by Wayne Meyers
The man sounded defensive. “He’s a peacekeeper. One day he’ll be a journeyman and fight against us.”
The masked man did turn around this time, and though I could not see his face, I had the impression he was smiling. “I look forward to it. Detain him a few minutes until I’m well on my way. Can’t take any chances he might scream his head off the moment we disappear.”
“Cutting his throat would stop that,” the man grumbled, but he kept his distance from me as the others vanished.
He paced back and forth while I pondered what to do next. I thought of trying to follow them but racing into the darkness not knowing where I was going or what might be waiting there was more than I could handle right now. My body trembled as I wondered if this man was going to cut my throat after all without his leader around to stop him. How foolish I had been to follow Maus. The masters had had a plan all along, and I had fouled it up.
The thought gnawed at me that had the masters shared this secret with me I could have acted differently. Besides, it seemed to me that Maus and whoever had Babette were not part of the same group who had just left the shop, but perhaps hired thugs. As much as the masked man had raised hairs on my arms, I had to admit he seemed intelligent and cunning. He would not have put himself in direct risk of discovery. So, at best the masters might have uncovered these thugs but not this man behind them who had just taken the book from me.
Or, perhaps they had hoped just to retrieve Babette and the book and considered the leader a bonus were they lucky enough to have captured him. Surely, they would have had some plan, some reason to send me out here other than to put my life in danger without giving away the book. They could not afford to share such an important secret with those who would use it against them.
Even if it meant Babette’s death? Or mine? What price a life, then?
Confused, I turned these thoughts around within my mind and did not notice when my captor appeared before me with a dagger in his hand. Our eyes met through the layers of shadows and from his cold, bloodless stare I knew even before he said the words.
“Right. Leave me behind to keep you from screaming an alarm, but who’s going to keep you from screaming when I leave? A cut throat makes no sound. Sorry, boy. Nothing personal.”
His hand reached for my hair and my reflexes took over. Ducking beneath his lunge, I punched him as hard as I could in the groin as Journeyman Krellus had taught me. He grunted, cursing, and grabbed for me again. This time I shifted backward toward a wooden counter, prepared to leap over it. And then, what? The locked front door? Stumble toward the back door through the velvet darkness? My strike had likely landed only because the man wasn’t expecting me to attack him, but he was well aware now.
My blow’s impact took effect, forcing him to double over. He almost dropped his dagger and his cursing grew louder, but before I could think to take advantage he straightened, hissing between clenched teeth. His legs shifted into a fighting stance, and to my astonishment I realized he’d received some peacekeeper training. He shuffled forward carefully with his knife held ready. “You little bastard! Just wait until I get my steel in you. Forget the quick death of a cut throat. I’m gonna hurt you, boy. I’m gonna hurt you—”
My back thumped into the counter at the same time an arm locked around my captor’s throat. A quick twist, and he slumped to the ground, unconscious. The figure who had grabbed him was clothed completely in black, and until he removed the hood and mask from his face, I had no idea it was Master Voralius.
He turned toward me with an arched eyebrow. “You do recall you were instructed to stand where we told you, hm? Part of your peacekeeper training includes discipline, which means you must trust your elders to know more than you possibly could. I am disappointed.”
“The book,” I said, too agitated to acknowledge the sting of Master Voralius’ rebuke. “They have the book.”
“Yes, that was also part of the instructions, was it not? Turn over the book, collect Babette.”
“But it’s too important! We have to find him. He sounded like the leader.”
Master Voralius paused. “Abrigus? Here? Describe him to me.”
I did my best considering the dimness inside the shop, and also mentioned some of the things he had said, including how they had not shared the plan with me.
“Well, that does sound like him.” Master Voralius stood by the window facing outward. “He must really have wanted the book to come here personally and collect it. I wonder if this was his second, or his last.”
“Aren’t you going to go after him?”
He shrugged. “I won’t be able to find him by now. He’s very talented. But, perhaps his lacky here will prove of some value. I had thought him one of the ruffians they hired to arrange the exchange, but if he’s actually one of Abrigus’ men, that does make him more desirable.”
“How did you find me, Master?” I asked, wondering why he remained standing there.
“I followed you from the rooftops. It was a bit tricky preventing the hired men from seeing me and slowed me down, but I could see at least which block you were on. Luckily this one here made enough noise for me to find the right shop in time, or things might have ended differently. You really must learn to obey orders. We can’t protect you if you don’t.”
My pride bristled. “Why didn’t you tell me what the plan was? I wouldn’t have left my spot then. I was worried about Babette, and the book—”
Master Voralius chuckled. “Oh, he’s good, isn’t he? Only a few minutes alone with you, and he managed to get inside your head.”
I straightened. “What do you mean?”
He turned and walked over to me, grabbing me gently by the shoulders. “Hofen, think. If we had told you we were watching you, your behavior would have reflected that. You would have found yourself wondering where we hid. You might have given us away without meaning to, and that could have meant Babette’s life. It could have meant your life. It was imperative for you to believe you were alone and vulnerable. That’s what they wanted.”
