by Guy Antibes
She shook her head and left the room, glaring at Grostin. Pol felt that was a good sign.
Bythia and Amonna walked into the room together, with linked arms.
“Who is this? Your bodyguard, Pol?” his younger sister asked.
“Valiso Gasibli. He will be teaching me different methods to defend myself, since I can’t fight for long with a sword, and he will also look out for my princely person.”
Amonna giggled. “Princely person, eh? He looks dangerous.”
“He is. That’s the point,” Pol said.
Bythia stared at Val and then grabbed Amonna. “I’m not hungry right now.”
Amonna glanced at Val and nodded her head. “We’ll be back after you’ve finished.”
Val moved his plate to the table. “Now that we are alone, we’ll eat together.” Val snorted. “I can see why you feel threatened. Have they always been this way?”
Pol nodded. “Worse since father petitioned Hazett to make my oldest brother vassal-king.”
“That’s what Ranno told me. Hurry up and finish your breakfast, so we don’t let Paki get himself hurt playing with knives in our classroom.”
Pol smiled at the thought of their private room at the armory called a classroom, but Val was right. Perhaps for a while, they would grab breakfast in the kitchens. However, they had not seen Landon. Pol wanted Val to get a good look at Landon and have his brother get a feel for how dangerous Val looked.
~
“Now that we have gone over these knives, I want to show you a special collection,” Val said. He uncovered a set of knives that he had arranged before they had arrived.
“Pol, why do you learn the patterns of other swordsmen?”
“So I can anticipate their moves. It makes it easier to defend.”
Paki looked down at the knives. “Those are really lethal, but aren’t they all smallish?”
“You are looking at assassin blades. All of these are easily concealed and have specific purposes. A good assassin might carry four of more of these on his or her person.”
“Are you training us to be assassins?” Paki said.
Pol shook his head. He was excited to experience a new kind of training. “If we know how assassins will use these blades, we have a chance to counter their attacks.”
Val grimaced and rubbed Pol’s hair. “Bright boy. You will learn how to use these along with the other knives we have talked about in the last ten days. I want you both to be proficient enough to be able to pick out your favorites. Every fighter uses the knives they are most comfortable with, and that is different for every person.”
Kelso put his head into the room. “Pol, King Astor and his party are leaving Borstall. Your presence is requested in the front courtyard.”
“I’ll be back,” Pol said.
Val began to gather the knives. “No need. We can end here. But I warn the both of you, our training will be getting more intense from here on.”
Pol ran out the door and straightened his clothes. He didn’t care to run up to his rooms and change just to say goodbye to King Astor, Bythia, and her mother. With Bythia gone, perhaps he could get some time with Amonna and find some way to repair their relationship. Pol didn’t think Bythia was a very good influence on his younger sister.
King Astor stood talking with Pol’s father when he walked into the courtyard. Mounted men in King Astor’s colors sat atop impatient mounts. Pol stood next to his mother. He looked around for Amonna, but she hadn’t arrived yet. Landon, Honna, and Grostin, looking as disagreeable as always, stood off to the other side of his father.
Pol heard Amonna laugh, and the two girls hurried down the steps. Both were dressed in traveling clothes. Pol had a sinking feeling.
“Will you miss me?” Amonna said to Pol. “I’ll be spending my time until the wedding in South Salvan. It’s warmer during the winter there, anyway,” she said. She put her face close to Pol. “Bythia might have stayed here, but she is scared out of her wits when your bodyguard is near. Not me, but…” she shrugged and ran over to Bythia who was saying farewell to the others.
Pol wondered if Bythia was disappointed their trip hadn’t ended with a formal betrothal. He didn’t care. The girl never treated him as a human, anyway. He suspected she and Landon would do just fine as husband and wife when the Emperor got around to approving his father’s petition.
“You are losing your only ally,” Val said, as he slipped just behind Pol.
Bythia looked at Pol, and then her face froze when she noticed Val, who gave her a little bow and a wave. “She is skittish around me, and that’s how I like it,” Val said.
Pol could see that. He looked around and noticed his mother’s ladies-in-waiting standing back by the steps. A new woman looked very fit and somewhat tanned for a noblewoman, but her eyes looked everywhere, constantly moving from place to place.
Malden and Mistress Farthia stood on the other side of the siblings and bowed as King Astor and the queen had a few words. Astor just looked over at Pol and nodded his head. The act didn’t seem unfriendly, but then what did Pol expect since he hadn’t really interacted with the King of South Salvan? The queen just ignored him, although she plainly liked the rest of his siblings as she bantered with them for a bit before being helped into the carriage by the King who got in on his own.
Pol stepped forward to assist his sister. “I’ll miss you,” he said to Amonna, as she was about to step inside.
She paused and pecked him on the cheek. “Take care of yourself.”
Pol nodded as she disappeared inside. Bythia gave him her hand, but she said nothing.
In a moment, Pol stood watching the coach depart. He would miss his sister, but the sister he really knew had been absent from the castle since Bythia had arrived.
Val stepped up to Pol’s side and pointed to one of Astor’s troops, just leaving the grounds.
