“Much,” said Elias, with a chuckle. “Now sit down before you fall. I’ll go see if I can’t drum up something to eat.”
Sean’s head was still pounding, and when he held a hand out in front of him, it shook like a leaf in a strong wind. His shoulders ached like a son of a gun, especially his right one. When he had put his shirt on earlier, he had noticed that his right arm was still swollen and bruised all the way down to his knuckles.
Since Sean had never been in this particular location before, he looked around. Behind him, to the left of the new banner and pushed back so as to be unnoticed without being completely removed from the stage, he saw what had to be his grandfather’s armor. Ferris had mentioned it. He went over to it and began to put it on. The action was almost irresistible, and the task was made all the more difficult because of his shaking hands and swollen knuckles, but he had it partway on when Ferris and Larry returned with Ludwyn and Manuel.
They deposited Ludwyn off to the side of the dais where he curled up again with his head in his hands under the watchful eyes of Manuel. Then Ferris and Larry came over to Sean. “What are you doing? You look like you’re about to fall over,” said Larry.
“Just trying it on,” said Sean. “The shoulder piece fit so well, I wondered if the rest of it would fit too.” That wasn’t quite the reason, but it was something Larry would accept. Sean didn’t really know why he had started this, but he wanted to finish it. He wanted to wear this armor. It felt like he had waited all his life to put it on.
Ferris helped him with the buckles and laces while Larry helped him stay on his feet. The armor was made differently from anything he had seen so far – not that he’d seen that many different types of armor in his life. He wasn’t wearing his mail under it either, but he liked it. It fit without binding, and allowed movement where it was needed, whether he was standing on the ground or sitting on a horse. The maker was definitely a master.
Sean buckled on the sword belt that was with the armor. The belt held two full-sized, hand-and-a-half swords, each one sporting a hefty thirty-six inch, double-edged blade and a foot-long hilt, not that they were any longer than an average long sword, but they looked longer. The belt was double thick and a good four inches wide, with overlapping metal disks stitched along its length, and the sheaths had dragons etched into their surfaces.
Sean brought his shoulder piece to him from camp and Ferris was just buckling it on when Elias came in with several servants from the kitchen in tow.
The old cook was in the lead. He was about as round as he was tall and only had a thin fringe of white hair around the back of his head. Though he walked with energy and stood as tall as he could, he was obviously old enough to be Sean’s grandfather, and when the rotund man saw Sean standing there in his grandfather’s armor, he let out a wail and fell to the floor.
Elias turned quickly at the sound. The servants, laden with dishes, milled helplessly. Sean and Elias were at the old man’s side. Sean moved slower than he wanted, but he made it. “Fernand, are you all right?” said Elias. “I told you what to expect. Seanad, maybe you should…”
Elias was interrupted by the old man’s hand waving him to be quiet. “Oh, my lord,” he gasped. “My lord, I never thought… I never imagined….” He gasped for a few more breaths of air. “I can see it. My lord, you look just like him.” He climbed to his feet with Elias’s help, and Larry pulled Sean to his. The old man reached out to Sean’s face, then to his armor, without touching either. “Oh lord, oh lord.” He was still breathing very hard and almost every breath carried an ‘Oh lord’.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” asked Sean. “And who do I look like?” As if I can’t guess, I’ve heard it before.
“Old Master Lardeain, of course, when he was a young buck plaguing his father. He was a terror he was, when he was young. Looking at you standing there; it’s like someone turned back the hands of time.”
Hanging onto Larry for support, Sean turned for the throne, wishing it wasn’t so far away.
Fernand seemed to remember why he was there. He swung into chef-action and had the rest of his help setting and loading a table in the closest dining hall. The meal might have been a late breakfast or an early lunch, but Fernand was going all out and covering all bases.
The servants gave Ludwyn a wide birth, though he scarcely twitched during the activity. When Fernand was satisfied with the arrangements and presentations, Sean had Manuel sit Ludwyn at the end of the table. When the man didn’t seem inclined to feed himself, Sean had one of the servants feed him.
