The Sword, The Ring And The Chalice - The Sword Part 12

Gavril reluctantly stepped aside, allowing the chevard to pa.s.s. Lord Odfrey circled his desk and sat down. He did not notice the spilled cider drying on the floor. And as yet, he had not glanced at the disarranged papers before him. "I will go now and write my letters," Gavril said. Already he was composing in his head his brief note of complaint to the king. But more important was the longer, more detailed missive he would write to Cardinal Noncire. The church needed to know how shaky the faith was in this G.o.dforsaken corner of the realm. "I will have two to send with your dispatches in the morning." "Not now," Lord Odfrey said. "It's too late. Get yourself in bed. You have drills and ch.o.r.es aplenty on the morrow."

Gavril's annoyance came surging back. "Do you now refuse to send my letters?" "I do not refuse. You have had ample opportunity to compose them since this afternoon. Your failure to take advantage of your free time has served your highness ill yet again. Your letters can go in next week's dispatches, provided they are written by then. Now, good night."

Gavril opened his mouth to protest further, but Lord Odfrey had already turned his attention to his papers. Frowning, he reached for the map draped across the top of his desk. Gavril lost his nerve at that point and hastily strode out. Thum was waiting outside the wardroom, yawning and rubbing his eyes. He fell into step beside the prince.

Gavril glared at him. "Go to your quarters. I don't want you."

"Lord Odfrey said I was to escort you back," Thum said, yawning again.

"Why? I need no nursemaid, no spy to report if I go where I am bidden to go." Annoyance crossed Thum's face. "I'm no spy," he said curtly. "I'm just following orders. Lord Odfrey doesn't explain himself. Your highness knows that." "I know that your presence annoys me," Gavril said.

"Then forgive me, your highness," Thum replied stiffly. "I but follow orders from the same man as you do."

Heat flared in Gavril's face. He glared at Thum, who glared right back. "First I am a tongue-tattle, and now I am a spy," Thum said, making no effort to keep his voice down. Outside, across the keep in the chapel tower, the bell began to ring somberly, tolling the call for final prayers and lights-out. Downstairs, servants were extinguis.h.i.+ng torches and banking fires, chattering and yawning as they went.

"What next will your highness say of me?" Thum continued, still glaring at Gavril. "Why have I offended you so?"

Gavril stopped in his tracks and turned on the other boy. " 'Offend' is exactly the word," he said through his teeth. "You dare question my authority in front of the other fosters. You dare stand up for an eld in defiance of Writ. You give my whereabouts away to Lord Odfrey so that I am dealt his wrath. And now, you dare speak to me with disrespect. Yes, you offend me, Thum du Maltie. And you are treading on dangerous ground in doing so." The color leached from Thum's face. His mouth fell open, but it was a moment before he uttered any words. "We-we are all as equals here," he said faintly. "Lord Odfrey said so the first day we came. He said we should forget rank and think of ourselves as comrades and knights in training. We must be warriors together first before we can succeed our fathers and stand in rank-" "Cease your prattle,"

Gavril said scornfully, and Thum fell silent. Gavril looked him up and down, sneering at him. "You stand before me, wearing your doublet of cheap fool's finery, the youngest son of an unimportant n.o.ble, and dare say to me that we are 'equals'? Do you know why I was summoned to Lord Odfrey's wardroom tonight?"

A strange, pinched expression had appeared on Thum's face. Stiffly, he said, "As I said before to your highness, I know not."

"It was a courtesy he extended to me. My letters to Savroix are included in his weekly dispatches. Do you write letters to your family, Maltie?" Thum's throat jerked as he swallowed. "No, your highness."

"Can you write at all, Maltie?"

"A-a little, your highness."

"Do you realize that I have only to pen a few lines to my father the king, stating my complaints, and your family could lose its warrant of n.o.bility?" Thum's mouth opened, but nothing came out. He stared at Gavril as though he had never seen him before.

"What offends me also offends my father," Gavril went on. He circled Thum, who stood there rigid and unmoving, then stopped in front of him again. "If you cause offense, is your father not also an offender with you? Hmm? You stand there with your mouth open, Maltie, but you make no answer." "Please,"

Thum gasped. "My father has always served the king ably. He wears a chain given to him by the king's own hand. He is loyal with all his heart and soul."

