17878265

by David

  “What of the princess?” he whispered. “Is she safe?”

  “She was when last I saw her, but she may stand unguarded while we hold this meeting,”

  Loric informed Aldric. He went on to tell what precautions he had taken on Avalana’s behalf, to which Aldric nodded his approval.

  The Lord of Egolstadt grinned broadly and said, “The princess is well guarded, then. You have proven you are resourceful yet again, Loric. You have done well,” Aldric praised him. His face changed to one of horror, as he stopped his next intended sentence abruptly to ask, “What happened to you? Is this the work of the assassin?” he questioned.

  “No, my lord,” Loric mumbled. He lied ashamedly, “Stairs do not take kindly to great

  haste.”

  “They received the princess’ light feet with much satisfaction, though?” Aldric asked, wide-eyed with alarm.

  Loric feigned embarrassment. “Of course. I alone showed the grace of a one-legged bear.”

  “I am sorry to learn of your misfortune,” Aldric consoled him. A sly grin lit his face, as he added, “If I did not know better, I might think you try your best to remain injured to stay close to the lovely Princess of Regalsturn.” His slight pause, broken by a knowing chuckle, told Loric that his liege had spotted the reddening of his cheeks in the pale moonlight. Aldric went on, “I think it more likely that you were helped down those stairs, with all of Lord Garrick’s furniture to chase you down, for that is remarkably close to how I looked after a similar incident.” Before Loric could object, Aldric threw in, “My advice to you--in this order--is to duck, block and hit back next time someone wants to work you over like a practice-yard doll! You are a Squire of Egolstadt now!”

  “Yes, my lord,” Loric answered ashamedly. “I understand and I will do better, for the honor of your house.”

  “Good,” said Aldric, looking certain that he had gotten his message across. He withdrew a rolled parchment from his belt pouch, handed it to Loric and informed him, “This is your training schedule for the morrow. It will tell you where to be and when to be there, as well as what you will be learning and who will be instructing you in the event of my absence.” Extending his index finger toward a blank column on the paper, he told his attendant in a faint whisper, “Filter light through the diamond hilt of your father’s sword, and you will see here Princess Avalana’s scheduled activities for the same times.”

  “But.... how-?” Loric fumbled after his question.

  “Knight’s Code,” Aldric whispered. “It is an old and secret way to send messages,” he explained, “for it takes use of Knight Vision to see these messages.”

  “Knight’s Code…?” Loric questioned in near disbelief, with his fingers naturally straying to his hidden sword hilt. “Knight Vision,” he murmured. When Aldric nodded twice, his eyes casually following the subtle movement of Loric’s hand, the traveler from Taeglin confessed, “I had thought such things the stuff of legend.”

  Aldric chuckled and said, “You have much to learn about the Way of a Knight, Loric of Taeglin. Let tonight’s lesson be that oftentimes it is true that only time separates legend from reality.” He clapped his stunned squire on the back, urging him, “Let us return to our rooms, where we will say nothing of the things we have discussed here.”

  “Why is that, lord?” Loric begged to know.

  “Because our private guest chambers are not likely private, Loric,” Aldric explained, as they went.

  ****

  A full day of training followed a short night’s rest for Loric, whose library reading and sparring sessions were always located but a sharp eye distant from the Princess of Regalsturn.

  Whether he was learning with his sword or a lance, mounted or afoot, Avalana remained under his protective watch. Letting his gaze stray to the fair maiden overlong often earned him a stinging slap against his exposed flesh or a resounding shot across his helmet, because it was nigh on impossible for him to tear his eyes from her. Even knowing Lord Dandrakor’s ill will toward him could not blind him to Avalana’s fair features or her casual study of his practice from afar. To his surprise, some pretty attendants from among her flock also looked upon him with admiration, ere he ducked into his helmet for another round with Aldric.

  The princess smiled in approval as he met a challenging series of thrusts, slashes and pokes from Aldric’s wooden sword, and afterward turned back a similar variation on the routine in rapid succession. He grinned broadly at her in return, until Aldric made a selling fake for his midsection that turned into a successful slash for his head. Loric ducked, but he was too late.

