Prince of Alasia (Annals of Alasia Book 1)

by Annie Douglass Lima

  “Talanthus said I need to practice my wrestling holds. Like this one, where I grab your arms and –”

  Jaymin managed to roll halfway over, shifting most of Erik’s weight off of him toward the top step. Now Erik had to struggle to keep his balance while Jaymin braced his feet against the wall and pushed. The most challenging part for both of them was keeping quiet; Jaymin was filled with an almost irresistible urge to burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of what they were doing, but it would have been unthinkable to let anyone hear and catch them at it.

  As Jaymin shoved one more time, Erik shifted his weight to try to lunge on top of him. The combined forces were too much for the rug underneath them, which slid across the narrow landing until its edge hung over the first few steps. Jaymin let go of Erik with one hand and made a grab for the banister, but it was out of reach, and his sudden movement only hastened the inevitable. They tipped over the edge as the rug slithered bumpily down the stairs, the two boys riding it head-first to start with and then tumbling and rolling head-over-heels over each other, finally ending up wrapped in the rug at the foot of the stairs. The sight of Erik lying on his stomach half on, half under the rug, his tunic twisted and his hair sticking up, laughing so hard he couldn’t disentangle himself, was too much for Jaymin, and he collapsed in laughter as well.

  Their mirth ended abruptly as they heard footsteps running down the hall. So much for not letting anyone catch them at this. Jaymin looked up to see an alarmed servant sprinting toward them.

  “Prince Jaymin! Your Royal Highness! Are you all right?”

  Pushing the edge of the rug off of himself, Jaymin rose calmly to his feet and nodded with great dignity. “I’m perfectly well, thank you. Why do you ask?”

  The man glanced down at the rug lying in a heap at their feet, and at Erik, who was now sitting on the bottom step beside it, his hands folded serenely in his lap and his face as serious as though he were in a Council meeting.

  “Ah … no reason, your Highness. I’ll just put that back for you, shall I?” The servant gathered up the rug and spread it out again in its proper place up on the landing, pausing again at the foot of the stairs to bow to Jaymin before returning more calmly to his post down the hall.

  Jaymin sighed as he picked up the crumpled parchment that had ridden down the stairway with them and tried to smooth it out. “We’re really going to be in trouble now. At least, I am. You’ve got to find a better time and place to practice those wrestling holds.”

  Erik grinned as they started back up the stairs. “You enjoyed it as much as I did; admit it.”

  “Yes, but that’s not the point.” Jaymin paused to brush dust and fluff off of his clothes, smooth down his hair, and straighten his tunic. “You look like a ruffian. At least make your hair lie flat again. Then maybe Professor Dreytin won’t say anything.” Their tutor had a kind heart and a sense of humor, but he kept both buried most of the time behind a stern demeanor. He was especially strict when it came to showing up late for lessons or behaving in a way he considered unbecoming to royalty, and Jaymin didn’t fancy a lecture from him this morning.

  Erik licked his hands and tried to smooth his hair down. But there was no fooling Professor Dreytin, who stood waiting for them just outside the library door. He took one look at the two boys and at the parchment full of creases in Jaymin’s hand and folded his arms sternly.

  “Good morning, your Highness.”

  “Good morning, Professor Dreytin,” Jaymin replied meekly.

  The man studied him from under bushy eyebrows. “Have you by any chance been wrestling with a carpet lately, your Highness?”

  Erik clapped a hand over his mouth in a not-entirely-successful attempt to hold in a laugh, but Dreytin didn’t even look at him. Jaymin swallowed.

  “Well – in a manner of speaking, yes, Professor, I suppose I have.”

  Their tutor did not exactly frown, but the long, serious look he gave Jaymin was worse. “I’m disappointed in you, your Highness. A young man of your age and position? I know you would be the first to admit that you have certain responsibilities, and that one of them is to arrive at your lessons on time with your mind prepared for learning. Pausing to engage in such childish foolishness is not only undignified and a waste of time, it is irresponsible. Arriving in this disheveled state only makes it worse.”

