One Land, One Duke

by Emerson, Ru

  "That was going to be my suggestion,” Chris said. “Ernie needs to learn the basics, in case anyone finds us out here, and we're all pretty soft from time off in town. It's too new a skill to get away with that, and I bet most of the guys after us know about it now. Which means we don't have total surprise on our side any more. Which means we need to be good, and fast. If we're both of those things, we'll have the edge that—you know, even if they know what we're using, knowing it's one thing, actually fighting it is another.” He looked up at Robyn. “And mom, you gotta start getting serious with it, you know? You can whack someone with the bo and lay them out, without killing them, if you know how to control it. You can't say that for other kinds of fighting.” You can't say that for a large, black bird with murderous intent, his eyes said.

  Robyn looked back down at him; she'd gone rather pale but her voice was steady when she finally spoke. “Point taken, kid. I'll try, all right?"

  "All I ask, mom. Hey, Eddie, let's take the soft city kid with us, see if we can't find a nice piece of wood for him."

  "Yah,” Edrith said. “He gets to shape it himself, I did everyone's last time and it was too hard on my hands."

  Chris jumped to his feet. “So? Maybe I'm trying to keep you from poking them in other people's pockets."

  Edrith snorted. “When have I done that since I met you?"

  "Sure, right,” Chris laughed. “Ruined your life, didn't I?"

  "Changed it,” Edrith grumbled, but he didn't sound that unhappy. “Jeez, you know? Enardi, let's go find you a young ash.” The three went off toward the upper bank of the stream.

  Chris turned before they'd gone very far. “Aletto, you know what you need to do to get ready for a workout. Mom, you're going with him, right? Meet back here, say, half an hour?"

  "Who knows?” Robyn replied tartly. “I haven't worn a watch in twenty-some years.” Chris grinned at her and waved a dismissive hand; his other arm fell across Enardi's shoulder as they walked off.

  Jennifer laughed quietly as the three vanished into a stand of young trees and brush. “Portrait of a man torn. Ernie looks like he suddenly can't decide if he really wants this.” She shook her head. “I wonder if he's done anything physical in his life."

  Aletto shook his own head. “Considering his class and where he grew up, I doubt it. A wealthy merchant's son wouldn't learn weaponry as a matter of course; the Duke's personal armed guards usually come from among the poorer sorts."

  "What else is new?” Robyn demanded generally. When Aletto looked at her, though, she merely shrugged and motioned him to go on.

  "He wouldn't have had to shift his father's stock, either; Fedthyr has men in the harbor, men on his ships.” Dahven gazed thoughtfully after the now vanished boys. “He looks soft. Mentally and physically. It's a hard combination to break."

  Aletto nodded. “I know. All too well. Probably he's in no better shape than—well, than I am. Was,” he amended as Robyn nudged him.

  "You're not in bad shape at all these days,” she said. “Except that you've pushed a few times when you should've taken it easy. Come on, let's go walk, get the kinks out of my legs. That kid of mine is going to put me through it this morning, I can just tell."

  Jennifer spread her feet apart and bent over, hands kneading the small of her back. “He'll probably be too busy beating poor Ernie into shape, but I wouldn't count on that. Robyn, where did you ever get a son with so much energy?"

  "God knows, he didn't get it from me. See you in a little bit, kiddo. Don't mangle anything."

  "You know me better than that, Birdy.” Jennifer stretched her neck side to side, rubbed her chin against the tee-shirt and tossed her hair back. She came up, red-faced, to find Dahven gazing down the road after his friend.

  "I would never have thought it possible. You're all good for him, I can see that. But she particularly is, isn't she?"

  Jennifer bent to one side and then the other, hands still working the muscles over her kidneys. Nothing felt hot or tight. She brought one arm up and bent sideways with it. “I think so. He needed someone who could accept him, handicap and all. Most people—I have to admit I'm one of them—don't know where to look when they first come up against someone like Aletto. Robyn's so matter-of-fact about things like that. I don't know how far we would have gotten after—after you left us, if it hadn't been for Robyn convincing him to try what he's doing now."