  Clank! Off balance as he was, he slipped to the ground, where his instructor added a fierce poke to his ribs.

  Loric threw up his hands and cried, “I yield!”

  “A knight with no head has no need to yield,” Aldric admonished him. “His enemies will do to his corpse whatsoever they should wish, and he will not complain,” his liege assured him, adding another slap to his arm. “Our purpose here is twofold: to better teach you the sword, and the other you know well,” he implied, meaning to protect Avalana. “Neither of which includes gawking at fair maidens! Is that clear?”

  “Yes, my lord,” Loric replied sullenly.

  “You may break for a drink,” Aldric said more kindly. “Perhaps a little water will cool you off.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Loric returned submissively, but he felt hot within.

  Loric threw off his helmet. Then he offered a hasty bow, snatched up a jug and moved to draw water from a nearby pump. The water had just begun to gurgle to the spigot when he sensed another being behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see Avalana, who was holding a vase.

  Her sweet smile faded into a look of concern when she saw the bruises on his face. The princess gasped, clutched at her heart and asked, “What happened, Ami? Did Aldric do this to you?”

  Loric felt like such a fool. Avalana’s handmaidens had not been looking upon him with admiration. Their soft eyes were full of pity, he now realized. He laughed sardonically and answered, “No, my lady. Aldric is not responsible for the marks you see. In fact, Princess Avalana, you would show me greater favor at a distance, for it seems that Lord Dandrakor does not approve of our friendship,” Loric ended coldly.

  “I only need water, lord,” Avalana said without a change of tone to show that she had heard him speak. Then, in a lower voice, she hissed, “Dandrakor. So you know, then?”

  “I am honored to serve, my lady,” Loric replied so others could hear him. “I hope it is no affront to your many maidservants.”

  “I have dismissed them,” Avalana answered calmly. She quietly added, “I sent them away so we could speak privately. Now, tell me what happened,” she commanded him sharply.

  Catching the flow in her vase for her, Loric vented, “Your protector sent men to beat me and inform me that he condemns us being together. Had I known that ahead of time, I would not bear these shaming marks upon my face! I need only to know my place, and to keep my distance from you.” He controlled his urge to thrust her pitcher of water out in front of her, but he could not still his trembling hands.

  “Thank you,” Avalana said. Her forced smile looked so genuine that Loric could not be sure whether it was until she decreased her volume again. “Is that what you wish?” she hissed. The incredulity in her words was purposeful. “If not, you will meet me in the library at midnight. If it is-” -she let her volume rise as she sweetly finished- “-so long, Lord Loric.”

  The princess stalked away or at least the closest to stalking that her royal graces would allow her to do, leaving Loric with an empty vase, empty thoughts and an empty place in his heart. He filled the pitcher quickly enough. The water was already running. In the boredom of filling the jug, he found plenty of thoughts to fill his head. Nevertheless, by the time he finished his water break, he knew that only one thing could give him hope of filling the void in his heart--a visit to the library at the appointed hour. “Too many secret mee
tings,” he let out in a low rumble.

  Chapter Twelve

  Duty before Love

  A hard day of training drew to an early and merciful close when word came that Lord

  Regent Hadregeon, the King of Landolstadt, had arrived at the outskirts of Moonriver under a banner of truce. Aldric abruptly broke off a lesson in mounted combat so he and Loric could prepare for another feast. Aldric commanded his squire, “Polish every plate of my armor to king’s mint. It must shine like Solari’s smile.”

  Loric groomed Sunset and Snowstorm, stabled them and rushed back to his chamber. There, he sought out the brilliant shine of king’s mint in Aldric’s armor and added a few small touches to the sword, Judgment. Afterward he bathed and put on fresh attire, which the court tailor provided, thanks to Aldric’s generous purse. The wide-sweeping cloak that went with Loric’s new clothes helped him feel at ease wearing the Sword of Logant to the event, even against Aldric’s wishes. I must impress upon his lordship my need for a temporary replacement.

  As Loric made his way to the gathering, a heedless soldier barreled blindly into his path.

