Duty (Book 2) (10 page)

“Some other time, perhaps,” he said. “But I have some pressing matters to attend to, such as finding out why that man has been following me around all day.”

Gen pointed to the man, who was almost to the door. All eyes turned to the stunned figure who yanked the door open and plunged through it.

“Get him!” someone shouted, and three burly off-duty soldiers bounded out into the night. Gen hopped down and a path was cleared for him, though Gen figured the inn-goers mistook his purpose. Rather than run to catch the man, he hoped to keep him from being attacked by his three benefactors. Volney and Gerand came quickly behind, as did half of those in the common room.

Outside, the snow was deep and all sounds muffled. It was dark enough that Gen couldn’t see the man or the soldiers anymore, and he jogged ahead tentatively, the steep hill in front of the inn making for treacherous running. Most of those pouring from the common room held up just outside the inn, for which Gen was thankful. At the bottom of the hill, the three soldiers were returning, one with a bruised eye and another carrying a ripped blue cloak.

“Milord,” the one with the cloak said, handing it to Gen. “He gave us the slip. Headed back in the direction of the castle, we think. Though it was very dark in the alley he chose to run through.”

“Thank you,” Gen said. The cloak was of rich cloth and was finely woven. “I’m sure it was nothing.” The soldiers bowed and trudged back up the hill. Gen turned to Volney and Gerand. “I’ll see if I can get to the bottom of this,” he said. “I will let you know what I find out, if anything.”

“We’ll walk back with you,” Gerand offered.

“We’ll have to walk quickly,” Gen said, “or I’ll be late.”

The streets were mostly empty as they hiked back. Gerand and Volney split off toward the apprentices’ quarters as Gen jogged up the hill toward the castle. Once inside the walls, he entered through the kitchens, Marna greeting him warmly. It took a concentrated effort to keep her from feeding him and a strong dedication to resist the savory smells and sights around him in favor of being on time. He hurried out of the kitchens before Marna’s entreaties and the promise of good food could lessen his opinion of punctuality.

A breathless soldier ran to catch him just as he was about to cross the bridge to the Chalaine’s shard. “Milord, the First Mother requests you in the Great Hall immediately.”

Gen dismissed him, curiosity piqued, and went to the Great Hall where the doors were open. A grumpy-looking First Mother, Ethris, and Regent Ogbith stood just inside the doors with a smug Athan standing with his arms behind his back, face flushed. Gen bowed to the First Mother.

“This had better be good, Padra,” Mirelle said acidly. “I was with my daughter and do not like to be disturbed.”

“This will only take a moment, Highness,” Athan said, small eyes alive with glee. He walked with a slight limp as he approached Gen. “So,
young
man, you are aware, are you not, that as one of the Chalaine’s Protectors you are not permitted to imbibe liquors, as it will dull your ability to perform your duty adequately?”

“I am.”

“And were you not, just minutes ago, at the Quickblade Inn drinking?”

“Indeed, I was,” Gen had to try hard not to smile.

“You admit it!” Athan crowed, ecstatic. “I would not have expected you to be so cavalier about your indiscretions! You must be suspended from your duties!”

The First Mother, Ethris, and the Regent wrinkled their brows almost in unison.

“I am sure he did not drink enough to impair himself,” Mirelle argued, making light of the accusation.

“Even a small amount is grounds enough for suspension,” Athan said. “And my reports say he had more than a little. Just how much did you drink, Gen?”

“I believe,” Gen said honestly, “that I had three full tankards.”

“Three!” Athan exclaimed. “There you have it, Mirelle! He is clearly unfit!”

“I don’t see why three tankards would incapacitate me,” Gen said. As he had hoped, Padra Athan eagerly took the bait.

“What? Are you some sort of braggart? Are you going to tell me you can hold your liquor so well that you can drink with impunity? I am sure you are quite familiar with the effects of ale, are you not? This isn’t the first time you’ve gone drinking, I’m sure.”

“Certainly. I’ve been drinking before, but. . .”

