Servant of the Crown

by Brian McClellan

  He stood on the second floor balcony, watching the ballroom for any sign of General Seske and wondering if the whole trip had been a mistake. What if General Seske didn’t arrive? What if Tamas ran into one of Captain Linz’s relatives and was provoked into another duel?

  The room swirled with motion. Men and women danced in the middle of the ballroom below, holding their masks, while clusters of nobles spoke in overly loud voices along the sides of the room. The sound of music drifted over the entire event.

  The hours passed. Tamas sipped a single glass of champagne and refused all other drink, though he eyed the passing platters of food, his stomach rumbling.

  He wouldn’t allow himself to eat until after he spoke with General Seske.

  The night began to grow late. Tamas was about to give up and leave when he spotted a figure making its way across the ballroom floor surrounded by an entourage of young men and women looking to gain favor.

  General Seske was a small man in his mid-fifties with the chocolate skin of a full-blooded Deliv. He wore his Adran dress uniform, complete with dozens of medals and four golden stripes on the breast, one for every five years he’d served in the military. Like Tamas, he had forgone the customary mask as an insult to his uniform.

  Tamas wound his way through the crowd and made his way downstairs, not letting General Seske out of his sight. He cut across the ballroom and intercepted General Seske by the far wall. He approached quietly, taking up a position that would allow the general to see him the next time he looked up.

  Seske leaned over to whisper to one of his companions. He giggled and stumbled, barely caught by a young major at his side. The stumble didn’t seem to faze him. He wrapped one arm deftly around the waist of a woman half his age and dipped the opposite hand into her ample cleavage, only to come up with a silver pendant, which he admired closely and at some length. The woman blushed while Seske gave her a charming, if rather long-winded, explanation of his family’s silver mines in northern Adro.

  Tamas waited as long as his patience allowed before he cleared his throat.

  The general looked up and seemed genuinely surprised to see Tamas there. He lurched forward, a happy smile on his face, and pulled his companion closer. “Captain Tamas!”

  “Good evening, sir.”

  “I didn’t know you were in Budwiel, my good captain. I thought you were back in Adopest.”

  “I was, sir.”

  “Amazing!” The general paused long enough to hiccup, then regain his composure. “What brings you to Budwiel?”

  “You actually, sir.”

  “Me?” Seske exchanged a glance with his companion. “I am terribly complimented. Now Captain, how did you get invited to one of Lord Ildal’s masquerades? They’re very exclusive, you know. And you’re a commoner!”

  The woman on Seske’s arm gave Tamas a sudden critical look up and down. Tamas felt his cheeks redden. The general didn’t bloody well need to advertise the fact. “I know, sir. I’m also a captain in his majesty’s army. I called in a few favors. The officers down here like me quite a lot.”

  “Incredible!” It was clear that Seske’s exclamations had very little to do with how he actually felt. The general swayed slightly. “And what was it you wanted to see me about, young Tamas?”

  “Sir, I’ve been … well, sir, this is rather embarrassing. May we speak in private?”

  “It’s about that dueling business, isn’t it? Hah! I knew it. I can tell. I can always tell, my dear,” he whispered loudly to his companion. To Tamas, he said, “I was just informed of your predicament yesterday, my dear man. It seems you’re in quite a pickle.”

  “Yes, sir. I am.” Tamas stepped forward to catch Seske beneath the arm when he swayed dangerously away from his companion.

  Seske glanced down at Tamas’s hand, giving him a half-hearted smile, then took his arm from Tamas’s grasp with a none-too-subtle amount of distaste. “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do for it, good man. Orders from on high and all that. Your promotion has been cancelled, and you’ve been put under suspension. Nothing you can do but wait it out until the hearing.”

  “Sir,” Tamas said, clearing his throat and glancing meaningfully at the general’s companion, “This is a private matter, sir. A private suspension.”

  “It is?” Seske seemed startled by that. “Well damn me, I wasn’t told. Or maybe I was? I don’t remember. Half of Budwiel likely knows by now.” He laughed loudly. “Come, my dear.” He began to walk away, and Tamas had to step around him quickly.

