. “Tomorrow at dawn, my rooms.” He turned and walked out.
Pol watched Kelso’s eyes following Malden out the door. “I’ve reconsidered your offer. Can you teach me to defend myself?”
“May I ask what has caused this change of heart, Prince Poldon?”
Was this a change in Pol’s own patterns? He quickly concluded that he should change what he normally did in order to survive. “I thought I could change my behavior and that would make my siblings like me more.”
Kelso snorted. “Not bloody likely. The stakes are too high to let a bit of a smile and a courtesy mollify the competition for your father’s throne. You’ve made the right choice, but we can’t just deal with defense. You will have to learn offensive tactics as part of your defense. It’s a vital element in changing control in a fight. If you can’t wrest control from your opponent, you are bound to be defeated.”
That fit into what Malden had said about magic. Tweaking the pattern. Pol thought if you could make a pattern unstable with an unexpected offense, then the control could change. He smiled at the concept, and that still served to let Kelso know that he agreed.
“I don’t know how I can go on an offensive if I am so… so—”
“Small? Weak? I didn’t say attack with all your might. You couldn’t really do that against Landon, right?”
Pol had to admit that was exactly what he feared. In a sword fight, Landon would certainly prevail no matter what defense Pol put up, or so he thought. “Right.”
“First of all, like I tried to tell you in the infirmary, you need to build up some strength. It’s not only getting stronger, but gaining confidence in your physical actions. Let’s talk while I get these sorted out.”
Pol looked around the table. “One barrel for good swords, another for practice, but what is this third barrel?”
“Scrap. Swords with loose hilts, bent blades or edges that won’t take sharpening are scrapped and made into new weapons. A good soldier always avoids using a defective blade, since it can put him in unexpected peril at the wrong time.”
Pol nodded. Kelso talked about swords and what criteria he used to sort them. After a while, Pol began to help him classify the blades. He’d return tomorrow afternoon for the beginning of physical training.
With a free evening, Pol ate in his rooms, and then headed back to the classroom to continue reading the text on religions. After three chapters, Pol had read enough. He looked at his notes and searched for patterns between one religion and the next.
He had read only four chapters, and already he could see similarities. After recording his observations, he searched the bookshelves for any books on magic, but couldn’t find any. That couldn’t help but be an intentional omission by Mistress Farthia and something to discuss with Malden tomorrow.
~~~
Chapter Five
~
THE COURT MAGICIAN KNOCKED ON POL’S DOOR. “I have received permission from your father to eat breakfast with you in the family dining room.”
Pol opened the door, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “I’m not quite ready, come in. I won’t take long.” He let the Malden in and showed him to a seat in his sitting room while he went back into his bedroom for a quick face wash, and to run a brush through his straw-like hair.
“This is a pattern change,” Pol said when he entered his sitting room.
Malden stood looking out the window and turned. “It is. Glad you noticed. I thought you’d rather like the food you’re used to. My morning meals are simpler, as you know. The King agreed. I’d like to see how your siblings interact with you when you have an ally in the room, at least I’d like to think I’m an ally.”
“More of a bodyguard?”
The magician shrugged. “Perhaps something like that, too. It is a change in a pattern. One that we initiate, remember that.”
“It didn’t work out too well the last time I tried.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t learn from every tweak. Even for a magician, you try to learn from every experience, both the good ones, but especially the bad experiences.” Malden walked to the door. “Ready?”
Pol narrowed his eyes. “Why shouldn’t I be?”
“There is always a risk of something unexpected happening when you initiate a change. We will talk about it after.”
Amonna arrived at the dining room and slipped through the door just as they arrived.
“Allow me,” Malden said, opening the door for Pol.
When Pol stepped through his brothers and youngest sister turned to look. Malden bowed to each of them.
Landon sneered. “Not brave enough to show up on your own?”
Pol ignored him and showed Malden to the buffet table. He was relieved that a buffet had been set up this morning. Not having to order relieved Pol of an awkward period of waiting for their food to arrive.
“What are you doing here?” Grostin said, looking at Malden and ignoring Pol.
“My Prince,” Malden said, nodding his head towards Grostin, and then at Landon, “ Your father suggested that Pol, rather than eating in my rooms at the start of each day, enjoy his food more in keeping with Pol’s rank.”
Landon snorted. “Rank?” He held his nose. “Yes, I do believe Pol is rank.”
“I stink less than you do,” Pol said, losing a bit of control.
Pol’s oldest brother lifted his chin. “You won’t say that when I’m the King of Listya.”
“I’ll be able to smell you all the way from Borstall, then,” Pol said, “and I’ll still be able to say it.”
“Juvenile talk,” Grostin said.
“Ah, you have been listening? And will you join your brother in Listya? I’ll bet you’ll do really well as his Royal Poisoner,” Pol said.
Malden gripped Pol’s arm.
Pol growled. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather enjoy my food than the disgusting repartee.”
Grostin frowned. “What is repartee?” He looked down at his plate and at Landon, who shrugged.
“Talk, banter,” Pol said dismissively.
“Don’t look down at me,” Grostin said to Pol, and then he glared at Malden. “Use regular words in the presence of your betters, magician.”
