by Guy Antibes
“We eat early tonight. How are your studies going?” Ricky’s guardian said.
“I’m moving faster than the others in the class because of your help,” Ricky said. “Professor Doria says I might be ready to progress to real books in four or five weeks.”
Saganet unfolded a piece of paper he retrieved from his pocket. “Try to read this.”
After smoothing the page, Ricky looked down and examined the letters. He knew them all and could sound out most of the words. Part of the problem wasn’t voicing the words, but pronouncing them right in his head.
He moved his lips as he moved through the letters and had to repeat some words to get them spoken right. He looked up at Saganet.
“Someone beat you up for this?”
“I believe so,” Saganet said. He rubbed his good hand through his thick curly hair and then curled his fingers and scratched a spot. “There is a plan for revolution, and Taranta thinks I have it.”
“Do you?”
His guardian shook his head while he got up and brought two covered bowls containing dinner to the hastily-repaired kitchen table. “I know something damaging to Duke Bariani. The Duke is rumored to be working alongside Victor Taranta’s father.”
“So it’s not legal for Duke Bariani?”
Saganet nodded. “It’s a document verified by a Sealian magistrate and under seal in the capital. I won’t tell you what’s in it so you won’t know something you aren’t supposed to.
“Is Victor involved?”
Saganet chuckled. “Wouldn’t you like it if he was! No. But the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and you might be getting more of his attention. Another reason for you not to know anything.”
“What can I do?”
“Get some water so we can eat dinner, and I can take another packet of the healer’s pain medicine. I’ll be heading to bed early.”
Ricky watched Saganet close the door to his bedroom. He began to clean up after dinner. The commissary said they could keep the dishes awhile since theirs had succumbed to the invaders.
He pumped out water into a glass and filled his mouth with the clear stuff. The novelty of clear water instantly available hadn’t worn off. He took another drink and gazed at the paper on the table. Ricky felt powerless to help his guardian. He clenched his fists with frustration and heard Saganet’s door open.
“It’s better you burn this right now,” Saganet said, handing the note to Ricky.
“But can’t you take it to a constabulary office?”
Saganet exhaled loudly and looked at Ricky.
“The Duke’s constabulary?” Ricky said as he looked down at the words on the paper:
The Council of Tossa is nearly in the thrall of the Duke.
He figured that ‘in thrall’ meant in control. From what little Ricky knew, the constabulary was supposed to report to the Council, not to the Duke, to avoid the one-man rule that had damaged Paranty two hundred years ago in a civil war. The Council of Notables offset the power of the King. If the King didn’t support Duke Bariani, then Saganet wasn’t involved in a revolution, the nobility was.
Ricky wasn’t knowledgeable about Parantian politics, but he knew just enough to feel fortunate that the thugs hadn’t killed his guardian. He burned the paper and went to bed. What was all this about secret messages that shouldn’t exist? He thought it similar to games kids his age might play. Why write secret phrases and then destroy them? He couldn’t make sense of it, but people took the words on the little slips of paper seriously enough to kill. That thought made it hard for Ricky to calm down enough to sleep.
~
Life had ceased to be exciting for another month, but Ricky thrived at the academy. He had learned to read well enough to puzzle his way through the textbooks. Literacy opened a whole new world for him.
“What does democracy mean?” he asked Saganet, who had finally declared himself fully healed.
“It is where men have a say in their own government. That is something that may come to an end in Tossa. The Duke’s Council may be about ready to clamp down on the citizens.”
“But don’t the Council of Notables in Sealio have to approve some of what the Duke’s Council can do?”
Saganet nodded his head. “A little, but the Duke and the King might be in cahoots.”
“Cahoots?”
“They could be working together to return Paranty to a monarchy. The blood shed by patriots to make a free Paranty may be ignored.”
“But the people will object?”
“A month ago, I said something that made the Duke think I objected,” Saganet said.
“But you did object.”
Ricky’s guardian shook his head. “I didn’t voice my objection, and I haven’t done so since.”
“So they let you live and heal?” Ricky said.
“They let me live, and while I live I heal, but we will see how long this lasts. A lot of institutions, including this academy, flourished under the council system. The people had a way to make their dissatisfaction heard without fear. That is becoming rarer.”
“Have other people been beaten?” Ricky hadn’t stepped foot outside the academy since Mistress Doubli rescued him.
“Some have even been killed.”
Ricky wondered where Saganet had lost his smile, and now he might know. The knowledge wouldn’t have made a difference when he lived with Gobble, but now the security he felt behind the academy walls might be an illusion.
“Should I be worried?”
“Not right now.” Saganet seemed to force a smile. “Why don’t we start sword practice tomorrow morning? I’ll have a word with Jock. It’s about time you cycled out of gardening and did something else. Perhaps I’m about ready to take on an assistant.”
The thought excited Ricky, but he knew he didn’t know anything about swordsmanship, so he couldn’t be an assistant. He frowned at the thought.
“I can see you misunderstood me. The kind of assistant that I need is a servant to polish swords and sweep up the gymnasium where we hold practices. The weather is turning cold, and my students will work out in a cold gym rather than a freezing training ground.”
