The King's Man

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  I was tempted to take Caroline to the shop and introduce her to my father and sisters, but I knew better. Instead, we headed towards the docks. The stench of rotting fish grew stronger as we walked, seeping into our clothes and brushing against our bare skin. I saw a dozen posters nailed to the wall, each one inviting us to the Working Men’s Clubs. The guardsmen hadn’t tried to take them down. I guessed they didn’t even know the posters were there. I wasn’t even sure the intended audience could read them. Here, schooling was regarded as a waste of time.

  We walked across a canal, watching a heavy barge steadily navigating its way down towards the sea. A handful of children worked on the deck, performing tasks I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. The barges were almost all family-owned businesses, the children going to work almost as soon as they could walk. I’d heard that the bargemen hated the schools, insisting that it was a cunning plan to keep them poor by forcing them to hire outsiders to work their barges. They might have been right, although I knew schooling was important. A man who couldn’t read a contract couldn’t tell if he was being lied to.

  I scowled as we headed through a darkened alleyway. A handful of older men were lying in the shadows, trying to snatch some sleep in the quiet of the day. They were homeless, probably kicked out by families that could no longer support them. Or ... or something worse. I remembered some of the horror stories I’d heard and shuddered. Some people thoroughly deserved to be kicked out of house and home. Lord Redford, for one. Saline shouldn’t have needed to kill him.

  Caroline nudged me. “I don’t want to worry you,” she breathed, so quietly I could barely hear her, “but we have company.”

  I reached out with my senses, swearing under my breath. There were four men in front of us, three more behind. We’d been boxed in ... I glanced at the crumbling iron fire escape, wondering if we could get up to the rooftop, but that would just be trading one trap for another. Either they’d chase us over the rooftops or shadow us on the ground, waiting for us to come down. I felt the magic flowing through me, blurring with Caroline’s. Neither of us wanted to run away. Instead, we picked up speed. I sensed their surprise as we hurried towards them. They didn’t seem to realise we knew they were there.

  The four men came into view, three carrying knives. The fourth carried a rusty spellcaster, so degraded that I honestly didn’t expect it to be in working condition. I reminded myself, sharply, not to take that for granted. The spellcaster might still be dangerous. I shuddered, inwardly, as the four men leered at us. They intended to rape and kill us both.

  “There’s a toll you have to pay, if you want to get past,” the leader said. He was practically undressing Caroline with his eyes. “And you ...”

  I lunged forward, striking him in the throat. He emitted a gurgling sound and tumbled to the ground, coughing and choking. The spellcaster hit the ground beside him and exploded in a shower of sparks. The other three started forward, too late. Caroline and I could have stopped them in their tracks with magic. Instead, we tore them to pieces. I laughed, despite myself, as I took the knife off one of them, snapped it in two and flattened him with a single punch. I’d measured myself against Sir Muldoon and the other instructors. I hadn’t quite realised just how much of an edge I had against everyone else.

  There was a clattering sound behind me. I turned, just in time to see the two behind us turning and running for their lives. They were so scared they’d dropped their knives. They’d never live that down, not in the docks. No one would be afraid of them. I snickered as I destroyed the remaining knives, resisting the urge to put my foot on their throats and push down as hard as I could. I’d met too many thugs like them. They were just human vermin, keeping the streets unsafe for locals. I’d be doing everyone a favour if I’d killed them out of hand.

  “We’ll take them back home,” Caroline said, casting a capture spell. “And they can be shipped to Skullbreaker Island.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. One of the thugs moaned. I kicked him in the chest. “They won’t be tormenting anyone here any longer.”

  Caroline checked her watch. “And we’d better hurry,” she added. “We have to look our best for tonight.”

  I groaned. “I hate parties.”

  “Think of it as a chance to find out what’s really going on,” Caroline said. She winked at me. “And, if nothing else, a chance to eat some really good food.”

  “And it was supposed to be my turn to cook tonight,” I said. “Point taken.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I felt ludicrously out of place as I clambered out of the carriage and walked towards House Lamplighter. My formal dress uniform was as uncomfortable as hell, as if it had been designed by a sadist, and I could feel aristos looking at me and sneering as they realised I was a common-born Kingsman. Caroline fell into place beside me, offering me her arm. Sir Griffons had told us to go ahead, promising he’d be there within the hour. I had a sneaking feeling he meant he wasn’t going to be coming at all.

  House Lamplighter glowed in the darkness, every window lit up with an eerie magical radiance. The main doors were thrown wide open, allowing the throng of aristos to move in and out of the mansion as they pleased. I looked around, trying not to sneer at the limitless wealth on display. The dresses the girls wore cost more than my family could hope to earn in a year. And they all looked unique. I shook my head in disbelief as we presented ourselves to the butler, who looked so stiff I half-expected him to have a rod stuck up his butt. He eyed us sardonically, then motioned for us to enter. Caroline managed a polite curtsey. I would sooner have died.