“No excuses! No explanations! You are dismissed!”

“You are going to dismiss me for taking three tankards of water?”

Athan froze. “What? You just admitted you had been drinking!”

Mirelle, who had gradually appeared more and more distressed, relaxed and grinned.

“Well, you have to drink water, too,” Gen said, “unless someone has come up with a way to eat it. I suppose you could freeze it in weather like this, but is ice really still water in the traditional sense?”

“These are outrageous lies,” Athan said. “My reports said you were drinking ale.”

“With all due respect,” Gen countered, “whoever you had follow me was so far on the other side of the common room that he could not possibly hear what I ordered or see what I was drinking. And here is his cloak. The patrons were rather spirited in their pursuit of him this evening.” Athan turned bright red, ignoring the cloak Gen held out to him. “I would think the Church could afford better spies.”

“Ethris!” Athan sputtered, “Give me the Truth Staff!”

“Please, Athan,” Ethris said. “This is ridiculous. Don’t exacerbate your mistake.”

“Give it to me!”

“There is nothing to worry about, Ethris,” Gen said. “Give it to him.” Ethris shrugged and handed the Staff to Athan, who stuck it in Gen’s face. Gen grasped the other end.

“Were you drinking ale this evening?” Athan demanded, concentrating.

“No,” Gen replied.

“Were you drinking wine this evening?

“No,”

“Beer?”

“Nope.”

“Mead?”

“That’s enough, Athan,” Mirelle said vehemently, pulling Gen away. “You have wasted our time with your stupid little crusade to discredit Gen. You no longer have my attention. Come, Gen. Escort me back to my daughter.”

Athan stalked off mumbling coarsely to himself as Mirelle led the Chalaine's Protector away briskly.

“Why did you have to taunt him?” Mirelle asked as they crossed over the bridge and into the antechamber of the Chalaines.

“He seemed to be having so much fun I didn’t have the heart to stop him right away.” The First Mother laughed and Gen continued. “And besides, he deserved it.”

“That he did,” Mirelle agreed. “You certainly have a penchant for annoying important people.”

“I hope I haven’t offended your Grace or the Chalaine with my rash behavior.”

“I can’t speak for the Chalaine, but I have, thus far, found your rashness rather entertaining, though I think we both wish your antics were more conducive to keeping your head on your shoulders. You only offend me by not visiting me enough.” Gen was unsure how to reply to that. “Oh yes,” Mirelle said as they entered the maze, “I hear there is a song about you burning up the inns in our fair city. Do you know it?”

“I hear there are several different versions. It changes constantly. I heard one this evening. It is a bit rowdy and more than a little controversial. Your Grace might do well to simply avoid it.”

“Excellent. I shall have a bard brought in immediately to sing it for me. I must be apprised of all things rowdy and controversial within my borders. I’m sure the House of Regents will demand to hear it, as well, if they haven’t already.”

Gen groaned inwardly.

“It is a gross exaggeration of my character and my reputation. Hardly worth your attention.”

“I am surprised, Gen,” the First Mother teased. “I thought you would know my character well enough by now to realize that the more you protest, the more likely I will want to have it played for me.”

Jaron bowed as they approached the door. Gen apologized for his tardiness. Jaron, of course, cared little and headed off immediately.

“Thank you for the escort, Gen,” Mirelle said, tapping on the Chalaine’s door. “Let me know if Athan gives you any more trouble.”

“Well?” the Chalaine asked expectantly. She and Fenna sat in front of the Walls, which currently showed Gen standing calmly on guard outside the door. “We could see that Athan was worked up about something. Did Gen tell you anything about the song they were singing, or the story he told this afternoon that had everyone so enthralled?”

“Really, Chalaine,” Mirelle said quietly, “I think Gen might be a little offended that you and Fenna have been spying on him all afternoon. It is a bit childish, don’t you think?”

“Please, Mother. You of all people shouldn’t be lecturing me about spying, especially when you’ve been spying right along with us. Besides, Fenna is in a fair way to be in love with Gen and she needs to know what he is like when he’s not on duty and in the castle.”

