by N. C. Reed
“I’ll bring this to Memmnon’s attention when we return to Nasil,” Parno murmured.
“Meantime, we’ll add him to the list.”
“That brings us to a grand total of twenty-nine likely candidates, plus the poachers Warden Bates mentioned,” Nidiad informed the Prince.
“Let’s start talking to them.”
*****
“You are Brenack Wysin? Currently serving a life sentence for the slaying of a Provincial Constable?” Parno asked.
“I am milord” the giant in the chair opposite the Prince rumbled. Corded muscle bulged beneath the thin prison shirt and Wysin’s giant neck threatened to burst the collar. Rough hands carried the callouses associated with long hours and hard work. Parno wasn’t sure he’d ever seen such a large man before. Wysin was easily a head and a half taller than Parno himself and Parno was six feet three inches tall.
“So tell me, Brenack, what led you to slay a Constable?”
“Strong drink, milord,” Wysin replied at once. “I am unused to such and it fogged my mind. When the constable accosted me in the tavern, I struck back much harder than I should have.”
“Should you have struck a Constable at all?” Willard asked.
“I didn’t know he was a Constable, sir,” Wysin answered. “He was drunk as well, and wore no uniform of office. He decided that he could beat me. He was mistaken.”
Parno nodded thoughtfully. According to the record the Constable in question had been a man of small stature. Many such men, when under the influence of strong drink, seemed to feel that brawling with larger men was a way of proving themselves. The Constable’s choice of ‘victim’ had cost him his life in this case.
“Tell me, Brenack,” Parno said, “are you a good blacksmith?”
“I was a good smith, milord,” Wysin corrected. “Now I’m merely a prisoner.”
“Are you skilled at weapon making?” Parno asked. “Sword making perhaps?”
“I have made swords, milord,” Wysin nodded. “Their quality I must leave to those who own them. I myself have no skill with a blade.”
“Brenack,” Parno said, leaning back in his chair, “I am here recruiting men for the army. For a new type of unit. I have need of a blacksmith, more than one actually. I also have need of skilled sword smiths if any are to be found. Does that sound like something that might interest you?”
“Would I be out of here, milord?”
“Yes, but on conditions,” Parno replied. “Your term of service will be equal to your prison sentence. You will be paid and eventually be able to earn freedom of movement if you prove trustworthy. But desertion carries the penalty of death, Brenack Wysin. I ask you to consider that before giving me your answer.”
“I accept, milord,” Wysin said at once. “Any chance of freedom is better than this.”
“Very well, Brenack,” Parno said after a pause. “Your name shall be entered upon the roles. You will remain here for a bit longer, perhaps two months or so. You will then be transferred to our post in the Tinsee Province. Once there, you will begin your service to the Crown as a regimental smith and armorer.”
“Thank you, milord,” Wysin said, his deep voice threatening to crack. “I will work very hard to reward your confidence in me.”
“I have no doubt,” Parno nodded. “I will see you again, in Tinsee.” The guards entered, escorting Wysin back to his cell. Willard watched him go, then turned to Parno.
“Milord, you may not find another useful soul in all the prisons of Soulan, but there is one you’ll not have cause to regret.”
“I agree,” Nidiad said at once. “That one will be loyal to the death. Well done lad. Well done indeed.”
“Let’s see if there’s another among our choices, then.”
Much later, Parno’s spirits had deflated quite far when the guards escorted a small oriental prisoner into the room. Twenty-four men had been seen since Brenack Wysin. Some had declined the offer, others had been deemed unsuitable by the panel. Outside Warden Bates’ poachers, only three men remained. Three men and this foreign monk.
Cho Feng entered the room slowly, dragging a large quantity of heavy chain with him. Fettered hand and foot, the monk could barely walk.
“I take it you deem this man a danger?” Parno asked the guards.
“Orders, milord,” the senior guard replied with a small bow. “The prisoner is well behaved, but dangerous. He has fighting abilities the likes of which none of us have ever seen. Nor can we compete with.”
“How interesting,” Willard murmured.
Feng took his seat, where he sat stoically, not speaking, not moving. Parno studied him closely. The man was small, compared to most, but a wiry strength was evident, strength that would prove surprising to those who looked merely at the man’s size.
Cho Feng had been arrested as a pirate by the Navy on the Southern Sea. Claiming to be a paying passenger on his way to the continent, Feng had pleaded ignorance of any pirating activity. He had paid for passage north from the southern countries, he said, and was not a member of the crew.
Unfortunately, his deal had been made with the Captain of the pirate vessel and he had not survived the encounter. Unable to prove his story, Feng had been convicted of piracy. A charge which carried at the least a life sentence.
“Tell me, Cho Feng,” Parno said at last, “why were you coming here to ‘the continent’ as you put it?”
“I wished to see the Face Mountain,” Feng said finally. “Such a thing is not seen in my lands. I wished to see it for myself.”
