by Robert Evert
“If anybody calls you that, I’ll kill them.”
Beatrice extracted herself from Edris’s powerful arms. “Which brings me back to what I was asking. Are you okay? And I don’t mean your various bumps and bruises and cuts. Though, the gods know, I worry about them as well.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your father!” she said pointedly. “Everybody heard what he was telling you.” Her expression turned concerned again. “You okay?”
Edris shrugged. “You know him. Only the best will do.”
“Are you really going to kill the next man you fight?”
“Of course not. To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t mind losing the next match to spite him.”
“He’d disown you!”
“I don’t care. Honestly. I could put all of this behind me and find a job on a farm or in a logging camp.”
“Or as a poet?” Beatrice suggested.
He hushed her, shooting furtive glances at the people walking by.
“What?” she asked. “I think your poems are sweet.”
“Yeah, well, let’s keep them just between you and me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Men.”
Edris grabbed her tiny waist and pulled her close once more, feeling himself melt into her arms. It was strange how holding her made him feel safe. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around?
She stroked his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
He tried to think of something clever to say, but the truth slipped out of him. “I don’t want to serve the king.”
“Don’t you have to?”
Edris frowned. “I suppose.”
“I don’t understand. You’ve always wanted to be a knight. It’s all you’ve talked about since you were a boy.”
“There’s a lot of crap to wade through in order to become a knight.”
“So? There’s nothing you can’t handle. By the gods, Ed. Nobody can beat you with blade, bow, or fist.”
Edris dithered. “Nobody here, you mean.”
“Or in Lower Angle. Or Bend. You’ve won every contest you’ve ever entered.”
Edris didn’t answer. He held Beatrice to his sweaty chest.
“What’s wrong?” she asked again.
“Nothing. Oh, here.” He handed her the pouch with the rest of his winnings.
Beatrice pushed it away. “I’m not—”
“Bea,” Edris said, “I like taking care of you.”
She beamed.
They both knew she could use the extra money. Although she wasn’t a street urchin like Brago, Beatrice and her parents weren’t far from being homeless, and a fistful of gold coins would go a long way.
“Thank you,” she said begrudgingly.
She kissed him.
He bounced his eyebrows. “If you truly want to thank me…”
“Oh! So that’s your plan, is it? I heard your father. You have to be home by dawn.”
“I have a few minutes.”
“Edris, son of Elros,” Beatrice chided him playfully. “If you ever give me only a few minutes in that way, you’ll never see me again!”
He laughed. “Fair enough. I have more than a few minutes.”
They kissed.
“You better get going,” she said. “It’s a long walk.”
“I can run and get there well before dawn.”
“Even so, get going. I’m tired and have to work in the morning. See you soon?”
“On my honor.”
They kissed again.
“Ed?”
“My lady?”
“You can tell me anything. You do know that, right? Anything you’re thinking or feeling.”
“I’m fine. But…” He grimaced. “It’s going to be a long five years with the king.”
“For me as well.”
Two
For the first couple of miles, Edris ran. The night air was cool, and the earthy smells of the dark forest pleased him. But soon, his legs grew heavy and he slowed to a jog, then to a leisurely walk. He reminded himself that he’d fought all day. But his fatigue troubled him. When he served the king, he’d have to go on long marches while wearing a full pack and chainmail.
He had to be the best…
He was only half kidding when he had told Beatrice he wanted to be a farmer. He liked being outside where he could do whatever he wanted, and although he’d never admit it to anybody—he liked plants and flowers. Seeing things grow made him feel…well, different. The time or two he’d helped the servants in the fields were probably the most peaceful moments in his life.
Being a farmer, however, was out of the question. He’d never met a wealthy man who worked the soil. And having money had its advantages, especially when you ate as much as he did. He couldn’t live if he were poor. Not like Beatrice or Brago. How they managed, Edris could only guess. He liked sleeping outside, but Brago slept on the streets or in the woods every night, even in the winter. Poor half-starved kid…
No. If he was going to defy his father, he’d have to be able to support himself, and farming wouldn’t do that. Neither would gardening or being a logger. Or a poet.
He thought about serving as a kingsman. His stomach sank.
He could tolerate his father’s tantrums mainly because he could always go ride, or fell a tree, or fight. While in the king’s service, he wouldn’t have such luxuries. He couldn’t merely walk away from his commanding officers. Every moment of every day was going to be lived to please the king—a king who hated his family.
His mind slipped back to Beatrice again. Oh, how he longed to spend the night with her. Even if they didn’t do anything other than hold each other, being with her made everything seem okay. Someday, maybe…
No, he was too young to think about marriage. Besides, getting married to a peasant girl would only add to his growing list of problems.
Edris trudged up an incline. Through the thinning trees, he could see the eastern horizon turning amber. Dawn couldn’t be far off.
“Bollocks!”
He broke into a jog, then pushed himself into a run.
Climbing the last hill, he peered down onto his father’s estate. The east guardhouse was a mile away, but the main house was another mile beyond that.
