by Guy Antibes
Lotto cleared his throat and began with his view of Restella on the balcony, since he’d end with their meeting with Mander. He held nothing back as he gave Kenyr every detail of the expedition. Kenyr laughed in all the right places and asked questions about the strategy sessions. Lotto continued after he extricated himself from the chair and ate at a proper Valetan-style table in the kitchen.
He’d never tasted food cooked this way before. Some of the spices he liked and some he didn’t. Something had made the meat grainy or gritty, he couldn’t decide which, but despite that it was very tender.
“I soak that for three days.” Kenyr said, his only interruption after seeing Lotto play with his food. Lotto felt a bit embarrassed about that.
Kenyr poured them both a goblet of wine and Kenyr pushed him out of the kitchen and back into the chair. Kenyr snuggled into its twin while Lotto finished up with his encounter with Restella.
“I would have never thought you’d rise so quickly after picking you up at the mine just months ago. Now you’re on first name terms with the king’s youngest daughter. Very good.” They both laughed. “Seriously, I’m very proud of you.”
His words brought tears to Lotto’s eyes. “That means a lot.” He wiped his face. “I’m not used to all of the notoriety.”
“I know, but you deserve it. Don’t be surprised if you get a different assignment.”
“As a captain?”
“Down, boy. Temporary promotions like yours, rare as they are, don’t generally lead to a commission at the same level, but you’re too valuable to waste as a foot soldier, even in an elite unit like the rangers.”
Lotto wished he could properly express his desire to do more magic and more strategic planning and more action. Being an officer would help, but if he had to lead like Captain Applewood, he couldn’t take the risks that he could as a ranger. The last thing he wanted was to be one of the officers. He thought back to the lieutenants in Lessa’s tent. They jostled for attention and were eager to let their voices be known, but Lessa only regarded the counsel of a chosen few. Did he want to languish as one of the gang of ignored lieutenants?
He remembered dressing down the lieutenant that he took with the advance group of soldiers. He didn’t want to be like the lieutenant, making a mess of a battlefield strategy or just following others’ orders for the rest of his life.
“What are you thinking about?”
“I think I’ve been spoiled for the rank and file.” He told Kenyr of his thoughts.
“Ha! That’s why I took up service with your father. I left the army of the Serytaran king in my twenties and went to Bomai to become Mistad’s weapon-master and,” he sighed, “in the end, his failed bodyguard.”
“You didn’t fail him,” Lotto said getting out of the chair. “I know that a common person can do only so much against magic.”
“Swords can kill magicians.”
Lotto nodded and looked at a wall sculpture. He’d never seen anything like it. “They can if you get close enough. Arrows will work just as well.” He thought of his battle staff, now up in his rooms. If he were a battle wizard, he would simply heat up the metal and the wielder would have to drop it.
“No, my training, thanks to you, took over and I beat one of the best swordsmen in Prola, so they say.”
Kenyr rose and put his hands on Lotto’s shoulders. They looked eye to eye. “You are one of the best swordsman in Valetan, or maybe the second-best,” Kenyr chuckled as he said it. “I would know. And with all of those books you’ve read in Mander Hart’s shop, probably one of the better strategists.”
“It doesn’t replace battlefield experience,” Lotto said, not wanting to be praised like that.
“And you’ve now got your first lick of that, don’t you?”
Lotto shrugged. “I’ve got to get back.” Kenyr’s comments embarrassed him.
“Of course you do. I am honored that you sought me out, Lotto. Come back any time.”
On the way home, he tried to imprint Kenyr’s rooms in his mind, remembering the decorations, the furniture and the smells. Those were his heritage and now he had a taste of them.
His meeting with Kenyr hadn’t gone the way he wanted. He realized that he wanted Kenyr to pound humility into his head. Don’t get proud. Don’t become arrogant. Be humble and keep your exploits to yourself. He hoped his account of the events weren’t boastful and it didn’t seem that Kenyr took them that way.
He walked into the shop and stopped. He was sure he had locked the door.
Restella stood thumbing through an old book. She didn’t look particularly comfortable as soon as he opened the door.
“Princess.” He bowed, surprised by her presence in his prosaic surroundings.
“My name is Restella and Mander let me in. He’ll return to escort me to the palace a little later. I was afraid you wouldn’t return from your celebrations.”
Lotto snorted. “A little dinner in the rooms of a friend.”
“Ah. Excuse me for thinking ill of you. I must cease to do so. I wanted to apologize for my behavior in Mander’s office.”
Lotto wondered if she would sit at the little kitchen table. He offered her the simple chair and she took it. She took pains not to touch, Lotto noticed.
“There is nothing to apologize for.”
“You might not realize it, but there is. I’ve never been comfortable being pinned down by anyone or anything and the link is something I didn’t ask for.”
“I didn’t either.”
Restella put her finger up to stop Lotto from talking.
“How were your dreams last night?”
“Oh. I think you were in my dreams, but they weren’t like before I left.”
She smiled. “I slept without remembering anything. A wise friend, one of my lieutenants, counseled that we talk and make peace.”
Lotto opened his mouth, but Restella’s finger went up again.
“He gave me the proper advice. The link didn’t like my anger at you.” She waved her hand as if to bat away a fly. “I can still feel where you are, especially when the sword is at my side and I’m sure you can too. Let’s take that as a special relationship between us that might prove useful in the future. Fessano agrees that we shouldn’t touch. You were right about that and the fact that his understanding of the Moonstone has progressed no further.”
“My father and mother were linked, but it was more than what we have experienced from what Kenyr remembers.”
