The Way of the Shield

by Marshall Ryan Maresca

  “Around five bells,” Hemmit said.

  “I’m sorry,” Dayne said. The Grandmaster had assigned him to be ranking member on watch, starting in an hour. He couldn’t waste any more time here. He had to get back to the chapterhouse, attend to the Initiates. Make sure Jerinne was doing well, specifically. “I must be off.” He got up, putting one hand on Hemmit’s shoulder. “Please, if you could, keep my name out of your newssheet.”

  “I can’t withhold the truth, Dayne,” Hemmit laughed.

  “Then credit the Order, not me.”

  Before Hemmit could answer, Lin reached out and touched his arm. “They’ll keep you off the front page. I’ll make sure they do.”

  “Thank you. Now, duty calls.”

  With that, he bounded back to the chapterhouse.

  * * *

  “I do appreciate this, Vien.” Jerinne tightened up the laces on the vest of her friend’s dress uniform. It was hardly a perfect fit—a bit loose around the shoulders—but it would serve.

  “I wasn’t planning on wearing it tonight,” Vien said. “But try not to make a mess of mine.”

  “Honestly, I think the worst that’s going to happen to it may involve food stains.”

  “Are you actually eating at the Talon?” Vien sat down on her bed. “Or how does it work?”

  “I haven’t a clue. I just know a handful of the Parliament are dining there tonight—Seabrook included—and they want their assigned Tarians present. Maybe we’ll just be put on display in the middle of the dining room.”

  “They’re putting on a big show, you know.”

  “Commissioning us?”

  “No, I think . . .” Vien furrowed her brow in thought. “That, I think, is legitimate. They’re afraid of what happened today and want extra protection, and it also makes a good show, what with you and Dayne saving the day. But going to the Talon tonight? That’s the show.”

  “Put on a good face, all is as it should be, nothing bothers us, so night on the town. That sort of thing?”

  “Exactly. But don’t muss these. Really.” Vien patted her on the shoulder. “I’m going to need those in a few days when I make Candidate.” She left the room before Jerinne could respond. Jerinne had to admire the open confidence Vien always showed in her skills, in the inevitability of her promotion in the Order. Jerinne wished she could do the same.

  Shield strapped on and sword belted, Jerinne made her way down to the courtyard. Mister Ressin was already waiting, patient in closed stance, hands behind his back. A very familiar pose. “Are you ready to depart, Miss Fendall?”

  “Of course,” Jerinne returned. Ressin held the door for them as they went into the street, where a cab was waiting.

  “Top of Kinter, north side of Welling,” Ressin told the driver, taking the rear-facing seat automatically.

  “So,” Jerinne said, “I was raised in the household of Baron Fortinare. Yourself?”

  Ressin gave her the slightest smile. “It shows?”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  “The Earl of Grinnal. My father was the underbutler. Your parents?”

  “Father was valet to the baron, mother was lady’s maid to his daughter, and then head mistress of the staff. You have the bearing of a man who had a life of service beaten into him.”

  “Quite true,” Ressin said. “Trained to serve at table, to dress, receive guests, every rule of etiquette. I’m sure you know.”

  “I know how to serve or sit at the table tonight,” Jerinne said. “Though I don’t think you would call on me to do the former.”

  “It—” He hesitated. “No, of course not. You’ll be dining with the Good Mister Seabrook. He’s eager to meet you.”

  “So how did the son of an underbutler wind up at the right hand of Good Mister Seabrook?”

  Ressin paused, his mouth poised to speak for a moment longer than was comfortable for Jerinne. Finally he said, “The earl’s household—a sort of story I’m sure you’ve heard—had no positions available when I came of age.”

  Jerinne nodded. Stories of noble houses cutting down their staffs, especially in the countryside of the northern archduchies, were exceedingly common.

  “So I enlisted in the Navy. Spent three years on the Pride of Sauriya under Captain Seabrook, until Hantal Bay.”