“But you seem to be the one asking all the questions. Fenna has been quite silent. A little perturbed over all the attention he was getting from the young ladies at the inn, Miss Fairedale?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed. “Did you see how all the girls mooned at him and fawned over him and smiled and flirted. Absolutely disgusting!”

“You need a bit more confidence in yourself,” the Chalaine placated. “It was plain that he didn’t enjoy their attentions at all.”

“How could he not enjoy it?” Fenna said. “He’s a man. And then there are those letters he never told me about. Kimdan found some of them in Gerand’s quarters. Absolutely shameful and forward, all of them!”

“Pout if you must,” Mirelle said. “But I will tell you what happened with Athan. As for the song, I will have to arrange for the bard at the Quickblade to give us a little private performance.”

In the afternoon before Gen’s watch, Fenna and the Chalaine invited him to come to the Antechamber of the Chalaines to play cards with them in company with Dason and Eldwena as part of an informal celebration of Dason’s release from Chertanne’s service. When Gen arrived, they had already started and were so concentrated on the game that only Jaron standing guard nearby noticed his approach, nodding his head in acknowledgment.

Dason sat with his back toward Gen. Since his reinstatement to the Dark Guard, Dason had transformed almost instantly from a slump-shouldered shadow to his beaming, gregarious self. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the tender, longing expression that fell over his face with his every glance toward the Chalaine. Gen thought the First Mother perfectly justified in her worry over Dason’s feelings for her daughter and wondered how much of those feelings the Chalaine returned.

“Ah, Gen!” Dason greeted. “At last we shall cross swords across the card table!”

Gen genuflected to the Chalaine and took his seat next to Fenna, who kissed him on the cheek.

“You can see,” Dason continued, “that we have a drink ready for you, just water, out of deference to Athan.” Dason winked. “I assume you know how to play Red Wheel?”

“It has been a while,” Gen said, “but I think I remember.”

“Excellent,” Dason said, shuffling the cards and dealing them with a nimble skill born of much practice.

“I must warn you, Gen,” the Chalaine said, “that Dason is very good, as is Eldwena. The rest of us can hardly win a round.”

Gen noticed that Dason appeared hurt by the Chalaine’s statement.

“I will do my best,” Gen answered, assessing the cards Dason dealt him.

Gen played conservatively the first round, watching everyone closely. Fenna and the Chalaine played for fun rather than to win, while Eldwena was serious and eyed every card laid down. Owing to the Chalaine’s comment, Dason purposefully lost, doing what he could to surreptitiously help the Chalaine. Eldwena won handily.

“You played very well, your Holiness,” Dason complimented her fawningly. “But a card or two more in your favor, and the match would have been yours. And Gen, if you wish to do better, you will have to pay more attention to what cards everyone else has played.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Gen said as Eldwena gathered and shuffled the cards for the next round. As Eldwena dealt and they started playing, Dason jabbered on with humorous stories of his card exploits of the past, eliciting laughter from the ladies who were clearly enjoying his company. Gen wondered how many hearts the handsome Prince of Tolnor had broken when he signed on to the Dark Guard. Gen was annoyed at Dason’s smooth manner with the women and his affectionate glances at the Chalaine, so he exercised what Rafael had taught him about cards.

Many young bards survived on what they could win at cards and dice because the poorer inns that journeymen frequented rarely produced much in the way of income from musical exhibition. After a few games in Tell, no one would play cards with Rafael anymore, and once Gen had reached the age of fifteen, Rafael finally thought him old enough to bestow all of his techniques—some rather underhanded—for winning the major card games played in courts and taverns alike. Despite this training, Gen never could consistently beat Rafael, and he suspected his master kept back some of his masterful methods for himself. Gen could, however, beat anyone else he knew.

