The Making of a Mage King: Prince in Hiding

by Anna L. Walls

  “As you wish, my lord. How often should I run the drills?”

  “Oh I don’t know; every week perhaps, until the people get used to it. Then I suppose once a month ought to be enough to keep them in practice. Use your best judgment.”

  “Right sir. Now sir, about those gates…”

  “The inner gates are an important stop gap should the city come under attack. Every gate will delay any attackers for at least a day or two just as the design of the streets will, giving the defenders time to regroup while the attackers struggle to get their siege engines through the streets. With that in mind, I want those gates well manned and I want the walls patrolled. However, the people are not the enemy and they will not be treated as such. The walls and the gates are here to protect all the people, and your drills will express that intent.”

  “Yes, my lord,” said Manuel.

  By now, they had reached the central park. The whipping block was still there, but the chains had been removed; though still stained, it was now draped with flowers and garlands. “I’m surprised this hasn’t been taken down,” said Sean. “Whatever happened to the man I brought from here?”

  “He was instrumental in its remaining,” said Elias. “He considers it a miracle that he was rescued from there. He says that it is to remain so we don’t forget how low we sank. He might just become your first prophet.”

  “I don’t need a prophet,” said Sean bitterly.

  “If you keep working miracles, you’re going to get prophets,” said Elias, matter-of-factly.

  “Great, that’s all I need,” said Sean.

  “I’ve made him commander of the high city’s guard,” said Manuel. He’s adamant about your protection.”

  Well, at least he’s loyal, even if he is a little off.

  Late that evening, Sean was working out in the throne room when Charles came running in, chased hard by three guards. He threw himself at Sean’s feet well within reach of his swords. “Please sir,” he said.

  Sean held his hand up to the guards and they halted.

  The boy had a shiner that almost closed his eye and a split lip that still glistened with fresh blood. “I take it your message wasn’t too well received,” said Sean.

  He looked down. “No sir.”

  “Sorry about that. How did you get here?”

  “Over the west wall, sir.”

  His answer was quick. Was it too quick? Sean looked up at the guards. “And he slipped past you, too? You’ll do extra duty under Mattie for the next month. I’ll be sure to let her know that you’re to get no ‘cushy’ jobs. You can go.”

  They bowed and left the room.

  Sean turned back to Charles. “How did you know to find me here?” He sheathed his swords and signaled the boy to stand up.

  “I didn’t, sir. It was just a chance turnin’ of the halls that led me here. I was lookin’ for someplace to hide ‘til they left. If you was who the guild master said you was, I knew I’d find you here somewhere.”

  Sean touched his lip, then his eye, healing them both, though it would take a few hours for the swelling to go down. Then he took the small face in his hands. “You’ll never steal from me or my house, and you’ll never tell anyone else things they have no business knowing. You’re a smart lad. I’m confident you know what I’m talking about.”

  “S-sir, you’ve no call to do that,” stammered Charles.

  “Perhaps, but you understand why I did.”

  “Yes sir.” He fingered his lip. “What will you do with me now?”

  His dark eyes were sharp in his round child’s face and his curly hair showed some disarray. “I’m thinking that my wife will want to give you a bath before anything else, but we’ll start with food first; have you eaten yet?”

  He lit up at the mention of food. “I could use a bite, sir,” he said, hesitant about admitting it. “But I don’t need no bath. The master makes us wash often. Says we can’t get close to our marks if we smell. He made me wash only last week and my shirt is only four days old; I fold it careful every night and brush it every morning.”

  Sean had to laugh as he guided him to the kitchen.

  Departure

  Just as he’d predicted, as soon as introductions were over, Armelle had him prepare the tub, and while she scrubbed the poor boy mercilessly, she had her husband run down clean clothes for him to wear. With Mattie’s help, they rounded up an entire trunk full of clothes that had been made for one of the boys who had grown up in this place. They’d do for a while. But since a good deal of silk was used in their make, Mattie said that she’d pick him up something more practical in the morning.