  "I'm glad to see he's trying. I knew him before it happened, of course—before he got the fever. That changed him more than his father's death.” Dahven pulled himself to his feet. “Why are you doing this?"

  Jennifer bent forward once more. “The stretchout? You've probably had the sword training Aletto didn't get, right?” She looked up. He nodded. “How did it feel the day after, when you first began, remember that?” He cast his eyes up and she grinned through a spill of dark curls. “This gets the muscles warmed up, so you avoid some of the misery the next morning. If you run like I do, helps you avoid turning an ankle or tearing a muscle."

  "Oh."

  "Don't sound so doubtful. You probably don't run—?"

  "Run? To get away from my tutors a few times—"

  Jennifer laughed briefly. “I think you're feeling better, if you're up to a bad joke like that. Maybe up to a workout?” He considered this, nodded. “It's probably a good idea, get back into things a little at a time, ease yourself back into good fighting trim."

  "You think I was in good fighting trim?"

  "I think so, even if you were only fighting off women.” She grinned as he averted his eyes.

  "Your world must be odder than Father's wizard ever reported it, that women say such things.” But he was smiling back at her.

  "Sorry. I'm used to saying what's on my mind. Will you listen if I tell you—or Chris does—that you've had enough?"

  Now he looked truly embarrassed. “Like I did yesterday?"

  "Like yesterday. You did get off the horse by yourself before you fell off,” Jennifer said. “All right, here, get your feet apart, like I have, start loosening your back up."

  When Chris came back, Dahven was holding Jennifer's feet while she did sit-ups. “Hey, awright!” he said cheerfully. “You going to give it a try?"

  Dahven looked up and shrugged. “I'm not certain how good I'll be just now. But I'll try this new thing of yours; the only alternative is that ghastly sword. Do you know, I still find it hard to believe anyone would have wasted coin on that sword!"

  Chris laughed. “Well, we did, and yeah, it's pretty rotten, wouldn't cut butter if you heated it first. But hey, we never intended to use the thing, not even for cutting butter, you know? I mean, Aletto doesn't know any more about swords than I do."

  "If you'd needed it—"

  "Hey, we didn't, we had a couple to wear so no one would mess with us. Besides, it's like I told all these guys when we started with the staff, the bo: Your old man's hired men and Jadek's guys know how to use swords, right? They've done it for years, probably started when they were kids, and now they get paid to use them and be good at it. Aletto probably ought to know how to swing one, just because he's a Duke, but he wasn't gonna pick it up overnight, any more than I was. This other thing, though.” He held up the six-foot, well-polished and now darkened by sweat staff. “It's not just a toy, you know. And especially at first, none of the guys after us—your Sikkreni or Jadek's men—had ever seen anything like it, so they couldn't figure how to fight it.” He turned it end for end, planted one rounded tip in the road and leaned into it. “Well, most of them know about it now, I'll bet, but we've gotten better, too. So it's still damned hard to fight—either defensively or aggressively. Because it's hard to figure where it's coming from, you don't move it like you would a sword. Particularly if you're good with a sword, it's gonna screw up your game, fighting something that different. That's logical, isn't it?"

  Dahven considered this as he took Jennifer's place and she held his ankles. “Very logical. But it doesn't seem sensible. After all, I kno
w most of my father's—of the Sikkreni guard.” He closed his eyes, set his jaw and pulled himself slowly into a curl over his bent knees.

  "Yeah, well, I know some of ‘em too, now,” Chris said. “The hard way, you know?” He watched Dahven's progress critically, finally nodded. “Doing great, guy, don't start with too many of those unless your gut muscles are really tight. Jen, you can tell, keep an eye on him, right? And get him on pushups, why don't you?” He turned to gaze over his shoulder, toward the stand of woods where Edrith and Enardi were just emerging. Enardi looked even more doubtful than he had going in, but he had a six-foot length of de-branched staff in his left hand and he was listening to Edrith; Edrith was speaking in a low voice, too low for Jennifer to catch what he was saying, but his hands were sketching out the basics he and Chris had taught them all. Lift with your legs, not your arms; keep your grip at shoulder width, your hands relaxed. “Jeez,” Chris muttered under his breath, “the guy looks more spooked than mom."

