The Prince (Heirs of Legacy Book 1)

by Paul Lauritsen

  “Not yet.”

  Relam frowned and looked at his father, not understanding. “His trust in you is shaken,” Orram admitted. “But not beyond repair.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Relam, I’ve lived a long time and been in many situations like this. Trust me.”

  Relam moved quickly to the door. “Right. I’m off then.”

  “Off to where?”

  “The kitchens, maybe the banquet hall. Aven’s working there tonight.”

  “The Assembly Banquet?”

  “Yes.”

  “Keep a low profile, Relam. Otherwise you’ll be plagued with questions about your mother’s health. I can’t have you telling off the Assembly the same way you told off Aven.”

  “It would be fun.”

  “Until they sought retribution.”

  “True,” Relam admitted, pushing the thought aside. “Is mother doing any better?”

  His father’s expression closed up immediately, his face stony and set in hard lines. “No,” he said finally. “In fact, I think she is doing worse.”

  “What?” Relam demanded.

  “She is fading, Relam.”

  “No!”

  “Son, listen-”

  “You mean to say she’s dying?”

  His father merely looked back at him. Relam stared into his father’s eyes and saw that there the barrier of hard resolve was shattered. In his father’s eyes was infinite sadness, a well deeper than the Southern Ocean. They were the eyes of a desperate and broken man.

  “I’m sorry, son. We’ve done everything we can. But she’s slipping away.”

  Relam leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. “It’s not your fault,” he whispered. “I know. It’s not Aven’s, either. It’s just so painful.”

  “I know,” his father said softly. “Believe me, I know.” He stood and went to the door. “I’m going to stay with her until the end. Will you join me after you seek out Aven?”

  Relam nodded wordlessly, not trusting his voice. His father sighed and let himself out, leaving the door open for Relam to follow. The young prince quickly smoothed his rumpled clothes and finger combed his hair. He didn’t need to dress in court garb for this. He would use the back hallways and sneak down to the kitchens. He belted on his sword as a matter of habit, then moved out into the main room and locked his door. After a long look at the door that led to his mother’s room, Relam moved decisively towards the servant’s entrance in the dining alcove.

  He shoved open the concealed door and followed the narrow hallway to the staircase they had used on that fateful night nearly a year ago. Relam wondered for a moment what had become of those assassins, if they still languished in the Eyrie Tower or if their master had caught up with them. The young prince had not heard anything regarding those prisoners in a very long time. Nor had he thought about the assassination attempt in months.

  Relam moved quickly along the next corridor, approaching the kitchens. Delicious smells wafted from the entrance ahead, urging him onwards. His stomach rumbled alarmingly, reminding the prince that he had missed dinner when he had shut himself in his room.

  When he finally reached the kitchens, Relam found that things were winding down for the evening. The feast had already been served, evidenced by the hundreds of dirty dishes and tubs full of silverware to be washed. A few apprentices were up to their elbows in soap suds, trying to keep up with the flood of dishware. One was standing on an upturned crate to reach the sink, a girl of twelve years or so.

  Relam moved past the dishwashers without a word, looking around for Aven. The boy had not said where in the kitchens he would be working, Relam realized, and the kitchens were rather extensive. It took him a full ten minutes to search every nook and cranny, and still no results.

  Finally, he was forced to admit defeat. He moved back towards the dishwashers and cleared his throat to get their attention. The two assistants turned to look at him and their mouths dropped open.

  “Your highness!” the older one squeaked. “What can we do for you?”

  “I’m looking for a boy called Aven,” Relam replied. “Do you know him?”

  “Yes, he’s helping clear the hall,” the dishwasher replied, pointing out of the kitchens and towards the corridor that led to the banquet hall. “The feast is just starting to break up. Most of the guests are still here.”

  “Thank you,” Relam said, nodding to the two assistants. They bowed awkwardly in reply, the small one nearly toppling from her perch atop the crate. Relam reached out and steadied the girl with a smile, then made quickly for the corridor beyond the kitchens.