Did he have to be inside the house to be home on time? Or was being on the grounds close enough?
He knew the answer. His father would most likely be waiting for him at the manor door, watching the sky. If he didn’t cross the threshold by the time the sun was up…
Edris bounded down the hill, tired feet pounding the stone road. Reaching the bottom, he put on a burst of speed. Up ahead, a guard with a black dog appeared behind the closed iron gates.
“Malcom,” Edris called, out of breath.
The guard opened a gate, the dog waiting obediently by his side. “Morning, Master Edris. Out early? Or in late?”
“In late.” Edris peered at the eastern hills. A sliver of the yellow sun peeked above the forested ridge. “Could you do me a favor?”
“Name it, sir.”
“If asked, can you tell my father I got here before sunup and that we stood at the gate chatting a while?”
“Due back by dawn, I take it…”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t particularly like lying to his lordship, but if you return the favor, I’d be much obliged.”
“Name your price.”
The guard offered Edris an envelope with King Michael’s royal insignia—a green dragon coiled around a tall, lopsided hill. The seal had been broken.
“It wasn’t me!” Malcom said defensively. “The messenger delivered it like that. When I told him to go to the lord and explain himself, he rode off, leaving me with an open letter from the king! Can you imagine?”
Edris took the envelope. “I’ll give it to my father and explain what happened.”
“You’re most kind, sir. I’ve been worrying all night what His Lordship was going to do me when I gave it to him.”
“I’ll
take care of it. Before dawn, right?”
“Absolutely. If I recall correctly, the sky had yet to turn when you came running up.”
“Thanks, Malcom.”
“Thank you, sir!”
Edris pet the dog, then followed the road of crushed red stone to the manor house.
Passing the elegantly manicured lawns and bushes trimmed to resemble woodland creatures, Edris inspected the envelope.
It was from the king, all right. The handwriting was all too familiar.
Didn’t His Majesty have a secretary or somebody to write his correspondence?
Edris’s stride slowed.
The letter must be pretty important if His Highness wrote it himself.
What could it say?
Maybe it was about his service to the king.
His gaze drifted to the windows looming above him. Yellow light streamed through the curtains in the servants’ rooms, but the rest were still dark.
Edris regarded the envelope again.
“Oh, hell.”
He peeked inside.
The top sheet read simply: “Elros. Announce the beginning of the month. Yours, M.”
Then Edris read the proclamation underneath.
Three
Edris placed the king’s letter on his father’s imposing desk, atop a scattered pile of papers and unanswered correspondences, then sat in the corner.
Would his father be displeased he’d read the letter? It wasn’t as though it said anything confidential. Then again, his father only had two emotions—angry and oblivious. Edris had survived largely by keeping his father unaware of his actions. He’d gone weeks without his father speaking to him. When he was a child, Edris was convinced his father didn’t remember his name. The lord simply addressed him as “Boy.” Unfortunately, now that Edris was going to be serving the king, Lord Elros was paying more and more attention to his youngest son—and it would only get worse as his enlistment date drew closer.
Edris rubbed his tired face.
He needed to blow off some steam. He needed to have a little fun before his life as a free man came to a miserable end. He had to get away from his father before they came to blows.
Edris stared at the royal envelope. Its flap was creased; it had obviously been opened.
Yes, his father was going to be displeased.
Another beating…
Perhaps if he smoothed it out somehow—
The familiar stomping footfalls echoed along the corridor. Edris jerked his hand from the letter and sat up straight. The door to the study flew open.
Lord Elros took several steps toward his cluttered desk before realizing he wasn’t alone.
“Edris,” he said, surprised. He checked the window. The sun had been up for nearly an hour. “Did you get home by dawn as I asked?”
“Yes, sir.”
The lord sat in his chair, apparently no longer interested in the conversation. “Fine. I’ll check with the guards.”
“Yes, sir.”
Lord Elros searched through piles of papers, extracted one, and reached for a quill. He looked at Edris. “Anything else?”
“No, sir.” Edris got to his feet, but then thought it would be best to address the state of the king’s letter. “That is, yes, sir.”
Lord Elros slapped the quill onto the desk. “Well, which is it? Yes or no? Honestly, I realize you aren’t as intelligent as your brothers, but you should have some inkling as to whether there is anything else.”
“Yes, sir.” Edris gestured to the ruffled envelope. “A messenger from the king arrived early this morning. The letter he delivered was open. I didn’t want you to think that any of the servants read it.”
Lord Elros slid a contemptuous glance at the letter, then returned to the paper in front of him. He scribbled on it, the scratching of his quill breaking the painful silence.
Lord Elros paused, then lifted an eyebrow. “I suppose there is something else.”
Edris fought the urge to say No, sir.
“I was wondering…” he said slowly.
“Oh, by the gods, spit it out. You are the stupidest son anybody could have. If Edran had your body, he’d be a god.”
I was wondering if the letter had anything to do with my service…to the king, that is.”
