by Michael Mood
Strong hands gripped Krothair and hauled him up from the ground.
“Damn fool of a country boy,” Ti'Shed hissed in his ear.
The sword master slung Krothair over his shoulder and hauled him back home.
-3-
“My sword's back there,” Krothair said quietly.
“Your gonads could be back there, too,” Ti'Shed said. The sword master looked terribly haggard. He was dirty and seemed tired, his face streaked where he had been crying. “That sword was garbage anyway.” He had a different look in his eyes now, separate from the crying.
Krothair sat weakly in a chair, still struggling to regain his thoughts.
“We should begin our training today,” said Ti'Shed with a cock of his head. “And we need to work on more than I thought. You are too new to the city.”
“I just thought she needed help.”
“And she wanted you to think that.”
Krothair exhaled. “I failed.”
“Failure only comes from a fair fight. You need training. We start today.”
Krothair thought for a moment. “When I first arrived here you told me honesty is the best policy.”
“It is,” Ti'Shed said.
“You sulk in your room for four days and then I almost get gelded and now it's back to business as usual? I want an honest explanation.”
A dangerous look swam behind Ti'Shed's eyes. They hardened into slits. His powerful hands twisted into Krothair's shirt and his face drew very, very near. “I understand what you have just gone through,” he said. “But do not presume you are entitled to know anything of my affairs. My sulking.” He bit the words off with a tone that warned Krothair not to go down that path ever again. The sword master backed off then and covered his face with his hands, his mood changing swiftly. “I fear something inside of me has broken,” he said through his palms. “If you wish to continue with me, it will not be easy. It might be better if you were taught by someone else.”
“No,” Krothair said, and found that he meant it. “Not after I saw you in that alley. You were blurry to me, but I saw the skill of your strikes.”
Ti'Shed still spoke through his palms. “I had to be fast to fight a Servitor like that. A woman Servitor.” Ti'Shed squinted. “Never heard of such a thing.”
“What's a Servitor?” Krothair asked.
“It is one who possesses the magic of service. Don't they have knowledge of these things in the country? Their powers are physical skill enhancements, near-endless stamina. A dangerous, dangerous enemy to have made. And a woman to boot.”
“She's not too keen on men,” said Krothair.
Ti'Shed nodded and lowered his hands. “I have to get clean,” he said indicating his clothes and body in general.
“Me too,” Krothair said. Katya's touch was still on him.
But she was a Servitor. There's a term I've not heard of. How to I get to be that? Maybe, if I was a Servitor, I could be on the Kingsguard!
Something occurred to him. The stories he'd heard of the Kingsguardians seemed impossible for men to do. But maybe not . . . maybe not if magic was real. Krothair had heard rumors of magic in his travels but had never met anyone who had the powers. Now Ti'Shed was talking about it like it was common knowledge.
And it dawned on him that every single member of the Kingsguard was probably a mage.
A Servitor.
“Damn,” Krothair whispered. “No wonder Germon steered me to the Vaporgaard.”
As far as Krothair knew he didn't have a lick of magic in him.
-4-
The blows fell around Krothair and he suddenly understood how Katya must have felt yesterday. Ti'Shed had attacked her relentlessly and he was doing the same thing here. The sword master backed up and stopped momentarily.
Training had begun in the field behind the house. A quick breakfast of what little of Krothair's food had survived, then it was right out into the yard.
“I could have a better grip on that hilt with my asshole,” Ti'Shed said, indicating Krothair's sword.
Ti'Shed was different during training. He turned from someone that Krothair liked into someone Krothair didn't like. The sword master had warned him about his moods, but Krothair wasn't going to let that stop him learning from this man.
“Quit staring off into space and look at your hand,” the old man barked.
Krothair looked down at his fingers. He couldn’t see anything wrong. He looked back up helplessly.
Ti'Shed looked off to the side and smirked to himself. “You've got to rotate your hand at least twenty degrees to your right or you couldn't kill a crippling kitten, let alone a Foglin.”
Krothair tried to do as he was asked and must have succeeded because Ti'Shed said, “That's better.” The sword master's weapon started slashing through the air again and Krothair met it, steel ringing on steel several times in quick succession.
“Congratulations,” the old man said. “You are now dead.”
Krothair looked down to see a small knife in Ti'Shed's hand, the tip poking just below his ribs.
“We're sword fighting!” exclaimed the boy.
“Is that what you will tell a Foglin? Let me test it out. Excuse me you daft fucker, but we are sword fighting! Likely they will be your last words if you ever breathe them at all. First we must unlearn your reflexes. From this point on you will not be having sword fights, you will be having fights. You must know what every single part of my body is doing at every moment. Of course, that's true in a sword fight too, but it is even more imperative here. Foglins can have as many as twenty different appendages, each capable of ending your life.”
Krothair's mind was already overwhelmed. In his travels it had always been easier to fight. His opponents hadn't been especially clever and there had always been rules.
“So far this has been damn disappointing,” Ti'Shed said, sheathing his weapons. “You're fast, but fast alone won't do it! Your instincts are all wrong! Blocks my tea kettle with a sword,” he said to the air. “I should have known just then!”