“And you just happened to book passage on a pirate vessel?” Willard asked.
“It was the only vessel in the Brazees coming this way,” Feng replied. “One must use the means one is given. It was take passage aboard the ship, or walk. One does not walk through many of the southern kingdoms alone. Not if he wishes to live. I did not know the vessel was that of a pirate. It was clean and appeared well kept. I thought it a merchant vessel and inquired of the Captain if I might pay or earn passage north.”
“You did not fight the Navy when they took the ship, I see,” Nidiad spoke.
“I did not,” Feng agreed. “One does not fight authority in my land. I had broken no laws and did not expect to be sent to prison. As it turns out, no law breaking is required in your lands for one to be sent to prison.”
“Thus you claim to be innocent,” Willard said.
“I do not claim anything,” said Feng, his voice tinged with bitterness. “Your own record tells you that I did not resist your navy. No proof that I am or ever have been a pirate was presented to your court. I was labeled a pirate because I was aboard the ship. Having paid the equivalent of three years wages for passage here to see the Mountain of Faces. Which I will now never see.”
Parno said nothing, studying the man closely. If his tale was true, and Parno suspected it was, then he didn’t blame the man for being bitter. Cho Feng fairly radiated a quiet dignity, a formal bearing which spoke of good raising and education. This man would be a boon to his work, of that Parno was certain. He wasn’t sure how, at the moment, but knew it for the truth. But could Feng be trusted? How could Parno decided if the man was trustworthy? A sudden inspiration seized him. He looked at the guard.
“Free him,” Parno ordered.
“Milord,” the guard began hesitantly.
“Mind yourself,” Nidiad warned, and the guard acquiesced, quickly removing the chains.
“Leave us,” Parno ordered. The guards didn’t argue this time, but withdrew hesitantly. Parno nodded to Nidiad and Willard.
“You as well,” he added. Now it was Darvo’s turn to protest.
“Go,” Parno ordered. He looked at Feng.
“Cho Feng, are you an honorable man?” The oriental was caught by surprise at the question, but nodded.
“I have always sought to be.”
“May I have your word of honor that you will not seek to harm me, or to escape?”
“I will not seek to harm you,
on my honor,” Feng answered. “I cannot give you my word not to try and escape, for I do not belong here. Any chance I have to flee this horrid place, I will take.”
“Fair enough,” Parno nodded, convinced now that he was right. “Go,” he ordered again, and this time Nidiad went, Willard having already gone through the door.
Once they were alone, Parno sat quietly for a moment. Suddenly he picked up an apple left from lunch and drew his knife.
“Would you share my apple, Cho Feng?” he asked, cutting the apple with a deft slice. He handed one half to Feng, made a small cut on his left hand, and re-sheathed his blade.
“You have cut yourself,” Feng pointed.
“The blade must taste blood once drawn,” Parno shrugged. “I have no other knife, and the apple must be cut.” Feng’s eyes registered surprise, but he said nothing as he ate the apple.
“Cho Feng, I am Prince Parno McLeod, third son of Tammon McLeod, King of Soulan. I must warn you, however, that you will gain no bargain by taking me as hostage. Indeed my father would be more likely to reward you for killing me, than for setting me free. Though he wouldn’t. He’d hang you and play the bereaved father.”
“I know who you are, Prince of Soulan,” Feng said. “And I have given you my word, regardless of your father’s reaction.”
“Yes, you have,” Parno nodded. “Tell me, Cho Feng, do you believe in fate? Believe that all things, regardless of time, happen for a reason?”
“I do,” Feng nodded, surprise again evident in his eyes.
“So do I,” Parno said between bites of apple. “I have heard of a bare-handed fighting ability among sailors who sail the orient. Is it this type of skill that inspires such fear among the guards?”
“I am skilled at many disciplines of combat,” Feng replied with a smile. “I worked for many years as trainer to the Imperial Army in my homeland.”
“I thought as much,” Parno nodded. “Here is my problem, Cho Feng. I have been given a task. To take men from prisons such as these and make them soldiers. You may know that the kingdom to the north, Norland, is much larger than our own and has a much larger army.”
“Three times in recent memory, including once in my father’s reign, Norland has attacked us. Each time we have been victorious, but the cost in lives was ruinous. Our land is much smaller, much less populous, than the Nor. We cannot continue to face them on the battlefield on equal terms.”
“I plan to create a unit that can fight many times it’s own numbers, and emerge the victor. Skill such as yours could well make the difference in that battle.”
“You wish me to teach your soldiers? A pirate?” Feng’s voice didn’t drip sarcasm so much as ooze with it. Parno nodded.
“I understand your anger. I have read the account of your arrest. I am inclined to believe that you are truthful and so, I make you this offer. Serve me as instructor of hand-to-hand combat and any other form you know of that might help. In return, you will be paid, given room and board, and a measure of freedom that depends upon you.”
