Assassin's Apprentice

by S. R. Vaught; J. B. Redmond

  Aron’s knees wobbled as he stepped up on the rough planking, which was wide enough to accommodate two horses, no more. He briefly wondered why Stone would make it so difficult to move large groups out of the castle, but it occurred to him the same design made it difficult to move large groups into the castle. An assailing force might breach the courtyard, even manage to drag down the drawbridge—but they’d still be able to move across only a few horses at a time, while defenders picked them off from the main battlements and the keep battlements, too.

  Dari started to give him another push, but Aron wheeled on her and grabbed her wrists. “Don’t play. I think they have mocker fish in this stream.”

  Dari’s eyebrows lifted. She glanced over the edge of the drawbridge, then stepped back and noticed the wooden screens. After a moment, she put out her hand for Aron to grasp. “Let’s not linger here. Fish are difficult to control, even for me, and I have no desire to be some monster-carp’s breakfast.”

  Dari’s discomfort propelled Aron forward. He gripped Dari’s soft fingers as they crossed into the maw of the square, turreted keep, and Aron noted that the gray stone walls and floors of the open, arched center section were clean and without decoration save for sconces and candles, and a pair of gray banners hanging down the rock on either side. On the banners was the symbol of the Stone Guild, the entwined antlers of Cayn, rendered in darker gray than the background cloth. Aron had that clutching sensation inside again, like each step he was taking was sealing his own doom tighter, and tighter yet, until he couldn’t breathe, until he would die before ever leaving this place. He glanced toward the other side of the arched space, to the road and grass and trees beyond, to that first bit of Triune he could see, the Triune that existed on the inside of the massive walls.

  To Stone go the Stones. Well, I’m a Stone now, and I’m here.

  Stormbreaker was disappearing around a set of circular stairs on their left. Aron and Dari clambered up the steps behind him, both groaning as their exhausted muscles protested the climb. At the top of the stairs, they entered into a closed section of the keep, which was just as clean and sparse as the open passageway below. Moments later, they jogged together down the smooth stone hallway to where Stormbreaker stood in front of another large wooden door, which was partially open.

  From inside came the scent of a meal.

  Aron’s thoughts jumbled and he imagined himself eating through wood and rock to get to the delicious-smelling food, if it came to that. His mouth watered. His stomach bellowed, and he thought he heard Dari’s belly make a similar noise.

  Stormbreaker knocked on the door.

  In his single-minded pursuit of breakfast, Aron almost forgot to be terrified about meeting the Lord Provost. The moment a voice called, “Enter,” he remembered his fear. His legs turned first to wood, then to reeds, trembling and bowing and refusing to move forward even as Stormbreaker pushed open the door enough to enter.

  “There, now.” Dari squeezed Aron’s shoulder. “He’s a Lord Provost, not a rock cat. The man won’t eat you.”

  Aron flushed and shook off her grip. He didn’t want to look at her, to see the pity or humor on her pretty face. He wanted her to see him as quick-learning, brave, and powerful, not as some terrified little boy.

  Yet he didn’t quite believe her about the Lord Provost. The man was leader of the Stone Guild. He was the chief killer in a city full of assassins. Where was it written that he didn’t eat people who displeased him?

  Fighting the blush he knew was coloring his face, Aron kept his eyes away from Dari.

  “Go on,” she said, sounding less patient. “Inside. We have no choice, Aron.”

  A different sort of heat surged through Aron. “Leave off talk of choice,” he snarled. “You have plenty of options. It’s me that has none.”

  Dari looked pained at his sharp words, and the heat seeped out of Aron so fast he could do little but curse himself and wonder why he spoke harshly to Dari when he really just wanted to hold her hand again.

  A new despair settled across Aron’s shoulders.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, wondering how many more times he would find himself apologizing to Dari because he couldn’t keep his fool mouth closed in her presence.

  “All right,” she said, still not smiling, but no longer looking like he had wounded her with a dagger. “I’m sorry, too, for slighting the truth of your situation. Now will you go inside?”

  Aron snorted and turned away from her again, this time managing to bite back the annoyed comments trying to burst from his throat.

