by Matthew Berg
He reflected on what it was about his new friends he valued so much more than his other friendships. Maybe it was because Kestrel and Oskar, and to a lesser extent Laudan, were less serious and less careful about saying and doing the proper thing than his adult friends were. And they were willing to test their boundaries and to push the limits of rules and proprieties. Breeden had always been led to believe that such rules were not flexible, but fixed standards of behavior. And he had learned young from his parents that lapses weren’t acceptable.
He realized that what he was entertaining might point to Kestrel and Oskar as bad influences, but he knew in his heart that that was anything but true. What his friends gave to him now was just as important as the discipline and respect taught to him by his parents. They were teaching him to believe in himself, in his own judgment, and in his own opinions—not by telling him to do so, as his parents had done so often, but by acting as models for him through their actions.
Could he have put it in precisely these words? Maybe not. He had a sense of it all, but an imperfect one. To him, the recognition of what he gained from his friendship was less analytical and more emotional. Put simply, he felt good when he was around them. He felt confident. And he felt a genuine bond of friendship with these boys. One was an orphan and one was noble-born, but they were still his friends and his peers. And that they were his age, and they shared a common experience day in and day out—the lessons of Brother Cedric—made their relationship closer than any he’d ever had outside of the one with his mother and father.
A thought occurred to Breeden, and he spoke almost before he realized it. “Dad? How often do you see Aegir?”
His father stirred from his reverie, took a deep draw on his pipe, and then released it slowly before responding. “Not often enough, son. He’s a good man. Or a good giant at any event. Why do you ask?”
“I was wondering when you’d have his boat completed, and I was thinking that maybe, if I helped you more than I have been, we could finish it sooner.”
His father nodded. “His project is well along. The ribs are all cut and ready for bending. You helped me bend the spine, of course. And I’ve still got to cut the wales. Perhaps a few days more? And then I’ll need your help. But for now, I’ll manage fine while you’re studying with Brother Cedric.”
Breeden nodded. He thought again about Aegir and was saddened at the prospect of having to wait before seeing him again. His mother and father had acted so differently when Aegir was around. And they all three seemed to share a friendship Breeden likened to his own with Kestrel and Oskar. There was no mummery in the way they talked with one another. And there was no sense about the conversation that one had to watch what they said. His parents didn’t have this kind of relationship with anyone else—at least not that Breeden had ever observed. And besides, Breeden missed Aegir’s stories and the way he could feel the giant’s voice when he talked.
“Okay. If there’s anything I can do in the meantime, just let me know.”
Breeden’s mother watched the exchange with a tightened mouth and then reached over and laid her hand on his arm. “Is there anything else you want to talk about, Breeden?”
Breeden wasn’t sure he knew exactly what he wanted to talk about. But he was pretty sure that what he wanted to know was whether his parents were happy. And he was wondering why every day couldn’t be more like the day they all had when Aegir visited.
“No. There’s nothing else.”
She tightened her grip on his arm and tried to get him to look at her. “Come on, now, sweetie. What is it?”
Breeden feared his mother’s intuition, because it had uncovered more half-truths and broken crockery than he cared to admit. As a result, he had learned that his best bet was to come clean as soon as possible whenever she turned her attention his way.
“I guess I just wonder whether you and Dad are happy. I don’t mean together. I know you don’t fight very often, at least in front of me. And you hold hands and do that kind of stuff in front of me too. But what I really mean is just happy, you know, with life and everything.”
The look his mother gave him let him know he’d caught her somewhat off guard. But she was a smart woman, and it only took her a moment to recover. “You asked about Aegir because we had so much fun when he was here?” Her words were something like a question but not quite. Her famous intuition had struck at the crux of the matter once again.
Breeden nodded, resigned to the fact that he could hide nothing from the woman who had raised him.
“We aren’t frivolous people, Breeden. We don’t seek beyond our walls for what we need. We have each other. And we have a comfortable, quiet place to live. I think you know how deeply your father cares for the work he does. And I hope you know how much I enjoy keeping you and your dad honest.” She smiled at her own mild jest, obviously hoping to nudge Breeden out of his funk.
Breeden nodded once again, but he still wasn’t so sure. “But when Aegir was here, you were laughing late into the night, and you seemed to be having more fun than I can ever remember. Why don’t you have that much fun all the time?”
His mother tried a different tack. “But we do have fun—every day. And that we enjoy simpler pleasures more often than nights like the one we had with Aegir doesn’t mean we don’t enjoy our life. It might be hard for you to understand, Breeden, but nights like that one are so much fun because they don’t come along that often. If Aegir had stayed two nights, we might have had just as much fun the second night. And maybe through a third night. But too long in anyone’s company, and the spell of reunion fades far more quickly than you might think.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Breeden sort of understood what she meant, but he didn’t believe it had to be that way.
She looked at him searchingly, her hand still squeezing his arm. Breeden could tell by her look that she knew he wasn’t sure. But she appeared to accept that she couldn’t convince him. “I love you, Breeden. We are happy. But it seems you may need to learn this one on your own.”