  “Excuse me, sir. Perhaps if we could meet tomorrow.”

  Seske’s jovial drunkenness dropped like a stone. His gaze was cold, and he said, “Captain, I am on holiday. I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t take up any more of my time. I’ll be back in a month after my tour of Southern Kez. You can make an appointment then.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. I understand.” Tamas had not yet finished speaking before General Seske had walked away.

  Tamas couldn’t help but stare slack-mouthed after the general. He’d been bullied and dismissed by the nobility every day of his career but never so baldly by a senior officer. Most of them had, if not tact, then a sense of decorum. Had Seske really been that drunk?

  “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting something,” a voice said.

  Tamas turned to find a young lady standing at his elbow. She was attractive, with deep-set blue eyes framed by long lashes, and was certainly no older than nineteen or twenty. Her blond hair was done up in the latest fashion of loose curls and she wore a modest, understated dress of a crimson the same shade as the cuffs of his uniform jacket.

  “No, of course not,” he said absently, glancing after General Seske. The nerve of that man! Incompetence riddled the Adran army, almost every officer having bought their commission from the crown. Seske was no better or worse than most of them but rudeness could not be excused. “Can I help you with something?”

  “I thought you looked like you needed a drink.”

  Tamas glanced back at the woman to find her holding up a glass for him. “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to put Seske from his mind. “It’s terribly rude of me to say, but I barely drink, and I’ve had more than enough tonight for a man in my state.”

  “It’s chilled cider.” She gave him a smile that was just charming enough to make him suspicious.

  He blinked at her and took the glass. “Thank you, madam. I apologize for not introducing myself. You caught me somewhat off guard, I …“

  “You’re Captain Tamas,” the woman blurted, then seemed to catch herself. “We haven’t met. I know you only by reputation.”

  “I didn’t realize I had any sort of a reputation in these … circles.”

  “You don’t. I mean, you do. But I hadn’t heard of you before a few days ago.”

  Tamas glanced off, trying to see General Seske, but the general had disappeared. And with him Tamas’s hope of going on the next campaign to Gurla and ending this nasty business of the duel before it could go to a hearing. “Good things, I hope. I mean, I hope you’ve heard good things.”

  “Not really,” the woman said, with a half-smile that seemed meant to soften the words.

  “I see.”

  “Would you care for a dance?”

  Tamas hesitated. The offer caught him off guard, and it was very tempting. He usually welcomed a conversation with a woman so fetching, and there was something about her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. But he was in a foul mood and spending any more time in this place would likely set him off. It wasn’t a good idea. “I’m a terrible dancer. I would only embarrass us both.”

  “You can’t be that bad, Captain.”

  The word captain slid off her tongue in a silky manner that made Tamas forget all about General Seske, and against his better judgment the two of them were suddenly in the middle of the floor, swirling among a dozen other couples.

  “I don’t know your name,” Tamas said, counting steps desperately in his head as he tried to r
emember the waltz that went with this song.

  “Erika. Erika ja Leora.”

  Tamas searched his memory for the name. It tickled something in the back of his mind, just out of reach. The ja indicated she was Kez nobility. Not surprising in a city right on the border. To her credit, she didn’t have the slightest accent. “It’s my pleasure, Lady Erika.”

  “This was not a chance meeting,” Erika said.

  “I gathered that it might not have been. What can I help you with, my lady?” What the pit does a Kez noblewoman want with a powder mage, Tamas wondered. The Kez hate powder mages.

  “This is a rather sensitive matter, actually. Can you give me your word as a gentleman that you’ll keep quiet about what I tell you?”

  “My word as a gentleman is worth very little, my lady,” Tamas said.

  “Still …”

  “You have my word.”

  That seemed to satisfy her. The music grew quieter and the tempo slowed, and Erika stepped forward to press against Tamas’s chest. Her head came just up to his chin, and she looked up at him. “I am a powder mage, and I need someone to train me how to use my powers.”

