by Guy Antibes
He turned around and called to her. “Princess Restella. Did you know we have a mutual acquaintance?”
She thought that they must have many mutual acquaintances, but if her father had recalled Mander from his bookshop, the situation must be worse than she thought. Perhaps she might learn something from him. Her mind kept returning to the battlefield.
“We can sit here,” he said, guiding her to a padded bench underneath a window.
Restella generally liked the view from the windows on this gallery looking down at the palace gardens, but the late winter view was more bleak than beautiful.
“I hear you were injured during one of your early battles.”
How did he know that? But then he’d be privy to the dispatches from Captain Shortwell.
Mander continued, “I’m impressed with the speed that you picked up soldiering.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I had a great deal of help. There is a soldier who has been helping me along the way. I couldn’t have garnered any success without him.”
“Silver?”
“You know him?”
Mander looked out the window, smiling. “I suggested him for the position, Princess. He’s one of the best scouts we have in your father’s army and the kind of man who can provide instruction without seeming to be an instructor.”
Restella sat back against the window. Silver had been placed as an instructor? She could feel the anger rise in her throat, but cut it off and took a deep breath. “He succeeded, then. I had hoped we had become friends.”
“You have,” Mander said, in his characteristically light-hearted manner. “I’ve spoken to him. He likes you and feels privileged to have helped you develop into a soldier. He expressly said that you did it mostly on your own.”
A smile came to her lips. “More like a team.” Her anger fled as quickly as it had come. “Is he the mutual acquaintance?”
“No,” Mander said. He looked across the hall and paused. “Remember the Moonstone?”
Her defenses went up. “What about it?” Did Mander have designs on her gem? Did Fessano blurt out the stone’s history? Would her father confiscate it? She narrowed her eyes as Mander continued.
“The boy who located the stone changed when he held the stone. He told me about both of you fainting when you touched the stone. I found him and took him in. His name is Lotto and he’s gone missing. He could always tell me where you were. I don’t know if he located you or the stone, but I’m worried about him. I wonder if you had the same feeling about him?”
Restella lost her breath. She didn’t quite know why Mander would think she’d have a connection with the little village half-wit. “I don’t have any feelings for him.”
Mander laughed. He laughed about everything. Did the man take anything seriously? However he’d never given her father poor advice, just opinions which usually turned out right. Her father often contradicted his counsel and that often made the king mad at Mander, when he had to apologize. She would humor him, just this once.
“Just close your eyes and think of the Moonstone and see if you feel something. I’d greatly appreciate it, Princess. I’ll give you a personal status of the state of the kingdom. Something you might not get resting up from your campaign.”
How did he know she wanted to know what went on? But Mander could outsmart a fox. She closed her eyes and thought of the Moonstone. She really could feel a tiny thread from it in her mind. She tried to shut out everything and found a faint thin line running to the south, it seemed like a thread of spider silk and thought of a map of Valetan and sensed that the thread ended somewhere in the southern mountains where Happly, Oringia and Learsea shared borders with Valetan. The whole process of seeking the boy amazed her. She’d have to run off to see Fessano and tell him after Mander brought her up to date.
Opening up her eyes, Restella pointed. “He’s in the southeastern mountains. I didn’t think I could do that.” She shouldn’t have said that to a man like Mander Hart.
Mander smiled. “I rather hoped you could. At least Lotto isn’t lying dead in some Beckondale gutter.” His smile changed. “What’s in the south that would drive him there?”
“We’ve got a training outpost that serves to guard the Bluerock mines.” Restella couldn’t resist a shrug.
Mander furrowed his brow and put his hand to his clean-shaven chin. “Yet he left his swords behind and didn’t even tell Kenyr.”
Restella knew the name Kenyr. “He learned arms from the Serytar?”
“Indeed and has often given the weapons master a good match.”
“I didn’t think the boy could even lift a blade.”