  He lifted his chin. Doing his best to control his galloping nerves, he shoved open the door. Without glancing back at Dari, hoping she’d see that he wasn’t afraid now, Aron marched into the room behind Stormbreaker.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  ARON

  Aron stopped inside the room, flushing all over again as his legs once more started to wobble.

  He had expected to find a room fit for a dynast lord, decked in silks and rugs, with soft furnishings, a lit fire, and servants standing silently along the walls as some flabby, ancient man spouted orders to any who would listen. What he found instead was a big stone chamber, cold, with embers barely flickering in the fireplace. A huge desk sat near the fireplace, and scattered over the rest of the space were a bunch of rough-looking wooden chairs and a few tables.

  Lord Cobb was seated at one of them, without any soldiers protecting him, gazing at Aron, obviously taken aback by Aron’s bold entrance.

  Stormbreaker was regarding him, too, his marked face still and unreadable. Aron wished he could fade back to the other side of the door and try again, this time with less fanfare.

  Lord Cobb smiled at him the way his father used to do, when he had done something particularly silly but not desperately harmful. The heat in Aron’s face deepened.

  The dynast lord had paused in the act of dipping his hand into one of several platters heaped with meats, breads, cheese, fruit, and eggs—more food than Aron had ever seen on a table, even on feast days, birthdays, or other celebrations. Several tankards sat on the table as well, along with two large silver flasks and a wooden pitcher of water.

  “Join me.” Lord Cobb gestured to all of them as Dari came in behind Aron, though his next smile seemed to be for Dari alone. “There’s far too much here for one man, though I appreciate the kindness of Stone in seeing to my legendary appetite.”

  Aron still wanted to fall through the cobbled floor, but his embarrassment quickly gave way to desire to fly to the trays and stuff bites of everything in his mouth at the same time. Somehow, he managed to wait for Stormbreaker’s nod of permission. Then he walked to the table with deliberately slow steps, sat at what he hoped was a respectful distance from the dynast lord, and grabbed only a few slivers of cheese and apples. It didn’t seem proper to take the meat or hot bread, not until he was certain Lord Cobb had eaten his fill.

  What were the protocols involved with eating at the same table with a dynast lord? Aron had no idea, though he knew there had to be customs, traditions, and rules. What if he broke one of them? Would the Lord Provost or Stormbreaker cast him out for such an offense?

  “Don’t hold back on my account.” Lord Cobb pushed a tankard and the heaviest tray toward Aron as Stormbreaker and Dari sat across from him. “Take what you will, though I suspect when the Lord Provost returns, he will demand we tidy up our own mess.”

  Stormbreaker selected a sugared bun as Dari picked out fruit and nuts. “Lord Provost Baldric would not ask a dynast lord to perform menial labor, Chi,” Stormbreaker said.

  Lord Cobb laughed as Aron poured himself some water with unsteady hands. “Baldric would have me scrubbing floors if he thought no one would notice.” The dynast lord helped himself to some sausages and hard bread, biting and chewing between words and more laughter. “He used to pound me on a regular basis in our youth—or hasn’t he crowed about his propensity for abusing dynast rulers?”

  At Stormbreaker’s stunned s
ilence, Lord Cobb added, “His mother was my mother’s lady-attendant.” To Aron, he said, “Dynast lords are not made of rock-glass and straw. Most of us can take a punch, if fairly delivered. And what might your name be, boy?”

  Aron almost choked on his overlarge mouthful of bacon. His gaze darted to Stormbreaker as he fought to swallow the food. His father had taught him much, including the proper fashion of speaking to a dynast lord, but Aron wasn’t certain what Stone’s rules were in that respect. Was he supposed to respond directly? Wait for his master to direct him? And what would happen if he accidentally spit out the pork he was chewing because he couldn’t recover from the surprise of being directly addressed by the ruler of a greater dynast?

  “Aron Weylyn.” Dari set a partially eaten strawberry on the table in front of her. “He’s High Master Stormbreaker’s new apprentice.”

  Lord Cobb’s expression remained light, but he said to Stormbreaker, “You took him from the Watchline.”

  Stormbreaker retrieved a tankard and poured a honey-colored liquid from one of the silver flasks. After a long few seconds, he said simply, “I did.”