"Geoffen du Maltie is well spoken of at my father's court. But that can change," Gavril said, and saw Thum flinch. "Since you think you can reprimand me, question my orders, and ignore my authority over you, what else do you think? That you are better than I?"

"No, your highness."

"Is it worth it, Maltie? To have your moment of supremacy, to laugh at my expense? Is it worth seeing your father ruined, your brothers brought down with him, your elder sister's impending nuptials called off?" Tears s.h.i.+mmered in Thum's hazel eyes, but he did not let them fall. Instead, he shot Gavril an imploring glance. "Please, I beg your pardon. I did not mean to offend. I misunderstood, and I apologize.

I will not repeat my transgressions. I swear this to you."

"You swear."

"Yes," Thum said, blinking hard. "I give you my-"

"Don't give me your word!" Gavril shouted, and Thum flinched again. "You are neither n.o.ble nor knight.

You are nothing! Your word is nothing." Red surged into Thum's face, and his mouth tightened. He dropped his gaze quickly, but not before Gavril saw the fury that flared in his eyes. Gavril raked him with a contemptuous glance. "No land will you inherit. You will be a common knight in another man's service.

In a year I will be named Heir to the Realm. I am as far above you as are the stars above this land. That Ihave deigned to reside here and be trained in your proximity grants you no favor, no right to familiarity.

Your family should have taught you better, for if they believe you will gain them more boons at court, you have destroyed those hopes." Thum kept his gaze on the floor. He was stiff, barely breathing. He said nothing.

Gavril let the silence hang between them before he said, "There is a way for you to redeem yourself."

Thum's gaze flashed up. "What way?" he asked.

He should have promised to do anything, not question the terms, Gavril thought, frowning at him. "Come to my quarters."

Silence held them until they reached the top of the west tower and entered Gavril's chamber, where the fire cast welcome warmth and candles burned despite the last bell. In the bedchamber beyond, Gavril glimpsed his bed, piled with pillows swathed in clean linen, the heavy fur robe turned back. Aoun was standing beside the bed, holding a pole with a heated warmer on the end of it beneath the covers to warm the sheets.

Sighing, Gavril threw out his arms in a stretch and unbuckled his belt. Tossing his poniard onto his writing desk, he pulled off his cap and loosened the laces of his doublet before he turned around to face Thum, who was watching him with a tense, white face.

"What must I do?" Thum asked.

Gavril yawned, playing him the way a cat torments a mouse. "There is a map of Nold within Lord Odfrey's wardroom. Large. About this size." He held his hands apart. "Drawn on parchment. It's on the chevard's desk. I want that map. You will bring it to me."

Thum frowned. "You mean you wish me to ask Lord Odfrey if you may look at it?" "No. I want the map. When Lord Odfrey is away, you will enter his wardroom and take the map."

"That's stealing!"

"Is it?" Gavril glanced around and saw his jeweled cup waiting for him on the table. He picked it up, swirled the contents a moment, and drank. "You want me to steal from the chevard?"

"Stop asking stupid questions. I want you to give me that map of Nold. It's quite detailed. I need it."

"But-"

"How you manage to supply my request is your concern, not mine." "I won't steal for you," Thum said in outrage. "My honor requires-how can you even ask-" "Then refuse my request," Gavril said with a shrug, and put down his cup. "Clearly you're too much an uplander to be acceptable at court. My father will be interested to learn that the Maltie family sympathizes with old politics that should have been stamped out long before now."

"You can't accuse Geoffen du Maltie of supporting the division," Thum said furiously. "You can't! It isn't true!"

"My observations are quite clear," Gavril retorted. "I can say what I please, and my father the king will listen." "No," Thum said, breathing hard. "No!"

"Then get out."

"This is unfair!" Thum said. "You tell me I have offended you by speaking plainly, as I was told to do by the chevard. But I am to steal to regain your favor? What trap do you hold for me?"

"Careful, Maltie. Your tongue is digging a deeper hole for you." Thum clamped his mouth shut and swung away from Gavril with a muted cry. Rigid and anguished, he lifted his clenched fists in the air.

Gavril watched him, smiling to himself. Cardinal Noncire had taught him well how to manage the difficult ones. They always had a weakness. It was simply a question of finding out what that weakness was.