“You're not giving me a chance,” Krothair protested. He braced himself against whatever would come.
Ti'Shed nodded. “You're right. I apologize. I told you. Something is off . . . it . . .” His throat choked. “We are done for today. Think about what I told you. You will never sword fight again. Understand that and embrace it. The sword is only a tool in the arsenal of what you will become if we continue. It is the most easily understood, and the one we will start with, but it is only a beginning.”
The sword master turned then and went into his house.
The sun was beginning to set, so Krothair followed him, not really knowing what else to do.
-5-
It was the middle of the night and Krothair awakened from a nightmare.
The walls of his room felt as if they were closing in on him so he went out to the kitchen to get a bit of reprieve.
An odd metal tin he did not recognize rested on the table. Krothair picked it up gently and looked inside. A white powder sat in the bottom of it. He sniffed at it and his heart sank as he recognized it.
His sword master was using Duller.
Chapter 10 – Three Visitors
-1-
“The shipment was supposed to be here a week ago,” Polk said, a vein bulging in his fat forehead.
Halimaldie sipped a bit of his rum. The only other sound in the room was the ticking of his clock as he dealt carefully with this situation. “Surely you understand that in an operation of this magnitude there will be obstacles.”
“You shoulda stuck to trading crab, spices, and pearls, my friend.” Polk said friend, but it was likely that he didn't mean it.
“The gems will arrive.”
“I've heard rumors, D'Arvenant. Some say your ship disappeared. Taken by a ghost crew or some such.”
“Ah, yes. Rumors. So reliable. Shall I build a business plan around them?” It was good that Halimaldie was slightly drunk. It gives me the courage to pr
ove this asshole wrong. Even if the asshole is right.
“My customers are getting antsy.”
“You're getting antsy,” Halimaldie said, pointing an accusatory finger. “Your customers will drag on a line as long as you tell them to.”
“This could be bad for you, D'Arvenant. Promise people the world and they get angry when you can't deliver. The gem trade has been on the black market since the war and people are getting tired of it. I deal in luxuries, not some kind of back alley addiction. This needs to be on the up and up and I thought you would be the man to bring that back to us.”
Halimaldie stood up from his large chair. “I understand the situation Polk. I made the situation. I've got men risking their lives in the mines near the Vapor for my cargo. It's hard enough keeping them paid and alive in those harsh conditions, let alone dedicated to the task of mining. Their salaries are double that of normal laborers. You disrespect them when you hound me.” He tapped the glass front of his Trirenese clock. “I have other things to do if you're done berating me.” He didn't have other pressing matters at the moment, but he was quite done with this. There was no explanation that Polk would find truly acceptable. Halimaldie was in a stalling pattern.
“Your word falters,” Polk said, standing up and gripping his cane.
“So be it,” said Halimaldie. “I won't be bullied by someone to whom I owe nothing monetarily.”
“There are things more influential than mere crown notes,” Polk said.
Halimaldie gave a wry smile. “I am sure you will be disappointed to find out that you are mistaken. Tobbs! Jak! See this man out, please.”
Two of Halimaldie's house servants came into the room and escorted the fuming Polk out quite handily, leaving Halimaldie alone again. That was the fourth disgruntled intermediary he had dealt with in the past week and he was getting quite good at it, but also quite tired of it. Halimaldie didn't believe there was anything he couldn't handle; those type of thoughts simply weren't in his consciousness.
But this was certainly bad.
He had promised so much to so many people in what he now reflected was probably not a very good idea. It was helpful to get the customers talking about something long before you obtained it, but something this large . . .
The war had put a stop to many types of trade. Hardeen Kingdom and Shailand used to mingle together in a complex, ever-changing grid. It made trade a little easier when the lines were loosely held. The war had changed that. Suddenly everyone was incredibly territorial and new statutes and laws sprang into being like weeds. Halimaldie had needed to look for other sources of goods.
The southlands weren't ideal, but he'd heard rumors of gems down there, so he'd set up an operation at the start of the war: scout, establish, dig. There was no government in the south. Halimaldie had once mused about the type of person who would want to rule over thousands and thousands of square bands of hot, mucky swamps. He didn't come up with anybody.
Halimaldie had used his family's vast fortune to set up the fire ruby mine. Money could accomplish almost anything.
But unfortunately his words to Polk just now had been false. Halimaldie knew there were things that were more influential than crown notes. Reputation was everything, but he hadn't been about to let Polk know that he had scored a point there. And that garbage about the black market? Of course Polk was dealing with addicts. There was no other explanation for people's actions.
Once the war had gotten underway, the Shailand gem had trade dried up, and this made the merchants more desperate. Halimaldie had been among the ones who were willing to risk the capital to fill the gap in the market. King Maxton had outlawed gemstones of any kind to try and stop the needless waste of time and resources. The men that were mining were told to come back and join the army against Shailand. Halimaldie's operation hadn't been public knowledge, so he had continued his plans.
The instant the war was over Halimaldie was leaps and bounds ahead of anyone else, because he had never really stopped at all.
