by Hilari Bell
Weasel snorted. “If you’re going to lie, you need to learn to do it convincingly. First, you have to come up with another explanation for what the witness saw. Like, ‘I wasn’t trying to pick his pocket! He’d just put his pipe in there, and I was checking to make sure it was out. You wouldn’t want the man to catch fire, would you, Master Guardsman, sir?’“
Edoran laughed aloud, and Arisa let the subject change. But later, fencing with Edoran while Weasel observed them, she tried again.
“Since Weasel and I both know, why can’t you talk about it? It’s not like you have to convince us. We already believe you.”
Edoran’s guard faltered and Arisa swung the wooden blade and tapped his ribs. Not hard, not yet. There was a place for bruises in training, but that didn’t come until the student was good enough to defend himself. Besides, she had a feeling Edoran had taken enough blows for a lifetime.
The prince brought his sword back up, but his eyes were wary. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But if I did, I’d ask why you care. It’s not as if you could use it for anything.”
She’d gotten through to him! “It might have been used.” Arisa carefully banished triumph from her voice. “It might have been used to get troops and assistance on the road that afternoon, instead of the next morning. They might have been able to save lives, or capture someone, or find a clue, or…”
Edoran’s gaze was very dark, the expression under his contained blankness so hopelessly despairing that Arisa’s voice faltered. She lowered her sword.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know that anything could have been changed. It probably couldn’t, but sooner is better than later. And someday it might make a diff—”
Edoran’s blade flashed in and struck her sword arm, not quite hard enough to hurt, but the warning was there.
“You’d call a man with a sword in his hand a liar? That’s quite a challenge, Mistress Benison.”
Arisa raised her blade. “You’re not a man yet. And as for the sword…”
She broke from the form, fencing in earnest, though not as fast as she could have. Teaching him to fight back was her real goal and that was what he was doing now, no matter how awkwardly he went about it.
They danced back and forth through the old stable, with Edoran pushing her as often as she pushed him—she refused to chase him around the room as Master Giles had. And slowly, his eyes grew brighter.
He knew that she could have taken him, and his scrambling attacks became more elaborate, almost playful. But soon his laughter faded into thick panting and Arisa ended it, tangling his blade in hers and sweeping it out of his grip.
Edoran folded his arms and sneered. “You have me at your mercy, villain, but I defy you! You’ll never learn the secret path to the treasure of Abadabadan from me!”
“So I’m the villain, am I?” Arisa drawled. “Then I might as well take villainous retribution!”
The prince was standing with his back to a pile of straw. It would have been irresistible even if she hadn’t been the villain. She cast her sword aside and tackled Edoran into the haystack.
He yelped in astonishment as he went down, and then yelped louder as Arisa set about learning all the places he was ticklish.
She was much better at wrestling than she was with a sword, and though she hadn’t had a good tickle match since she’d turned twelve, it wasn’t something you forgot.
With Weasel’s snickers echoing in her ears, she soon learned that Edoran’s ribs were vulnerable but the soles of his feet less so—hardly worth the trouble of pulling off his boots.
And since one of the rules of a tickle match was to give your opponent a fair chance, she too had lost a boot, and Edoran had discovered just how sensitive her toes were. She had pinned one of his wrists in her bent knee and was trying to catch his other hand to finish the game, when a pair of strong hands grabbed her shoulder and belt and pulled her from the straw.
“What’s going on here?” a furious voice demanded.
“I think that’s obvious.” Master Giles’ voice came from just above her ear.
There were half a dozen shareholders present, including Ethgar. Arisa thought about what Ronelle and Danica would make of this, and winced. She wiped her tumbled hair out of her face. Edoran had pulled off the leather tie sometime during their struggle, and her hair was full of snarls and straw.
Lord Ethgar restrained Weasel, with one hand clamped over his mouth and the other pinning his arms. He was half again Weasel’s height and twice his weight—but unfortunately for him, he didn’t have Weasel’s brains.
