Gold & Glory

by M. H. Johnson

  "Oh, the damage to the carriage is easy to explain," Fitz said easily, oblivious to Sorn's glare. "Crows have poor aim!"

  Valentien's gaze bore into Sorn's own. "Ah. So it was a crow who so readily dealt with the crossbowman in question, and apparently was not in full control of the magics that did so either. To be honest, this is, young sirs, most troubling. For normally a wizard cannot, for example, both change his form and channel arcane energies in that form without a great deal of training and discipline. This, of course, underscores the risk of using items of power when one is not fully cognizant of the dangers. Using multiple artifacts at one time, achieving results normally beyond the realm of what even a high mage could do might be possible, but would be exceedingly dangerous. The mage in question would still have to direct the flow of the multiple arcane energies summoned forth from the artifacts, and all too easily they could, I fear, overwhelm him. In short, young Sorn, next time it might be the crow blown apart with his own magic missiles, as opposed to his foe."

  "I see," Sorn said slowly, slightly unnerved by the intentness of both Valentien's and Lord Canterbier's gazes. Even the triplets were looking at him expectantly, as if finally sensing that more was being said than words alone indicated, and were now waiting for Sorn to explain what was going on. Yet in truth, Sorn knew he should have expected a gentle interrogation at the very least, what with Valentien's veiled suspicions so politely stated the night before, and Commander Jesren's outright insistence that his cousins must have been wielding enchanted mail of some sort.

  It was evident that Valentien and Lord Canterbier suspected Sorn as well as his cousins of using magical items of one sort or another to explain what they had done. Suspected was perhaps too soft a word. Dead certain was what Sorn was getting from the looks directed his way by the two in question.

  "So what you are trying to say is that you suspect that I have been making use of items of enchantment, and that is how I was able to stop Bront and his men, and rescue the injured guard," Sorn said at last.

  "Well of course, Sorn, how could it be otherwise?" Valentien's voice became soothing, as if seeking to coax a confession. " How old are you, Sorn, fifteen summers? The average student has not even managed to truly master spells of the first order until he is at least several years older. And lad, invisibility is a spell of the second order of magnitude. And flight, young sir, as I had mentioned to you yesterday, is of the third."

  The mage sighed, as if it almost pained him to explain such an obvious truth. His sympathetic voice seemed almost to be imploring Sorn to give up any pretense that it could be otherwise, as such was utter absurdity. "Sorn, most mages, no matter how dedicated, lack the natural talent to channel arcane energies of that order of magnitude, and of the one in three mages who can wield such energies, most assuredly they are at least thirty, or close to, no matter how great their natural potential.

  "And Sorn, why did you turn yourself invisible before you flew with Chester to the keep? It was an unnecessary use of magic and served no purpose. If anything, it made people more nervous when you arrived. One can only conclude that it was an artifact of some sort you used. An artifact that you lack sufficient mastery of, such that you can't even cast said magics, except in tandem. A feat which, you will recall, I stated was fraught with peril."

  Valentien paused a moment, pale blue eyes catching Sorn's own angry sapphire gaze before continuing implacably with his seemingly irrefutable logic, bringing forth his points like moves on a chessboard leading inevitably to his opponent's defeat. "Finally, Sorn, your own cousins have conceded, albeit perhaps unwittingly, that it was indeed a crow that had taken out the last crossbowman. By a spell, no less, and it was your words that confessed to Chestnut that the one responsible for obliterating the man in question was you. And Sorn, none but a greater mage could cast such a spell. So you see, Sorn, your spells had to have been cast through a magical artifact. There is just no other explanation."

  Valentien appeared almost apologetic as he came by unerring logic to what he believed an irrefutable conclusion, yet still appeared to regret forcing Sorn to face an uncomfortable truth: That instead of being a potent mage, Sorn was little more than a wayward apprentice, using items of dangerous power, too ill-trained and unwise to realize the consequences thereof.