  He said “Hantal Bay” like it was something anyone with any sense was already familiar with. Jerinne didn’t know where it was, let alone what of significance might have happened there. She nodded in feigned understanding, not wanting to appear ignorant.

  “Since then, at his request, I’ve stayed at Good Mister Seabrook’s side. And I’ve found my loyalty has been richly rewarded.”

  “Clearly,” Jerinne said. The man was riding in a personal carriage, wearing Turjin silk and about to dine at the Talon. That was impressive for the son of an underbutler.

  The carriage pulled up to a walled manor house, staying outside the gate. Ressin politely excused himself and went inside, which implied Jerinne was to wait with the driver. Jerinne left her shield on the rear-facing seat and stepped down.

  A quick glance at the household told her that actually securing the place would be a challenge, if that was to be asked of her. There was a wall around the house, and it was high enough, at least ten feet. But even from here, she could see there were several spots where it would be easy to climb. On top of that, as far as Jerinne could tell, there were some tall trees on the property that could easily hide an intruder’s ascent. She couldn’t see much of the house itself, but she imagined there were several entrances, large bay windows. A nightmare for security. Was that part of what Seabrook expected? Or was this all more about putting on a show, walking about town with Jerinne by his side?

  The thought drilled its way into her skull: she had no idea what was expected of her. Or how to accomplish it.

  In fact, if this mission involved much more than walking around town and being seen at Seabrook’s side, Jerinne was doomed.

  Ressin came back out, presumably with Seabrook. He seemed young for a Parliamentarian, hair and neatly trimmed beard a rich brown without even a hint of gray. He was dressed in a rich suit, hints of silk lining and silver hasps, designed to almost resemble a naval officer’s uniform, down to the braids on the cuff.

  “Miss Fendall, a pleasure,” Seabrook said, extending his left hand. Jerinne realized the man’s right arm didn’t move, instead it was slung to his body. The suit did a good job of hiding this fact.

  Jerinne took the man’s hand with her own left without missing stride. “It’s my pleasure, good sir.”

  “Ressin here tells me you are the hero of the hour, as it were,” he said, taking his place in the carriage. Ressin entered as well, with Jerinne sharing the rear-facing seat. Jerinne moved her shield onto her lap as the carriage started off again.

  “Not me, sir,” Jerinne said. “Dayne—Mister Heldrin, that is, he’s really the one.”

  “Ah, not how I hear it.” He shook his left finger at Ressin. “Though it does you credit to say so. No, from what I hear, your friend Heldrin was blessed with opportunity. He had time to assess the situation, make a plan. All well and good, don’t get me wrong, and he’s given good name to your Order.”

  “Indeed he has, sir.”

  “But you were in a very different situation, young lady. In the very center, and what did you do?”

  Jerinne wasn’t sure if she was supposed to answer this question.

  “You stood your ground against them! Only one who talked back!”

  “It wasn’t—”

  “Do not be modest, dear girl. I won’t have it.”

  “No,” Jerinne said holding up her hands. “In all honesty, I just couldn’t take any more of that Lannic’s speech. I had to say something.”

  Seabrook burst out laughing. “Excellent! You were right, Ressin, this young pip is a good
lady, indeed. Now, we are going to the Talon. You’ve been?”

  “Never, sir,” Jerinne said.

  “Then I am honored, indeed.” Seabrook grinned wildly. “I get to be the one to introduce this fine girl to proper society. Let the others claim the Adepts and the Candidates. I have the real thing right here.”

  So it was to be about being seen at Seabrook’s side. Jerinne could handle that just fine.

  * * *

  The chapterhouse was significantly quieter when Dayne returned. The kitchen staff could be heard, clangs and shouts common to preparing dinner. There was almost no sign of any of the Adepts or Candidates about. The Initiates were surely in the compound; Dayne had seen a few of them on the grounds, going through training steps.