  The sound of dance music drew louder as we walked down the steps and into the main hall. Couples were milling about, moving through the steps or haunting the buffet. I looked around for Lady Lamplighter herself - the reports had stated the Great House had a new Matriarch - but there was no sign of her. I felt my heart twist as I spotted a couple of girls I knew vaguely from school, chattering loudly about nothing with their friends. They didn’t seem to notice me. I wasn’t sure if I should wave or not. Here ... they’d probably prefer to pretend they didn’t know me. I couldn’t blame them. Their parents would ask pointed questions about what they might have been doing.

  A passing servant offered me a glass of wine. I took it, muttering a spell to remove the alcohol before I started drinking. Sir Griffons would kill me - probably literally - if I got drunk and made an ass of myself in front of the Great Houses. Caroline caught my hand and turned me around, pointing towards the inner stair. A young man in tribal robes stood at the top, staring down at us.

  The herald cleared his throat loudly. “Ladies and Gentlemen, Prince Jacob of North Cairnbulg.”

  I studied the prince for a long moment, thoughtfully. He was a dark-skinned youth, only a shade or two lighter than myself. His clothes were carefully designed to show off his muscles and make a display of wealth, even though - reading between the lines - I had the feeling he wasn’t anything like as wealthy as he claimed. He didn’t have his kingdom, not yet. His eyes were alight with intelligence as he strode down the steps, accepting the applause of the junior aristos as his due. The older aristos didn’t seem so entranced. I saw a handful turn away, cutting the prince dead in the midst of the crowd. It didn’t seem to bother him.

  Saline stepped up and asked the prince to dance. I blinked in surprise ... that was Saline. She looked different now, wearing a long blue dress that set off her brown hair nicely. Clearly, she’d already been forgiven. I guessed that they wanted to thank her for sparing them the embarrassment of a trial. The prince took her hand and led her onto the dance floor. He seemed to be a good dancer. He certainly didn’t seem to be treading on her toes.

  “Politics,” Caroline muttered.

  A smarmy-faced aristo - I wanted to hit him on principle - came up to Caroline and asked her for a dance. Caroline accepted and allowed him to take her hand. I felt a surge of jealously, even though I didn’t want to dance. I’d had lessons, but I knew I wasn’t good enough to g
o on the dance floor without embarrassing myself. Instead, I turned and walked up the stairs to the balcony. It was as good a vantage point as any. Saline seemed to be having a great time. Caroline ... not so much.

  She can take care of herself, I reminded myself. Really. She can.

  I directed my gaze over the dance floor, trying to pick out the alliances amongst the noblemen. There was a surprising lack of senior aristos, save for Lady Lamplighter herself. She wasn’t much older than me, I noted. It was never easy to tell with the aristos, but I’d be surprised if she was over twenty. I wondered if she’d done the right thing by agreeing to host the prince. The older aristos were going out of their way to shun him.

  “Adam?”

  I turned. Akin stood beside me, wearing a suit and tie. I was surprised he hadn’t made more of an effort, although he was House Rubén’s Heir Primus. He set fashion, whether he wanted to or not. He didn’t follow it. I was surprised he’d sought me out. Or perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised. We hadn’t been invited to the ball because the aristos wanted to see us. We’d probably been invited so they could take our measure before we were knighted.

  “Akin,” I said. I reminded myself, sharply, that Akin was the best of the aristocratic bunch. It wasn’t his fault his psychotic cousin had stabbed me in the back before taking a jump off the castle and plummeting to his death. “How are you?”

  “Bored out of my mind,” Akin said. He held a glass in his hand, but it looked as if he hadn’t so much as taken a sip. “This ball is a waste of time.”

  “Far be it from me to disagree,” I said. I turned my attention back to the dance floor. Prince Jacob had moved on to another dance partner and was whirling her though a complex series of steps I could barely follow. Caroline had moved to another partner too. “Why are you here?”

  “Someone has to put in an appearance.” Akin sounded as if he didn’t believe it. “And to make it clear we’re interested, without being too interested.”

  I glanced at him. “In the prince?”

  “Yeah.” Akin let out a sigh. “If he’d asked permission to move here, we would have said no.”

  “I imagine it isn’t doing wonders for your relationship with North Cairnbulg,” I agreed.

  “No.” Akin sighed, again. “He’s caught us in a trap.”

  He said nothing for a long moment. I waited, trying to offer a sympathetic ear. I had the feeling Akin wanted to talk, although I had no idea if he’d been ordered to talk. Sir Griffons had told us that parties were often places for passing underhand messages, ones that would be officially denied if anyone heard of it. Akin had never been the kind of person to enjoy playing cloak and dagger games. If someone had told him to pass us a message ... the list of suspects was very short. His father was about the only real suspect.

  “We don’t want him here,” Akin said, quietly. “But we cannot be seen to giving into pressure - from the capital as well as North Cairnbulg - to expel him either. As long as he doesn’t break the law here, we have no formal grounds for kicking him out. And the more we’re pressured into expelling him anyway, the more we have to push back.”

  I sighed, inwardly. The Great Houses deserved to squirm, but not when there was something genuinely important at stake. Prince Jacob had tangled them in a political web that couldn’t be broken without causing all sorts of problems. The Great Houses wanted - needed - to maintain their independence. They couldn’t be seen to be surrendering to the king’s pressure without compromising it.