  “If you please, sir, it was my fault,” Erik put in, having successfully mastered his urge to laugh. “I’m afraid I started it.”

  “Hush, Erik, I’m speaking to the prince,” Dreytin responded sternly, never taking his eyes off of Jaymin.

  “I’m sorry, Professor,” Jaymin replied humbly. “You’re right; it was irresponsible of me. I’ll try to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” I’ll have to make Erik promise to find a better time to lie in wait for me.

  “Good. In the meantime, however, I’m afraid I’ll have to speak to your father about it. This has been the second incident of its kind in the last month.”

  “I understand, Professor,” Jaymin replied in a subdued voice, but inside he was smiling. His father would frown and scold him a little in front of Dreytin, but afterward he was sure to laugh and ask Jaymin how it had felt to ride a rug down the stairs like a sled.

  Dreytin opened the library door and ushered Jaymin in ahead of him, Erik bringing up the rear. Jaymin could tell their tutor was over his annoyance when he asked Erik, “So, who won?”

  “The carpet, sir,” Erik replied in complete seriousness.

  Jaymin loved the palace library, which filled three circular rooms, one above the other, in the western tower. He loved the smell of old parchment and vellum that filled the place, and the books and scrolls – some over a hundred years old – arranged in neat rows on the curved shelves that lined every wall. Running his hand along the smooth surface of the polished oak banister, Jaymin ascended the spiral staircase that rose through the center of the library up to the instruction area on the top floor.

  The three of them spent the first fifteen minutes or so discussing the notes Jaymin had taken in the meeting and the economic effects the Council’s decisions that day could have on the kingdom. Jaymin was relieved that Dreytin chose not to comment on the condition of his parchment. Then they moved on to the main lesson for the morning, which was on the topography of Alasia’s northeastern coastline. At one point Professor Dreytin went downstairs to fetch another atlas, and Jaymin looked up from the map he had been creating and whispered across the table to Erik, “I think you’re his favorite.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re everyone’s favorite.” There was no bitterness in Erik’s voice, just amusement.

  “But he never scolds you. He’s always stern with me whenever I do any little thing wrong.”

  Erik laughed under his breath. “That’s because he’s not trying to prepare me to run the kingdom someday.”

  Jaymin fell silent as their tutor returned up the stairs. There was nothing he could say to that.

  By the time the two hours were up, Jaymin had painstakingly created his own scale map of the area on a large sheet of parchment, with a key that pointed out villages, harbors, sea caves, cliffs, a salt marsh, and the ruins of an ancient fort. The accompanying composition, rewritten twice until he had perfected every detail, built on a previous lesson to explain the relationship of the natural features to the history and economy of the region. In the meantime, Erik, who was not required to meet such rigorous academic standards, had been studying a chapter in one of the books about the same stretch of coastline.

  The lesson over and Professor Dreytin’s praise ringing in his ears (all right, so I do get more praise than Erik does, Jaymin admitted to himself), they returned downstairs for luncheon in the East Hall. Jaymin joined his parents and the king’s councilors at the head table while other palace personnel, including Erik and the professor, filled the lower tables in the rest of the room. Servants busied themselves bustling in and out with trays of food and pitchers of drink. The meal that day was simple,
by palace standards: long golden loaves of crisp, warm bread with creamy white butter, steamed vegetables in a savory herb sauce, tender roast quail with mushroom gravy, and fresh fruit for dessert.

  After luncheon it was time for Jaymin’s archery lesson. Erik accompanied him outside again, but while Jaymin met Andril, the master archer, beside the palace garden, Erik returned to his training with the master-at-arms, who first assigned him to run laps around the grounds. Whenever he crossed the archery range Erik would toss out a good-natured joke about Jaymin’s lack of skill with the longbow. Jaymin had recently graduated to a larger, heavier bow than he had been accustomed to, and it was harder to aim accurately when he drew the tight bowstring back. He had often shot rabbits and birds with his old bow, but last week Andril had decided he was ready for something harder, and had presented him with this new yew bow and a set of longer, thicker arrows. Jaymin still wasn’t used to them, and his arrows wobbled embarrassingly with every shot.