  The kitchen corridor was the widest servant corridor Relam had ever seen, and it had to be to accommodate the flow of cooks and servers that packed it during a feast. Figures in cook’s whites were hustling back and forth, some with buckets of dirty dishes, others pushing carts piled high with trays. Relam searched every face for Aven, but the boy was nowhere to be found.

  Relam kept moving, drawing ever closer to the banquet hall. He had hoped that he would not have to enter the hall itself to find Aven, but it was looking more and more like that would be necessary. Just to be absolutely sure, he stopped the next assistant that came hurrying through the wide entrance way.

  “Excuse me,” he began. “I’m looking for a boy called Aven.”

  “He’s in the hall, piling dishes into tubs to be taken back to the kitchens,” the assistant said curtly, trying to push past Relam. “He’ll be done in a few minutes.”

  “Are the guests still here?”

  “Most of them.”

  Relam frowned thoughtfully. So far, this little excursion was not going at all to plan. “Thank you,” he said finally, letting the assistant pass.

  The assistant snorted and hurried away, muttering under his breath. Relam hesitated beside the door that led into the banquet hall, trying to decide what course of action to take. Finally, he grit his teeth and slipped through the doors and into the banquet hall.

  The first thing Relam noticed was that the hall was excessively crowded. Dozens of glittering nobles and their families were milling about, and a roar of conversation was echoing from the walls and roof of the banquet hall. The floor space was cluttered with tables and chairs, hundreds of them, leaving little room for people to maneuver. A dozen servers and assistants were scurrying through the chaos, doing their level best to clear the tables so that they could be broken down.

  Relam searched the faces of the assistants for Aven and finally found him, working at the fifth table from the servant’s entrance. The boy was stacking plates and silverware in a bin at breakneck speed, easily outpacing those working around him. He never took his eyes off his work, his back hunched over the long table.

  The prince took a deep breath and moved further into the hall. Any moment, he expected to be hailed by a noble or recognized as a member of the royal family. Then the questions would come, the polite inquiries. Or worse, some would want to talk about politics or policy. Each would push their own agenda, all the while expressing their sympathy for his mother’s condition.

  But he somehow made it to Aven’s side without being noticed. The boy did not recognize him though, carrying on with his work.

  “Aven?” Relam said gently.

  The boy kept working.

  “Aven!” Relam said, louder.

  “I’ve told you people,” the boy growled. “I’m fine. I just work quickly. Is there something wrong with that?” he spun around to face Relam, eyes flaming. Then the anger drained right out of him and his wounded gaze told Relam everything he needed to know.

  “Aven, I’m sorry,” Relam said quickly. “I wasn’t thinking. It’s been a rough few days. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. You were just being kind and trying to help. You didn’t deserve that sort of treatment.” Relam reached out and rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Please, forgive me my weakness.”

  Aven thought for a long moment, then shrugged uncertainly. “Well, I supp
ose I can forgive you. Just this once though,” he added with a roguish grin.

  Relam let out a sigh of relief. “That’s great,” he said, stepping back. “That helps a lot.”

  “Yeah,” Aven said, rubbing his nose. “I knew it wasn’t really your fault, you know. Anyone would do what you did if they were in the same situation. It’s fine.”

  “Thanks, but it’s not fine,” Relam said firmly. “You’ve been a good friend, Aven, and I forgot that.”

  Aven’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Friend?” he whispered, stunned.

  “Yes,” Relam agreed. “You are no servant, Aven. You are many things to me. A servant, yes, but also a guard, a mentee, and a confidant. You are someone I trust and someone whose character I admire. You are a friend.”

  The boy smiled, and Relam realized there were tears in his eyes. Relam pulled him into a rough embrace so that he would not have to pretend not to see them. “I’m sorry,” Relam said again as he released Aven.