“There’s your pea-shooter,” Val said. “Ranno didn’t want you to know that he was part of King Astor’s men until after they had left. I guess they are as good as gone.”
“So that means that King Astor was in on Siggon’s death?”
Val shook his head. “No way of knowing. The thugs that did him in were probably local boys.”
“So anyone could’ve hired them, including the pea shooter?”
“Could and did. Astor didn’t know Siggon, but any one of those three could as well as King Astor himself.” Val pointed with his chin at his siblings just turning to walk back into the castle.,
“Does my father know who the pea-shooter works for?”
Val shook his head. “I can’t say for sure, but knowing Ranno, no. He tries to protect the Emperor and the Empire and that means knowing when to say something and when not to. I’m sure he has his eye on Astor though. Think of it, a united North and South Salvan along with Listya? That could be the birth of a challenger to the might of Baccusol.”
Pol turned back to King Astor’s entourage, fading into the hubbub of the avenue leading away from the castle gates. He hoped Amonna would fare well in South Salvan, but he had his doubts. Why didn’t his father worry about these things? Pol shook his head and walked slowly with Val towards the castle.
~~~
Chapter Twenty-One
~
CASTLE LIFE RETURNED TO SOME NORMALCY. Pol felt the absence of Amonna, and oddly, the anticipation of the Emperor’s visit had brought interest to his life. That life had changed, however. Paki was closer to him than ever before, but Val’s constant presence reminded Pol that he still lived amidst constant danger.
“It is a letdown,” Mistress Farthia said as they began their instruction in the classroom. “I miss my father, even now. I think he liked you, even more than Hazett did.”
Pol didn’t know how to respond and just nodded. He had told no one about his secret encounter with the Emperor of Baccusol. Now that Hazett’s visit was over, Pol could believe that his meeting had been a delusion, but he really knew otherwise.
Farthia pushed P
ol’s shoulder. “Tell me, you were surprised and pleased by the Emperor’s attention.”
“If he had never come, Siggon would still be alive. I wouldn’t have lost a friend, and Paki’s father would still be alive. I wouldn’t have a scar on my face, and my arm wouldn’t be hurting.” He hoped that would cover up the clandestine discussion with Hazett.
“Malden said that would take a while to heal.”
“What? Siggon’s death? That will never heal.”
“No, young prince, your arm. We all grieve along with you. As for your lament, I seem to recall that your siblings’ tricks were getting more and more vicious before I left for Yastan.”
Pol thought a bit. “You’re right, but everything got worse.”
“That’s because your father pressed the petition on the Emperor and stirred up your two older brothers. If you want a cause for all the trouble, I’m afraid your father is more to blame. His obsession with putting Landon on the throne of Listya has gotten so bad that he refuses to punish his children for attacking you.”
Farthia brought up a reason that Pol didn’t want to face. His father could have stopped the attacks and the pranks and the disparagement that his siblings had constantly rained on him at any time. When everything got worse, King Colvin didn’t aggressively seek the attackers who went after Pol and his mother in the city streets. The peashooter was only pursued when Ranno took over the investigation.
“My father isn’t behind the attacks,” Pol said.
“I never said he was, but he enables the behavior. Landon and Grostin can do what they please, knowing King Colvin will do nothing. Look how he allowed Grostin to cheat in the tourney.”
“Landon didn’t get any special help in his contests.”
“Your oldest brother is lazy and coddled. Do your really think anyone would have believed it if he had won anything? The biggest evidence of that was when Ranno confronted your father in Hazett’s presence, identifying Landon as one of your assailants.”
“Ranno said he was going to keep it a secret.”
“That meant my father didn’t shout it out for all to hear. Hazett was not happy that King Colvin only scolded his son for assaulting you in your own rooms, but although the Emperor felt free to complain, that was all he did. You weren’t meant to survive, that’s what my father thinks,” Farthia said.
Pol refused to think his own father could be so callous, but the proof seemed to be right in front of him. He thought for a moment and realized that his father’s actions only fit the pattern that Mistress Farthia had described. It erased the feeling of relative complacency that he had felt earlier after King Astor had left.
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
Farthia squinted and pressed her lips together before saying, “As long as you don’t let your guard down, you can think what you like.”
Pol lifted his chin. “I will. Valiso Gasibli is always by my side, reminding me that someone could attack me at any time.”
That got a nod from Mistress Farthia. “Today we will learn how to count up receipts and introduce you to the purpose of specific taxes.”
“That’s for rulers,” Pol said, suddenly feeling irritable.
“No, that’s for merchants and innkeepers and successful farmers and blacksmiths. Rulers need to count as well, but much of what you’ll be learning for the next while applies to rulers and to the ruled.”
Pol slumped back and folded his arms. Why did she have to be so reasonable? He sighed and sat straight up in his chair. He knew when he needed to pay attention.
~
Val’s classroom instruction came to a stop, once the knives were all identified and thoroughly discussed.
“Now you have to learn how to use these, and to properly use any knife, you need to be physically fit.” He eyed Pol. “As fit as possible.”