  Dayne stopped a passing servant. “The Grandmaster, is he in his study?” He needed to know what, exactly, would be expected of him in the next few days.

  “He’s gone, sir,” the young man said. “I’m told you’re to be the ranking member on the Watch. Is there anything else I could do?”

  Dayne noticed his hands were filthy, and likely the rest of him was as well. That wouldn’t do. “Hot water to the baths.”

  “There already is, sir,” the servant said. “We’ve been on that for the past few hours, if you pardon. With everyone being commissioned by members of Parliament . . .”

  “Of course,” Dayne said. Faces to wash, armor to polish. That is, if they were going out in armor. They might all opt for dress uniform, given the situation. He was still wearing his. Stripping off the coat, he handed it to the servant. “So the baths are ready? I’ll be about that, then.”

  “Of course, sir. From what I gather supper will just be you and the Initiates. Is that correct?”

  Dayne nodded, not sure how to take that. “If you say so.”

  “Very good. Half past six bells for that.”

  The servant excused himself. Dayne made his way to the bathhouse, out past the back garden. The fact that the Tarians had a private bathhouse was something of a luxury, though unlike the various public ones in Maradaine, it wasn’t built atop a natural hot spring. Servants had to lug great bins of water out to the bathhouse. Another luxury. One, frankly, that Dayne often thought the Order should do without. At the very least, it could be a task assigned to Initiates.

  Dayne entered the warm wooden structure, his eyes adjusting to the lamplight as he entered. Before he could see, he heard someone in the tubs.

  “Close the door, you’ll let the chill in,” a caustic voice chided him.

  Amaya.

  He did as he was instructed, now seeing her in the large copper tub in the corner of the room, scrubbing her arms. “Sorry to disturb you,” he said.

  “I purposely avoided the rush,” she said, giving her arms all her attention. Dayne looked to the other three tubs. In each of them, the water was already cold and brackish.

  “Is there something you needed?”

  “No,” Dayne said.

  “Then why did you come out here?”

  “To take a bath.”

  She huffed. “Well, you’re just standing there, fully dressed, with a stupid look on your face. So it doesn’t seem like you’re interested in bathing.”

  Dayne touched the surface of the water of one of the other tubs. Definitely wouldn’t get him clean. “I’ll have to wait for the water to be changed out.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Dayne,” she said, shifting her focus to her neck. “This tub is hot and fresh.”

  “I didn’t want to presume.” He took off his shirt and slacks. “There was a rush, then? Everyone getting ready for their assignments?”

  “They want to look their best to cozy up to the Parliamentarians,” Amaya said. She lay back in the water.

  Dayne finished undressing and cautiously got into the tub. “You can’t tell me you’re not doing the same.”

  “I’m going to be spending my evening at the Talon Club,” Amaya said. She sighed, as if in disgust. “I have to look presentable enough not to offend.”

  “I’m sure you’ll manage. But you aren’t trying to impress your Parliamentarian?”

  Her gaze locked on him, hardening. “Is that what you think of me?”

  “I just see what’s happening here.”

  She ground her teeth. “You think you’re any different? Why else were you and Master Denbar rescuing the Benedict boy?”

  “That’s what we’re supposed to do, Amaya. Protect people.”

  “Do you think if it had been, say, a carpenter’s daughter you would have been called in? No, you were asked to rescue the son of a prominent parliamentary family.”

  Dayne sank into the water to his chin. “And doing that did me more harm than good.”

  “What do you mean? You can’t hold yourself responsible for what happened to Master Denbar. He needed to be responsible for you.”

  Dayne sighed. He was responsible for Master Denbar, completely. “There’s more that my mistakes that night have cost me.”

  She gave him a piercing look, completely disarming him. “What cost?”

  There was no way he could be dishonest about this, not with Amaya. “The Grandmaster told me that I’ve made enemies of the Benedict family, including the ones in the Parliament.”

  “I’m sure you made a few allies today, though.”

  “But are they on the approval committee?”