Malden blinked his eyes and moved his head back in surprise. “I will, My Prince.”
Grostin grunted and looked down at his plate.
“How are you feeling these days?” Amonna said, looking at Pol.
At least one of the three acted civilly to him. “I am gaining a bit of strength every day.”
“And knowledge,” Malden said, looking carefully at Pol’s brothers. “Since Mistress Wissingbel has journeyed to Yastan, I have taken Pol under my wing, so he can continue to learn in her absence.”
“What do you know?” Landon said with a sneer in his voice.
Malden’s eyes lost focus and Pol wondered what kind of magic he’d perform.
Landon stood up, knocking the chair backwards. “What the…” He looked down at his plate.
Pol could see it floated and inch or two above the table.
“I will lower your plate,” Malden said, and the plate dropped. A few particles of Landon’s breakfast flew off. The magician blinked slowly and turned his gaze to Landon. “I know how to do that, do you?”
“I—” Landon sputtered as he picked up the chair.
“You don’t?” Malden said. “Just as Prince Grostin doesn’t know as many words as Prince Pol does, you don’t know the slightest bit of magic. In magical abilities doesn’t that make me your better?” Malden shook his head. “No, it doesn’t, does it?” Pol could tell that was Malden’s way of defusing his demonstration. The magician continued, “We’ll quickly eat our
breakfasts and leave you alone.” Malden winked at Amonna, who looked rather amused. She chanced a glance at her oldest brother and wiped the smile off her face.
The rest of breakfast proceeded in silence. Pol knew enough had been said and done already, and he wondered what kind of reprisal he could expect.
Once they had finished, Pol and Malden made their way across the castle to the magician’s chambers.
“You shouldn’t lose your temper,” Malden said. “It puts you at an instant disadvantage. If their temper matches yours, you will be caught in a fight that you can’t win. If they remain calm, you look smaller and more vulnerable in their eyes, and they’ll know you’ll be easier to prod into rash behavior.”
“But they make me so mad.”
“They angered me as well, but what did I do?”
Pol considered the magic episode. “You showed them your power.”
“But why?”
“To teach them?”
Malden smiled. “Teach them what?”
“That you have talents that they will never attain.”
“Good. I also distracted them from your own anger, didn’t I?” Malden said.
“You made it look like I know more than they do.”
Malden smiled again, looking ahead as they walked. “Don’t you?”
“Father says I do.”
“Don’t tell them that. You’ll only get them riled up. You must interact with them carefully. Even I overdid it with my interaction with Prince Landon.” Malden smiled. “At least we gave them something additional to think about today.”
Pol didn’t share Malden’s confidence, but then the magician never did lack in that area from Pol’s perspective.
~
Two weeks later, Pol sat with Kelso in the squad room of the Palace Guard. With Malden close most of the time, the siblings had generally ignored him. Pol followed Kelso’s training and exercise regimen every day and did even more practice up in his rooms in the evenings. He wondered what would happen when Mistress Wissingbel returned and he lost his bodyguard.
“You have the exercises down, Prince, but not the intensity. In order to get strength, you need to challenge your body. Your flexibility would have improved, if you weren’t so young. People your age are quite flexible anyway. You need to exert yourself. I know it’s not in your nature, but trying isn’t enough. Muscles are paid for with sweat.”
Pol sat down after demonstrating the moves that he had learned. “I don’t like the exercising,” Pol said.
Kelso put his hand to his bearded chin. “Then we need to give you some goals. Would that work better?”
“Like keeping score?”
Kelso nodded. He pulled out a sheet of paper and dipped a pen in an inkwell. “First of all, we are going to use weights. We will increase your repetitions, but go down to lighter weights and then increase them again once you’ve gotten comfortable at that level. The idea is to work you hard enough to where you are uncomfortable. Once we know what you can do, then we will chart out a plan. The goal is to get some improvement in your strength from today. In the meantime, we will talk about two elements for those who lack strength. It may not seem noble to you, but you can certainly master how to move with stealth.”
“Like a hunter?”
Kelso broke into a grin. “Exactly. You learned some of that with Siggon, right?”
“I did.”
“Then you’ll spend more time with him. That way Pakkingail and you can figure out your own games. Siggon knows more than how to move quietly in a forest from his scouting experience. You’ll be doing some training on the castle grounds, but at night. Can you handle a little less sleep?”
Pol nodded.
“Good. I’ll let Malden know what the new plan is.”
Why did Kelso have to get Malden’s permission? Had the king directed Malden to be his bodyguard? He had only been joking in the dining room with his siblings, but it looked like he might have spoken the truth, after all. It didn’t matter, not really. A pattern change. Pol knew that the less predictable he could be, the more power he could acquire at the expense of his siblings.
~
Paki stood looking towards the gardens in the dark. Pol had moved faster than he had, using a different route, and now faced Paki’s back. Pol grabbed hold of the bar of chalk in his pocket, walked up to his friend in the darkness, and struck a line down Paki’s back.
“What?” Paki turned, his face filled with shock. “How did you?” He put his hands on his hips. “Magic? You’ve been spending too much time with Malden Gastoria.”