  The boy grinned, wiping his eyes hurriedly. “It’s fine,” he said again, smiling.

  “When do you get off work?” Relam asked quickly, looking around the hall. “When the banquet is over? That’ll be a couple hours I guess.”

  “Actually, I was done an hour ago,” Aven replied, looking around sheepishly.

  Relam raised an eyebrow in inquiry. “Oh?”

  “Yeah,” Aven said, rubbing at the back of his head in an embarrassed way. “I may have been channeling my frustration with a certain princeling into my work.”

  Relam laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Is that so? In that case, it’s time you took a break.”

  Chapter 21

  Aven quickly ditched the tub of dishes on another kitchen helper and followed Relam back to the servants’ corridors. Miraculously, they accomplished this without being accosted by any nobles. Relam wrote it off to the guests not looking with open eyes. They did not expect to see the prince, who was not supposed to be present, in the company of one who was obviously dressed as a servant, and so they didn’t.

  Once they were in the servants’ corridor, Aven stripped off the white smock he had been wearing, revealing his guard uniform underneath. His bow was absent, but there was a short sword strapped to his left hip and a stout dagger on his right. His blue tunic and black trousers were perfectly clean, and his black boots gleamed in the light from the lanterns hanging from the wall.

  “It seems that life as a member of the city guard suits you,” Relam commented.

  Aven nodded. “Yes. It’s given me purpose and opportunity. I train with the guard three times a week in the mornings. I spend the two days in between training with Master Agath.”

  “How is that going?”

  “Slow,” Aven said wryly. “I’m a bit behind the others my age. But I’m catching up.”

  “Fought any practice bouts yet?”

  “No, that’s reserved for upper level classes, cadets getting ready to graduate in a year or two.” Aven bundled the white kitchen uniform under one arm and straightened his hair with his free hand. “Master Agath is tough, but fair. He doesn’t tolerate laziness or sloppy work. I’m learning a lot from him.”

  “I’m glad it worked out,” Relam replied, stepping to the side as a cart hurtled past. “What do your parents think of all of this?”

  “They’re fine with it,” Aven said, shrugging. “It pays better than just being a servant and Master Agath is training me for free thanks to your request. We’ve moved into a couple rooms over a shop on the River Road, not far from the Citadel.”

  “Really?” Relam asked, surprised. “I didn’t realize you were making that much.”

  “I’m not,” Aven said, laughing. “My parents are doing better though. My father is working with a blacksmith now instead of cleaning the streets. He was always fascinated with smithies you know. And my mother is still doing laundry but now that we’re more centrally located her business is picking up steadily.”

  “That’s great,” Relam said quietly. He was happy for Aven, and glad he had played some small part in the dramatic changes in the boy’s life.

  “It’s a lot to take in,” Aven said, shrugging again. It was becoming a favorite expression with him. “Beats living over a stable, that’s for sure.”

  They walked in silence for a moment. “How is your mother?” Aven finally asked.

  Relam sighed. “Not well. She’s getting weaker all the time. The healers fear . . .” he trailed off, not wanting to voice what his father had told him, lest that fear become true.

  Aven winced and looked away. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “I know. It’s just - what’s that?”

  “What?” Relam asked, still walking.

  “Stop moving,” Aven hissed.

  Relam froze, one foot suspended in midair.

  “Listen,” the boy urged.

  Relam did as Aven commanded and listened, slowly lowering his foot to the ground. He could hear a vehement hissing noise, accompanied by a low murmur. It was coming from a cross corridor up ahead.

  “Quietly,” Relam muttered, signaling for Aven to follow. Slowly, they made their way to the place where the hallways intersected.

  The hallway crossing the corridor was another servants’ passage, one that Relam was unfamiliar with. It was a little wider than the average path, but not as wide as the thoroughfare between the kitchens and banquet hall.

  “Where does this lead?” he asked Aven in a hushed tone.