  Tamas’s mouth went dry and he missed a step, nearly tripping. The couple beside them bumped him, and the entire dance floor nearly fell into chaos. The music continued, however, and Tamas felt the gentle pressure of Erika taking the lead.

  “You weren’t kidding about being a terrible dancer,” Erika said. She pursed her lips, her cheeks suddenly rosy. “I’m sorry, that was awfully rude of me. Is something wrong?”

  “Erika ja Leora,” he repeated. “Now I know where I’ve heard that name. You’re that Kez powder mage everyone talks about.”

  She seemed to stiffen, and their step faltered again. A moment later they were back in the rhythm of the dance. “Half Kez,” she responded.

  Tamas tried to wrap his head around the woman with whom he danced. Erika ja Leora was the heiress of a Kez duchy on her mother’s side. On her father’s side, she was third in line for an Adran duchy. Within the world of Adran nobility, she was one of the most eligible young women in all the Nine. Even Tamas had heard of her in that fashion.

  Tamas caught a break in the dance to disengage from Erika and retreat to the side of the room. He turned to find that she’d followed him, a troubled frown on her face.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “Did I say something to upset you?”

  Upset him? Tamas felt like a pauper caught nabbing the crown jewels. “My lady, I cannot train you to be a powder mage.”

  She scowled. “And why not?”

  “I’m a commoner, my lady.”

  “All of my tutors have been commoners.”

  “Men and women of reputation, I’m sure. There is very little good said of me amongst the nobility.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that, thank you. Do you have any other excuses?”

  Tamas felt a flare of anger. Powder mage or not, her noble arrogance was coming through. Did she think everything was owed to her because of her station? He could think of a dozen reasons not to train her. The Privileged cabal already had it out for him. His status as a powder mage was well known, and while mages weren’t executed outright for the crime of their birth as they were in some other countries, they weren’t exactly welcomed into society. If he began actually training other mages, the cabal might come after him openly.

  “It wouldn’t be right,” he finally said.

  “Right?” she said, taken aback. “How is that not right? You’re the only powder mage known to be good at what he does. I want you to teach me to shoot, to burn powder, to fight with a powder trance.”

  Tamas made a calming gesture and changed tactics. “My lady, you just met me. I know the state of magery in Kez. I know you’ve only escaped the noose because of your family. If word got out that you were being trained, they would kill you outright. You shouldn’t have told me any of this.”

  “I know your background,” Erika said. “I’m not a fool. I wouldn’t have come to you if I didn’t know your dislike of the cabals or of the nobility. You’re not going turn me over to the Kez cabal.”

  “What if I disliked nobles so much that I’d want to see you dead because of your station?”

  Erika was aghast. “You would not!”

  “No,” Tamas agreed. “I wouldn’t. But you shouldn’t have risked it. My lady, I cannot train you.”

  Erika opened her mouth, but she was interrupted by the arrival of a man and woman. Tamas recognized them as the couple that he’d disrupted with his terrible dancing.

  The man looked Tamas up and down disdainfully. “You, sir, owe my fiancée an apology. She turned her ankle because of your clumsiness.

  Tamas turned to the woman, who, beyond her angry scowl, looked completely unharmed. He bit his tongue. This wasn’t the time or the place for him to get into any more trouble. Through clenched teeth, he said, “My apologies, madam. I’m not a very good dancer.”

  The man gave Tamas a brisk nod and turned away, seemingly satisfied. Suddenly he stopped. “I recognize you.”

  “I don’t think we’ve met,” Tamas responded.

  “I do. You’re Captain Tamas, aren’t you?”

  Tamas glanced at Erika, hoping that she would see trouble on the horizon and take this opportunity to make her exit. “I am.”

  “Hah! No wonder you were such a klutz. My love, this man is that commoner upstart I was telling you about.”

  Tamas forced a smile onto his face. Stay out of trouble, Colonel Westeven had said. Tamas had promised to lie low. Pit, this whole trip had been a mistake.