They started each day with calisthenics and a run. Paki had to run much farther than Pol, but Paki told Pol he didn’t mind. Anything was better than gardening.
“I will demonstrate the technique,” Val said, facing a clothed straw dummy. “You will learn the same moves. Don’t vary them until you can perform exactly as I teach you.”
“But we’re not training to be assassins, are we?” Paki said.
Val looked a bit put out by Paki’s comment. “Like I said. You need to learn the moves in order to counter them.” He assumed an attack pose.
“Or recognize certain cuts on a dead person,” Pol said.
Val stood up and gave Pol the grimace that served as a smile for his tutor. “You hit the target. You need to learn both. There are more chances that you will see the work of an assassin than you will have to defend against one.”
Pol hadn’t yet seen proof of that, since he had always been the one attacked.
After showing them how to stand, Val taught them the basics of using a short, curved blade. The slash resulted in a cut throat. Pol shivered at the thought of being killed that way.
“Now both of you.”
Pol sighed and did exactly as Val had taught. Paki took a couple of tries, but he got the hang of the move.
“Now how would you defend against that?”
“Wear a gorget,” Paki said.
“Those are quite uncomfortable to sleep with, so most targets would take them off.”
“Distance,” Pol said. “Do something to keep the attacker away. That would work for most knives unless they are thrown.”
Val moved his head from side to side. “That works for awhile, if you are strong and aware and have something to keep the assassin at bay. Simple wooden chairs work well, and swords work better. But I will teach you moves that you can try.
The rest of the session was spent with wooden rods about the same length of the knife. Val drilled them in attacking and defending.
“This works if you are awake and aware,” Val said. “Unfortunately, if you are neither, your life will bleed out onto the floor.”
Every session turned into a variation of that until all of the assassin knives were tried out on dummies, and the boys worked with Val on one-to-one defensive measures.
As the sessions wore on, Pol created a notebook on what he had learned and went over the techniques for a while after dinner, practicing with various items in his rooms.
Malden’s classes sapped him of even more strength. He started every session moving something from one place to another. But as he practiced more, his abilities grew.
When Pol first used magic to move the big religion text from the map table to the desk, he could feel his energy drain. Now he moved chairs and tables with relative ease. He could still feel his energy decline, but not like before. He had doubted Malden’s claim that practice made a magician stronger, but Pol had proven himself wrong. He felt uncomfortable with the fact that he could be wrong, but he was.
Most of Malden’s sessions consisted of recognizing patterns. Sometimes they strolled through the Royal Gardens or in the armory or the stables. Malden pointed out something, and Pol had to discern a pattern and how it might be tweaked.
Rarely did Malden show Pol how to do anything. King Colvin didn’t often use Malden as a magician, but often called him away from their lessons to act in the role of a counselor since the magician’s advice must have been generally sound, Pol thought.
“Why doesn’t Father use your magical ability?” Pol said when they walked through the closest marketplace to the castle. Pol looked around and saw Val following a few paces behind.
Malden smiled and looked off towards the castle looming over the rooftops. “King Colvin has a basic distrust of magic. Before I came, the border with Tarida came under attack, as it does from time to time. The old Court Magician at the time claimed he could shield your grandfather from an oncoming hail of arrows. The magician didn’t realize that there was a flight coming in from the enemy that had sneaked along his flank and didn’t account for that in the shield that he made. That’s how Colvin vaulted from Prince to the King of North Salvan.”
Malden barked out a laugh. “I wouldn’t want to make a magical shield in the first place. A battlefield is a poor place for magic. Patterns shift and change and do unexpected things. If you are injured, you lose your ability to tweak. There’s a limitation on what you can do, and that limitation ebbs and flows during the course of a battle. You need a quick mind to survive, and even the fastest thought might not be enough in a war.”
“But I learned patterns for sword fighting and how to find people trailing me.”
“Can you do both at once?” Malden said.
“No.”
“Neither can I. I suppose if you could split your mind into a million pieces you might find an advantage in a battle. I haven’t heard of anything like that. No, it’s better to learn how to do magic on a small scale. You’ll live longer.”
“Healing isn’t small scale, but it must take a long time to learn.”
Malden nodded. “Simple things are simple, and most magicians can heal something they see. I spent a few years learning how the human body functions, so I can find more patterns to tweak or un-tweak, as the case may be.”
Would Pol ever get the chance to take years to learn healing? Not while his mother was still in danger, and with his father excusing his children’s behavior, Pol didn’t know when that would be. Sometimes he really felt he should spend time in a monastery learning magic.
He clutched his hands into fists from the frustration that he felt. Pol felt bound by circumstances and powerless to make any kind of choice affecting his truncated future.
~
Val shook Pol from a deep, dreamless slumber. Pol sat up and blinked his eyes, looking at the darkness of an early morning.
“What time is it?”
“Half past the fourth hour. Paki was ambushed. A woman found him crumpled up in an alley. He’s been taken to the infirmary where Malden is looking after him. He will survive.”
“Let’s see how he is,” Pol said getting out court clothes.
“No. Wear practice clothes. We’re not going to see Paki yet.”