“But—but—” I could not put a response together for I realized he was right. I hung my head.
“Don’t feel bad.” He tousled my hair and turned back toward the front door. “Abrigus is a fanatic and that grants him strong charisma. He’s a very dangerous man for many reasons, but perhaps that is his most powerful weapon. He believes in himself so strongly that everyone around him can’t help but start thinking that maybe he’s right. And if he’s right, then anything he says must be true.”
“I’m sorry, Master.” I slumped back against the counter, deflated.
“Ah!” A green light flashed up in the sky. “We have Babette. Let’s head back to the guild.”
Babette was safe! My eyes lit up and a smile split my face.
“What about him?”
Master Voralius opened the shop door and gave out a loud, shrill whistle. A moment later, several peacekeeper journeymen swarmed into the shop. “Take him back to the guild for questioning. He’s extremely dangerous, so take great care.”
“We can handle a lone man, Master,” one journeyman said with a smile.
“He has some training,” I said, remembering his stance. “How is that possible?”
“Training?” The journeyman’s smile faded. “Tie him up, then.”
“Abrigus was a peacekeeper, you’ll recall,” Master Voralius reminded me.
“Back to the guild, Master?” another journeyman asked. “Not the bureaucracy cells?”
“Not yet. We must learn what we can before we turn him over to them for processing. Come, Hofen.” Without looking back Master Voralius hurried out into the night, his robes blowing out behind him in the gusty wind.
The air was cold, or at least as cold as it got during winter in Solace. The cities north and west of us felt it worse, but the chill still brought goose bumps out on my skin, and I shivered. “I’m glad about Babette, but I wish they didn’t have the book.”
“Oh, don’t feel too
bad about the book, apprentice. After the first volume was stolen, the High-Master had the foresight to envision it might happen again to the second.”
My eyes widened and I ran to keep up with his lengthy, urgent strides. “He gave them the wrong book?”
“Not exactly. It had to be the same book, or they would have realized they were duped. We had it copied with meticulous scrutiny by Master Orcus and his high-journeymen. Then, we adjusted the original ever so slightly, in a manner that would be nearly impossible to detect without trying to learn the forms and realizing the movements did not make sense. Perhaps they will scratch their heads and believe that book itself was written poorly. It wouldn’t be the first time the Founders left things in a somewhat awkward state.”
“Then everything we did with the tunnel was all for nothing. We should have let the seamstress take the book to them.”
“Nonsense! We can’t have thieves lurking beneath the very buildings of the guild. And there is still enough of the original book to be dangerous despite our adjustments, for we could not alter it so much where it would not pass as the original. But we still have the original by copy, and the high-journeymen are studying it as part of their training to prepare for what may come. And more importantly, we have Babette and yourself safe from harm, so the High-Master’s foresight bore fruit.”
“And they won’t try to steal it again thinking they have it, so that should keep them away.”
Master Voralius grunted. “For now, Apprentice. For now.”
Chapter Twelve—First Kiss
Why are you so moody lately, altbrud? I mean, more so than usual. I thought you’d be happy Babette returned to us safe and sound,” Spaldeer called out from his bed, which was across from mine.
Lost deep in my thoughts, his voice startled me. “What? Um, what do you mean?” I pulled the blanket over my face even though he couldn’t see how red my cheeks had become in the darkness of our room after the lights were turned off.
He snorted. “We’ve roomed together for how long now? A year and a half?”
“You’re the genius,” I replied. “You tell me.”
I heard him sit up, rustling his blanket about his shoulders. It was chilly in Solace during winter, and the cold leaked through the walls like dew dripping from a petal. The night was very dark and still, other than a low whistling from the wind outside. “See, that’s what I’m talking about. I know you, altbrud, and something is bothering you. Tell me.”
“Go to sleep,” was my reply, but my tone softened.
After a few minutes Spaldeer sighed, then settled back into bed. Soon he was snoring lightly, a sound I had gotten used to a long time ago. He said my snores sounded like trumpet blasts, but never complained. He had been a good friend to me, and I confided in him about almost everything.
Except Babette.
She haunted my thoughts constantly now, always on the periphery of my mind no matter how deeply I concentrated on my studies. At night when it was time to sleep and my mind was free to wander from practicing forms, exercise, sparring, and eating, I could think of nothing else.
Our reunion a month earlier had been anti-climactic, surrounded by our fellow apprentices and a few journeymen in the dining hall. She had formally thanked me for what I did, and I told her she was very welcome, and then we resumed our usual bantering with the others over lamb chops and shredded greens.
But her eyes never wandered far from my own, even when she was smiling and chatting with someone else. The way she looked at me raised the hairs on my neck and sent shivers up and down my spine. I caught myself gaping more than a few times until Spaldeer kicked my shin under the table.
The night after Abrigus had taken the book, it had occurred to me how fond of Babette I had truly become. The thought of losing her filled me with abject horror and forced me to face my true feelings. Young in age perhaps but growing older every day, these unfamiliar but powerful feelings stirred deep within, obliterating all happiness or joy. Mindful of Journeyman Krellus’ attention, I made sure my practices went well through sheer force of will. Sometimes, the effort of pushing Babette from my foremost thoughts was more exhausting than the actual workouts.