  "He's no pacifist, this is just very new to him,” Jennifer replied as quietly.

  "Yeah, I know. I won't push him too hard, before you say it. But I—hey, what's that?” Chris turned slightly so he was staring down the road. “Jeez,” he added in a much louder voice. “Something's up; when's the last time you saw mom run like that?"

  Jennifer leaped to her feet. “You're not kidding, Chris. Something's wrong, and where's Aletto?” Dahven was leaning on her shoulder, looking where she pointed. Robyn came sprinting into their midst moments later, red-faced and gasping.

  "I—God, time out—men—” She shook her head and pointed back the way she'd come. “Men coming—"

  Lialla pushed forward and caught Robyn's elbow; Robyn leaned against her briefly. “Aletto? Where's my brother?"

  "Th—there. They aren't—that close. He—told me to run, he'd get off the road if he had to—"

  "It's all right, I see him,” Dahven said. Jennifer turned her attention briefly back to the road, then looked away. Aletto was running, or attempting to. It made her hurt all over to watch him. “Robyn, how many, could you tell?"

  "Twelve, maybe fourteen,” Robyn replied breathily. She took the cup of water Chris handed her and drained it. “God. Thanks, kid. I didn't think I'd make it back. My stomach feels like I swallowed a balloon, ooh, it hurts."

  "Yeah, what happens when you get soft, ma.” Robyn scowled at him and flicked drops of water in his direction. Aletto came staggering into their midst moments later and she handed her son the cup back before helping the nera-Duke edge down. He let his head drop into his hands; he was whooping for air.

  "Fill that, kid, make yourself useful. Aletto—?"

  He shook his head. “Fine.” He clearly wasn't, though he was getting his breath back.

  Robyn looked up. “Dahven, I think they're all from Sikkre."

  "Fourteen,” Aletto agreed. “All Sikkreni.” From the look on his face, Dahven had already done the math and come up with very mismatched odds. His shoulders sagged and he offered Jennifer a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. Aletto broke the silence once more. “Robyn, please, go get my bo, bring it to me. Get your own,” he added crisply as she hesitated. “Go. I promise, I'm fine, just hurry, will you?"

  "Aletto,” Dahven began. Aletto made a chopping motion with his hand, then held it out.

  "Don't say it, make yourself useful and help me up, why don't you?"

  "I have to say it, it won't go away if I don't, you know.” The two men were nearly of a height. Dahven scowled at Aletto, who scowled right back, unintimidated. “I'll go with them, quietly. I can't imperil all of you, Aletto. I intended to return to Sikkre anyway, to deal with my brothers. And I know all the guardsmen who served my father—"

  "Do you really?” Jennifer demanded crisply. “You might be surprised.” She had her own staff now and was running it between her hands.

  "Eight to fourteen,” Chris said in the brief silence. “I'd call that bad odds for them."

  Robyn handed Aletto his bo. “Chris? Where are the boys?"

  He shot her an incredulous look. “You kidding? Ernie's back in the woods with Eddie; Eddie can come around behind those guys if we need him to and he's got Ernie to help him make noises like a handful of brutes with broadswords. You gonna hold onto that thing and look like you mean to use it, or you gonna go hang out with Ernie?"

  "Chris,” Dahven began. Chris turned to scowl at him and he sighed heavily. “In the first place, I won't be in any danger with Sikkreni guardsmen. In the second, that's your mother you're putting into peril—"

  "An old bat named Merrida did that before I did,” Chris replied flatly. “And I really think you need to check these guys out before you decide you have it figured, you know?"

  "Just don't promise them anything,” Jennifer said. “That, and reserve judgment. Please."

  Dahven sighed again. “I keep promising you these things, as if I had good sense—oh, all right. But it doesn't seem to work both ways."

  "How?” Jennifer demanded.

  "I'm supposed to stay safe, but you—"

  "There isn't any safe around here.'

  "Nonsense,” Dahven replied sharply. “But I suppose it won't do me any good to ask you to stay behind me for once, out of danger—"

  "It just might get you a black eye,” Jennifer snapped. “Haven't you got that straight, yet? Look,” she added in a softer voice, “I appreciate the thought. This isn't the place for chivalry, and I don't need or want it.” Silence. “Aletto, are you going to want a horse—?"