The conversation trailed off again, and each of them was left to contemplate the night. The river was so calm that even the outflow of Long Lake’s waters was not enough to disturb the illusion of two vast expanses of stars spread out before them, one beneath the River Woodfall’s waters, and the other overhead.
29
Loss
A week had passed since the king had died, and a pall had been cast over the castle, affecting Breeden and his friends, and spilling out into the city.
Classes had resumed, after a fashion. Sometimes they would meet only in the morning. Sometimes Cedric would dismiss them right away. And Janelle was often called away to help the princess prepare for her trip north.
Laudan projected his voice as soon as he entered the room. “Kestrel is missing. He never came back to the barracks last night. Nobody’s seen any sign of him since dinner.” The words were calm, as Breeden would have expected from Laudan. But they bore a trace of fear he’d never heard in his friend.
“Has he ever done that before?” Janelle seemed more comfortable with herself today, thought Breeden. It wasn’t often she was the first one in on a conversation.
Laudan shook his head. “Never. He’s come in late enough plenty of times—most times when he’s been with a maid. Er . . .” Laudan stumbled, looking embarrassed that he’d said such a thing to a girl.
Janelle smiled coyly. “I’ve heard of such things before, Laudan!”
Breeden’s ears turned red, and he wondered to himself what experience Janelle might have. Suddenly her boldness felt less refreshing and more intimidating. But he put those thoughts aside and recalled again the misgivings he’d been having about the way his Pretani friend had been acting since the king had died.
“I feel like he’s been up to something.” Breeden spoke the words at half volume, as if uncommitted to sharing his fears with his friends.
Laudan grabbed his arm—actually causing Breeden som
e pain—and locked eyes with him. “What was that?”
Breeden winced. “Easy, Laudan. I don’t know. It’s just something about how he’s been acting. He’s kept to himself and gone off on his own more than usual this past week. And he’s seemed . . . lost. I’m not sure I can offer more than that.”
Laudan lessened his grip, too little to Breeden’s thinking, though helpful just the same. “Everyone’s been down since the king died. What makes you think it’s anything more than that?”
Breeden was stumped. Just as he’d had trouble explaining to his father what he’d done with the door to the armory, he wasn’t sure he could make someone understand the way his intuition often helped him to see things others couldn’t see.
“I can’t say, Laudan. All I know is that ever since he found out about the king’s death, he’s been acting strangely. At first it looked like he couldn’t sit still—even more than usual. Then I think it went further than that. It was as if he decided he needed to do something and was mustering his courage to do it. Does that make any sense to you?”
Breeden was relieved when Laudan released his grip and nodded. “Yes. I think I do know what you mean. He seemed upset. I had thought it was me—because I had decided to go with the princess. But I think maybe you’re right.”
“So, he obviously didn’t say anything to you about what might have been bothering him, then.” Breeden was discouraged at the thought. “Well,” Breeden suggested, “perhaps we could go looking for him after class. Maybe check the market and see if anyone saw him yesterday. Or we could check with one of the girls he’s been keeping company with? Do you know who they are?”
Laudan glanced at Janelle again before nodding. “Aye.”
“Well, let’s get moving and see if we can find out where he went.”
Breeden had another thought. “Actually, you should go. But I’ll wait here for Cedric—or try to track him down. It’s not like him to be late like this. But anyway, Kestrel wouldn’t have left Ridderzaal without letting him know. And let’s plan to meet here again at noon and see if anyone’s found anything by then.”
All agreed, and the search began in earnest.
When they met again, they hadn’t been able to find Cedric. And Oskar was the only one to have learned anything. “The steward told me there was a message from Kestrel’s father, asking that he return home at once. That’s all anyone knows.”
Breeden thought about it for a moment and supposed that Kestrel’s mood of late could have been due to a letter from his father. But why would he not have shared the news with his friends? And what could be so important it would call Kestrel back home before he had completed his studies and earned his knighthood?
Those thoughts ran through Breeden’s head as he considered Oskar’s words. But outwardly all he could muster was a disbelieving “Really?”
Janelle appeared to share Breeden’s sentiment. “What? No, that can’t be. He’d never have left without saying goodbye!” Fire flashed in her eyes, and she seemed ready to challenge Oskar for even suggesting it.
Laudan looked thoughtful. And Derek nodded his head. “I agree with the commoners. It wasn’t his way. He’d have told Laudan at least—even if not the rest of us.”
“I’d like to think you’re right.” The tall boy looked unsure. “We haven’t exactly spoken much lately. I’ve been a bit occupied with the princess, and he’s been leaving me more and more to myself and going off on his own. I think he tired of hearing me speak of her eyes like precious stones, and her hair like the golden fields of wheat back home.” Laudan tried a laugh. But his smile didn’t touch his eyes.