  Only quick reactions saved Loric from a collision with the man, who was less fortunate than he was. The Moonwatcher stumbled wildly to the side to avoid Loric, only to land on his chin. He stayed on the ground for a moment, muttering apologies and curses in a tight cycle, so that it was difficult to discern where one ended and another began. That alone was enough for Loric to identify the poor fellow, even before he saw his lined face and green eyes, or the beard to match his short-cropped gray and brown hair.

  “Marblin, are you all right?” Loric asked, hastening to assist the old fellow back to his feet.

  “Yeah,” he spat. His tone was one of annoyance, as he added, “I’d be better if that trick-some flagstone had left me alone!”

  “Perhaps it was trying to tell you that the grand feast lies that way,” Loric offered, pointing and unable to hide his smirk.

  “If the stone will not lie in its place, then it certainly would not lie about that,” Marblin returned in uneasy jest. He chuckled.

  Loric grinned and blinked away his eye roll.

  Marblin shared, “I shall have to miss the opening courses, my friend. Duty ever calls the Moonwatchers.”

  Loric responded, “Let me detain you no longer, friend Marblin. May the moon never sleep.”

  Marblin repeated the Moonwatchers’ farewell and hurried along his way. He stumbled again as he went by Loric, who chuckled at the guardsman’s utter lack of grace and continued to the Hall of Heroes.

  Loric entered the wide, high-ceilinged chamber, whereupon his eyes immediately settled upon the impressive lord seated opposite Aldric, near the head of Lord Garrick’s table. He sat arrow straight, forcing others to notice that he was tall--at least from the waist up--in spite of his narrow frame. Shiny black hair fell straight down his back, where it made use of the chair to elude Loric’s gaze. His fair skin made sharp contrast next to his hair, but his handsome features and blue eyes were well suited to his pale likeness. Although his clean-shaven face could be characterized as being boyish next Lord Garrick’s thickly bearded chin, that in no way handicapped his fiercely determined, self-assured presence.

  Loric moved to join the other servers at the lords’ table, but Aldric stopped him well short of his goal, calling, “Welcome, cousin! Come, we have made a place for you to dine with us this evening.”

  The Lord of Egolstadt patted the chair beside him. Loric made tentative approach, stunned by his sudden rise in status. Aldric properly introduced him to Lord Garrick, Lady Elena and Lord Garrett, the latter of who mumbled his thanks for Loric’s actions at the last feast, and who likewise bore faint blue and black traces beneath the heavy coating of powder on his face. Loric noted his bruises and thought, Could Dandrakor be the source of those abuses? However, he said nothing of his interest in the marks Garrett clearly wished to hide. Instead, he spoke warm greetings and bowed to his kindly hosts. He offered like courtesies to the newest arrival to Moonriver Castle, whom Aldric announced as Lord Regent Hadregeon, King of Landolstadt.

  “I am Lord Regent of Beledon, Hadregeon, the King of Landolstadt and all subservient

  territories!” Hadregeon corrected in high airs.

  “Yes, of course,” Aldric conceded. “How could I forget?”

  “Aldric,” Garrick warned him by name, and the Lord of Egolstadt stifled what was poised to fly from his lips.

  As Loric moved to ease himself into his seat amidst hostile neighbors, Hadregeon stated dryly, “I did not know there were any lords left in Belgandost. I had thought that Garrick had taken up proprietorship of that region.”

  “Lord Garrick,” Aldric reminded the King of Landolstadt.

  The man ignored Aldric and asked Loric, “What area do you govern? Taeglin, was it?”

  “Loric is not originally from Taeglin, in Belgandost,” Aldric smoothly interjected on his behalf. “And neither has he come to inherit his lands in Shimmermir,” he continued. “Loric was sent away to Taeglin at an early age to learn the way of the farmer, in the hope that he could enrich his own province with alternative techniques. It just so happens that our paths crossed as he started upon his journey hither, whereupon he begged me to teach him the way of a combat knight.” Aldric smiled proudly. “He learns well. He will make his father proud when he finally returns to him.”

  “Excellent,” Hadregeon commented quietly and without sincerity.

  Loric thought he detected disappointment in the man’s tone, but he could not be sure of it.