Halimaldie walked over to a large bookshelf and selected a tome, levering it from the rest with his pointer finger. He ran his hand over the cover and took it back to his desk. It was entitled 'Koppler's Guide to the Rarer Medical Afflictions'. Halimaldie opened to the contents.
He was just starting to skim the page when his door opened silently. He only caught the motion out of the corner of his eye. It usually squeaks, he thought. I made it so it squeaks.
“Tobbs,” he said. “What the hell is going on with my door?”
“Nothin',” replied a voice that did not belong to Tobbs. “Had ta see ya again, do ya see.”
Halimaldie slammed the cover of the book shut with a loud clack. “Telin,” he said. “What a . . . pleasant surprise.”
-2-
“I told you our paths would cross again,” Telin said. “So here we are.”
“What is it that you want?” Halimaldie asked. “Rum?”
Telin turned up his nose at the offer. He was dressed in a silver and purple tabard over lighter purple clothing. He did not have armor or a shield, but he definitely had his sword. What was that thing called again? All the Kingsguard had such stupid pet names for their weapons. Warbeater? Warmeat? Something like that. Of course, some of these weapons had been forged through some complex process that people said involved magic. Halimaldie had always intended to learn about it. Mostly just so he could debunk it.
“Not rum, then,” Halimaldie said. He poured another glass for himself anyway.
“I want the full details of your mining operation.”
“Oh? Which one?”
“You know full well which one, D'Arvenant. The general population may be blind to your methods but do not believe for a moment that the crown is. So do us both a favor and get to the point.”
“That's gonna be difficult,” said Halimaldie. “There are many things I don't write down.”
“A man like you has ledgers.”
“Don't pretend to know me so well, Telin.” He did have ledgers.
“So hostile all of a sudden. Perhaps I shoulda let that Foglin get your ledgers, if ya catch.”
Halimaldie didn't want the minutiae of his operations falling into the hands of the crown, but he wasn't entirely sure there was a way out of this. He had to think.
“Do you plan on going down to the mine?” he asked.
“It will likely come to that,” Telin said, idly picking at one of his fingernails. “I need to know exactly where it is so I don't waste time wandering around the southlands.”
“I have certain rights that protect my business, you know,” Halimaldie said.
“Not when the safety of the Kingdom is at stake, D'Arvenant.”
He well knew that. His mind raced. Stalling with Telin wouldn't get him as far as it had with Polk. The Kingsguardian's threats were very real.
The clock ticked.
“Can we compromise perhaps?” Halimaldie asked.
“I am not sure you are in the position to do so.”
“Well, the way I figure it, we both have each other by the balls. You could expose me as aiding and abetting the enemy, and even though it's not true, that would probably put the kibosh on my fun little entrepreneurial bent. But on the flip side I doubt the crown would be very well loved if the people knew what a fantastic job you were doing of not keeping Foglins out of the most secure of cities.”
“I don't think the balls you've got me by are as small as the balls I've got you by,” Telin said. “Hard to get your hand all the way around ours.” A smug smile followed. 'Ours' was definitely meant to remind Halimaldie that he wasn't dealing just with Telin here, but the entire Kingsguard and all it entailed. Which was, admittedly, twelve near-immortals with godlike combat skills and a far-reaching respect throughout the entire kingdom and beyond.
Alright. So.
“Well,” Halimaldie said, “that's why you're gonna get the heavy end of this bargain.”
Telin nodded. “I'm always up for an interesting b
it o' negotiating. The Kingsguard's not all steel, ya know, D'Arvenant. Men like you can be very, very important to us. As could anyone in the kingdom at any given time, I suppose.”
You're in the same business as I am, Telin. We both steer the kingdom.
“I am hesitant to commit too much to paper,” said Halimaldie. “Paper makes things too real. I will become your resource. I will share with you all I know if you will let me accompany you to the mine on your excursion. I have a bit of a problem, you see. My reputation is faltering in the light of these missed deliveries. If I become your resource into my operation, it will give me an excuse to leave this place for a bit.”
“You won't be allowed to tell your clients that you went to the mine with the Kingsguard. How many ideas would that put into people's heads?”
“No,” Halimaldie agreed. “I will tell them something that will serve both of our purposes.”
“And what is that?”
“Simply that I have gone to oversee the retrieval of the gemstones myself. People like it when you take responsibility. Rise to the challenge, as it were.”
Telin nodded. “You are clever. I understand your success, at least a little.”
“And I understand yours,” Halimaldie said, feeling pleased. “I have seen you fight.”
“You have but seen the tip of my sword.”
Let's try to keep it that way, Halimaldie thought.
-3-
“Your hair's getting too long,” Tellurian said.
“And yours is falling out,” Halimaldie replied.
They embraced, thumping each other on the back.
“Tell, it's been a hell of a day so far. Hell of a week, really.” Halimaldie noticed that his brother's clothing was even plainer than usual: tones of brown everywhere, plain types of cloth, no decoration. “Come and sit down. I've been working all day. I need a break and someone I can trust.”