  Armelle didn’t allow Charles to stop washing until they had returned with the trunk. She dug through it gleefully while Charles rubbed his rosy skin dry resentfully. Sean thought the boy was going to drop over in a faint when he saw what she produced from the chest. In her hand was a fine silk nightshirt. It looked like it might be a bit big for his spare frame, but three squares a day and he’d catch up and surpass it quickly enough.

  The next dilemma was where he would sleep. In the end, Armelle had a pallet made up for him in the sitting room. His reaction to this was every bit as good as his reaction to the silk nightshirt had been, but she saw him snuggled in deep before she was satisfied.

  In their room she asked, “What am I supposed to do with him?”

  “Nothing,” said Sean. “He’ll be going with me.”

  “What are you going to do with him?” she asked, as she dropped her dress in a pile and stepped over to him. He really did like the way she helped him undress. However did he manage it by himself before she came along?

  “He’s going to be my eyes and ears, and even my legs. He’s quick and smart. I’ll learn a lot of useful little things from him.”

  “Like what, picking pockets?” she slid her hands down the back of his pants and pinched his butt.

  Sean picked her up and deposited her on the bed. “I don’t need to learn how to pick pockets in order to pick yours; there’s just no obstacle to it.”

  By the time she figured that out, picking pockets wasn’t what was on their minds at all.

  Sean rolled out of bed at dawn the next morning and brutally kicked the sleeping form of Charles. He had moved into their room and curled up on the rug beside his side of the bed with only his blanket to keep him warm, and Sean had stepped on him before he knew he was there.

  Charles rubbed his ribs and said, “I couldn’t sleep in there. It was too quiet.”

  “You’re going to have to get used to it,” said Sean, as he tousled his hair.

  “I waited until after you were finished,” he said matter-of-factly.

  Sean’s laugh woke Armelle, who quickly clutched the blanket up around herself when she saw they had company. Sean escorted him into the bathroom with him while he shaved and washed, giving her time to dress in privacy. Charles will definitely have to get used to sleeping in the other room. Clothes, coming off or going on, were so much more fun without a spectator.

  After breakfast, they headed out to the stables. “Seth left to round up the horses as soon as you left yesterday, my lord,” said Garth, the old stable master, “but I don’t expect to see him back here with them before tomorrow, and I’ll be surprised if he makes it in then. Roundup ain’t never easy.”

  Sean looked up at the cloudy sky. Oh well, there’s nothing for it. It’s going to rain or it isn’t; I can’t afford to wait. “Saddle up Prince and send a runner for those men who will be leaving with me. We’ll head out and meet him. There’s not enough room here to work all those horses anyway.”

  They went back into the palace. “Dad.” He was butting heads with Fernand about something. The rotund man used Sean’s distraction as an opportunity to escape. “Dad, I’m going to take the men out to meet the herd Seth’s bringing in. We’ll work them out there. Would you put together a supply wagon to catch up with us?”

  “I can do that. What about saddles; I seriously doubt that I’ll
be able to round up seventy-some-odd packsaddles.”

  “I figure one horse ought to be able to handle the food and gear for two men, so fifty packsaddles ought to be enough. If you can’t come up with the saddles, then send out the makings and I’ll make them out there.”

  Next, he found Mattie. “Mattie, we’re going out to get our horses. Put together a pack for Charles here. I’ll be back this evening.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Thanks,” he said, and headed up the stairs. In the bedroom, he sent Charles into his trunk of clothes after a coat, while he went to the closet and found one for himself that fit well enough, though the shoulders were a bit tight.

  He was walking past the armor stand when he changed his mind. Armor and weapons had no place with the breaking of horses, but they would be riding through the city to get there. It’s time to go on display.

  Sean put his armor on with Charles’s fascinated help; he left off the tabard. It was fine over chain, but too much over plate, besides, he liked to show off the shiny black enameling.