Arisa watched in considerable satisfaction as Weasel’s heel smashed down on Ethgar’s foot, and he swore and let him go.
Too late for any warning.
The courtiers who extracted Edoran from the straw pile were more respectful than Master Giles, but not by much. Most of them, like Ethgar, were the older, more powerful shareholders, and if their fingers weren’t digging into Edoran’s arms, their expressions were sternly disapproving.
Arisa considered Master Giles’ grip on her, then broke it with a single deft twist and stepped away. He started to reach for her again, met her eyes, and changed his mind. Or thought of something worse, for the nastiest smile Arisa had ever seen curved up the corners of his mouth.
“Sorry to interrupt your… sport, Mistress Benison. But as one of the prince’s tutors, his conduct is my responsibility.”
Sport? Yes, he meant exactly what she thought he meant. “You’re disgusting,” Arisa told him coldly.
“You’re stupid, too,” Weasel added. “Do you really think they’d be rutting in the straw, with me sitting here watching them?”
A couple of the courtiers looked doubtful, and Master Giles’ face darkened. “I know nothing of the prince’s taste in these matters, for I, the One God be thanked, am his sword master not his guardian! Gentlemen, shall we put this matter into the hands of the regent and the lord commander?”
Agreement rumbled around the room. It would do no good to argue or explain, Arisa realized. These men were her mother’s and Justice Holis’ enemies. She made careful note of their faces as they bustled her and the two boys outside, taking their horses’ reins to lead them back as if they were infants. Or prisoners.
Edoran’s expression was so arrogantly bored that Arisa began to wonder how much trouble they were in. And how had they known where the prince was? And what he was doing? Was Katrin spying on them? Giles? Some courtier? Whoever their enemy was, he’d gained ground today.
During the short ride back, Arisa tried to pull the straw from her hair, but she knew she hadn’t gotten all of it by the time they reached the stable yard and Master Giles dragged her from the saddle.
Edoran was allowed to dismount and walk without a heavy hand on his shoulder, but two shareholders gripped Weasel’s arms—and kept their toes well out of his reach, Arisa noted. She had seen Weasel terrified, grieving, and furious, but she’d never seen him look so helplessly angry and frustrated as he did now.
Her own expression probably mirrored his—she knew how to fight, but how could you defend yourself against an enemy who used gossip and innuendo as his weapons?
With truth! she thought hotly. You fought by revealing them for the treacherous lying toads they were.
With no evidence to prove it?
After today, anything she said about these men, any accusation she made would be taken for spite, unless she had hard evidence to back it up.
Did they know that? Were they deliberately discrediting her?
Arisa was feeling much more somber when they finally reached the regent’s office.
There were voices speaking behind the door, and Master Giles hesitated. Then his hand tightened on Arisa’s shoulder and he stepped forward and knocked.
Justice Holis’ clerk, Kenton, opened it. “The regent is occupied now. Can I assist you?”
“No,” said Master Giles, shoving Arisa into the room. “This is a matter the regent must attend to himself.�
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The room was full of well-dressed men, seated around a long table. A few of them had risen to their feet, their faces flushed as if they’d been arguing.
Her mother was there, the Lady be thanked, looking sardonic. When she saw Arisa her brows rose sharply, and an expression Arisa couldn’t interpret dawned in her eyes.
Justice Holis—Regent Holis, she supposed—rose to his feet as Weasel and the prince were pulled into the room. His worried frown deepened.
“Gentlemen, forgive me, but it appears something has come up. I know this matter is important, but we can resume shortly…?”
So much for putting it off. The men departed, casting curious glances at all of them, though they mostly looked at the prince and the straw in Arisa’s hair. She could feel the rumor growing, without even hearing the first word.
The Falcon hadn’t stirred from her chair, and when the last of the meeting vanished she turned her gaze to Master Giles. “Might I ask, sir, why your hand is on my daughter?”
Her voice was mild, and Master Giles was the best swordsman in the realm, but he let go of Arisa’s shoulder as if it had suddenly become hot.