"Go," Gavril said, his voice hard and merciless. "Kaltienne lacks your scruples.

He will be honored to serve me by bringing the map." Thum's shoulders sagged. He turned around as slowly as an old man, and Gavril's chest swelled with satisfaction. Thum was beaten, he thought. He would now serve his prince as docilely as a lamb. Never again would he question orders. For once he took this risk on Gavril's behalf, he would be bound to Gavril forever, bound by his own guilt.

Thum looked up. "I will not steal for you," he said, his voice soft and wretched. "Though you be my prince and will one day be my liege and king, I cannot do this wrong."

Fury swept through Gavril. He glared at Thum and reached to his side for the dagger that was no longer there. "You-" "But I will copy the map for you," Thum said. "If that will please your highness."

It took Gavril's anger a moment to cool. He stared at Thum through narrowed eyes, realizing that this boy had not broken after all. He was still independent, still defiant. Had the map not been truly important to Gavril's plans, he would have ordered Thum thrown out then and there. Instead, he mastered his emotions and forced himself to think over the offer.

"Can you draw?" he asked.

"Yes, your highness."

"Have you ink or parchment? You cannot write, you said." "I can write a little," Thum replied. "I can copy whatever is written on the map. You have ink and parchment, there." He pointed at Gavril's writing desk. "Bring the map here and copy it," Gavril said.

Thum looked alarmed. "I dare not take it from Lord Odfrey's wardroom." "He will only beat you,"

Gavril said with a shrug. "But I have the power to destroy your family."

"Thod is who my conscience must answer to," Thum replied, revealing a bedrock faith for the first time.

That alone awakened grudging respect in Gavril. He stared at the other boy for a moment and relented.

"Very well," he said. "Take what you need from my desk." Thum blinked, hesitated, then hurried to the desk and drew forth a sheet of stiff parchment and a pen.

"Take care!" Gavril said sharply enough to make him start. "And do the task quickly. I want the map in my hands tomorrow." "I have duties all morning, and in the afternoon we are to drill with the master-at-arms."

Impatience filled Gavril. He wanted to choke Thum, or have Sir Los beat the knave for his impudence.

Instead, he gave him a stony look and said, "Then you will have to copy it tonight."

"But it's past matins," Thum said. "All lights are to be out. I can't-" "You have little choice. It's easier to enter Lord Odfrey's wardroom now while the chevard is asleep than tomorrow, when you will be missed if you are absent from your duties. And no doubt Lord Odfrey will be going in and out of his wardroom throughout the day-" "All right!" Thum said. Sweat beaded along his hairline, making his red hair stick out. He drew in a ragged breath and would not meet Gavril's eyes. "All right. Tonight."

Gavril handed him a fat candle. "Work quickly. And make no mistakes. Put it in my hands by noontime."

Thum looked up briefly, his hazel eyes swirling with a mix of resentment and dislike, then he headed toward the door.

"You need not act like a martyr, Maltie," Gavril called after him. "I have offered you my mercy. You should be grateful for a second chance." Thum paused and glanced back. His freckled face was stony, and not a dram of grat.i.tude could be seen in it. He left without another word, carrying candle, parchment, and pen.

Sir Los closed the door behind him. "That's one to watch, your highness," he said gruffly. "Some of 'em can't be whipped. They've too much spirit for a heavy hand."

Gavril glared at him. "And who asked for your opinion?" he said icily. Sir Los shrugged. "My opinion matters, your highness, when I've got to keep someone's dagger out of your back."

"Don't be absurd. He would never strike at me."

Sir Los bowed. "As your highness says. If you are retiring now, I will bid you a pleasant sleep."

"Where are you going?" Gavril asked him, still displeased by what he'd said.

"Why are you leaving?"

"Going to watch that boy a while," Sir Los said, pulling his indigo cloak tighter around his heavy shoulders. "See if he goes where he's been bid to go." Gavril frowned.

"Call it my bad feeling," Sir Los said. "Call it making sure. Good night, your highness. Someday perhaps you'll learn not to be so cruel with his type." "Cruel?" Gavril said in outrage. "I was putting him in his place. The cardinal taught me how to use all-" Sir Los smiled lopsidedly, clearly unconvinced.

Feeling a qualm of doubt, Gavril frowned. "You have not permission to question my actions," he said haughtily. "Your opinion has not been asked for." "No, your highness."