  Lord Canterbier allowed the uncomfortable silence to stretch for only a few moments before taking up where Valentien had left off, his strong voice modulated to soothe. "Truly, Sorn, we do not view you or your cousins in any ill light," he reassured. "We all know the temptation to, for however brief a time, rise beyond what we see as the limitations of our lives and strive to be something greater, to capture a moment of glory for ourselves. But as Valentien so wisely stated, the risks, especially for an apprentice mage, are fraught with peril.”

  At this point, Lord Canterbier shifted his concerned, paternal gaze upon the triplets, who with a sinking feeling just knew that now they too were going to be faced with Uncomfortable Questions. "Now lads, forgive me for bringing this up, but your claims of being knights from a land distant from here would be more believable were it not for the fact that you seem to be completely ignorant of heraldry, knights of note, or even the concept of jousting lists. Indeed, lads, you charged the bandits, however nobly, on foot!" As serious as the conversation was, Neither Lord Canterbier nor Valentien could help but crack a smile at that.

  "Your reluctance to handle the reins on the carriage was also a bit odd, as knights as a rule are as familiar with their horse's saddle as they are their own bed, and few things are easier for a rider than controlling a horse on what is, after all, a glorified cart. And as for being foreign nobles, young sirs, you speak our language perfectly, and I detect not a trace of an accent. So if you were foreign-born nobles, having been so expertly trained in our language so as to remove any trace of an accent, it would only make sense that you would also have been taught at least the rudiments of jousting and horseplay as well. That you weren't poses something of a puzzle, wouldn't you agree?"

  At this point Lord Canterbier favored the triplets with the full force of his fatherly gaze, causing Sorn to pity poor Chestnut, who probably couldn’t get away with anything in this keep, what with a father who could hit her with that look. "Now lads, please, tell me true. You know that you are welcome in my house whatever the answer. You aren't really questing knights, are you?"

  "You see, Sorn? this was your stupid idea! You were the one who wanted us to dress up as princes!" Sorn was left sputtering by the absurdity of the squirming Lieberman's peeved accusation. The terrible trio, after all, were the ones who had dressed in costume and whose idea it had been to attempt to aid Sorn's protest, and whose over-enthusiasm had ended up activating the porthole that had sent them here in the first place. Of course, there was no way he was going to mention that here.

  "Yeah, Sorn," Chimed in an accusing Fitz, also looking uncomfortable being put on the spot by someone oozing so much parental authority. "You were the one who wanted us to 'blend in,' and 'make our fortune,' thought we could fool everyone and get along peacefully!"

  "It's true, Lord Canterbier," sighed Hanz. "We're not knights, actually, we're… Ow, Sorn, why did you kick me?" Hanz shot Sorn a hurtful glare, which he promptly ignored.

  "You have the right of it, Lord Canterbier," Sorn said, thinking quickly. "The triplets are not precisely knights, though they are my cousins. Their mother sent them to live with me and my own mother, and to be tutored under her care, for she was a powerful magic user."

  Sorn paused a moment to give a theatrical sigh. "Sadly, though my mother consented to teach us all her craft, my cousins were stubborn and spent most of their time practicing with her house guard, learning swordplay. Indeed, they have lived very sheltered lives, and most of what they understand from the outside world is based on books and bard's tales, so they are just a bit naive, I'm afraid." This he said with a glare at his cousins, who thankfully got the message and whose grins at least indicated they were willing to go alo
ng with the story.

  "It's true, your lordship, though actually most of what we learned about magic was from Sorn. His mom was always too busy," Fitz added helpfully, which was true, in its own way.

  "That's true, and boy can he be a pain when he wants you to do something!" Lieberman agreed emphatically.

  This, of course, caused Valentien to roll his eyes and mutter something about the dangers of apprentices teaching other apprentices, and Sorn felt he was about to break into another lecture about the dangers of magic before Lord Canterbier gently cut him off with a raised hand. His demeanor really did seem to be one of almost fatherly concern, and he gave the boys a reassuring smile before continuing.

  "Thank you for your candor young sirs, we appreciate your ability to trust in us, and assuredly, the truth is the best way. What concerns us at the moment is the nature of the artifacts themselves." Lord Canterbier took a measured breath before addressing Sorn directly. "Sorn, I know it is a difficult question to ask, but please bear with me anyway. The artifacts you wield. Were they perhaps your mother's? Borrowed for your adventure, so to speak?

