A Cast of Stones (33 page)

His order drew looks from the squad, but no one spoke. Errol sighed and resigned himself to another four bouts.

Ten minutes later, angry but untouched, he faced the lieutenant. Three more men had been helped away, and it was likely that at least one of them had a broken ankle. Radere's words echoed in his mind.
“Deas's hand is on you, boy.”
Is that how he was able to do this?

Errol met his last opponent's gaze. “Do we have to do this?”

The lieutenant licked bloodless lips and nodded. A crowd of watchmen had gathered, their stares intent, and mutters floated to Errol from the circle of men. Not all of them were unfriendly.

A new voice, crackling with authority, called the start in a clear tenor.

The lieutenant didn't charge but circled instead.

It wouldn't make any difference if Errol lost. He'd won the first bout and the lieutenant was honor-bound to follow through on his promise, but he wouldn't mind making the man pay for his name calling.

With his staff spinning, Errol flowed into an attack. The lieutenant tried to parry, but the blows came too quickly. His sword turned aside the first three strikes, but the fourth found his ankle, and the fifth found his ribs. The lieutenant doubled over.

Errol grounded the staff where the lieutenant could see it. “I could knock you out right now, Lieutenant, but I need you to go get my friend.”

A man stepped from the crowd with two red swords stitched onto his armband. “If you wanted him to deliver your message, you shouldn't have hit him on the ankle. I'm Captain Reynald.” He smiled. “Welcome to the watch.”

“I'm not joining.”

The smile faded. “Nonsense, lad. Do you know what you're turning down?”

Errol shook his head. “No, but it doesn't matter. I can't join.” He turned back to the lieutenant, who'd managed to right himself. “Tell Cruk that Errol is here to see him.”

The lieutenant left, limping, but he appeared to be trying not to.

Reynald approached him. “Captain Cruk is your friend, eh? Well, perhaps the lieutenant should have had the good sense to inquire before dismissing you, but Cruk doesn't use the staff.”

Errol didn't feel like talking. “No, he does not.”

The captain was undeterred. “Where did you learn it? I've seen more than a few staff wielders in my time. Your style is unique.”

“Here and there.” He pointed to a nearby bench. “May I sit?”

“Of course.”

To his dismay the captain followed him to the bench, but no further efforts at conversation were made.

After ten minutes, the lieutenant returned with Cruk stomping at his side.

 24 
Familiar Faces

I
SEE YOU MADE IT ALIVE, BOY.”
Cruk growled at him, and then looked in disgust at the lieutenant. “This worthless excuse for an officer tells me you beat him in a challenge to get your message to me. I remember telling you before that a sense of humor wasn't allowed in the watch. Now, it seems they let any sort of jester in. Where'd you get that staff ?”

Errol shrugged. “From a farmer near Windridge.”

Captain Reynald stood. “Captain Cruk, Errol Stone has qualified to join the watch.”

“Nonsense,” Cruk said. “The only thing the boy does well is drink. He'll be the first to admit it.”

Errol remembered a time when he would have either agreed with Cruk or hung his head in shame. Now the accusation might as well have been directed at someone else for all the impact it had. He met the captain's eyes, refused to look away. “Things change.”

Cruk stilled, seemed to take notice of him for the first time. His eyes widened a fraction, and he turned toward his fellow officer. “Captain Reynald, Errol Stone is unable to join the
watch. He has a prior commitment to the church that must be honored.”

The captain refused to be put off. He gestured in Errol's direction. “Captain Cruk, this man issued a challenge and won. Not just a majority, Captain. All five bouts! And he beat a sergeant and a lieutenant in doing so.” His voice had risen. With a glance to each side he stepped forward and spoke in lower tones. “You know we need men. Two thirds of the watch is gone, stripped from the king and assigned to the church of all things.”

Errol had the impression that Reynald outranked Cruk in some fashion. But Cruk stood his ground, refused to be moved despite Reynald's argument.

“Captain, the boy's . . . Errol Stone's commitment is of the highest order. More than that I cannot say, but even if he defeated all ten captains of the watch, he still would not be allowed to join.”

The sound of Reynald grinding his teeth sounded in the small space that separated the three men. “Don't you understand? He just might be able to do it. Even if he won't join, there are things we need to know. Where did he learn to fight like that? Who trained him? By the three, man, can you envision what a few squads of men with halberds could do on the field if they could fight like that?”