Desperate to talk to her alone I began stalking the dorm lounges hoping to find her there with no one else, but there were always other apprentices around until lights out, especially now that it was too cold to enjoy the outside steps as they generally did during warmer temperatures.
How could I tell Spaldeer all of this when he would be duty bound to report me to the masters? But how I was aching to tell someone how I felt. More specifically, how I ached to tell Babette. Ached—and feared—for if she rebuked my affections it would utterly destroy me.
But if she shared these crazy, jumbled, stomach-flopping feelings with me, oh what elation that would bring! My heart would soar, my feet glide on clouds, my face consumed by a grin no amount of beating could ever remove.
Guilt assaulted me as well. There were times when I swore off ever revealing my heart to her, for Babette was my guild-sister and romantic love for her was forbidden. This conflict weighed me down like a sack of bricks.
Journeyman Krellus seemed pleased with my training progress and did not bring up the matter he had raised three months earlier. Doubtless he was convinced our heartfelt talk had succeeded, and I made certain he had no reason to believe otherwise. It was difficult to always guard my face, my voice, and my every action lest by one longing glance I sabotage everything, but somehow, I managed.
It was just as difficult to be around Babette and pretend she meant nothing more to me than any other guild-sibling, though we did maintain a powerful friendship above and beyond our relationship with the other apprentices.
We whispered and giggled like toddlers before the huge kitchen sink after breakfast on those days we were required to report there, scrubbing pots and polishing plates before morning classes to the crescendo of gurgling water and metal banging against metal. If we met in a hallway or courtyard, we grinned at each other and chatted about our days. When we shared classes, I dared not speak to her or any apprentice, for such lack of discipline resulted in immediate punishment, though we did exchange an occasional glance, and she would smile at me with her eyes only.
No one thought more of this behavior than they would of any two young apprentices friendly with each other. My behavior with Spaldeer, for example, was outwardly comparable.
Sometimes we sparred together which felt bittersweet. When our arms and bodies touched, I felt the strangest longings. I could not understand what they meant, only that I wanted it to happen more. The pleasure of being close to her conflicted with the agony of unfulfilling these strange desires.
My fighting skills increased as my affection deepened until I couldn’t imagine my life without either. It seemed incredibly unfair that having both could never be possible, and there was no way to change this inevitability.
That next evening after classes and dinner Spaldeer, Babette, and I sparred in one of the courtyards as we often did together, usually by my prompting. Mastering new techniques or perfecting previously taught forms remained a primary focus of my life. Babette’s unavailability clawed at my mind as always, but I had long ago mastered the art of ignoring these longings and managed to enjoy the lesser satisfaction her simple nearness brought me.
It was the heart of winter and quite cold. In the northern and western parts of Bellisprodus snow was falling, though we rarely saw more than frost as far southeast as Solace. Still, we wore our heaviest robes with sashes cinched tight about our bodies to maintain the most warmth, and blew upon our bare, numb fingers when the gusting wind scoured between the buildings like a horsehair brush. The air misted where we exhaled, drifting over our heads and slowly out of reach of the torchlight.
“Only you, altbrud, would be out in this frigid cold,” Spaldeer complained as he fought off my attack with deceptively mild circular motions.
Grunting, I increased the intensity of my own winding arm move
ments until he was forced to concede the square we had outlined in the courtyard dirt. “Better to save your breath, my friend, then to waste it on pointless words.”
Standing over to the side shivering, Babette hugged herself. “Spaldeer has a point. No one else is still out tonight other than us.”
“If you keep moving you won’t be cold,” I said, motioning her into the square.
Exchanging an eye roll with Spaldeer, Babette drifted into the space and took up a fighting stance. “Does catching frostbite make his techniques better?”
Spaldeer shrugged. “All that hot air he emits whilst in between bouts must keep him quite warm.”
“We have to make the most of our day,” I protested.
“Hofen, it’s nighttime. It was lights out a half hour ago, and we’re not even supposed to still be out here.” And with that, Babette launched herself at me with the ferocity of a panther.
We sparred back and forth for a while without either of us losing or gaining any ground. Despite the complaints, I could see the grim determination within her eyes that always drove her to win despite any obstacle. Babette did not like to lose and did not lose well.
But then, neither did I. We put all our heart and strength into the match made more difficult by the square outline, yet managed to slip and slide around each other’s attacks without stepping backward, sliding and shifting instead before launching a counter-attack. Despite the winter nighttime chill, sweat covered my brow and trickled down my back, and we both gasped for air when Spaldeer bade us good night.
“You two maniacs finish up without me,” he said. “I’ll see you in our room, altbrud, unless you decide to continue past dawn, and then perhaps we’ll meet at breakfast.” With that, he headed down the path toward our dormitory.
Babette’s flushed face and mischievous eyes glowed from the rush of our confrontation. “Are you ready to be beaten now?”
I snorted. “I could easily take you if I had more room. You’re as slippery as an eel.”