In the next hour, Gen won all but three hands despite Dason changing games twice and abandoning his attempts to aid the Chalaine by losing. Dason poured all of his effort into strategy and examining every card Gen played. Eldwena started slamming her cards down and swearing near the end, and the Chalaine called an end to the games, claiming she was tired, when it appeared that Dason would force them to play until he managed to defeat Gen.

Everyone rose and left, Gen feeling quite smug, until Fenna gave him a cold farewell and left, escorted by Dason. The Chalaine dismissed Eldwena for the evening so she could spend time with her family, and the handmaiden shot Gen a withering look before stalking across the bridge.

“You know, Gen,” the Chalaine commented as they rose and worked their way through the maze, “it is ungentlemanly to win so much. I think it would be doubly so in your own country.”

“Among nobles, I suppose,” Gen answered, realizing guiltily that he had let his desire to punish Dason ruin everyone else’s fun. “Rafael taught me that in cards, there are no gentlemen, only winners and losers. I apologize for blemishing Dason’s evening. I will simply excuse myself from playing from now on.”

“I hardly think Dason will let you get away with that. He will pester you to play unceasingly until he has mastered you. There is another solution, however.”

“What is that?”

“Tell me how you do it. You cheat, I imagine.”

“It’s not
all
cheating,” Gen replied defensively.

“I’m sure. Tell me how to do it. I’ve got the cards right here.”

“Why would Dason leave me alone if I taught you to win at cards?”

“Because he will be too distressed over being trounced by a woman. So what do you do? What did Rafael teach you? I want it all.”

“You can’t ask me to do this!” Gen protested. “I am not going to be the one who corrupts the
Holy
Chalaine by teaching her how to cheat at cards. What would the Padra Athan say about me then?”

“I thought I was talking to Gen, not Dason. You
will
teach me. I am so tired of Dason letting me win. If I can beat him all the time, he’ll stop. If it helps your conscience any, just think of it as teaching Alumira—not the Chalaine—how to cheat at cards.”

“As you wish.” Gen rubbed his chin speculatively. “Actually, if you have two people chea—working—together in a game. . .”

“That’s more like it.”

“And you have the clothes for it,” Gen continued. “You could hide fifty decks of cards in those robes, and the veil makes it impossible for anyone to see if you’re nervous and shifty. You could be formidable indeed! But I do require something in return.”

“Such as?”

“Such as putting in a good word for me with Fenna. I think she despises me right now.”

“Done.”

For the next several hours, Gen taught the Chalaine everything he knew about winning at cards, and she absorbed it enthusiastically. Her mind was sharp, and beneficially, she had dexterous hands. By the time she finally went to bed at well past midnight, Gen realized he had created a monster. He cautioned her not to start winning all at once, lest she arouse suspicion. He could sense that she was awake a good while before she fell asleep, no doubt anxious with anticipation for the next opportunity to smash her entire acquaintance at cards.

Near the end of his watch, Gen heard footsteps approaching, and they were too light and coming too quickly to be Jaron’s. A servant emerged from the maze, huffing a bit as she delivered her message.

“Chertanne requests the Chalaine’s presence and your own in the library in half an hour, Lord Blackshire. The First Mother was summoned as well.”

“Thank you,” Gen said.

The servant bowed and left as hurriedly as she had come. Gen knocked on the door and relayed the message to a sleepy Chalaine who yawned and promised to come shortly. Gen wondered what Chertanne was about.

As the First Mother predicted, since the arrival of Kaimas, Chertanne had changed his behavior a great deal. Gen saw him rarely, but when he did, the Ha’Ulrich forwent his usual unpleasantness and behaved with civility, if only a practiced one, toward the Chalaine and those close to her. Kaimas himself was rarely seen, but his influence hung palpably over Chertanne. The rough edges only surfaced intermittently, especially when he drank. While Gen doubted Chertanne had changed in a sincere way, even a feigned sense of propriety was better than none at all.

When a yawning Chalaine was ready, they left, meeting Jaron in the Antechamber. He took Gen’s place behind the Chalaine and the Chalaine took Gen’s arm and pulled him next to her.