  Sorn sat bolt upright, face rigid with surprise, and the room seemed to chill, so frigid was his stare. "So," Sorn said softly, "you think me not only a fraud, but a thief as well?" His cousins looked at him in surprise, not expecting his icy tone, nor the outrage, tightly coiled yet nonetheless causing his eyes to glimmer brightly in the lamplight, almost as if with their own inner flame.

  Sorn tried to reel his fury in. He knew this lord and his man were simply trying to ascertain the truth, and their assumptions made perfect sense, considering the mundane background that Sorn and his cousins had, after all, attempted to imply was their own.

  Sorn focused for a moment trying to find his center, soothing himself with his own understanding of the lord's good intentions, knowing truly, no insult had been intended. The surprise so palpable on Lord Canterbier's face left the room momentarily silent, giving Sorn that much needed moment of reflection.

  "Let me see if I can explain," Sorn began softly. "My inheritance, if you will, was bequeathed to me by my mother and my sire. It is, in all ways, my own possession. My mother, well, is not on this plane at this time, nor is my cousins' mother. We are alone, save for each other. All that we have from our parents is what you see before you. So we decided as a group to make best use of our talents and items, and venture forth, to make our fortune as best we can. And that, gentle sirs, is the truth of the matter."

  "Ah," Lord Canterbier said softly. "I see. First, Sorn, I do apologize for having offended you. I do not mean to slight your character, for you have proven your worth beyond doubt. Please understand that youth does not always have your resolve, and at times various items have been liberated from various sources... for the noblest of purposes, I am sure. Valentien and I were only concerned that this might have been a case where the means, perhaps imperfect, were being justified by the noble ends intended. But say no more, Sorn." Lord Canterbier gently forestalled any comment Sorn was about to make.

  "I believe that every man is entitled to his inheritance without being questioned for it. And let me say as well that you and your cousins have my deepest condolences on the loss of your mothers. I know that is a painful blow to bear."

  "Thank you, my lord," Sorn replied. "It is still a fresh wound for us, not having our mothers here with us."

  "Yes," Fitz said softly "That's true, I do miss mom." Hanz and Lieberman could only nod mutely, feeling for the first time, perhaps, what it felt to be truly divorced from everyone they knew and loved.

  Lord Canterbier, somewhat awkwardly, cleared his throat. "Forgive me for once again touching upon a delicate subject my lads, but you seem to have implied that your mother was a woman of substance, with considerably more wealth than the artifacts you all presently bear. I know that inheritances can be complex matters, fraught with peril, physical as well as otherwise. I just wanted to assure you that if you needed assistance or council for securing an inheritance that you are presently perhaps unjustly barred access from, you have only to ask, and I shall render what assistance I may. Take comfort, young sirs. Should it matter, my voice does have weight in Council."

  To this Sorn could only smile, warmed by the friendship and concern Lord Canterbier's offer demonstrated, reminding Sorn once again that this man truly was a noble in the best sense of the word. "I thank you again for both the thoughtfulness and generosity of your offer. Please rest assured, however, that this is a matter best left buried. Were my cousins and I in a position to interact with our relatives, I am afraid that the results thereof would be very painful for a lot of people. Best, by far, to leave the matter to rest."

  Lord Canterbier looked gravely at Sorn for a moment, then slowly nodded his head. "I will respect your wishes, young Sorn, and I give you credit for prudence where many a man of far greater years would rush headlong into folly. It is good to see that you have a grasp of what truly matters." He gave a meaningful look at Sorn's cousins, as if to imply that their care was considerably more important than risking their lives in a perhaps violent succession of sorts, acknowledging that Sorn's choice bespoke of both a compassion and wisdom rare to be found in any man, regardless of his age.

