Bloodstone - Power of Youth (Book 3) (29 page)

A servant led them up wide flight of stone steps and then to another set of steps. After they turned a corner, Sallia spotted four guards in front of a set of ornate doors. They must be going to the king’s private apartments. Foxhome was set up in a similar fashion. Mander Hart must be close to the throne.

“Mander!” the king embraced him and then saw Lotto. “Lotto, my man, how goes the war.” He stopped when he spotted Sallia. “And who do we have here?” The king’s voice chilled a little.

“May I present Princess Sallia, exiled from the Foxhome throne and rightful heir to the Red Kingdom,” Lotto said. She noted that he had said it quite nicely.

“My dear!” the king said, with warmth flooding into his face, and in response, the queen walked into the room. Sallia could see easily see Restella in her mother, although the queen seemed much more delicate. “This is the Princess Sallia,” King Goleto said. “She’s quite grown up since we saw her last.”

Sallia curtseyed to them both.

“None of that here in our apartments. You have your mother’s eyes.” The queen sighed. “I’m so sorry, Princess.” She blinked the bad feelings away and brightened her eyes. “What brings you to Beckondale? We’re not prepared for a state visit.”

She didn’t remember the royal couple or the castle, but the remark about her mother’s eyes made her own well up a bit.

Lotto broke in. “She needs a break as much as Mander and I do. I invited her.”

The queen tut-tutted. “Of course she does. My, you’ve been through as many trials as we have. That damned Daryaku. He nearly had us killed, as he would have done you. Stay with us.”

Sallia furrowed her brow but knew she should stay at the castle. “I will as long as I can visit Mander and Lotto as much as I’d like while we are here. They are the only people I know in your city.”

“Of course, of course,” King Goleto said. “We have suitable guest apartments in the castle. I daresay as large as these.” He looked around. Sallia caught the twinkle in his eye. Her father never seemed as jovial, but then she didn’t think for a minute that the Valetan king could bring power into his persona as soon as he desired.

“That would be fine with me,” Mander said. He winked at Sallia, which made her flush. The man disconcerted her so. “I’m off to see my Anna and Lotto probably can’t wait to get back to the bookstore and then on to his old sword master, Kenyr. If you will excuse us. By the way, there is a Ropponi sorcerer down with the servants. I’d appreciated if he was treated very well.” He took Sallia’s hand in his and kissed it. “I will call on you tomorrow, Princess Sallia, and my wife and I will take you on a tour of the city.”

Sallia smiled and tilted her chin up. “I will look forward to it, Lord Hart.”

He winked at her again and grabbed Lotto, leaving her standing in front of Valetan’s royal couple.

“Sit, sit. May I call you Sallia, if you call me Jane?” The queen led Sallia to a large sofa. The king sat in a large overstuffed easy chair next to it. They flanked Sallia.

“Now, Sallia, what has been going on to the south? We get our own information, but I’d like to know it from your perspective.”