“Why are you doing that?” asked Ferris. “After what he did to you – to your parents?”
“He has been dealt with,” said Sean. “Maybe he’ll recover enough to function, and maybe he’ll find a way to kill himself, but I refuse to starve him.”
Long before they had finished their meal, a man in the uniform of an officer looked in on them. At the sight, Sean wrapped up the meal. And so it begins. By the time the captain returned, flanked by two guards, Sean was sitting on the throne again and Ludwyn was sitting on the steps in front of him.
“My lord, forgive me. I was not informed that you…” started the captain, the words out of his mouth before he realized that things weren’t as he expected. He froze and took in the scene.
The guards that flanked him went through much the same motions, but the sight of the White Star behind the throne caused them to visibly quail. Both of them took a knee and dropped their heads. First one, and then the other guard unbuckled their sword belts and cast them aside. Neither of them were bold enough to run from the room entirely.
“Hello, Carris,” said Elias, who stood at Sean’s left shoulder. “I’m glad to see that you’re still serving the family.” His voice was stiff, and his words told Sean that Carris had been there long enough to have made a difference if he had tried.
Sean waited to see what the man would say.
Recognition was a moment in coming. “Elias. Ferris.” He nodded to each in turn. Then his eyes went back to Sean and darted between Sean and Ludwyn again. “Who are you?”
Sean could see the wheels churning in his head. He is buying time to think of what to say or do. “I am Seanad Éireann Barleduc-Ruhin, son of Deain Ruhin and his wife, Lady Kassandra Barleduc.” Sean enunciated carefully in order to make sure there was no doubt as to his ties to the throne. He wanted to question this man, but questioning him would give him time to construct a plan of action; waiting for his explanation without help, forced him to think fast without knowing which way to jump.
Carris looked at Ludwyn again. “I am at your service,” he said, with a stiff bow, then he too unbuckled his sword belt and dropped it to the floor. One of the other guards slid it across the floor, over by his own.
“Just as you were at the service of my grandfather?” said Sean. “Just as you were at the service of my uncle? My grandfather and my father were killed, and my uncle has been captured. I don’t think I care for your service. You’re fired. You will leave the city, and if I ever hear of you again, you will die.”
Carris was forced back a step by the strength of the compulsion. The guards at his flank bowed closer to the floor, if that was possible.
“My…lord. Please…” Carris was obviously used to compulsion. He was doing a very good job of resisting the order.
“Please what?” asked Sean. “Explain.”
Before he could reply, a runner burst in. He took far fewer steps than his predecessors, before realizing things weren’t quite right.
“Stay,” said Sean, when it looked like he might retreat. “I’ll hear your report.”
The runner looked from his captain and the guards kneeling at his feet to the stranger on the throne, then to Ludwyn and back. “Um…captain?”
Carris remained silent. He wasn’t the captain general anymore. Sean strongly suspected that he expected to die at any moment.
“Runner!” barked Sean. “Your report.”
The man jumped and lo
oked at the speaker.
Sean wanted him to look at him, and not anyone else in the room. He wanted him to know that everyone else in the room was under his control in one way or another.
“I… I don’t…know…you,” he said.
Sean had to admire him. He turned back to the ex-captain general. “Carris, would he know who I am if I told him my name?”
“He should. The full name won’t tell him much, but the last one will,” said Carris stiffly.
Sean turned back to the runner. “Very well then, the last name is Ruhin, more recently known as the White Star. Now give me your report, or must I force you to speak?”
The man’s eyes widened and he took a knee swiftly. “My…lord, um, the captain sent me to find out what I could about the gates. Um, no one knows how it happened and now the people are swarming the streets. The people…out there…are swarming into the city, and armed soldiers are making their way to the palace.”
“The gates have been compromised for some time now, and only now someone comes to tell the king? I don’t like that,” said Sean. “We’ll have to work on it. Are the people doing any damage? Is anyone looting or vandalizing? Are the soldiers causing any problem?”