  With his horse-breaking clothes rolled up in his cloak, he headed back down stairs with his Uncle Clayton’s sword belt in his hand.

  Hélène caught up with them before they left the building again. She handed him the circlet of silver he had thrust at her some days ago. “You wear that. You wear it all the time and you act like a king and not some country bumpkin. If the people think you’re some foreigner, they’ll be that much more stubborn, and harder to bring under your banner.”

  “Many of the people are already under my banner,” said Sean, as he nested the circlet on his head. It’s more comfortable than I thought it would be; then again it’s only fine silver, not one of those heavy things I’ve seen in pictures.

  Hélène still looked like she was bursting with some other tirade.

  Sean rested his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll do my best. I promise.”

  She flushed. “I still think you should wait until Armelle has conceived.”

  “I know you do, but I don’t have the time. I’ll be back tonight, and for a few more days, I’ll be close by, then I simply must be off.”

  She sighed and nodded. “I can’t change your mind, so…” She turned and strode off with a grumble.

  Garth had Prince ready and he helped Sean tie his cloak on behind his saddle while explaining to him where to go so he wouldn’t miss the returning herd. Sean hung his uncle’s sword belt on the pommel of his saddle; his ancestor’s great sword already hung down his back and his grandfather’s two swords rested at his hips; he had long since transferred his daggers to this belt. Then after a quick mental inventory of all his weapons, he mounted.

  The men had already gathered, and as soon as they saw Sean, they mounted and squared their formation. Three men stood to one side with their horses beside them. Before he mounted, one of them stepped forward. “Lord, we were selected to go with you, but you put us on extra duty for Miss Mattie.”

  “Then you’ll be reporting to her,” said Sean. They bowed and backed away. I forgot to mention them to her. Oh well, she’ll find enough work for them to do.

  Sean turned to the rest of the men. Three men down and we haven’t even set out yet. I hope that isn’t an omen.

  Before he could say anything, Ferris approached. “Mattie and Jenny had this made for you,” he said, as he displayed the flag for him to see then handed the pole to one of the men. Then he came up to Prince’s side and handed Sean something smaller. “Armelle had this made for you. You’ll have to fix it to your armor, though.” He handed him a jeweled brooch that was nearly as big as his hand. “She rattled off what the gems were and what they meant, but I’m not sure I’ll get them right, so you’ll have to ask her about them. It sounded pretty impressive to me, though, something about luck and love.” It was of course his emblem. The center was a square cut white stone with a sparkle in the middle. The rays were also cut stones of the four different colors. It was all set in blackened iron, grooved to emulate rays.

  The men all had the emblem painted on the shoulders of their armor, but that was just paint. He liked the brooch and he liked that Armelle had had the forethought to have it made. He thought it looked quite fine affixed to the shoulder of his grandfather’s armor.

  Once it was set, Sean reached down for Charles to come up behind him. Ferris helped him up. It was a good thing Sean had decided to wear his armor; with his other clothes wrapped in his cloak, Charles had a cushion to sit on. The poor kid looked ready to do the splits, and sitting on the hard skirt of the saddle would have torn him in two.

  Sean turned to the assembled men and started to ride through their ranks. “All right men, dress it up. We’re about to ride through the city and I want us to be a proud reflection on my father and my grandfather.” At the back of the formation, he spotted Ludwyn; he was tied hand and foot to his horse and would be led last in line. That suits me just fine. He changed his bindings to stark white so they would catch the attention of anyone who saw him, then he draped a sheer black scarf over his head pinning it at its four corners so an accidental wind wouldn’t blow it off. Sean heard him growl as he turned back to the head of the column and had to smile. Maybe I’m finally getting through to him. I’m going to enjoy this, I think.

  The courtyard gates opened and they filed through in a stately march with Sean in the lead and the men lined up behind him in pairs; Manuel and Leo – the other two men who rode Clydesdales – were the first pair, and Larry and Cordan came next.