  “Fortunate for him—and you as well, if he can learn to manage himself.” Lord Cobb took hold of his own tankard, and Aron saw the man’s knuckles go white. He was surprised the cup’s handle didn’t bow from the force of that grip. When the dynast lord spoke again, the warmth had gone from his rich voice, replaced by cold anger. “There will be no place in the heavens for Helmet Brailing. I curse him here and now, in front of any who might listen. Turning on those he swore to protect—if I could reach him, if I thought the Circle of Eyrie would permit it, I’d kill him myself. I may yet, and curse the consequences.”

  Stormbreaker and Dari agreed by banging their cups on the table.

  Aron found himself losing his taste for the bacon he had claimed, but he finally managed to swallow what was in his mouth.

  Lord Cobb regarded him with a mix of sadness and lingering rage. “I am truly sorry for the madness Lord Brailing unleashed against those you knew and loved. Would that I had known what he was planning, I would have thrown every soldier I command into Dyn Brailing to prevent the slaughter.”

  Aron had no doubt Lord Cobb was telling him the truth, that the man’s anger and pain at the suffering of those on the Watchline was genuine.

  Is that instinct or my graal giving me such information?

  He would have to ask Dari, but for now, Dari seemed lost in her own thoughts. She hadn’t touched her strawberry again, but stared at it instead. It wasn’t like her to be so unsettled, and it worried him.

  “You have a very powerful legacy, and bless the Brother for it,” Lord Cobb said to Aron, startling him all over again. “Thank you for helping Dari control herself when I first met your party and upset her.”

  Once more, Aron looked to Stormbreaker to see how he should respond. He couldn’t fathom engaging in casual conversation with a dynast lord, especially about issues he was supposed to keep secret. Yet Stormbreaker didn’t seem distressed by the fact Lord Cobb knew about Aron’s Harvest, or about his mind-talents. And the dynast ruler seemed very familiar with Dari. It was obvious she trusted the man, so Aron decided it might be permissible to trust Lord Cobb as well.

  “You’re welcome, Chi,” he whispered, then repeated himself louder, so he could be heard.

  Neither Stormbreaker nor Dari gave Aron a crosswise look, so he figured he must have done passably well with his answer. His stomach ached, demanding more food, overriding his nerves and even his sadness at the mention of his family’s deaths. He selected a biscuit and some sausages from the proffered tray, and moments later, he was once more shoveling down the nourishment. The sausage tasted of sage—and other spices, real spices—he had rarely had the good fortune to enjoy. His tongue and mouth tingled from salt, from garlic, from something so hot it made his ears buzz and his nose run. He wiped his mouth and nose with his sleeve, then took another big bite of the tangy meat. Aron had no idea what that hot taste was, but he wanted more of it.

  Stone must be wealthy indeed, or perhaps their soil allows for growing such expensive treats.

  “Where is the Lord Provost?” Stormbreaker asked as Dari continued to poke at her strawberry without eating it. Her dark eyes remained on the table, and she was frowning.

  Lord Cobb pointed toward the chamber’s door. “He had to step out to resolve a spat between a Mab messenger and an Altar messenger. Not certain of the details, but I heard they were threatening daggers or swords over some slight or the other.”

  Stormbreaker sighed. “This will only get worse. Even in times of simple border disputes, we’re flooded with messengers full of demands, wanting reassurance about Stone’s neutrality, or how we view this issue or that issue. It takes inordinate time, and it’s not worth the trouble.”

  Lord Cobb worked on a bit of bread for a moment, then said, “You should know that Baldric knows all that I know about your traveling party, save for a few details.” He seemed pained by his admission, but continued nonetheless. “My apologies, but at least half the dav’ha marks I bear are shared on his arm, and it was his urging and Lord Ross’s that sent me thundering out of Can Lanyard with a good portion of my dynast force.”

  Dari didn’t react, but Stormbreaker shifted in his chair, as if his nerves might be twitching as much as Aron’s at hearing these words. “We would have had to tell him most of it, in any case. Let’s hope he’ll remain in good temper for the duration of our meeting.”