Ethgar cleared his throat. “Forgive the interruption, lord commander, but we’re here to inform you and the regent of a serious problem—before it becomes a disaster! A disaster for the prince—perhaps for all of Deorthas. A—”
Arisa had had enough. “This is rot,” she said clearly. “All I was doing was teaching Edoran to fence. When I knocked his sword away we ended up wrestling. But even if we’d been coupling, so what? Half the kings of Deorthas have produced illegits. Even if he wanted to marry me, which he doesn’t and I wouldn’t, so what? He can marry anyone he wants. His father proved that.”
The Falcon’s lips twitched. “I’d care if you produced a child, love. I’d prefer to see you do that under… favorable conditions.”
“But we weren’t doing anything!” Arisa protested. “We were wrestling. Which he needs to work on even more than his fencing, by the way.” She glared at Master Giles.
“The prince’s skill at… wrestling, I’m happy to say, is none of my concern. I—”
“But it is my concern,” Justice Holis said calmly. “And I thank you for bringing this matter to my attention. You gentlemen may release my clerk and go.”
His voice was mild, but there was a note in it that made the shareholders let go of Weasel almost as fast as Giles had released Arisa.
Weasel scowled at them. “Nothing happened,” he told Justice Holis and the Falcon loudly. “I was with them the whole time, and all they did was practice fighting.”
At a glance from Holis, Kenton followed the courtiers out of the room and closed the door behind them.
“I fear you’re wrong, lad,” Justice Holis sighed, sinking back into his chair. “Oh, I accept your word that nothing happened between Arisa and the prince. But His Highness has imperiled a young lady’s reputation, which could cause serious problems for her!” He turned to Edoran. “Your Highness, you must learn to think about the consequences for others before you act.”
Edoran hunched his shoulders and said nothing.
“It wasn’t his fault!” Weasel snapped. “It wasn’t Arisa’s, either. None of us did anything wrong!”
“I differ with you about it not being Arisa’s fault,” said the Falcon coolly. “If she’d behaved like a lady, this would never have happened.”
If you hadn’t ordered me to get close to the prince, this wouldn’t have happened. But she couldn’t say that in front of Edoran.
“Weasel’s right,” she told them instead. “None of us did anything wrong.”
Edoran said nothing. Spineless twerp. Why didn’t he defend himself? He might not be able to fence, but anyone could talk!
Justice Holis sighed. “As I said, I accept that you’re telling the truth. But you’ve both been in court long enough to realize that most of the shareholders won’t believe it. Not because they care about the truth, but because they might be able to use the rumor for their own ends. We can’t, any of us, treat this like the trivial matter it should be. My regency will need years to become secure. If shareholders who say I can’t control the prince join up with the country folk who complain that I can’t protect them from pirate raids, this could cause trouble all out of proportion to—”
“Now that’s ridiculous,” said Weasel. “No one could compare a tumble in the straw, which didn’t even happen, to a pirate raid. And that raid wasn’t your fault—Wait a minute. Did you say ‘raids’? Plural? More than one?”
“We got news of the second raid yesterday,” Justice Holis confirmed. “We’re still waiting for details, but the loss of life seems to have been lower this time. Though the property damage is worse.”
Weasel frowned. “That’s still bad. Any loss of life is bad, but it’s not your fault.”
“So I shall argue,” said Justice Holis wryly. “But my opponents will ask why these raids ashore never happened when Pettibone was regent. And I have no answer.”
There was a moment of silence.
“So why are they happening now?” Weasel asked.
“That, my boy, is the question,” Justice Holis told him. “And we need to find an answer before everyone in the realm starts looking for a ‘stronger’ regent to replace me.”
If he was replaced, the Falcon would be “replaced” along with him. Arisa shivered.
Weasel’s worried frown deepened. “You should have told me about the second raid.”
“What could you have done?” Holis asked. “Except worry? No, you’re right, I should have told you. There’s nothing more foolish than leaving your allies uninformed.” He laid a hand on Weasel’s shoulder and smiled.