  She looked up at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

  Maybe she didn’t know. He didn’t know before yesterday. “Apparently the yearly lists of Candidates to be promoted to Adept are sent to a committee in the Parliament for approval. One of the Benedicts is on it.”

  “Where did you hear this?” He had her full attention now.

  “From the Grandmaster. When he told me that I would never make Adept.”

  “You . . . what? No, that can’t be right.” She moved closer to him. Dayne became far more aware of her body, the heat of the water.

  “That’s what he told me.”

  “That’s impossible. You should be getting it this year. Certainly next, at the very least. How can the Parliament—”

  “Because they decide!” Dayne snapped. “That’s how it works.”

  Amaya was silent, but clearly more because she was in her own thoughts, rather than cowed by his outburst. “That makes sense,” she finally said. “The first month into my Candidacy, I was sent as an honor guard for a delegation to Imachan.” She sat up, pointing out an ugly scar over her right breast. “When we were set upon by marauders, I took two arrows, right here, saving the life of a member of Parliament.” She sank back into the water, the side of her body now against Dayne’s.

  “That’s how you made Adept in one year.”

  She nodded. “I thought it was because of what I did. But clearly it was because of who I did it for.”

  “What you did matters, Amaya.”

  “I try to tell myself that,” she said. She leaned her head against his shoulder, like it was something she had always done. It was something she used to do, back in their Initiacy. It felt natural to Dayne. “That’s who I’m assigned to.”

  “Who?”

  “The Honorable Greydon Hale. I saved his life in Imachan, and he asked for me tonight.”

  “Lucky you.”

  “I wish he hadn’t.” Her words were coated with bitterness. “I never liked how he looked at me.”

  “How do you like to be looked at?” Dayne asked. She had turned toward him, her body now crouched on top of his in the water.

  “Like this,” she said, her eyes fiery and alive.

  Then they were kissing.

  Dayne wasn’t sure who had initiated it. His hands were all over her body, and hers on him. It felt familiar, and in that moment, there was nothing he wanted more than to be there with Amaya.

  “
You stupid fool,” she whispered between kisses. “What am I going to do with you?”

  Dayne pushed her away. “What does that mean?”

  “You believe you’re never going to make Adept?”

  Her words cut harshly, despite the passion in her eyes. Her lips pursed, as if she were hungry for more of him. He forced himself to focus and respond to her. “The Grandmaster told me plainly.”

  “And you just take that? And you’ll take orders to cool your boots for another year until finally you’re cashiered out?” Despite the fact that she still straddled him, the look on her face made it clear now that the kissing was not about to continue.

  “What would you have me do, then?”

  “Fight for your placement!” she snapped. “Or walk out that door and be your own man.”

  Dayne couldn’t think of what to say to that. He had no idea what being his own man would even mean. All he wanted was to be a member of the Tarian Order. Without that, what would he do?

  His silence had lasted a second too long, as Amaya shoved herself off of him in disgust. Climbing out of the tub, she said, “You need to figure out what you want.”

  “I know what I want,” he said.

  She grabbed a towel off the shelf and wrapped herself with it. “And you’ve already decided that you can’t have it.”

  “I can’t.”

  “So then sit there and wallow in wanting.” With that, she left the bathhouse.

  Dayne sank back into the water. It was starting to turn cold.

  Chapter 11

  “WE’RE BEING PUNISHED,” Kemmer said. He and Braning were thigh deep in sewer waste, with only a dim oil lamp for light, so he was comfortable with that assessment. “Tharek and Lannic blame us for the museum going badly, and we’re being punished.”

  “They should blame us,” Braning said. He trudged through the muck with his head hung down. “We messed up.”

  Kemmer wasn’t going to take that. “No, Braning. First of all, the guy was a Tarian. We’re lucky our skulls are in one piece. Second, he may have taken us out first, but he pretty much got everyone. Singlehandedly. That can’t be our fault.”