Ricky grinned. “I can do that.”
“I’m sure you can. You garden tomorrow, and I’ll see if I can get permission.”
“Mistress Doubli likes me. She’ll say yes.”
“It’s not Merry’s consent that I need but the Provost who manages the academy’s schedule. He’s nowhere near as nice. You’ve already complicated his life by auditing the classes without being a student.”
“But surely that stopped last week when she released me to read textbooks. I’m more of a regular student now.”
Saganet narrowed his eyes. “Just how much do you understand when you read?”
“Most of it.”
His guardian shook his head. “Not good enough. You need a study partner, someone who can interpret some of the concepts.”
“Who is going to want to help a pauper from Shantyboat Town?”
“I know of a boy who might want a partner, any partner.”
~~~
Chapter Eight
~
“F ranken Pestella,” the frail-looking boy extended a bony hand to Ricky, who took it. Franken barely closed on the grip.
The new acquaintance had to be stronger than that, he thought. “Hendrico Valian, but everyone calls me Ricky.”
“My family calls me Frank.”
“Great, Frank. Introduce yourself to Ricky and Professor Crabacci,” Provost Namini said.
Saganet, Provost Namini, an ex-professor, Franken, and Ricky sat in the Provost’s office. The Provost’s office was paneled with dark wood, but Ricky wondered if it had darkened with age. The place smelled stuffy, and even the portraits of professors looked as if they were covered with a dark cloth. The effect was probably caused by dirt.
The boy gave the three of them a little bow. Ricky felt sorry for him. Frank was a year older and a head shorter than Ricky.
“I was delayed a year matriculating at the academy…”
Ricky didn’t know what matriculating meant.
“I challenged Professor Doria’s Paranty class and succeeded. I am good at all subjects except for sorcery, where I have little talent, but my parents want me to learn enough, so I don’t burn down their bookstore. I want to learn enough to write books. Novels, actually.”
The boy certainly looked like the kind of person who would want to be immersed in books. He had what Ricky lacked, a good preparatory education.
Frank looked uncertainly at Provost Namini.
“That is enough,” the old ex-professor said. Ricky wondered how long professors worked at the academy. Namini had to be at least as old as Gobble. Namini looked very well bred where his grandfather was an awful sight, but they both shared gray hair that was turning white. The Provost turned to Ricky. “Your turn, young man.”
All eyes were on Ricky. Suddenly, he didn’t feel as confident, but he took a deep breath and told him an abbreviated version of being removed from Shantyboat Town by Mistress Marissa Doubli. He made sure he pronounced her full name.
“You may call her Dean Doubli,” Provost Namini said.
“Certainly,” Ricky said. “I am in need of someone who can partner with me in some of my classes, so I can accelerate my learning.”
He gave a weak smile to Frank. The boy looked tentative, but Ricky guessed he was very intelligent.
“Saganet, do you have anything to add?”
Ricky’s guardian shrugged. “I think the partnership will work out for a while. I don’t see a reason why we don’t forge on ahead. If Frank doesn’t work out, there’s no harm done. I’m not sure how long Hendrico will need a partner, but let’s give it a try.”
Namini nodded. “I feel the same way. Frank’s upbringing is humble enough that there won’t be the kind of problem that could arise by pairing him up with a noble.”
Ricky looked at Saganet who seemed to grit his teeth for a moment before breaking into a smile. “That is a good point. Could you arrange for their schedules to coincide? I’d also like Ricky to have a stint being my assistant. I need a servant now that the weather is changing and weapons practices will move to the gymnasium.”
Namini scribbled some notes on a paper and nodded. “Very good. Problem solved.” He looked at Frank. “Maybe two problems solved. They already share two classes. We’ll add Ricky to Franken’s geology course.”
Saganet rose and tapped Ricky on the shoulder. “Time to go.”
“I’ll send notes to both you boys with your schedule. Ricky can help Franken get more acclimated to certain aspects of social interactions and Franken will assist in continuing to bring Ricky’s language and numbers skills to grade level.”
Frank looked a little uncertain as he rose, but he again extended his hand to Ricky. “A mutually beneficial arrangement is in the offing.”
“In the offing,” Ricky said, not knowing what ‘offing’ meant. Frank knew a lot of words, and Ricky promised himself that he would be humble enough to ask many questions.
~
Ricky looked on at the clatter of practice swords and the striking of staffs in the gymnasium. The wooden floor appeared worn smooth by thousands of students over the years.
Saganet had shown him how to spread fine sand on the floor and rub it with a large, padded, flat paddle on the end of a short pole to keep the wooden floor in good condition. Every month, he would have to sand and oil the floor mixed with some concoction made from sheep. He didn’t look forward to the task, but the cost would be worth it to learn how to defend with real weapons.
Ricky had always carried a knife, but that had been left back at Gobble’s place. He had a better one on his own shantyboat, but he wondered if some squatter had already taken his tiny home over. He didn’t have much to lose other than the knife and a change of clothes and an extra set of well-used boots. Everything had been scrounged from one place or another and had seen plenty of use.