“You’ll be surprised when you meet him, for I’m sure you will, if he makes it through Bluerock.” Mander looked distracted for a moment. “You did something for me and now I will compensate you. It appears that the emperor of Dakkor is fomenting unrest in Besseth. How, we don’t know. We think his agents are behind the border incursion from the Oringians. The king of Prola is behaving oddly and there is unrest among the your father’s dukes and barons in the northwest part of Valetan. the fact that all of this happening at once is more than a coincidence.
“The king is likely to issue a call to arms next month, when spring comes, in anticipation of summer campaigns. Oringia still plagues us, as you knew when you were relieved, but there is trouble to the northwest and that’s about as much as I can comfortably tell you.”
Restella had to keep her eyes from popping out of her head. “So much for peacetime.”
“Indeed. It has me quite worried.” Mander smiled despite his claim of worry and rose from the bench. “I must attend to other matters. I wish you well, Princess. As Lieutenant Beecher, I do believe you’ll get your fill of being a warrior princess. Good day. Should you ever wish to converse with me further, I’d be delighted to do so, especially if you can update me as to our mutual friend’s whereabouts.” He bowed to Restella and set up at a brisk pace as if he were late to a meeting, and he probably was.
Restella didn’t need to pry and poke around the castle to get any further information. Troop deployments were the responsibility of the generals and she figured that those rumors would more likely be floating around the barracks. She wondered about the thread to Lotto when she returned to her rooms. She grabbed her sword and touched the Moonstone and then closed her eyes again and found it much easier to locate the boy.
As soon as she opened her eyes, she stood up and headed off to see Fessano.
~
“You’ve told me an interesting story, Princess. The Moonstone is an unpredictable jewel, obviously. I’ve been poking around my library and didn’t run into any such qualities of the stone as a locator but much is made of linking a man and a woman, as we’ve talked about before. For some reason, you are one of the two linked to the stone.” Fessano shook his head and sat at his big chair by the fire in his main room. The man looked like he’d aged five years since the last time she saw him.
Restella wanted more answers from the wizard. “Did you meet Lotto, Mander’s friend?”
“Protégé is a more apt term. The boy is amazing. He has power, you know, and he learned magic in this very room until the Oringians started these dread-filled days.”
“I knew him as a half-wit. Could he have changed so much?”
Fessano nodded. “So much and more. After you left him comatose on the witch’s floor, he physically changed. It’s as if the power of the stone worked within to restore him to what he should have been. I might have told you that his parents were nobles in Serytar and killed by their own countrymen here in Valetan. The father had custody of the Moonstone. Its power must have drawn Lotto to it. He’s taller than I, but then isn’t everybody, and strong. The boy’s also very smart. He learned to read very quickly and retains what he learns. I’ll bet that Mander is relieved to know that he hasn’t been killed.”
“He might have joined the army,” Restella said.
“Then something serious must
have happened to cause Lotto to enlist without telling anyone. Lord Hart will find out soon enough. Mander attends to those things better than I.”
“I believe you…” her comments were stopped by knock on Fessano’s door.
“A message for the Princess.”
Fessano opened the door. “She is here.”
The valet stepped in and bowed to Restella. “A summoning of Lieutenant Restella Beecher to the king’s presence.”
“Army matters,” Restella said. “You must excuse me, I’ll have to put on my uniform.” She had to appear as a soldier. The last thing she wanted was a hasty marriage to seal the loyalty of some baron. She ran down the many steps back to her quarters and quickly put on her uniform and forced herself to walk at a normal rate to her father’s study. She knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
She opened the door and found her father, General Piroff and General Reallo rising at her entrance. She stood at attention and snapped off a salute.
“At ease, Captain,” Piroff said.
“I’m a lieutenant, sir.” She looked at the wall over the heads of the three men.
“I know what I said. You’ve been promoted to Captain and will be reassigned to the western forces under the command of General Reallo. He wanted Shortwell, but I wouldn’t let go of him, so I’m afraid you were second choice.”