“King,” grumbled Lord Elros. Aggravated, he threw the letter at Edris. “You remember how to read, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
Edris eagerly opened the envelope, trying desperately to maintain his charade. His father watched him read the note, and then the second page. Edris took his time, making sure his eyes drifted across each line he’d read earlier that morning.
“Well?” Lord Elros demanded. “What does our illustrious king have to say? I’m sure he has many thoughtful insights on how I can improve my rule.”
Edris’s eyes reached the end of the announcement, letting the disappointment show on his face.
“It’s nothing to do with me, sir.” He gave the letter to his father. “It’s an announcement about the next Kings’ Quest.”
“As I thought.” Lord Elros returned to his writing.
“Yes, sir.” Edris made for the door as though puzzling over a rather challenging problem. He stopped, holding the silver doorknob.
His father slammed the quill again. “What is it now? Forget how to open a damned door?”
“Sir…” Edris said, trying not to overplay his hand. If he said things correctly, he might be able to get away from his father for a bit and have some fun before enlisting. “The reward for this quest is a thousand gold pieces.”
Sighing, Lord Elros scanned the royal proclamation. “It appears you are able to read after all. I am so very glad all that money I spent on tutors didn’t go to waste.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Out with it, boy. What is it you want to say?”
“What if I undertook the quest?” Before his father could answer, Edris pushed his idea. “It would be great training before I go to Upper Angle. I’ve been getting rather lazy here, with servants cooking for me and tending to my every need. So, I believe I should challenge myself more.”
A wave of anger washed over the lord’s face. “You’d lose.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Lord Elros’s anger gave way, replaced, perhaps, by pride at his son’s bravado. “Trust me. You’d lose. Is that what you want—to be known as a loser?”
“No, sir. But nobody has to know I’m competing. Anybody would assume I was spending my last year before serving the king exploring and having a good time. They’d only know I’m competing if I win.”
“If you win?” Any pride in Lord Elros’s expression quickly changed to sarcasm. “What do you know about adventuring? What do you know about—?” He checked the royal proclamation. “The Sword of Betrayal? Do you know anything about who it belonged to?”
“It belonged to Prince Raaf,” Edris said, praying he was right.
“And what do you know about him?”
“I know the legends.”
His father grunted. “Think! If the legends were true, there wouldn’t be any need for a quest, would there? Everybody would know where his sword was.”
Lord Elros reclined in his leather chair, irritated. However, something in his calculating, slightly hungover stare suggested he was mulling the matter over. Edris attempted to sweeten the pot.
“Markus will undoubtedly be competing,” he added. “At the very least, I might be able to get in his way a bit. You know, slow him down. Maybe tell other adventurers what he’s up to so he doesn’t win.”
Lord Elros looked sharply at him. “Be careful, boy.” But Edris could tell his father wouldn’t mind if the king’s son lost the competition. “Don’t underestimate Markus. You might have a few inches on him, but he’s smart and ruthless. As are all of the king’s brats.”
“Perhaps, he should be taken down a peg or two.”
Lord Elros chuckled. “Think you could do that?”
“I�
�m not saying we’re going to brawl in the streets. But if he and I are both in the same place, I might be able to keep an eye on him and get in his way, like I said.”
“You don’t get in the way of a charging bull.” Lord Elros stared out the window, thinking.
“And also,” Edris said, attempting to tip the scales, “I can start the quest before it’s announced.”
“Moron! Don’t you think Michael has already told his son what the next quest is? Why do you think the envelope was open? I’d bet a hundred gold that the messenger allowed some adventurer to look inside. Half the adventurers throughout the realms have probably started the quest. Idiot.”
Edris opened his mouth, but then decided not to say anything.
“If you get found out…” Lord Elros began.
“I won’t. Nobody will—”
“Don’t interrupt!”
Lord Elros peered out the window again. Bright sunlight flooded the untidy room.
“You realize you’re talking about interfering with the king’s flesh and blood,” he said.
“Yes, sir. Again, I only mean to spy on him and maybe pass information to his competitors. Perhaps distract him a bit or give him false information. That sort of thing.”
Lord Elros drummed his fingers on the desk. A faint smile trickled across his lips. “I’d love to see Markus lose this one.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You know what will happen if you get caught?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you?” Lord Elros turned more fully toward him. “I’m the Lord of Bend. How do you think it’d look if my son was found sabotaging the king’s son? Do you know what I’d have to do to you?”
Edris swallowed. “You’d have to disown me.”
“Precisely. And the king will undoubtedly do worse to you. At the very least, you’d see the inside of a prison.” The lord regarded him. “Still wish to proceed?”
There was only one answer Edris could give. Even if he wanted to change his mind, he wouldn’t dare. He’d never hear the end of how he chickened out. His father would probably disown him right then and there.
He nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Lord Elros leaned back in his chair, appearing almost proud. “Very well. Go talk to Edros. He has a head for these sorts of things. He can get you started.”