Saganet called Ricky over from his perch on a set of elevated benches.
“Here,” his guardian put a wooden practice sword in his hand. “Look at someone you think is doing well and mimic his moves. The exercise is just to get you used to swinging a practice sword. Tomorrow we will work on conditioning.”
Conditioning? Ricky didn’t worry about that. A life spent running from boat to boat and racing through market squares had kept Ricky’s body in shape, he thought.
The next afternoon, after sweeping the gymnasium floor, Saganet told Ricky to put the sword down.
“Conditioning doesn’t require any weapons. Perhaps we will use weights later on, but right now we need to get you flexible and in shape.”
Ricky frowned. “I’m already in good shape.”
Saganet pursed his lips. “Really? Then keep the sword,” he said as he grabbed a practice weapon out of a barrel.
“We are going to work on your defense. I’ll attack, and you will defend.”
“I just block your sword with my sword, right?”
Saganet smiled and nodded. That kind of smile made Ricky wonder what he didn’t know.
The first minute or so of sparring was tame enough. Saganet would poke, slash and thrust slow enough for Ricky to get the hang of it. As Ricky’s arm started to tire, Saganet picked up the pace and the blows began to make it past his attempts to stop Saganet until the sword was a dead weight on the end of his arm and everything got through.
Saganet pulled back and leaned on the sword. Ricky fought for breath, but his guardian just waited. He put his hands on his knees to rest in the middle of the gymnasium.
“Ready for another go?”
Ricky looked up at Saganet, startled by his words. “I can barely draw a breath.”
“Do you think you are in sufficient shape?” Saganet said.
“Not for this,” Ricky said, still breathing a bit hard. “Are there exercises that will help? You played with me at the start until I began to tire and then you laid into me. It wasn’t fair.”
“What were the rules we established before the match?”
“Oh.” Ricky knew the answer. “You attack, and I defend.”
“In a real sword fight, those are the only rules. To last you need to be in better shape. Real swordfights don’t take as long as what we did unless the opponents are evenly matched. In a battle, mismatched fights are going to be the case more often than not.”
Ricky nodded. He could see that. “So I need more conditioning?”
“You do, and I will give you exercises. You will use weapons, but only as weights.”
“How long does the conditioning take?”
“We will start at half an hour and build up to an hour. The intensity of the workout will also increase. I won’t have you exercise harder than your body can stand.”
“Do you exercise?” Ricky said.
“Most days. I get most of what I need sparring with students, like I did just now, except it is over my four classes. When you are good, I’ll show you what I do when no one is around. Make that your goal…to know my secrets.”
Ricky couldn’t help but grin. “Your secrets, eh? Will that make me a sword master?”
“Secrets alone don’t make you powerful, they enhance your hard work and talent. It’s much the same with any endeavor.”
Maybe Ricky could get good enough to help Saganet from being beaten up.
“Why did you really let those men beat you up? I think you could have done more.”
Saganet’s eyebrows went up. “Why did you come up with that all of a sudden?”
Ricky thought a bit more about it. “If you are in good condition, as you say you are, then you could have done more.”
His guardian looked around the gymnasium and spoke silently. “Sometimes it’s better to lose a battle to win a bigger one.”
“But you nearly died!”
“But I didn’t,” Saganet said mimicking Ricky. “I covered up the vital parts.”
> Ricky sat down on the floor. He couldn’t fathom why Saganet would do such a thing. “But you were really hurting.”
“Still do from time to time, but my opponents think I won’t fight back. They will underestimate me, even though I am a weapons master. A historian would call it a strategic defeat. You could have been hurt or Merry, even. This way they think they got their message across, even if the attackers didn’t find what they looked for.”
“It was only a sentence!”
“People can die for the thought in one sentence.”
Ricky had difficulty processing the concept, but then he had seen it in Shantyboat Town and on the streets of Tossa often enough. Someone feigning weakness until the very end, but he had never extended the concept to the kind of big picture that Saganet drew.
“I’ll have to think about that.”
“You’ll think about it a lot more if you ever find yourself in one of my military history classes, and if you stay at the academy, you will. It’s not something I teach to young first-year students.”
“I’ve had enough conditioning and enough thinking for one day. What do I do as your assistant?”
“Sweep the floor, and then you are done. You need to spend more time with your homework, and that means—”
“Frank. I know.”
~
After leaving the gymnasium, Ricky grabbed his books and hurried to the commissary where he was already a few minutes late for his appointment with Frank.
“I was about ready to leave,” Frank said standing over a table by a window. He didn’t appear very pleased with Ricky’s tardiness.
Ricky looked around the commissary and saw some study groups talking. He guessed that Frank and he were a study group.
“Where were you?”
Ricky sat down and spread out the books that only weeks ago meant nothing to him. “I sparred with my guardian.”
“Professor Crabacci?” Frank’s face twisted as if he bit into something sour. “Physical activity and fighting are things I don’t approve of.”
“Physical activity, too?”
“All I like are my books.”