“There…there doesn’t seem to be…um, my lord,” replied the runner. “But…”
“If there is no damage and no looting, if no one or no thing is being harmed, I see no reason for concern. Return with my orders. Maintain peace, but don’t interfere. If anyone breaks the law…”
Elias put a hand on Sean’s shoulder. “These men know more about the current laws than you do, my lord,” he said.
“You’re right,” said Sean, acknowledging Elias’s caution. “Let me be more basic. If someone does something to harm another, arrest them and bring them before me. Otherwise, leave them be. Do you understand me clearly?”
“Yes, my lord,” he said, managing to get it out without the hesitation.
“Dismissed,” said Sean, when it seemed like the man was waiting for such an order. Rising to his feet, the messenger bowed his way out of the room.
Sean turned his attention back to the ex-captain general who still stood stiffly before him. “Well, you wanted to beg that I not send you from the city? Or was it something else?”
“My lord, surely I can be of some use.” A tone of desperation could be heard in his voice.
Sean was curious. “All right, since you are an utter failure at security, what else do you propose?”
“My lord, I’ll do anything. I’ll muck out the stables. I’ll… I’ll… I’ll do anything, just don’t send me away.”
Sean stood and strode toward him, only Larry stayed within arm’s reach. Sean approached to within a few inches of the man and looked him directly in the eyes. “You will do anything…anything at all to remain here. Why?”
Carris’s eyes were bloodshot. Sean could see that his compulsion was wearing at him hard. “My daughter is here. He holds my daughter somewhere here. I can’t leave her.”
Sean hadn’t expected that. He turned back to face Ludwyn. There’s no point in questioning him. He spoke into the air. “Cordan, can you hear me?”
“My lord? Is that you? Is everything all right? Did Ferris and them find you?”
“Everything is fine. Get everyone together. I’m going to bring you all here.”
“Sir, some of us are already on the way.”
“Where are you? You didn’t leave the women out there alone, did you?”
“No sir. We just passed the second gate. There’s only four of us, though quite a few of the other soldiers decided to follow us; I suppose there’s about thirty of them with us.”
“Send one of them back with a message. I want the camp packed up. They can come in as soon as they’re ready.”
“As you wish.” He passed on Sean’s orders. “We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Limits
Sean turned back to the throne and had to reach out to Larry for support to cross the distance. He managed to make it, needing nothing more than the extra stability, but the way Elias watched him made him think that he at least, had not been fooled.
Shouts and some fighting out in the hall announced Cordan’s arrival. Five of the palace guards charged into the throne room in an effort to be the last line of defense. “My lord, there’s fighting in the halls,” said the first to enter. “The palace is being attacked. My lord, we…” The scene before him sucked the words from his mouth.
Cordan forged in then at the head of a small army. Swords were drawn and bloodied. The palace guards were roughly disarmed and were being just as roughly shoved to the floor.
“Let them go,” said Sean. When his would-be benefactors looked at him in confusion, he continued. “I will give everyone one chance to see the error of their ways.”
The men were propelled out of the room and Cordan waved his followers to accompany them. Sean heard one of them setting up guard posts near and far, as well as patrols and lookouts.
“You didn’t have any trouble did you?” asked Sean.
“Nothing I didn’t expect, and rather less than I thought.”
“I didn’t hear much fighting.”
“Not much, sir. The White Star is its own weapon,” said Cordan with a lopsided smile as he caressed the emblem on his shoulder.
“I have a task for you. I want you and those of our men you brought with you to accompany this man in his search for his daughter. Let him search wherever he wants. Start in the kitchen. See if you can run down any keys, in case doors are locked.”
“Yes sir,” said Cordan. He went out and made adjustments to the guard posts, then he and his three men took up positions around the ex-captain general.
“And Cordan,” added Sean, “this man is not to be trusted.”