  After Erik’s first joke Jaymin fitted an arrow to the string and pretended to aim at him as he ran by, but Andril scolded him so roundly that Jaymin lowered the bow in shame and promised never to do something so dangerous again. Erik’s joke the next time around was that he would have been safer if Jaymin actually had been aiming at him.

  But at least he was improving, Jaymin thought defensively – a week ago the servant who collected his arrows had had to run all over the field for them, and one had disappeared entirely somewhere on the other side of the wall. Now at least his arrows were flying in almost the right direction, and occasionally he was able to nick the edge of the straw target.

  Andril had assured him that when he was good enough, he would be able to bring down a deer with this bow. And that meant that he might be allowed to join the king and his courtiers on their summer hunting expeditions in the hills outside Almar. Jaymin had decided he would wait until he could hit the center of the target at twenty-five yards, and then invite his parents out to see what he could do. Not until then, when he had proved his skill, would he ask his father’s permission to come on the next hunt.

  Professor Dreytin met Jaymin and Erik in the main courtyard after the archery lesson. For several months now they had been studying the various factors that contributed to Alasia’s economy, and every two or three weeks the tutor had arranged a visit to a local industry or business. Today they were going to tour a ranch where horses were raised and trained.

  Since it was a cold day, the three of them rode in a covered coach. Half a dozen uniformed guards rode ahead, with another six bringing up the rear. Through the coach’s small window, Jaymin could see that they were leaving the city and taking a well-traveled dirt road up into the hills.

  The ranch, the largest of its kind in the kingdom, covered dozens of square miles of grassy hillside. The hundreds of fine horses raised there every year were purchased by buyers from across the kingdom. It was the major supplier for the Alasian army, and Jaymin knew that most of the horses stabled at the palace had been bought from there as well.

  The manager met them at the entrance, bowing and exclaiming over and over what an honor it was to greet the Prince of Alasia in person. He led them to the stable beside the main office, where saddled horses stood waiting. Followed by the palace guards, Jaymin, Erik, and Professor Dreytin mounted and accompanied the manager on a tour of the grounds. First he showed them the barns where foals were born and explained how their parents were carefully selected for strength and intelligence. Next Jaymin and the others saw the sheltered paddocks in which hundreds of horses spent the winter. The manager pointed out rolling fields beyond, bare and cold now, but used for growing hay and oats, or left wild and grassy for grazing, in the warmer months.

  The best part of the tour, Jaymin decided, was when they got to watch young horses actually being trained in a set of enclosed corrals. He watched with interest over the fence as trainers worked with dozens of frisky foals, getting them used to wearing saddles and being led around by the bridle. Some of the older foals were being ridden by young boys, who, as the manager explained, were light enough to carry easily as the foals learned to trot and canter with riders on their backs. Jaymin watched the apprentices, some of whom couldn’t have been more than eight years old, and thought how much fun it must be to grow up learning a trade like this. If he didn't already have his career planned out for him, Jaymin thought, he would have enjoyed being a horse trainer.

  In the next field, fully grown horses received more specialized training. Since this ranch supplied the military, many of the horses needed to know the skills necessary for battle. Armed riders galloped around the field striking swords against shields to accustom the steeds to the noise, directing them only with their legs and voice. Others wheeled back and forth, teaching the horses to turn abruptly, dodge, back up, and leap over obstacles on the ground. Still others engaged in mock battles, teaching their mounts to avoid enemy swords while still getting close enough to allow the riders to strike at each other.

  Jaymin could have spent the rest of the day watching them, but the tour was over all too soon. At the end he shook the manager’s hand, thanking him for his time and telling him he hoped to return someday. As he climbed back into his coach for the ride home, he thought about how much fun it would be to raise and train a horse. Though he knew he could never be an apprentice – nor did he truly want to, all things considered – perhaps he could convince his parents to at least let him train his own horse. He could buy one of the foals here and spend a few hours every day learning to teach it. As unlikely as it was that they would let him, it was worth asking.