Errol felt a surge in his chest at Reynald's words, and he caressed the polished ash wood Rale had given him. The idea of losing himself on the stretch of green in the courtyard surrounding him held a certain appeal. Were readers allowed to train in arms? Luis had never said one way or the other.

He stepped in front of Cruk to address Reynald himself. “If my obligation allows it, Captain, I would be happy to visit the barracks and teach what I know.” He grimaced. “I've never taught anybody before. I may not be very good at it.”

Some of the tension eased in Reynald's forehead. “Don't worry about that. The officers can watch you and teach it to the men. We just need to see you fight.”

Errol grinned. He knew what he wanted. Once released from
the compulsion, he wouldn't be staying long in Erinon—but having the chance to best Cruk would make a delay worth it. “Would I get to fight the captains?”

Reynald nodded.

Errol turned his smile on Cruk. “All of them?”

Another nod. Reynald gave a crooked smile. “For someone who doesn't want to join the watch, you're as ambitious as a noble's whelp. I see Cruk is known to you.” He spread his hands. “Unfortunately, some of the captains are no longer assigned to the palace watch. They've been assigned to the benefices, and their whereabouts are unknown.”

Cruk grunted over Errol's shoulder. “Is he that good?”

Reynald nodded. “Merodach should be able to beat him, perhaps Indurain. My sense is that the rest of us are too old.”

Cruk's manner grew formal. “Captain Reynald.” He bowed his departure. “Let's go, Errol. There are people that need to talk to you.”

“What about my horse?” Errol said. “I left him at the gate.”

“I'll send someone to take care of him,” Reynald said.

Cruk didn't speak again until they'd passed out of earshot of the rest of the watch. “I suppose you'll want to stop for a drink on the way?”

He shook his head. “No, not unless it's water.”

“How long have you been out of the barrel?” Surprise tinged the captain's voice.

Errol tried to count back and found that between running for his life and trying to escape from Naaman Ru, he'd lost track of the days. “I don't know. How long has it been since Windridge?”

“Five months.”

“About that long, then.”

Cruk's steps quickened and lengthened until Errol almost trotted to keep up. “Where are we going?”

“I'm going to drop you off at Martin's quarters. Then I'm going to get Luis.”

Errol stopped, planted his feet on the stones of the hallway like
a mule. “No, I want to go to the conclave. As soon as I present myself, Luis's compulsion is finished. I'm leaving.” Having the opportunity to fight Cruk was not worth the wait.

A shake of the head greeted this. “You're not thinking, boy. We figured out long ago that someone's hunting you. If you really want to be free, you need to find out who, and this is the best place to start.” Cruk checked the hallway and waited for a pair of king's guards to pass them before his voice dipped and he went on. “Something's not right here. Two-thirds of the watch is gone, and reinforcements from the mainland garrison are still two weeks away. I have the feeling someone is setting us up for an attack. It may not look like it on the surface, boy, but underneath, the city seethes like an anthill that's gotten kicked.”

“What's happened?”

Cruk grunted and gave a crooked smile. “I think Martin and Luis should answer that. They'll want to pull every last scrap of information from you as they do.”

Errol's stomach growled. “Will there be food there? I think my stomach is trying to eat itself.”

They circled around the barracks and the palace on the walkway and Errol stopped, awestruck by his first view of the church at Erinon. A cathedral flanked by buildings that made the barracks look small dominated his field of view.

A low whistle escaped him. “How long did it take them to build that?”

Cruk's bark of laughter sounded harsh. “They've never really finished. It's the same way with the palace. It seems like no matter how big it gets, it's never big enough.”

It seemed they approached a small mountain. Cruk led him to one of the huge arches on the left. As they passed under it, Errol looked up, and a sense of weight above him made him duck his head in spite of the height.

They headed deeper into the building, passed through innumerable hallways, each one smaller than the one before, until they walked a passage that was almost normal-sized. Fewer people
filled the halls. Once, they passed a door just as a priest departed and Errol saw what appeared to be ornate living quarters.

He'd never seen the like, or even imagined it.

A few paces later they stopped before a thick walnut door. Cruk straightened his black uniform and knocked three times. A young man wearing a light-gray cassock answered and nodded greeting.