  “A commoner!” the man continued. “Pit, Ildal will have a stroke when he hears they let a commoner into one of his masquerades.”

  Tamas continued to bite his tongue. Erika was still here, watching the interaction with her jaw set, eyes narrowed. Something about the way she had set her feet made him rethink his initial opinion of her. She may be a noble, but she was nothing like these two. “My lady, I should go. Dancing with you was the best part of my trip to the city. I do hope you’ll forgive me for leaving early.”

  “Don’t you turn your back on me!” the man said as Tamas made to leave. He grasped Tamas by the arm.

  Tamas pulled away insistently and straightened his jacket. He could feel his face turning red, and several dozen sets of eyes turning to watch the confrontation.

  The man pointed at Tamas. “You have no right to be here, commoner. And you,” he said, turning to Erika. “What kind of a whore do you have to be to dance with a man like that?”

  “That’s quite enough!” Tamas roared. He had his hand on his sword, and he stepped forward, finally pushed to his limit.

  Erika was quicker. She stepped in front of him, facing the noble. “It is quite enough, I agree. What is your name?”

  The noble drew himself up. “My name is Lord Vendril.”

  “Spell it out for me,” Erika said, leaning forward. “Because I’m going to carve it into your chest.” She removed one of her gloves and slapped it across his startled face. “Small swords in the Dirkwood Courtyard tomorrow at noon. Captain Tamas?”

  Tamas was just as startled as Vendril. “Yes?”

  “Will you act as my second?”

  “I will.”

  “Excellent. Lord Vendril, I will see you tomorrow afternoon or all of Adro will know you for a coward. Good day.”

  “I think this is a mistake,” Tamas said.

  The sky overhead was a brilliant blue, the sun just past its zenith. They stood in the Dirkwood Courtyard, a small, walled practicing ground used by local fencers in northern Budwiel. Today it was abandoned, and Tamas wondered if Erika had arranged that.

  Lady Erika wore form-fitting soft leather trousers, riding boots, and a light jacket. Tamas had his uniform on under a black greatcoat and could still feel the chill, and he wondered how she was staying warm. The first snow of the winter would come any day.

  “You don’t think I can fight a duel?” Erika asked. She s
quared her shoulders and bent at the waist, touching the ground, staying that way for several minutes.

  “I would not dare to comment upon your abilities with a sword,” Tamas said, though he had his doubts. “Knowing who you are, it seems unwise for you to fight a duel with the best-known powder mage in Adro as your second.”

  “My mother mentioned that very thing this morning,” Erika said. “We decided that it was best I not release you as my second. That would attract even more attention.”

  “Your parents know about this?”

  “Of course they do! You think I keep secrets from them?”

  “Most young ladies do, in my experience.”

  “Do you have a lot of experience with young ladies?” Erika asked, the look in her eye warning him to be careful about how he answered.

  “More than I should. Less than I’d like.”

  Erika laughed, a sound like wind chimes in a light breeze.

  Tamas cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, my lady, that was inappropriate.” What was he doing? Did he think he was flirting with her? This woman would be a duchess someday! He would conclude this business and head back to Adopest where he could forget her entirely.

  “Apology accepted,” Erika said.

  “About the duel,” Tamas continued. “It’s my duty as your second to try to talk sense into you.” He paused for only a moment to consider the irony of his words, after ignoring a very similar warning from Matin only weeks ago. “I hope you’re not doing this on my account.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “The man was provoking me.”

  “Was I not insulted as well? Should I have stood by and let it continue?”

  “No, my lady. You’re right. I apologize again.”

  She gave him the slightest of smiles. “And I accept your apology again.”

  Tamas was at once relieved and conflicted. He didn’t need to be defended by a noble. At the same time, a noble thinking that he was worth defending was a rather nice sentiment.

  As she said, though, this was for her own honor. “What in the Nine are you doing?” Tamas asked.

  “Stretching,” she said, bending first to her right and then to her left.