Second choice? Restella had to suppress a smile. She’d take any choice to be a captain.
“Bear in mind, Restella, that I didn’t push this or approve it in any way. The Generals were more comfortable in promoting you in my presence. I suppose they are angling for more of my favor.” King Goleto cracked a wry smile. “You deserve this promotion on its merits. You were wounded in battle and have proved yourself over the course of the campaign against the Oringians. Do you have any comments?”
Restella thought for a moment. “I’d like Sergeant Silver as my aide and ask that he be promoted to lieutenant and transferred to the western forces along with me.”
“Lieutenant Silver already has achieved that rank,” Piroff said. “He’s a scout and a damned good one. He’s always been Mander’s man, but we can change that. He can scout for you as well as anybody. You can have Silver.”
So that’s why Silver was so confident. He was senior to her and she didn’t know it. Well she had a fine teacher and despite the subterfuge, she could handle that. Restella wanted to be prickly in front of her father and put him in his place as she used to, but she couldn’t do it in front of her commanding officers. “Any word on when we’ll be heading out?” She realized she shouldn’t be asking such things of the Generals, so she appended ‘Father’ to the end of her sentence.
“I imagine as soon as the weather turns to spring. Since you’re a Captain, you’ll be part of the planning for that. You are dismissed, my dear,” her father said.
Restella saluted and made a sharp about face and left the study. She could grin as much as she wanted while she walked through the halls of the castle to her rooms. She no longer felt so confined. All in all, a very good day.
~~~
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
~
THE SLEET-FILLED RAIN PUMMELED DOWN on Lotto. He stood at attention in the downpour with twenty other soaked recruits in the twilight after another dreary day of drills. Try as he might, he hadn’t found any way to notify Mander of his impressment. The trainees split into pairs and went through basic sword drills that Lotto had mastered months before and he easily disarmed his opponents every time.
“Mistad, stop it!” the training corporal said. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. You think you know how to use that sword, but you don’t.”
“I do, Corporal,” Lotto said. “I’ve been trained in the use of a number of weapons and you can at least let me help you train the other recruits.”
“Bucking for promotion? That won’t work,” the sergeant said from his shelter underneath the extended roof of the barracks. “Corporal?”
“Yes, sergeant.”
“Show Recruit Mistad how fighting is done.”
The corporal leered at Lotto. “Yes, sir!” He pulled out his steel sword and beckoned Lotto to attack him with his wooden one.
Kenyr had taught Lotto how to use a staff to fight a swordsman. Now he’d have to modify that training to fight the corporal. He would have to see how serious the fight would be. That sneer indicated that the man might want to hurt him.
“Sergeant, if I strike the corporal, will that be held against me?”
“I’ll hold it against you if don’t!” He waved them together.
Lotto wiped the water off of his forehead as the corporal attacked. He slapped the side of the corporal’s blade aside. The slash was meant to maim. Lotto had the advantage of his weapon being lighter and he flashed with his wrist and slapped the side of the corporal’s upper sword arm.
The corporal kept slashing at Lotto, but the movements were slow and Lotto easily deflected them. He flicked his wooden sword against the corporal’s ear. The man cupped his ear with his free hand and Lotto wouldn’t give the man a chance during a pause, not while the man was intent on drawing blood. Lotto slammed his wooden weapon down, blunt edge first, on the corporal’s sword wrist sending the man’s weapon into the mud. He then put the point of his sword on the man’s chest so that he ended up on his back in the mud.
Laughter erupted from the recruits that the sergeant quickly stopped. “I’m giving you the rest of the session off. Dismissed.”
The men disbursed towards their own shabby barracks built close to the camp’s latrines. The fight had worn Lotto out and he trudged behind the others.
“I’ll get you.” He heard the threat spoken barely behind his back, but within his hearing. Lotto wondered what misery the corporal could mete out that he hadn’t already.