  "No. I'm fine on my feet. Besides,” he added as the first Sikkreni guardsmen appeared over a low rise in the road, “there isn't time for that now. Dahven, my good friend, please do what Jen suggests. At least until you've seen and heard for yourself."

  Dahven shook his head dubiously but he walked over to the tree where he'd leaned the resheathed sword. He drew the blade, placed it upright against the trunk, leaned against the tree and began loosening the straps that would hold the sword-belt to his body. Aletto had tightened them down for his own much narrower chest and tightened them again when he hung the weapon from his saddle. Jennifer cast him one last anxious glance, but even to her concerned eye, Dahven looked supremely relaxed. Certainly no one would have thought him barely recovered from the ordeal he'd been through. She turned away from him to face the oncoming riders, rested one end of the bo on the road and braced her feet apart.

  The horsemen checked briefly when they saw six people in the middle of the road, making no attempt to conceal themselves: Aletto standing mid-road, bo held in rest position across his thighs; Jennifer just behind his right shoulder, Lialla at his left and Robyn a little back and between them. Chris had taken a position to the left, where the horsemen might try to spread off the road into open grass; Dahven was not far behind him, leaning against his tree, legs crossed at the ankle, his hands busy with a stiff buckle. The men came on then, stopping only just short of Aletto. The nera-Duke changed his grip on the bo, from the resting position to a ready one. Robyn took an involuntary step back, but only one; she braced the end of her bo against the road, free end up and pointed at the nearest of the riders. Except for the creak and jingle of harness, the thud of hooves on the hard-packed road, it was quiet for some moments.

  "Can we help you?” Jennifer asked. One of the men nudged his mount to the fore and glared at her, then down at Aletto, over their heads.

  "Help us,” he spat. “If that is a joke, it's a very poor one."

  "Don't pick on the woman, Firsi,” Dahven said mildly. “Not good manners."

  There was another, rather ugly silence. “You,” Firsi said venomously. “All the time you have wasted, all you have done, traitor—"

  "I?” Dahven loosened the strap and held up the buckle to study it. “I cannot think why you call me a traitor since to my understanding that calls for a treasonous act, and I assure you I have committed none."

  "Only caused the death of Lord Dahmec—"

  "Bosh,” Dahven replied f
latly. “And you know as much, Firsi. You must be aware I was not even within the city walls when my father died."

  "The Thukars told us that would be your defense."

  "I have no need of a defense, having done no wrong. My brothers, on the other hand, have a good deal to answer for."

  "And who will bring them to account?” someone well back in the milling riders shouted.

  "Hey, dude,” Chris turned to Dahven. “You get the feeling these jerks don't like you very much? Maybe don't think you should make it home alive?"

  "I begin to dislike the tone of the conversation,” Dahven replied cheerfully. (Jennifer found herself wishing she dared take her eyes from the mounted men to glance at him; she could have sworn by his voice that he was smiling.) “And I wonder why it is, Firsi. I had thought us on terms of acceptance, if not friends."

  "You,” Firsi said, so softly Jennifer had to listen hard to hear what he said. “Is there a man serving the Thukars who would name you friend? Look at him, at the look on his face,” he demanded of the man next to him. “He does not understand. Oh, no! He has money, power, the right to pick and choose which market disputes to settle, so that the merchants call him a good administrator and treat us as they would jackals! A man with everything, and yet he took his father's life! Lord Dahven—the traitor Dahven—with his pretty face, and a manner pleasing to women. Innkeeper's daughters and barefoot market bawds adore him, and he denies none of them.” His voice trailed away; his mouth was set, his eyes dark with loathing. He's trying to gross me out, as Chris would say, Jennifer decided. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

  "Whoa, wait, time out,” Chris said, and he was trying hard not to laugh. “Let me get this straight. All this traitor stuff, that's just the bullshit on top, isn't it? I think you want to kill this guy because the girls like him better than they like you, and that has to be the stupidest thing I ever heard!” It was the kind of thing Chris had seen firsthand in his own high school—and it had to have hit home, judging from the look Firsi turned on him.