Oskar mused aloud. “Maybe the steward knows more than he told me. After all, I didn’t really ask him about anything once he’d told me Kestrel had gone home. Huw would have cursed me a fool for not pinning the weasel down. It didn’t even occur to me to ask when he left exactly, or by what road, or if he left in anyone’s company or by himself.” Breeden could see that Oskar was not happy with himself.
Oskar kicked the floor in frustration. “I’ll see him again this afternoon and find out whether he knows anything more.”
Laudan spoke on the tail of Oskar’s words. “Well, I find it very hard to believe he’d have left without telling one of us.” Breeden heard the unspoken words: especially me! And then Laudan finished. “Let’s split up and continue our search. And let’s meet here again tomorrow morning as we did today, as if we had class. I would like to see if the sergeant-at-arms has heard anything. He was gone all morning and should be back this afternoon. It would have been impossible for Kestrel to leave without seeking his approval—letter from home or not.”
Laudan left the room then. And Derek and Oskar followed after him.
Breeden watched them leave. He felt entirely useless. He could do nothing to help his friends. Even if he could think of someone of authority who might know what had happened to his friend, he was nobody they’d discuss the matter with. He was no nobleman’s son.
He looked over at Janelle and took her hand.
She gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m afraid I need to help the princess get her affairs in order. It’s only a matter of time before she overrules Cedric and decides she is going to Arlon.”
Breeden squeezed her hand. “It’s okay. I understand. I’m sorry . . .”
Janelle squeezed him back and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” And then she was gone.
Breeden’s mind was swimming. He could barely keep his steps straight as he left the inner bailey and walked into the city. Then a thought struck him, and he changed his course, heading toward the market.
He found the satje vendor Kestrel was so crazy about and asked the man when he’d last seen his friend. “Not since two days ago—and my business has suffered!” The hawker was a Mahjar, and the accent that came through his dark-stained smile was heavy with the man’s desert home. “But you’ll send him back here if you see him, won’t you?”
Breeden nodded his head, as much an internal confirmation that his suspicion had been borne out as an acknowledgment of the man’s request. “I will. So, tell me, if you would, sir, what did he usually buy from you, and how much of it would he buy at a time?”
The man responded immediately. “He would buy the stick meat, sometimes two, about this time every day. And on Fridays he would buy an entire parcel of my satje as well—and a good-sized bundle when he did.”
Breeden had never tried satje. He asked for a bundle the size Kestrel would normally buy. The man loaded about a score of the thickly cut spiced and dried meat strips, each about two hands in length, into a clean rag and tied it into a small parcel. “This is what he would buy. And sometimes, when he took a trip, he would buy this much three times over.”
The words were precisely the ones Breeden had been hoping to hear. “Thank you so much. And one last question: when you saw him last, how much satje did he buy?” Breeden paid the man and gave him an extra copper in thanks.
“He bought only a single stick. He has not bought any parcels in more than a week.” The man nodded, and bowed slightly. “Thank you, young master. That is what your young friend would pay me as well.”
Breeden smiled grimly to himself and headed back for the barracks, hoping to find Laudan and tell him what he had discovered.
He caught up with Laudan little more than half an hour later at the barracks. When Breeden saw him, he couldn’t hold back and blurted out, “He didn’t go home. I don’t know where he is, but he didn’t go anywhere.”
Laudan looked around to see if anyone could hear them and then ushered Breeden into the barracks themselves. It was Breeden’s first time in the building. Normally, he would have been gazing about wide-eyed at the arms and armor stored neatly on racks, hanging on the walls, and strewn about on the cots where the squires and soldiers slept. But he was too excited to notice much of anything.
Laudan held up his hand to indicate Breeden should keep his voice low, and Breeden began a
gain. “He didn’t buy any satje. And hasn’t bought any in two days. There’s no way he’d have gone on a trip home without stopping to buy some satje first!”
Laudan wasn’t known among his friends for being the first to arrive at a conclusion, but Breeden knew the boy was a quick enough study when someone else was there to coach him along. “I see. You’re confident, then?”
Breeden nodded his head vigorously. “The vendor said he normally saw Kestrel every day—every single day!”
Laudan shook his head. “Well, someone wants us to think he’s gone home. But it wasn’t the castle steward. It was the princess’s minister who put the word out that Kestrel has gone home. I asked the sergeant-at-arms about it. He said that the princess’s minister received the missive as part of a confidential letter he’d received on behalf of the princess. And he couldn’t share more than that Kestrel was needed at home.”
Breeden was confused. “What? I got the impression from Oskar that it was the steward himself who received the message.”
Laudan shook his head. “I don’t understand either. I’m thinking about asking the princess for an audience, to see if she knows anything about him.” He paused for a long moment, but Breeden waited, since it seemed he had more to say. “And I was going to see if there was a place for me on the trip north as well.”
Breeden didn’t respond. He was surprised Laudan could be thinking of following the princess when his best friend was missing. But he wasn’t sure his tenuous relationship with the boy would survive saying as much. Neither boy spoke, and the silence grew between them.
When Breeden did break the silence, it was in a feeble attempt to make Laudan feel guilty. “Could you write to Kestrel’s father?”