  Now Aron really didn’t want the Lord Provost to return. He couldn’t imagine a man severe enough to cause Stormbreaker discomfort. Didn’t even want to imagine such a monster. He forced down his mouthful of nuts, bread, and jam, and stared openly at Stormbreaker, hoping to catch his eye and read his intentions.

  Will you tell him about my crime at the travelers’ camp? Will he judge me here, now, for my intentions?

  “Lord Cobb, when did you last see Platt?” Dari’s interruption came out rapid-fire, as if she had been battling the question until it exploded inside her. Aron’s attention shifted to her so abruptly that he almost couldn’t remember his own last thoughts.

  “What did my cousin tell you about his plans to find my sister?” Dari seemed to realize Stormbreaker and Aron were confused, because she added, “The Cobb line knows who we are, my sister and me, but only Lord Cobb and his eldest son know what we are. Platt is my mother’s sister’s son, the leader of my people—and until this last year when I came of age, he was my regent.”

  Dari’s expression reminded Aron of Seth spatting with the two brothers closest to him in age. Most of the time Seth was—well, he had been—quiet and of measured temper, but taunting from Davyd and Cairn could turn Seth into a raving beast, barely human, frothing at the mouth and searching for weapons. Aron saw hints of such a transition in Dari now, from the way her voice tightened and the corners of her eyes narrowed.

  “I saw Platt during the last moons cycle, when I traveled to Can Elder.” Lord Cobb’s voice grew softer, more gentle as he spoke to Dari, and his gaze softened to something close to apologetic. “I went to pay my respects to your grandfather after I heard his twin boys had succumbed to the Wasting.”

  Dari’s mouth came open, and tears immediately filled her black eyes. “Both of them? Both of my tiny little uncles? Tell me that’s not true. They can’t both have died.”

  Lord Cobb’s sadness was obvious. “That makes nine children lost in all, counting your father.” He glanced at Stormbreaker and Aron. “I know most of Eyrie believes Kembell Ross’s eldest perished in his teen years because of damage done to his lungs by the Wasting he survived in childhood. In truth, he left Can Elder to marry and died in a fire a few years after that, along with his wife.”

  Stormbreaker assailed another sweet bun, then allowed, “Yes. Dari explained about the marriage, but I didn’t know her father had indeed lost his life, or her mother.”

  Dari once more stared at the table, and Aron could tell from the tre
mble in her shoulders that she was crying, perhaps for the deaths she had just been made aware of, or perhaps for her father and mother. He wanted to kick himself even harder over his snappish words to her in the hallway.

  She has lost family, too. Hers to a tragedy—a fire. That’s as unfair as losing them to murder, isn’t it?

  He wanted to get up and go to her, put his hand on her shoulder like she so often did when comforting him, but he didn’t think it was proper to rise from the table without the dynast lord’s permission. He wished Lord Cobb would comfort Dari, or even Stormbreaker, but neither man did.

  Lord Cobb gestured to Dari. “As you can see, the union of Dari’s father and mother was against the Code of Eyrie. A cross-mixing. She can never take the throne at Can Elder in Dyn Ross—but thank the Brother the girls were born, and that they lived, or I fear Lord Ross would break apart altogether. Too much death, even for such a strong man.”

  “My cousin Edrian is all my grandfather has left to him now, since his mother died in the birthing.” Dari’s voice shook, but she looked up, clear-eyed, at Lord Cobb.

  “Save for you and your sister.” Lord Cobb reached for her hand then, and covered it with his own. “Your grandfather is mad from worrying about you both. He battled Platt fiercely on the subject of what to do about Kate’s escape from her protections, but in the end agreed that perhaps it would be best if you returned to Dyn Ross and let Platt find and tend to Kate in his own fashion.”

  “No!” Dari jerked her hand back.

  Lord Cobb blew out a breath, obviously expecting this fight, and ready for it. “Platt is sending out more of your people to locate Kate. Trained soldiers.”

  Stormbreaker went very silent, motionless, as if removing himself from the conflict. Aron’s insides twisted with the need to help Dari, stick up for her, defend her, but he, too, said nothing.

  Dari sat up straight in her chair, dark eyes burning with conviction. “I’m trained! As good a fighter as any of those men—maybe better. Besides, Kate might not respond peacefully to their attempts to help her. She doesn’t trust anyone but me.”