“And,” Parno added, “if you do so, I will petition the King’s Bench to review your conviction. Failing that, I will appeal directly to the King for pardon. I won’t lie, the fact that I’m doing the asking will work against you. But I will try, nonetheless.”
“If I succeed, you may return to your country and have the pay in your pockets when you do. It is little to offer, I know. But I believe you to be a man of your word and I am of mine. All I require is your word that you will not flee, not attempt to escape during your service, and I will take you from here when I leave today.”
“You place great faith in a man you do not know,” Feng said finally.
“I place faith in fate,” Parno corrected. “I need someone of your skills. Fate has placed you here that we should meet. Am I a fool to trust you, and fate? Or a fool to ignore what fate has placed before me?”
Feng sat silently for so long that Parno was about to decide the monk would refuse. That was when he spoke.
“You have patience, young Prince,” Feng smiled. “Such is not always the case with Royalty. Nobles tend to want what they want, now. Regardless of any other considerations. You are also wise beyond your years, Scion of Soulan. Yes, I do believe in fate. For long years I was driven to venture here and see the Mountain of Faces, though I could not tell you why. I do not, even now, know why.”
“It seems,” the monk said, “that fate has indeed placed me here for you to meet. If that is so, then who am I to question such things? I give you my word, Parno McLeod, that I will neither harm you, nor your people. I will not seek to escape and I will teach you and your soldiers all that I can.”
“I can ask no more than that,” Parno bowed. “I will be your first student, Cho Feng. I promise I will be an apt pupil.”
“I have no doubt, My Prince,” Feng smiled yet again.
Parno had signed his second man.
*****
“Milord, this is most unusual,” Warden Bates said, “but of course your wishes will be met.” Parno had given instruction for the Brenack Wysin and twelve others to be delivered to Cove by the time Parno had returned there, but Cho Feng would accompany him when he left today.
“I want to thank you, Warden, for your hospitality, and your assistance,” Parno said graciously. “I will inform His Majesty’s Chief Constable of your service personally.” Bates fairly beamed at that.
“Most kind of you, Your Highness,” he bowed deeply.
“We take our leave, Warden,” Parno said offering his hand. “Please inform the families of the prisoners I have selected to be ready to move when the train departs. I will ask Governor Harkin to provide wagons, drivers, and a suitable escort.”
“I will see to it myself, Milord,” Bates promised.
Parno, with Willard, Nidiad, and Cho Feng in tow, walked outside where their horses were waiting. Bates had provided a horse for Feng, until the group returned to Jax, where one would be acquired.
“Where now, Milord?” Nidiad inquired, eyeing Feng from the corner of his eye.
“We shall return to Jax for the night and depart upon the morrow,” Parno said, stepping into the saddle. “We must see to clothing and accessories for Feng, and the men will likely need a night in barracks to recuperate from a night upon the town.”
“Likely so,” Willard chuckled. “They’re a good lot, mind you, Your Highness, but high spirited.”
“I’d have it no other way, Karls.”
*****
Parno swung at Cho Feng, his right hand driving straight at the monks smiling face. Suddenly the Prince was flying through the air. He landed on his back with a loud ‘oomph’. He lay still for a moment, the impact having jarred every bone in his body.
“Well done!” Darvo Nidiad howled with laughter. Willard and his soldiers joined in, having learned that Parno was not one to lord his position over those who served with him.
“You must learn to strike without warning,” Feng was speaking to the assembled soldiers. It was the first night on the road after leaving Jax, and Parno had decided that no time would be wasted. The soldiers and himself would learn what they could from Feng as they traveled.
Feng was much more impressive after a hot scrubbing bath and once adorned in new, proper fitting clothes. He now wore a dirk, and a sword adorned his saddle. Parno had kept his word. Feng was as free as possible in his new role.
“With no time to prepare, your enemy is less likely to parry your attack and even less likely to counter-attack.”
“Aye,” Nidiad laughed. “I think that the Prince would agree he’s not in any position to counter-attack. ‘Least not at the moment,” he added with an evil snicker.
“Very funny, old man,” Parno half groaned, half growled, rising stiffly to his feet.
“I’m not the one picking myself up from the ground, Your Highness,” Darvo pointed out.
“I can arrange that, if you’d like,” Parno smiled nastily.
“Not a chance,”
Nidiad shook his great head. “I’m far too old for that sort of thing. But I can see real possibilities in this, I can. Master Feng will make good soldiers better ones, that’s for sure.”
Feng bowed, pleased with the compliment from the old soldier.
“Please take note of the stiffness Prince Parno is experiencing. Such is the result of improper conditioning. There are exercises which will free you from that state, and allow you to roll with such impacts, lessening their severity.”
“We will begin those exercises on the morrow,” Feng concluded. “They will also make long travel by horseback easier on the body.”
“Well, we need another volunteer for the next move,” Parno announced, limping back to his seat. “I don’t think I’m up to another ‘lesson’ at the moment.”