  Which means that both the Great Houses and the king want the same thing, I thought, as I considered the implications. But they’re actually blocking each other from obtaining it.

  I looked down at the dance floor. The prince was moving onto a third partner, a young woman in a dress so tight I thought it was going to split open at any moment. Saline was following him, keeping surprisingly close to the prince. I wondered if she knew she was defying the will of her community, or if she was simply establishing her independence. It could be anything. With aristos, who could tell?

  “The prince seems to be enjoying himself,” I commented, dryly. “What are you going to do with him?”

  “The decision has been taken to refuse him the support - money and material - he wants,” Akin said. “There’s nothing to be gained by supporting him, not when it would mean picking a fight with North Cairnbulg. If he wins - if he takes the throne - we don’t think he’ll be willing to throw out all the trade treaties. His people would rise up against him.”

  “And you don’t think he has a hope,” I added. “Right?”

  Akin shrugged. “He has a handful of hardcore supporters, who will do just about anything for him, and a slightly larger band of fair-weather friends who will claim they supported him completely if he actually wins the throne. Beyond that ... he has no army, no navy beyond a pair of minor warships, no sorcerers ... his only real hope is sparking off a rebellion in the hinterlands or bringing in help from outside. Neither one is likely to happen.”

  “I take your point,” I said. Sir Griffons had briefed me, carefully. “The king wasn’t pleased when he showed up here.”

  “No.” Akin winced. “The king’s grandson is still on track to hold both crowns. He won’t want to do anything to disrupt that.”

  “No,” I agreed. “I wonder what the prince makes of it?”

  “I imagine it doesn’t matter,” Akin said. We stared down at the dancers for a long moment, our thoughts elsewhere. “I have to go mingle.”

  “You make it sound like an invitation to your funeral,” I said, dryly. I understood the sentiment. “Is Caitlyn coming?”

  “No.” Akin shook her head. “Politics. She cannot afford to have the prince request help in front of everyone.”

  I felt a twinge of sympathy. I could understand the prince’s position. But ... there was no excuse for using politeness as a weapon to manipulate your way into getting what you wanted. I supposed he had to be desperate. Time wasn’t on his side. The king’s grandson - the heir to both crowns - would be an adult before too long. When that happened, I doubted anyone would give two rusty coppers for Prince Jacob. He’d be well-advised to sell his ships and retire somewhere on the other side of Maxima. His enemies wouldn’t care about him if they thought he’d given up his claim to the throne.

  “He probably would,” I said. “You can sneak out and see her later.”

  “Not here,” Akin said. “Too many eyes would notice.”

  He nodded to me, then turned and strode away. I watched him go, wondering just how much of what he’d told me had been at someone else’s command. Akin was more ... likable than the other aristos, but he was still an aristo. I turned back to the dance floor, looking for Caroline. There was no sign of her. I shivered, glancing from face to face. Was she alright? Or ... I hadn’t liked the boy who’d first taken her onto the dance floor. He could be doing anything with her!

  She can take care of herself, I told myself, again.

  I walked back downstairs, took another glass of wine and forced myself to mingle. No one seemed to want to talk to me, but it didn’t matter. I’d had plenty of experience at listening to people unobtrusively. The aristos talked about everything from trade deals to magical experiments, from who was marrying who to who’s marriage was in serious trouble. I heard a couple of older ladies gossiping over the late Lord Lamplighter, a man who’d been under the impression - the very mistaken impression - that he had a head for business. It was hard to believe, but - the more I looked around the hall - the more I thought the family didn’t have the money to maintain the mansion. The servants didn’t look like old retainers. The butler was the only one who looked to have been in the house for years.

  Quite a bit of conversation focused on the prince, although most of it seemed to be about how handsome he was rather than the justice of his cause. I had the feeling the prince probably found it a little frustrating. I smirked, then looked up and blinked in surprise as I met Alana’s eyes. She stared at me, as if she’d neve
r expected to see me here. I supposed she had a point. I’d never expected to visit House Lamplighter either.

  I held out my hand before I could think better of it. “Would you care for the pleasure of this dance, my lady?”

  Alana gave me a sharp look, then shrugged and took my hand. I blinked, surprised. The girl I’d known at school wouldn’t have willingly taken my hand, unless one of us wore gloves. I put the thought aside as I led her onto the dance floor, falling in step with the other dancers. Prince Jacob whirled past us, a girl on each arm. Alana’s face twisted with distaste.

  “So you’re a Kingsman now,” Alana said, as we moved in tune with the music. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was invited,” I said.

  “Lucy must have been short on numbers,” Alana said. She nodded to the crowd. “It’s quite a small gathering.”

  I looked up. There were at least two hundred people within the hall and more outside, dancing on the lawns or exploring the grotto on the far side of the mansion. It didn’t strike me as a small gathering. There was barely standing room only. But Alana’s mansion was probably bigger. I had no doubt of it.

  “I’ll take your word for it,” I said. I noticed her hair was still in braids. “When are you going to start your season?”

  “My parents will decide,” Alana said. Her voice was flat, but I caught an edge of anger in her words. “They haven’t made up their minds.”