~
The thin blanket barely kept Lotto warm enough to drop off to sleep. He woke in the middle of the night and turned over. The barracks wouldn’t be called quiet with twenty men snoring, tossing and turning, but Lotto heard the creak of a board. The sound seemed so out of place that it brought him to instant alertness. The darkness seemed to be made out of dark and darker, but he could see the blocky figure approach his bed.
The figure raised its arm and Lotto could see the barest glint of steel as it descended towards him. He raised his hand and felt the knife slide across his arm. He ignored the searing pain and grabbed his assailant’s wrist and turned the blade back towards the attacker and deep into his midsection. A howl brought all of the other recruits out of their sleep. By the time someone lit a lamp, the corporal had died.
“What is this? You should all be in bed!” the sergeant said, barging into the room. His eyes were drawn to the corporal’s body. “Recruit Mistad?”
“He attacked me in the dark. I had to deflect his knife with my arm and we struggled.” Lotto stopped binding the wound on his arm and gazed at the corpse.
He hadn’t wanted to kill the man, but the knife had a life of it’s own and it obviously wanted to drink blood in the night. He shuddered to think that had he been caught asleep, he would be the one dead. He’d never killed a man before and the sight of the still body, devoid of life made him nauseous. He concentrated on his own wound and tried to ignore the body, but his gaze wandered back to the still figure. Despite saving his own life, the useless death of the corporal made him feel dirty.
The sergeant lifted Lotto off of his bed by the hair on his head. “We’ll see the Captain about this.” He nearly dragged Lotto out of the barracks and through the icy mud to the Captain’s quarters.
“What’s the meaning of waking me up in the middle of the night?” the Captain said, standing in pajamas with a blanket wrapped around him.
“Recruit Mistad killed Corporal Marybone, sir”
The Captain, who had only shown his face when Lotto first arrived, looked at Lotto and down at his muddy feet. “He’s getting my quarters dirty,” he said, scowling at the sergeant. The Captain turned to Lo
tto, his face red with anger. “Why did you kill Marybone, trooper?”
Lotto described the duel, Marybone’s comment and his subsequent nighttime visit.
“I can’t have a murderer among the recruits. You’ll be sent to the mines in the morning.” The Captain looked at sergeant. “Have him clean up the mess in the barracks. Wrap the corporal up in a blanket and put him outside. The cold will preserve the body.”
Lotto returned to his quarters. He sat down and continued to see to his wound as others patted Lotto with surprising sympathy on the shoulder and took care of the corporal’s body.
Joining the army had seemed like the right thing to do, but Lotto now saw his impetuous behavior as a mistake. Now his actions had sent him to work in the mines. No trial, no defense, no opportunity to communicate with Mander. Impatience, that had been his enemy. He should have gone to Mander and joined up properly. Now he just might have ruined his entire life.
His thoughts went back to the Moonstone and Princess Restella. He sensed the link and knew that Restella had returned to Beckondale. Lotto couldn’t help but sigh. That’s where he wanted to be at that very instant. What a mess he’d made of things.
If he had the chance to get back into the army, he’d have to kill again. That’s what soldiers did. That thin thread of duty allowed him to finally fall asleep.
~
Life in the mines became a nameless string of unending days. He rose before daybreak. At least the food seemed adequate, if a bit simple. The mining supervisor actually had a healer take a look at the knife wound and stitched the wound up. He quickly got used to working and returning to the unheated barracks after dark. The muscles in his chest and arms began to harden and he could feel more bulk in his chest and legs.
Contrary to some of the men, Lotto thrived on the food and the exercise. Days stretched into weeks and Lotto sensed that winter had turned into spring. He could have practiced magic to make a fire and stay warm, but it seemed that those who the mining supervisor noticed seemed to get extra shifts. His experience at the training camp showed him that excelling didn’t necessarily lead to advantages but, more often than not, unwanted attention.