“Captain.”

Cruk bowed, a slight curling of the neck. “Stewart, could you tell His Excellency that I've brought someone to see him?”

Errol stepped back.
His Excellency? Martin?

Stewart stepped aside, beckoning them into a large sitting room. “Please have a seat. Whom shall I say you have brought?”

“An old friend with a taste for ale.”

Errol made to protest, but a stern look and a small shake of Cruk's head stopped him.

Stewart's eyebrows expressed his surprise at the strange introduction, but he nodded with a smile and disappeared into the inner rooms.

A moment later, he reappeared. “His Excellency is just finishing his meal. He'll be with you in a few moments.”

Stewart brought the smell of food with him from Martin's rooms. Errol stood, salivating. “Why don't we just go join Martin? I'm starving.”

Martin's secretary looked shocked at the use of familiar address.

Cruk growled. “Sit down, boy. The benefice will be with us when he's ready.”

“The what?”

Cruk's hand clamped onto the upper part of Errol's arm. His voice dipped into an agitated whisper. “Martin has been restored to
benefice.
He'll be taking part in the Judica. Now be still.”

The way he emphasized Martin's title left little doubt in Errol's mind where he stood in the apartment. He reclaimed his place and tried to ignore the noises that came from his midsection. A quarter of an hour slipped by before Martin
emerged from his rooms. Errol stood and gawked at the change in his friend.

Martin glided into the room, resplendent in red robes with a wide gold belt and a large silver chain of office around his neck. With a serene nod, he bade them to stand. Errol gaped. The air of authority surrounding Martin appeared so natural. How had he ever thought him to be a simple priest?

“Stewart,” Martin said, “I think that will be all for the day. Would you drop by the conclave and ask Luis Montari if he would be so kind as to join me for some conversation?”

He waited until the heavy door closed completely before unbuttoning the heavy scarlet robe and tossing it aside. “Praise the creator. I thought I was going to roast.” He turned and smiled at Errol. “I apologize for keeping you waiting, but I didn't want to rouse my secretary's suspicion. Stewart means well, but he gets a little carried away with being adjunct to ‘His Excellency.' He's very zealous on behalf of my position.” Martin took a deep breath and exhaled with a shake of his head. “He's making me crazy.”

Errol took advantage of Martin's pause. “Do you have anything to eat, Pater?”

The priest laughed and caught him in a bear hug. “Deas knows I've missed you, boy. It's a real pleasure to see you alive. And a surprise. Come.” He led them into a sumptuous dining room. “Stewart brings me enough food at each meal to feed three men, just in case I've forgotten to inform him of a dinner appointment.” He nodded toward a fluted bottle on the table. “There's a very nice bottle of wine to go with the duck, but if you need ale I can send for it.”

“Just water for me, thanks.” Errol said this as matter-of-factly as he could deliver it, but inside he exulted at Martin's surprise.

“Well, boy, I imagine there's quite a story there, but let's get you fed first. Your tale can wait until Luis gets here. That way you'll only have to tell it once.”

Errol attacked the leftovers of Martin's repast like a wolf on a lamb. By the time a knock on the door signaled Luis's arrival,
even Cruk's normally impassive face registered its surprise at Errol's appetite.

“What's happened, Martin?” Luis said as he entered the dining room. “Have we been found . . .” His voice died as he caught sight of Errol with the stripped bone of a drumstick protruding from his mouth. Shock and disbelief chased each other by turns across the reader's face.

“That's not possible,” he said, his voice flat. “I cast lots. You were dead nine times out of ten.”

Errol laughed. It felt good, cleansing, like a bath too long denied for his soul. “I'm glad I came up alive at least once. I think I can explain the other nine.”

Luis's brows arched at this. Errol hoped it was at more than just his words, that the reader also recognized his calm assurance.

He pointed to the untouched bottle of wine in front of Errol as he helped himself to a seat at the table. “Would you be so kind as to pass me the wine, Errol? Surprises unnerve me, and it looks like we're going to be here awhile. Start at our separation in Windridge and don't leave anything out.”

Martin and Cruk circled the table to take seats. Errol washed down his last bite of duck with water and began. He only spoke for a few minutes before Luis interrupted him.