  Just being here was an ego rush, but when the people started calling his name or his banner title and waving or blowing kisses, Sean found himself battling emotional tears.

  He did his best to acknowledge all of them. When they passed through the market square of the middle city, Sean spotted a gnarled man standing near the mouth of an alley. Regardless of the fact that he wore fine enough clothes, the man radiated danger. He glowered at Sean with his arms crossed.

  “Is that the guild master?” Sean asked Charles over his shoulder, while waving at someone in his quadrant who was blowing him enthusiastic kisses with both hands.

  “That’s him,” said Charles, and Sean could feel his hands clutching him a little tighter.

  “I’m surprised he’s showing himself,” said Sean.

  “He’s daring you to cross him. He said he survived Ludwyn; he can survive you. He called you an upstart. He said that Ludwyn would have the last say yet.”

  “He should be careful about daring me,” said Sean. “I tend to call dares regularly, and Ludwyn may have more to say, but it will be me who finishes it.” Sean would have loved to call the guild master’s dare right then, but it would have to wait until he returned; everything would have to wait until he returned.

  Many of the people followed them clear out of the city, so Sean kept their pace until they were left behind, then he broke them into an easy lope. It felt good to be out again. He had almost forgotten that an easy lope wasn’t so easy on a Clydesdale, and it was much worse on the small sack of potatoes riding behind him.

  “Maybe you should ride behind one of the other men,” Sean suggested. “The smaller horses are easier to ride, especially if you’re sitting in back.”

  “No, I’ll stay with you,” said Charles, though it sounded like his voice was strained. “I’ll be all right.”

  “Have you ever ridden before?”

  “No,” he said.

  Sean wished he could bring him around in front of him; it would be infinitely easier on him, but his saddle wasn’t constructed with any room in front, not even enough for Charles’s skinny butt.

  He kept the pace at a lope until Prince started to blow a bit, then they walked for a while. He avoided the trotting pace; the lope was bad enough.

  They stopped for lunch when the sun was high overhead. Sean watched Charles walk around trying to work the circulation back into his legs. I’m stiff too; I’ve spent entirely too much time idling around the palace.

&n
bsp; Lunch was jerky, water, and rest for about an hour. He would have given permission for everyone to doff their armor, but there was no place to put it, so sweat was the order of the afternoon. He made sure everyone drank no less than half their canteen of water.

  When they started out again, he put Charles up behind Larry. “I can still ride behind you,” he protested.

  “You’ll thank me later,” said Sean as he ruffled his hair. Maybe we can find him a horse of his own in all this.

  Forward scouts spotted the herd shortly before sundown, so they kept moving. Sean sent a messenger ahead with word of their presence so their arrival wouldn’t surprise them too much. They would set up camp with the herd, then Sean would take Charles back to the palace for what would be the last time for quite a while.

  It was well after dark when they reached the herd. Sean saw four men riding leisurely around it. The campfire, small though it was, was a welcome sight, as was the supply wagon parked nearby.

  Before he let everyone go, Sean called formation. “There’s no way there will be enough supplies in Seth’s wagon to feed all of you,” he told them. “Supper will be jerky and water again. Our own supplies will be here in the morning. Dismissed.”

  As soon as tents were set up and the watch was assigned, Sean left Larry and Cordan in command. He pulled Charles under his hand and teleported back to the throne room.

  Charles fell asleep at the supper table. Sean was tired too, so they went to bed early. He carried Charles up and helped Armelle dress him in his nightshirt and put him in his bed. “I don’t think there will be any trouble with him sleeping in his own bed tonight no matter how quiet the sitting room is,” he said softly. Armelle chuckled and pulled her husband into the bedroom.

  Sean made long, slow love to his wife; he already missed her so much it ached; dim memories of other partings, some of them final, didn’t help.