“What do you suppose this is all about?” she asked quietly. “It is rare enough for Chertanne to summon you to anything, much less early in the morning. I am quite concerned that something terrible has happened. You haven’t offended Padra Athan again or anything, have you?”

“No. Athan has avoided me since I disappointed him by not being sloshing drunk the other night. I am at just as much of a loss as you are.”

When they arrived at the library, Chertanne and his new guard, a Captain Drockley, were there, Chertanne sitting on the couch where Gen usually read. He rose smiling, bowing for the Chalaine before taking his seat again. Mirelle and Cadaen sat across from him, and Athan frowned upon seeing the Chalaine escorted by Gen, though Gen noted a certain self-satisfaction in the way the Padra carried himself. Mirelle stood and greeted her daughter and Gen, offering her seat to her and taking her place at Gen’s side.

“What is this all about, Chertanne?” the Chalaine asked.

“Patience, my dear,” he said happily. “We await the Mages and Regent Ogbith.”

They didn’t arrive for several more minutes, and an uncomfortable silence hung over the small assembly. Ethris and Kaimas came one after the other, and Regent Ogbith, who had to be fetched from his residence in the city, entered last, eyes bloodshot.

“Excellent,” Chertanne began, standing. “I apologize for the early hour, but messages arrived late last night that I was sure you would want to hear immediately.” Gen caught the brief flash of surprise on Kaimas’s face; Chertanne had not apprised him of the letters yet.

The Ha’Ulrich shuffled the papers in his hand. “The contents of the messages will affect Gen the most directly, so if you would like to sit. . .”

“No, thank you,” Gen declined.

“Very well. The messages are long, so I will summarize. First, Tolnor has surrendered and is now under the control of my father.” Gen’s heart sank, and Mirelle tightened her grip upon his arm. “Your deposed King Filingrail is in hiding, but despite this, my father will allow the leadership of your duchies to remain under the control of the Dukes as long as they swear fealty after the Tolnorian fashion to my father and accept the presence of a Warlord to help direct the affairs of their respective regions. Even you, Gen, will have to admit that this is a generous concession, indeed.”

Gen knew that it was, but he said nothing. The thought of Aughmere controlling Tolnor in any degree was abhorrent to him. While he knew it unlikely, he had hoped Tolnor would provide a fierce enough defense to force Khairn to abandon his war.

“As the new King of Tolnor,” Chertanne continued, paraphrasing from the thick letter in his hands, “my father informed the Church that Tolnor is again ready to honor the Fidelium and that I will march in command of the full strength of the nations of Ki’Hal when the time comes for war against Mikkik. He expresses his regret over the lives he took in defense of the Fidelium.”

Gen thwarted a strong impulse to laugh in derision at the Shadan’s disingenuous piety.

“The second message is also from my father and concerns Gen particularly. Under my direction, and as part of my gratitude for Gen’s distinguished service to my sublime fiancé, I asked my father and Kaimas to see if they could find any of Gen’s friends or acquaintances from Tell that might have survived. I am happy to report that some were found.” Gen’s heart leapt in his chest. Chertanne continued, “It says in the letter that there are five persons: a Mr. and Mrs. Morewold, their daughter Murea, and two youths named Gant and Yuerile. He writes that Gen would know them well.”

All eyes turned to Gen, who was fighting with conflicting emotions. “I do,” he said. “I thank you, your Grace.” For the first time since the day Chertanne arrived in Rhugoth, Gen genuflected to the Ha’Ulrich. Athan was visibly pleased, though his smile touched nothing but his lips.

“They are being conveyed to Rhugoth as we speak and should arrive before the end of the week. Well, that is all. I will leave this first letter with the First Mother and Regent Ogbith for further perusal so that they can fully understand the arrangement my father has negotiated during Tolnor’s surrender.”

Chertanne rose to leave, but Athan stepped forward quickly. “A moment, your Grace,” he said. “I have an announcement of equal import, if you’ll forgive me.”

Chertanne, perplexed, took his seat.