Even Arisa, who had her mother’s love, didn’t have her confidence to that degree. She felt a twinge of jealousy and looked over at Edoran. His face was blank, but under that shield there had to be pain.
“I’m sorry,” Arisa said. “But I still can’t believe that anything serious could go wrong because I’m teaching Edoran to fence. It’s… It’s silly!”
Justice Holis frowned suddenly. “Why were you teaching him to fence? Doesn’t he have a fencing master already?”
Edoran stirred. “I commanded it. It wasn’t her fault or Weasel’s.”
Oh, now he was trying to defend them. If he was going to command things, why hadn’t he commanded Master Giles and that jackal pack of courtiers to go away? And keep their mouths shut? They wouldn’t have, of course, but he could have tried.
“I was teaching him to fence,” said Arisa, “because his so-called fencing master wasn’t. Not only was he making Edoran fence right-handed, he was…”
She went on to describe the lessons in detail, and Holis’ expression grew more and more shocked as she went on.
“Someone had to teach him to fight,” she finished defiantly. “So I did.”
Holis turned to Weasel. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
Weasel shifted uneasily. “All his tutors are like that. I thought… I wasn’t sure, but I thought maybe that was how nobles are taught. And Edoran didn’t want to complain, and you’re busy with important things, and…” He shrugged.
“Your Highness,” Justice Holis asked. “Is this true?”
Edoran’s gaze rested on the floor. His face was scarlet. “I’m not very bright. And it got better after Weasel joined my lessons. I thought I might be able to… I hoped I could handle it myself.”
If his fencing lessons had gotten better when Weasel joined him, what had they been like before?
Holis was staring at the prince in appalled silence.
“Your Highness,” the Falcon said gently. “It’s not that you’re stupid; it’s that Regent Pettibone didn’t want you to learn.” Her voice slowed, and Arisa realized that she was working it out as she spoke. “The more you learned, the more likely you’d threaten his power. He kept you ignorant. Deliberately.”
Edoran’s expression hadn’t changed. He knew al
l this, Arisa realized. He wasn’t stupid—he must have figured out a long time ago that the regent had commanded his tutors to keep him from learning anything. But why hadn’t he exposed them? Why hadn’t he fought back?
Holis drew a deep, shuddering breath. “I may not be to blame for the pirate raids, but this is my fault. I should have checked… have made myself aware—”
“I should have told you,” said Weasel.
There was a grimness beneath Justice Holis’ smile.
“Yes, we’ll all have to be more candid with one another in the future. But meanwhile… Kenton! Get in here.”
Arisa wondered if she should tell them about Master Darian now, but the door popped open and the clerk looked in.
“Sir?”
“Kenton, I want you to fire every one of the prince’s tutors. There will be no recommendations, no severance pay, and they have three hours to pack their things and vacate the palace, or the guards will do it for them. Indeed, you might hint that leaving the city would be a wise decision.”
“But… All of… Well, if you say so, sir.”
“I do,” said the Justice. “That will be all.”
“Yes, sir!” Kenton closed the door.
Edoran’s face was alight with joy, an expression Arisa had never seen on him before.
Weasel looked almost as pleased. “No lessons? At all?”
“Why does that sound like a bad idea?” said Justice Holis dryly. “You can share Mistress Arisa’s dancing and etiquette lessons—you need them, even if His Highness doesn’t. As for the rest, you’ll resume those lessons as soon as I find new tutors. Whom I shall select personally.”
Weasel’s pleasure faded, but Edoran, if possible, looked even happier.
“That’s all very well,” said the Falcon. “But it won’t silence the rumors that I’m sure are spreading right now. Arisa may not care about her reputation, but I do.”
The justice sighed. “I understand, but I’m afraid I can’t think of anything to do about that except wait for it to fade away. It will, in time. And in the meantime, my friends, it would be unwise for Arisa to be alone with either of you—or even alone with both of you! No more afternoon rides or walks. No time together at all, except for lessons or evening court.”