  “Around the banquet hall, to the servants’ entrance on the far side,” Aven whispered, gripping the hilt of his dagger. “It’s not used for anything except to deliver food at the start of the feast. All the carts line up here and in the main corridor, then are wheeled out from both entrances to serve. It’s not used for clean up because it goes so far out of the way.”

  “Then who is using it now?” Relam wondered, peering down the hall to where it rounded a distant corner.

  “One way to find out,” Aven said, looking around warily.

  “Follow me,” Relam instructed. “But be absolutely silent until we see what we are dealing with.”

  Aven drew his dagger without a sound and nodded once. Relam flashed a grin, then began creeping along the corridor, listening to the hissing and murmuring, trying to identify individual words. Finally, they reached the corner and stopped, pressing themselves against the rough stone wall, by one of the lanterns spaced at regular intervals.

  “The next part of the corridor runs right up to the doors of the banquet hall,” Aven breathed to Relam. “We can’t go any farther without being seen.”

  Relam nodded wordlessly, then tilted his head, listening. The two voices were growing louder, and he could make out individual words now.

  “You promised me this would be done months ago!” a voice hissed menacingly.

  “As I have told you, the target is remarkably resilient,” a silky voice murmured in reply. “But I assure you, we will succeed.”

  “Your assurances have wasted months of my time.”

  “Not intentionally.”

  “And still no results!”

  “We tried again very recently. If this attempt fails as well, we will try something a little stronger.” The murmuring voice paused. “Are you absolutely sure this is necessary?”

  “Yes,” the first voice hissed. “I am positive. Her death will cripple him, make him an easy target.”

  “A masterful and devious plan-”

  “No thanks to your bungling.”

  “Bungling? Bungling?” the murmuring voice rose abruptly in volume and pitch. “I am taking all of the risk here, my lord. If I am caught, it is no problem for you since you are working in the shadows.”

  Relam shrank back from the corner involuntarily, and his scabbard scraped against the stone wall with a faint noise. He froze, hoping that the murmuring man’s outburst had covered the noise. But it hadn’t.

  “Shadows . . .” the hissing voice said. Re
lam’s eyes widened in horror and he gestured for Aven to retreat quickly, back to the main corridor before they were discovered. Aven began moving silently back, eyes wide, sweat beading on his brow. Relam followed, scarcely daring to breathe.

  “That’s what I’m saying! You have no chance of being caught at your little game!”

  “Quiet fool! Don’t you see? Shadows! There! Where the corridor turns.”

  Horrified, Relam realized that he had placed himself and Aven in one of the worst possible positions. The lantern behind them was throwing shadows against the walls at the place where the corridor turned, clearly visible to the two men conversing around the corner.

  “We are discovered!” the murmuring man said frantically.

  “Back to the hall!” the other voice hissed.

  Relam heard footsteps racing back down the corridor. He considered pursuing them, then gave the thought up. These were dangerous men, up to no good. Instead, he continued to follow Aven back to the main corridor. As soon as they were safe in the midst of a throng of servers, Aven leaned over to speak with Relam.

  “What was that all about? And who were those men?”

  Relam shook his head. “I don’t know. We may be able to catch them though if we fetch Narin. They’re leaving through the banquet hall, remember.”

  “We won’t be able to pick them out,” Aven protested. “We never saw them.”

  “We heard them. Besides, they’re criminals by the sound of things. They should be easy to pick out.”

  “No, Relam, wait, there’s something you’re forgetting,” Aven said quickly. “One of them addressed the other as ‘my lord’.”

  Relam stopped abruptly and looked down at Aven. “One of them is a noble.”

  “Yes. And maybe the other as well. And with the entire Assembly here, they’ll blend in pretty well.”

  Relam scratched his head, trying to remember as much as he could about the conversation, if there was anything he could use to recognize the conspirators. The voices had been vaguely familiar, but distorted. When the murmuring man had raised his voice, Relam had nearly identified him but he still couldn’t quite place it.