“Yes sir,” said Cordan. They moved off in the direction Elias indicated.
At that moment, from deeper within the palace, two women appeared accompanied by a thin man with a flute. The girls were dressed in chain mesh that clung suggestively to their every curve. Apparently, it was time for home entertainment.
Sean waved them to a halt and turned his attention to the two guards now kneeling alone in the middle of the floor. “What are you two doing here?”
The men looked up at his question. “We were on the roster to be King Ludwyn’s bodyguards today, but he never sent for us,” said one of the men.
“You don’t report for duty until he sends for you?”
“Yes…sir…lord.”
“If you had reported for duty at shift change, things could not have progressed this far so easily.”
“None of us are allowed upstairs, lord, and he comes down at odd times. He calls out when he comes down. Sometimes he doesn’t come down at all.”
I wonder what Ludwyn did upstairs all day. I’ll have to check it out. “What shall I do with you?”
The man dropped his eyes to the floor again. “We are at your mercy, lord.”
“Yes, I suppose you are. You are dismissed. I am not in need of your services and neither is my uncle.” Sean was certain they were holding their breaths as they rose to bow their way out of the chamber. Ferris strode across the floor to pick up the discarded sword belts.
With the floor clear, the two girls moved out into the middle and took up a pose that could only be the beginning of a dance. Before the music started, Sean held up his hand, halting them once again. “Hold on here. I think some introductions are in order.”
The flutist came forward and bowed with a flourish; he bowed deeply to Ludwyn and Sean, then he bowed to the others around him. “Gentle lords,” he said, “we are here for your pleasure.” He noticed for the first time the emblem behind Sean and his performer’s polish faltered. He recovered quickly and gestured for the girls to come closer. “This is Gold…” The girl dressed in gold mesh did a flashy spin that ended in a provocative pose, which she held.
Such a delightful distraction.
“And this is Silver…” The girl dr
essed in silver did a boneless walkover that ended with her body tied in a knot, which she too held.
Oh…my…god.
“Accompanied by my humble music, we would entertain you and your guests.”
The girls were voluptuous and Sean would have liked nothing more than to watch them dance, but something bothered him about their attire and make up. He motioned to them. “Stand up. Come closer.”
They did as he requested. Ludwyn hummed softly, attempting a little ditty but failing miserably, either in remembering the tune or in being able to hum it. Sean studied the girls closely, filling his eyes with their generous curves – until they got close. Being utterly unexpected, it took him some time to realize what he was seeing, but as soon as he did, he nearly lost his lunch. He had seen piercings before, and he had heard of some fairly exotic and disgusting piercings, but this was way beyond anything he had ever imagined.
The gold and silver mesh that clothed the girls’ bodies and faces was not clothing and makeup. It was mesh all right, but not some sexy decoration; each and every ring was imbedded into their skin. Those on their bodies were thick heavy things that might have fit his finger if he didn’t want to close his hand, but those that trailed up onto the face, and down the hands and legs were progressively smaller to the point of being quite delicate and nearly invisible if taken singly. It was all very lovely, if you could get past the fact that it was all part of their skin. Other than the metal, there wasn’t a single stitch of material on them. Not even for modesty.
“What is the meaning of this? Who did this?” asked Sean, outraged.
The girls drew away, terrified. Somehow, they had caused displeasure, and displeasure had always meant death – or worse.
Ludwyn began to giggle softly. “My pretties,” he muttered, “my pretties.” He giggled, and reached for Gold abortively, then he curled up again and began to rock, humming and giggling under his breath.
Of course, I should’ve known. Now I’ve made them cry. They must have been conditioned to please. All that gold has to be heavy, the silver maybe less so, but how long could these girls expect to be able to please before they were simply pulled out of shape by the sheer weight of it all? Sean looked at them closely, trying to see past all the metal; despite the fact that Mother Nature had been very generous to them, they couldn’t possibly be older than perhaps fifteen.
The Making of a Mage King: Prince in Hiding Page 24