Sallia took a deep breath. She hardly expected to be briefing the king and queen of Valetan, but if she regained the throne, they would truly be peers.

~~~

Chapter Twenty-Seven

~

S
hiro started. “What? Who?”
he said in Ropponi.

“Quiet,” Anchor said as he let go of the toe of Shiro’s boot as soon as he succeeded in waking Shiro up. He sat down in the dirt beside his companion. “We need to get out of here.”

“I lost my power.” Shiro slowly pointed to his skull. “Bump on the head.”

“Concussion, more like,” Anchor said. “I came to warn you. They are giving wizard tests to all of the men.”

Shiro smiled. “One small bit of compensation. With my magic gone, I’ve already failed.”

“Good for you!” Anchor said and then put his hand to his chin. “Not so much, really. You’ll have to take care of yourself. Try and find out what’s going on.”

“I’m stuck here cleaning up after the horses.” He lifted up the shovel at the side of his blankets. “Light work as I heal.”

Anchor got to his feet. “That might be as good a place as any. If you get a chance to bring horses to any of the officers, you might pick something up. As for me, I’ve become the darling of the sparring set. I’ve achieved a great deal in learning how to handle a sword, but not so much skill in concealing the fact. Now I can’t sneak around.”

“At least you’ll know where to find me,” Shiro said.

“I’ll be checking back often enough to find out when we can escape. Let’s keep an eye out for each other. I’m ready to leave at a moment’s notice when your power returns.”

Anchor left Shiro nodding in agreement.

Shiro’s condition worried Anchor as he walked through the camp to his tent. Even if they stole horses, the Ropponi didn’t appear to be in any condition to ride. Anchor would give him a week to recover and then they’d leave, regardless of his health.

Why were they casting a net for wizards? He soon found out as he stood in a very long line of men. A few hours later, he had his examination. The little marble ball couldn’t sense a lick of Affinity. That suited Anchor just fine as he used his time in line to gather more information.

He wished he could send a bird or something. If Shiro couldn’t transport them, it would be days before the alliance and King Willom would know their fate. Anchor began to rue his decision to go off spying. His quick trip to Port Grianne and turned into an extended stay and he only took solace that this force was settling in for a winter stay.

They had spent more than a week in the camp and Anchor hadn’t run across Shiro for three days. He trudged through the ever-present mud on his way to more training with his squad when he heard someone call his fake name. “Vance!” Anchor turned around to find his first sparring partner surrounded by officers.

He remembered Antzen’s name, but he pretended he didn’t recognize the man, now dressed as a Teryon officer. He didn’t know the insignias of rank. “Dessolo of Venato? We fought last week?” the officer said.

“Oh,” Anchor said and then straightened into attention. “Sir. I didn’t know you were an officer.”

Antzen laughed whereas his men chuckled. Anchor didn’t see any mirth in their faces. “I’m an officer in the duke’s army. I am not from Blintz.”

Anchor thought the man a bit too smooth, but perhaps he could learn vital information from him.

“Walk with me,” Antzen said.

Anchor fell in beside the Antzen. He felt naked without a sword in his hand.

“I still don’t know why you came all the way to Grianne to join the army.”

“I’m not sure I know myself,” Anchor said. He fiddled with his belt buckle as they walked. “I left Venato for a reason to join the Learsea army. After that didn’t work out, I only wanted to be in my home country long enough to pass through it. By the time I got here, I had heard about your encampment. I’m a soldier. It’s all I know.”

Antzen narrowed his eyes at Anchor. “Where did you learn your swordsmanship?”

Anchor laughed. All he had to do was change the location of South Keep. “I took a promotion at a border keep. The commander didn’t want me there, so he gave me nothing to do. I spent all my time looking at maps, reading battle histories and sparring. Probably half of my time sparring. I took the best of what I learned and incorporated it in my style.”

“You did well. I could tell you were laying back. I’d like you to fight one of my sergeants without holding back. Can you do that?”

Anchor’s heart sunk. The captain could easily make it a death match and Anchor had nowhere to run when he won and if he lost… He pursed his lips. Anchor had seen too many duels in his life and there were always distractions that could do any man in.

The tents became further apart. Anchor thought this might be an officer area. He sniffed the air. The constant stench of unwashed bodies didn’t permeate every smell. Antzen took Anchor by the elbow and steered him through a few tent alleys until they came to a clearing of sorts. A group of more men waited for him.

“I want you to fight Sergeant Dellamo. He’s a fellow countryman of yours. He might have some questions for you after your match.”

Anchor took a deep breath. Antzen would expect him to kill Dellamo to hide his origins. Dellamo would undoubtedly expose him, should Anchor allow the sergeant to live. At least that is how the dilemma presented itself to Anchor.

“Very well. I’ll need a weapon.” From behind him, someone tossed a sword into the dirt at his feet.

~

The Golden Blade looked as it did when Lotto first learned to swing a sword with his arms mentor, Kenyr. He walked into the shop part and heard the clanking of dulled steel blades in the practice hall beyond. Lotto yawned. He’d had a quick breakfast before heading to Kenyr’s.

How many times had he stepped into the hall to see Kenyr teaching other students? He’d never counted, but it was in the hundreds. Kenyr stopped working with two young men.

“Ah!  I have a sparring partner for the both of you.” Kenyr towered above his two teenaged charges. Lotto noticed his blond hair lightening up with gray and his beard now looked whiter as well.