  Though he knew he should be planning the essay Professor Dreytin would want him to write about this in the morning, Jaymin spent most of the ride back to Almar trying to decide how best to persuade his parents. Beside him, the professor sat silently, oblivious to the schemes he was dreaming up. But Erik, in the seat across from him, grinned conspiratorially, and Jaymin knew his friend could tell he was up to something. Later he would tell him his idea and see if Erik could help think of a way to make it happen.

  Back at the palace, everyone was busy preparing for the evening’s events. There was to be a banquet in honor of Sir Edmend, who had been serving in the palace for exactly thirty years. When Jaymin arrived in his room, he saw that an attendant had laid out a new set of clothes for him, undoubtedly tailor-made in the latest fashion. Jaymin would never understand why what he normally wore wasn’t good enough for such occasions, but it never failed that there would be new garments waiting for him before a banquet. Well, even though he had no idea what difference it made, he knew it would please his mother to see him dressed up. He put the clothes on, envying Erik’s plain black breeches and tunic that always seemed suitable for any occasion, and remembered to wash his face and comb his hair before going to meet his parents.

  Announced by trumpeters, the king made a grand entrance into the banquet hall with the guest of honor, followed by the queen and prince. Everyone rose to their feet as they entered and arranged themselves at the head table along with the other advisors and courtiers. The guests remained standing while the king made a speech praising Sir Edmend’s accomplishments and years of faithful service.

  Jaymin could smell the savory aromas drifting out of the kitchen at the other end of the hall, and his mouth watered as he listened to his father, standing perfectly still as a prince should. He would never forget the time when he had been six years old, and in a pause in his father’s speech he had stood on tiptoe to ask his mother in a stage whisper, “Is he almost finished? I’m hungry!” The room at that moment had been completely silent, and half the guests had probably heard him. It had been nearly a year before Jaymin had been allowed to attend another banquet, and then only after a newly-hired instructor had spent hours drilling him in proper etiquette and protocols. Jaymin smiled inwardly at the memory, his eyes fixed on his father until the speech was over and they could all sit down.

  With another flourish of trumpets, a parade
of kitchen servants marched into the hall bearing steaming platters of food for the head table first and then for everyone else. The cooks had outdone themselves. Every few minutes a new course was brought out, and Jaymin ate his fill of herb bread with soft cheeses, rich beef and vegetable stew, roast venison in a honey glaze, tender savory vegetables drizzled with butter, apricot stuffed quail, potatoes mashed with cream and spices, fruit pies, and sugared almonds.

  Sir Edmend was seated beside him, and the old advisor – who had never been awkward around the prince as some tended to be – inquired about Jaymin’s activities that afternoon. Jaymin found himself telling him all about the visit to the ranch over the smoked salmon with lime sauce.

  The new assistant cook had mixed a spiced fruit wine that Jaymin heard a number of guests complimenting highly. He would have liked to try it, but although he saw his parents and almost everyone else in the hall enjoying it, his mother shook her head at him firmly, as she always did when it came to alcohol. So Jaymin settled for apple cider and another helping of stewed pears with cinnamon and sweetened cream. Sir Edmend, who seldom touched strong drink, had only a glass of water that evening.

  The festivities at royal banquets often lasted far into the night, and Jaymin was sometimes sent off to bed before they were over. But everyone seemed unaccountably drowsy that evening, and Jaymin found himself walking back to his room with his parents much earlier than usual, Erik trailing behind at a discreet distance. His mother kissed him goodnight and his father smiled and tousled his hair the way he still occasionally did when no one was watching, before they headed off around the corner to their own suite, stifling yawns.

  He never saw them again.

  Back in his room, Jaymin sat by the fire awhile with Erik, talking about horses and how to convince his parents to let him train one of his own. Finally Erik blew out the lamp and the two of them crawled into their beds. That was the last thing Jaymin remembered before Erik shook him frantically awake a few hours later.