Pol laughed. He had used everything he had learned before his poisoning along with new walking techniques that Siggon had taught him. Kelso had reviewed the plans of the castle, allowing Pol to take short cuts. The short cuts were the real disruption in the pattern that Paki saw, and Pol had the confidence that he could succeed.
“I’ve spent time with Kelso. I learned about the benefit of shortcuts.”
Paki clapped Pol on the shoulders. His friend had grown noticeably taller in the last month. “You’ll have to share your knowledge. It will help me stay one foot in front of my father,” Paki said.
Pol felt wonderful. His planning and hard work had paid off. Kelso had him running as much as he was able, but even if he lasted a bit longer, Pol tired quickly and just couldn’t gain the stamina that he wanted. Still, he had slipped through the castle grounds more quickly than Paki, who was in much better shape.
Later in his bedroom, Pol fell onto his bed. Sleep came quickly, crowding out the vision of his victory.
He rose early the next morning and decided he would track Grostin before breakfast. He put on dark clothes to match the clouds that had rolled in that night and stationed himself just around the corner from Grostin’s chambers.
His brother surprised Pol and walked out much earlier than expected. He looked around the corridor before heading just past Pol in the opposite direction from the dining room. Pol hugged the wall as Grostin walked past.
He slithered along the wall and padded his way to the next intersection, and then ducked behind the edge of a tapestry. Grostin didn’t look back while Pol followed him.
His brother stopped and looked around before he turned into the servants’ quarters. Why would he be heading that way? Pol had no idea, and he couldn’t place Grostin’s actions into any kind of pattern that he knew.
Pol let just a slice of his head appear in the next corridor, just quickly enough to see Grostin knock on a door. A young servant girl grinned at Grostin and pulled him into her room.
What did that mean? Pol turned to go back to his rooms. He had just about made it past when someone hit him square in the back. Pol lost his breath.
“No bodyguard this morning?” Landon said.
Pol fought for breath. He leaned over, hands to knees, fighting for air, when Landon kicked him in his rear, sending Pol sprawling out on the stone floor. His brother stepped on his back and stalked off towards the dining room.
He finally caught his breath and felt for bruises. He’d be sitting tenderly for a while, and perhaps Paki could tell him the condition of his back. So much for stealth, he thought.
Pol shuffled to his rooms. His back and rump ached. He pulled the rope for breakfast. He’d eat in his rooms this morning. If Malden showed up, Pol could easily share his food, since his new injuries had taken away much of his appetite.
~
Kelso and Malden both shook their heads when Pol told him about his victory and his defeat.
“Why would Grostin be sneaking into the servants’ quarters, anyway?” Pol said.
Both men broke out in laughter. “You’re a bit young, but Grostin obviously was having a dalliance.”
“Dalliance?” Pol furrowed his brow until he understood. “Oh. He would be kissing the servant?”
“Perhaps more,” Kelso said.
Pol blushed. “That’s not proper.”
“No, but I’ll bet Landon was about to do the same, or perh
aps he was returning from such an encounter when he caught you.”
It embarrassed Pol to agree. “Stealth must include ingress and egress.”
“Good word choices,” Malden said.
Kelso rubbed Pol’s hair. “You can’t let up until you are sure you are safe. Vigilance throughout the entire mission. Paki wouldn’t know that since when you marked him, the game was over. You didn’t play a harmless game this morning.”
“And I lost.”
Kelso nodded. “You did. Learn from it, Prince Poldon. Be lucky you escaped with a few bruises to your body and your pride. It could always be much worse.”
A guard intruded on their conference. “Mistress Wissingbel has returned.”
Malden looked at Kelso. “She would have just barely made it to Yastan before she turned around and came back. I’ll be leaving you both,” the magician said, as he walked out of the room.
Kelso dismissed the guard. “You rest up for a couple of days, but continue your exercises.”
~~~
Chapter Six
~
A SERVANT SUMMONED POL FROM HIS ROOMS just after he had finished his lunch. Malden had excused himself from his duties for the afternoon, and Pol still hurt from his bruises. Mistress Wissingbel waited for him in the classroom.
“You came back early,” Pol said as he entered the room.
“No sense staying in Yastan when my father and the Emperor have launched a Processional.”
Pol tried to remember what a Processional was. The Emperor’s tour. He would pick five or six kingdoms and visit them, nearly unannounced. “Where is he going?”
“Waring, a corner of East Huffnya, Tarida, North Salvan, Finster, and then he’ll finish up going through Boxall on his way back.”
“Did you deliver the petition?” Pol said.
“You know about that? I did, thirty miles north of Baccusol, catching up with my father who accompanies Hazett Pastelle.”
Pol knew that was the real name of Hazett III, Emperor of Baccusol. “Can you tell me anything?”
Farthia looked into Pol’s eyes. “He might approve the petition if Landon marries. The Emperor is a great believer that a headstrong youth is softened by a serious relationship with a woman.” She made a face. “In some things, I think Hazett is a naive romantic. Just because he loves his wife and children, he thinks that every marriage is a success.”