“Two on one?” Lotto said, as he took off his heavy coat, vest and removed the knife on his belt. He walked to a weapons rack and pulled out a dulled sword made in the Seytaran style. Whipping it around to get a feel for the balance, he took a position close to Kenyr’s students.

“Be as creative as you wish, young men. He may look young, but he is a seasoned fighter in the Prola and Happly campaigns and has come to us recently from Gensler.”

Lotto smiled at the two now-frightened young men. “Actually we have winter quarters in a Red Kingdom village. Now can we begin?” The workout would do Lotto some good. The weather had turned cold in Sally’s Corners and he hadn’t sparred with anyone in a few weeks.

He let the two come to him. They stood too close together and Lotto looked pleadingly at Kenyr.

“Ahem. Stand further apart. You don’t want to get in the way of your partner’s swings,” the instructor said as he repositioned the placement of his students.

One of them thrust at Lotto, who parried the blade towards his partner. The other boy nearly moved into the blade and Kenyr had to stop them again. The rest of the session continued in the same vane until Lotto fought with the two boys for a few minutes.

“You can go on up,” Kenyr told Lotto. “I’ll bundle these two up and send them home. No more lessons today, so you’ll have my undivided attention.

Lotto hadn’t gotten the workout he intended, but the boys, hopefully, learned about fighting as a team, something that he hadn’t seen Kenyr teach too often. He reached the top of the stairs and entered Kenyr’s world. He breathed deeply and took in the smells so different from a Valetan’s house.

Kenyr tromped up the stairs and gave Lotto a big hug. “What brings you to Beckondale?”

“A few people thought I needed a break from the front.”

“And so you do.” Kenyr went to his kitchen and brought the stoked fire to life. “Tea in a few minutes.”

“I’ll have to agree. Do you have any students that would be useful as sparring partners?”

Kenyr laughed. “None to beat you, but a few that will bring out a sweat. It might take a few days to arrange.”

“I’ve been banished for two weeks. Mander came with me.”

“It’s hardly a vacation when you have to travel much longer than your vacation.” Lotto heard Kenyr fussing about clanking mugs together.

“We were brought in by a Ropponi teleporter. Took a blink of an eye.”

“Good for you.” Lotto let Kenyr work in the kitchen without another word until he brought out two steaming cups of tea and half of a loaf of bread. “That’s fresh, early this morning,” he said. “Try this honey sauce from Serytar. Found it at the market last week.”

Lotto’s heart beat a little faster. How could Zarronan goods get into the Beckondale market? Someone had to bring it in. He took a sip of the tea. Kenyr always made it strong. “Is the merchant still here?” Lotto tried to act calmly, but the implications Kenyr’s discovery could be very important.

“I think I saw him yesterday when I opened my tent for business.” Lotto remembered Kenyr’s side business, selling repaired arms in the market. He bought his father’s old sword from Kenyr years ago and now he wished he had worn it to The Golden Blade. “As soon as we finish up here, I’d like to find your merchant. We shouldn’t be getting any merchandise from Zarron. Lessa has sealed up the ports on the western side of Besseth, nearly past Foxhome.”

“So if merchandise can leak into Besseth, what else can? Right?”

Lotto nodded. “Exactly. Can I borrow a sword?”

Kenyr smiled. “You can borrow me, too.”

The walk to the market took less than an hour and Kenyr took him across the way from the merchant’s tent. They observed the merchant for awhile before approaching. Kenyr walked around to the back.

“Nothing suspicious, but he has other merchandise from Zarron. There is a guard watching his back, but the crates have Dakkoran-style script,” Kenyr said.

Lotto wondered if he needed to notify Mander, but decided he should act immediately. So much for a vacation. “I’ll go around to the back and take care of the guard while you talk to the merchant.”

“A man of action, as always,” Kenyr said with a chuckle. “I’ll give you a few minutes.”

The guard at the back didn’t seem too vigilant and as the man leaned back to point his face at the morning sun, Lotto slipped the point of his sword under the guard’s chin.

“Don’t move if you choose not to bleed,” Lotto said. “Go into the tent, quietly.” Lotto pulled the man’s sword from his scabbard and laid it on the ground. The guard backed through the slit in the tent and bumped into the merchant.

“What do you want?” The merchant pleaded with his arms extended. “I’m just a poor merchant.”

“Sit,” Kenyr said and both men sat on the dusty rugs that covered the pavement.

Lotto nodded at Kenyr to continue.

“I bought a jar of Serytaran honey sauce last week. Where did you get it? It seems that you carry a fair number of Zarronan goods with most of it from Dakkor, itself. Didn’t you know Valetan is all but at war with the Dark Lord?”

The merchant looked frantic and pointed to the guard. “You got me into this!  He told me about cheap imported goods. I’ve bought eight crates of Zarronan foodstuffs and for a good price.”

Lotto looked down at the guard. “How did you find out about this merchandise?”

“A friend told me this came from Histron. He sold it to me. He’s gone, though. Back to Histron for more, I imagine.”

“His name and description,” Lotto said.

“His name is Gart. Black hair, blue eyes. A head shorter than you. He’s got a scar from the side of his lip down his chin.” The guard showed the scar was on the man’s left side.

“When did he leave?”

The guard shrugged. “I saw him a few days ago at The Winding Road.”

Lotto raised his eyebrows and looked at Kenyr.

His friend made a face. “It’s a dive close to the West Gate.”

Lotto straightened up. He wished he had Shiro’s Sunstone to know if the man spoke the truth. “We’ll let our people know first, then it’s to The Winding Road and maybe the road to Histo.”

“Don’t leave Beckondale,” Lotto said. He motioned with his hand and lifted them both off of the rug. “I’m a wizard as well and will know where you two have gone.” He winked at Kenyr and let the two men drop to the floor. “You’ll give my friend, here, a good price in the future, okay?”