  "This being said, let us call all these affairs sufficiently addressed to our mutual satisfaction, and discuss happier matters." Lord Canterbier paused, making sure he had the youths' full attention. "You have proven yourselves the noblest of heroes, saving my family from a most grisly demise. Additionally, without a second thought, and motivated solely by compassion, you managed to save one of my own men from a death that otherwise would have been certain. For these feats, young sirs, I would reward you as you deserve." Lord Canterbier paused a moment, his expression becoming very serious, almost grave, turning to face the triplets directly.

  "Fitz, Lieberman, Hanz, come forward, please. Now kneel." As the three youths did so, Lord Canterbier came around his ornate desk before the three kneeling youths. Holding an elegantly sheathed sword in hand, he slowly drew forth a finely wrought blade, folded steel glimmering brightly in the lamplight. The sword looked a work of art, well-forged steel carefully etched with geometric designs, the finely balanced blade visibly sharpened to a keen fineness. Held expertly by the jewel encrusted pommel, Lord Canterbier ceremoniously reversed his hold so the blade faced the floor, the hilt being placed at eye level to the excited looking triplets, whose faces held expressions of barely contained jubilation.

  "Give me your right hand, each of you. Now place it on this blade." The youths obediently did so, and the Lord clasped his other hand gently over theirs, speaking well-armed as he did so. "I, Lord Canterbier, lord and master of this land and its peoples, subject only to the dictates of my Duke, do hereby declare, by prowess martial and deeds valorous, you Fitz, you Lieberman, and you Hanz, fit to be squires, ready to be trained in the duties and privileges of knights thereof. Do you accept this honor Fitz, Lieberman, and Hanz?" Receiving three very animated nods, Lord Canterbier gave a solemn nod of his own, eyes glimmering with pride.

  "Then I do declare you three squires of the Canterbier estates, worthy and true, and fit to be trained as a knight by anyone seeking a lad both brave of heart and noble of virtue to be his squire. Rise, Squire Fitz, rise, Squire Hanz, rise, Squire Lieberman. I greet you all as squires of the Canterbier estates." His voice having raised in pitch to a sonorous rumble, the three newly made squires rose jubilantly, amidst the background cheer of the men at arms to be heard by the window below.

  "Normally the dubbing of a squire by his lord is a private matter, but in this case commander Jesren might have leaked a word or two." Lord Canterbier smiled.

  "We are squires, Fitz!" Lieberman shouted excitedly.

  "Yes we are, brother mine; squired for valor and bravery in battle! This is turning out just like we had hoped, Sorn!" Fitz exclaimed happily.

  Hanz just stared at the hand with which he had so recently held the hilt of the jeweled sword and smiled, for once at
a loss for words.

  Valentien then gravely handed each of the three youths a letter sealed with Lord Canterbier's sigil, as well as a silver pin, bearing his coat of arms, which were subsequently pinned to the youths' doublets.

  "These pins mark you as affiliates of my House, and will give credit to your words and perhaps open doors for you that might otherwise remain closed. These letters formally declare my having squired you, having deemed you fully fit for the rigors of knighthood. This accolade should assure that any knight in need of a squire will be honored to accept you as his own. With it comes rights to a warhorse, full arms and armor, to be selected for you under the care of the knight under whom you would train when such comes to pass. Lads, if knighthood is truly what you seek, the path is now wide open before you." Lord Canterbier smiled. The brothers, faces aglow, thanked Lord Canterbier profusely, giving him a deep bow.

  "My Lord, we won't let you down!" Lieberman declared exuberantly, speaking for all of them.

  At this point Valentien approached a bemused Sorn, who was quite happy for his cousins' commendations, enjoying their exuberance, well aware that for them it was like having one of their much-loved stories that they had so used to pester him to read to them having come to life.

  "Sorn," said Valentien formally, handing him a packet and pin of his own. "Lord Canterbier marks you, too, as an affiliate of his house, and would be honored if you wore his pin." A pleased Sorn attached Canterbier's sigil to his doublet as Valentien continued. "This letter of introduction announces you a fit apprentice to be fully taught all arts arcana to the best of your abilities to master. It also covers recompense for all expenses accrued during your apprenticeship at the Royal Arcane Academy in the capital city of York, where our beloved Duke Nevontain himself holds court.”