  He added, “It is as his lordship says, Lord Regent of Beledon, Hadregeon.”

  Hadregeon seemed satisfied that Loric had attempted to answer for himself, and doubly pleased that the squire had made use of his chosen title in so doing. He turned to Aldric and questioned most pointedly, “How soon do you intend to test your pupil’s skills in battle?”

  “That depends upon you, Lord Regent Hadregeon!” The answer had come from Garrick at

  the head of the table.

  A cold stare ensued between those rivals. “Certainly you did not invite me here to threaten me with war, Garrick,” Hadregeon stated icily, without the barest hint that he had asked a question.

  The frigid eye contact between those men endured for two full measures of the harpist’s song. Everyone at the table remained as tense as the leading lords were, while the tune continued its relaxing pattern of fingered strings. At length, Garrick erupted into raucous laughter.

  Hadregeon instantly joined him. Said Garrick, “Of course not. My enemy lay to the east. I only seek cooperation from you and yours in the west, good neighbor.” Garrick raised his open palm to a continuation of that conversation, explaining, “Enough of such talk on empty stomachs.”

  Lady Elena lacked genuine feeling, as she asked, “Where is your lovely niece, Lord Regent Hadregeon? I fear if she tarries any longer she shall miss the feast.”

  Hadregeon’s smile mimicked the curve of lemon rind, and it hinted at similar sourness, as he answered, “That is the way of my niece, Lady Elena. Fret not over her. She thinks dancing can sustain her in place of food. She will come round when the music livens. I promise.”

  Elena frowned.

  Garrick called aloud for everyone in attendance to hear, “Let us feast in honor of our welcome guest, Lord Regent of Beledon, Hadregeon, the King of Landolstadt!”

  A cheer arose to support the recommendation, and food came forth from the kitchens in overwhelming abundance. Every kind of livestock was represented on many tray-laden carts servants wheeled out of the kitchens. There were servings of fishes that were of lengths to rival men. Those were imported from the coasts to help Hadregeon feel at home. Native-grown vegetables and fruits were set beside the main entree. There was no lack for variety in cheeses, and there were biscuits, rolls and loaves for all.

  Conversation was short and pleasant during the meal. By contrast, the eating was hearty and heavy. Only when knives and fork
s began to slow, and some had ceased moving at all, did conversation take on a serious note. Lord Garrick regretfully delayed the impatient Lord Regent of Beledon once more to call for desserts. Those also came out of the kitchen in wide varieties and large portions, and utensils moved with great zeal to help unburden servants from their heavy trays.

  Loric forced himself to stop eating to keep from bursting at his middle. Garrick finally pushed his plate aside for the same reason, and the Lord of Durbansdan said to the harpist,

  “Thank you for your lovely playing, Edsil. You are excused.” As the harpist bowed away from his lord with respectful grace, Garrick clapped his hands together and called, “Bring forth the visiting musicians!” Players with drums and lutes and tambourines entered and took their places to make tunes for a superb tenor. Once the singer was at full throat, Garrick turned to his noble guest to open negotiations, saying, “Lord Regent Hadregeon, how would you enjoy a reduction in the trade tariffs I have imposed upon your river flats? Would that seem like fair compensation for lessening the number of soldiers along our common border by half?”

  Hadregeon laughed aloud. Garrick gripped the table with both hands, as if he might

  suddenly toss it at the King of Landolstadt. “To the first: yes, of course. To the second: you already know that is not enough to purchase what you want, Garrick, or you would not have made such a poor offer,” Hadregeon answered with a condescending smirk. “Listen now to my proposal. It will take elimination of these unjust tariffs you have exacted upon my merchantmen and access to Anseldorn’s river markets to purchase what you seek. Nothing less will do.”

  Hadregeon leaned back in his chair, with his fingertips forming a steeple. He looked confident that he held the stronger position in these discussions.

  Loric thought Lord Garrick would strike Hadregeon down, for he rose up in fury. His face slowly lost its red hue. “You are bitterly cruel to bargain with, Hadregeon,” he rumbled in a low tone. A smirk twitched into the visiting king’s cheeks, even before Garrick sweetened his offer.