"Thum du Maltie hasn't the courage to cause me trouble," Gavril said. "He's smart enough to know better."

"Aye, that's right enough," Sir Los agreed, taking the liberty allowed a protector. He seldom voiced an opinion, unlike his predecessor, who lectured Gavril constantly, but when Sir Los had something to say he was like a dog worrying a bone. He would not leave it. Sir Los looked at Gavril and tapped his thick,oft-broken nose. "But it might be better to mend your ways a bit and not try everything the cardinal has taught you. There's going to come a day when I do fear your highness will run afoul of someone not smart like Maltie, not smart enough to know he's licked. That's when your highness will find trouble."

"Then you will have to make sure I don't come to harm," Gavril said with false sweetness. He smiled at his protector. "I have no intention of mending my ways." Dain awakened with a start and sat up inside the burrow. He listened intently, trying to identify the sound that had awakened him.

Nothing.

It was time to go. He stretched hard enough to make his spine crack, then bent over Thia, touching her cold face in farewell. He had performed the rites as best he could, putting salt on her tongue and wrapping her tightly in the threadbare blanket. He left her pendant of bard crystal lying on her breast.

Even in the dim light provided by the glowstones, the faceted sides of the crystal glittered with muted fire.

Her face lay in repose, no longer tormented with pain. Even death could not mar her beauty.

He kissed her cold cheek one last time, his eyes wet and stinging. He hated to leave her, but she was no longer here with him. She had gone into the third world, where her spirit would forever sing.

Wiping his face, Dain forced himself to go.

Emerging from the burrow, he popped his head out of the ground, blowing dirt from his nostrils, and gazed cautiously around. The clearing remained deserted in the cold, gray light of morning. It was raining softly in a light mist that stirred the forest scents of leafy mold, bark, and moss. The forest was silent. Not even a bird chirped. There were no rustles, none of the usual activity among the furred denizens of the woods.

A ripple of unease pa.s.sed through Dain. He pushed his shoulders through the hole and climbed out.

Swiftly, keeping his senses alert, he replaced the lattice and soil over the hole, then covered everything with a layer of golden and russet leaves. He worked methodically to erase all evidence of his recent stay there. When he was satisfied, he scratched out the rune mark of the Forlo Clan and drew another, signifying it was now a burial place.

Fresh tears stung his eyes. Fiercely he pushed himself away from there and melted into the undergrowth, leaving the clearing as fast as his legs would take him. He'd eaten the last of the food, and he needed to hunt if he was to have supper tonight. Beyond that, his future stretched empty and unknown before him.

His whole life had changed irrevocably in the past few days. A distant whooping froze him in his tracks.

He listened a moment to the yells, and the hair on the back of his neck p.r.i.c.kled. A war party, a victorious one from the sound, was coming his way.

At almost the same moment, the wind s.h.i.+fted, and he caught their scent. Dwarves . . . Bnen, probably.

His mind caught something else-men-thoughts, awash with fear.

Dain turned about slowly, absorbing sounds, scents, and that wailing panic from human minds. It was time for him to get out of here.

But he did not run. Instead, he waited to make sure he understood from where they were approaching and how many there might be. Dwarves tended to travel in tight cl.u.s.ters of about half their fighting force, with the rest scattered out ahead, parallel with, or behind the pack. If he wasn't careful, he could cross paths with some of the scouts. Unarmed, he had no chance of surviving any such encounter.

They yelled again, chanting their gruff war songs, and a drum began to beat, close and loud. Dain dartedundercover and crouched low, making himself as still and small as possible, hoping his clothing would blend into the colors of the thicket.

A scout pa.s.sed him, gnarled and short, his powerful shoulders supporting a bloodstained war axe, his cap pulled low upon his craggy forehead, his eyes reddened and glaring.

Seconds later, another scout appeared, only to vanish almost immediately back into the undergrowth.

When a third and fourth scout showed themselves, Dain realized they were converging on the clearing where Thia's burrow was. They had camped there yesterday before going on their night raid. Now, in the cold early morning, they were returning, fierce and satisfied, splattered with blood and gore, many of them bearing loot.

At first Dain was puzzled. There were no clans living this close to the forest's edge. Who had the Bnen attacked?