“Fessano told me that, too, but he knew of little else. I’d like to be your friend and follow your career and I’d be honored if you followed mine.”
Lotto pressed his lips together and then said, “I’ve already done so and yours will be more distinguished than mine.”
“I have yet to kill a king, although I have fought in more battles than you, I think. If touching wasn’t such a risk, I’d like to test my mettle against you, Lotto, but that wouldn’t be prudent.”
“No. Not prudent.” They looked into each other’s eyes and Lotto didn’t like what he felt. He wanted to reach out and touch her face and feel the strength of her shoulders. He felt stirrings that he categorized as improper and slid his chair back.
The door opened and Mander walked in. “I’m glad I didn’t find you in each other’s arms.” Lotto knew he teased, but he could feel his cheeks blush and the lantern showed Restella’s face to be a few shades darker, as well. Could she have been attracted to him as he had to her at that moment?
“Not to worry.” Lotto said breathing a sigh of relief. He looked at Restella’s confused expression. “I think we have come to an amiable truce, haven’t we, Restella?”
The woman seemed to be the type never at a loss for words, but she just nodded. “It’s time I returned to the palace.” She swished her skirts as she turned towards the door. Just before she left, she put her hand to the doorjamb and turned. “Until we meet again.”
“I hope it is sooner than the later.” Lotto said. Mander winked at him as h
e shut the door, following the exiting Restella. Lotto ground his teeth and curled his fists. Did he just act stupidly? If the link hadn’t restrained him, he would have kissed a princess, right there in the bookshop. He moaned and took the lantern, locked the door and went up to bed.
He lay back on the pillow and looked up at the ceiling. He raised his bandaged hand, just a mere strip of bandage now, and realized that all of this, the link, the battle injuries, the feeling awkward was preferable to rooting around in the refuse of Heron Pond.
Lotto missed Jessie, but he only really became close to her after they had escaped from the village. Perhaps she wouldn’t have let him become so close as the half-wit. He had to admit it likely. He clenched his fist and vowed to keep the link active as long as he could, anything to prevent a reversion to his previous form.
~~~
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
~
RESTELLA’S MAID HELPED HER OUT OF HER DRESS. She had expected Lotto to join them at Lady Anne’s house, but Lotto wasn’t at the bookstore when Mander dropped by to pick him up.
Lotto had gone to Kenyr’s most likely, Mander had said after he apologized for not inviting him in advance. She’d never known that Kenyr served as his parent’s bodyguard and was one of the most renowned sword trainers in the kingdom. No wonder Lotto had quite a reputation for his weapons skills.
She dismissed the maid and got into her bed, staring up at the silk canopy, lit by a single-wicked lantern hanging from the center. Should she have been so forward to wait for Lotto at the bookshop? But Mander had suggested that she wait alone. The meeting had gone well—perhaps too well. She nearly leaned over to kiss him after she had looked into his eyes. The link told her that he felt the same way and yet, they couldn’t touch. She looked on their restriction as protection.
What would marriage be like to a man of Lotto’s accomplishments? Accomplishments? Did she ever think she would be thinking of the half-wit as a man of honorable actions? Yet Lotto had shown that he possessed leadership, battlefield prowess and an extraordinary amount of Affinity. Yes, magic. Fessano had verified that for Lotto to have fused the great iron hinges of the gates of the Mountsea castle, he had to have exercised incredible power. Felling trees and shaking the earth didn’t compare to the constant power that had to be applied to heat up so much metal. Even though Lotto had fainted, Fessano didn’t even think he would have had the power to fuse more than one hinge at a sitting.
Mander had finally told her father that Lotto was the son of the Duke and Duchess of Bomai. That certainly would qualify him for a royal union. She shook her head and tried to deny any feelings for Lotto. Her dreams, not tortured images at all, told her otherwise and she rebelled against the thought. She wouldn’t have her heart ruled like any other woman. She felt tears track down the sides of her face as she lay in bed not able to go back to sleep.
~
Lotto opened the bookshop for a few days. He wanted to air out the place and that meant leaving the front and back doors open, so he might as well let customers in. The cool air of approaching autumn would remove most of the stuffiness. His wrist had felt much better, proof that the bandage changes and the poultices had finally done their job. He still had aches along the bones, but the bandage had come off and the skin had taken to the healing, leaving a thick scar, half of a thumb length just below his wrist.
The number of customers that came by to visit surprised him. He told them that the store would soon be closing again and the next morning, Gully showed up on his doorstep with a message.
“We’ve been reassigned and here I just got in yesterday. Mander Hart sent me here with this message. There’s a ceremony that you’re going to attend this afternoon. I’ll help you close up the shop.” He handed the message over.
The seal had been broken and Lotto glared at Gully and then laughed. “So what does it say?” He had Gully learn his letters on their assignment in Prola.
“As nearly as I can make out, there’s a ceremony this afternoon and you’ve been commanded to attend.” He stared at Lotto with a serious face. “Just like I told you, Captain.” His friend laughed.
Indeed that’s what the message said. Two hours after noon, the king would address invitees to discuss the current matters at hand.
“Did you get an invitation?”
Gully grinned. “I did and so did the rest of our unit. That means medals, my friend, at least for you.”
They both got the shop ready for closing and Lotto brushed his uniform as much as he could. He polished his sword, long knife and their scabbards and cleaned off his battle staff dreading every minute of waiting for the ceremony. At the last minute, he decided to leave the staff at the shop. Gully looked at him as if he had just done something incredibly stupid.
“Take the staff. It’s all part of your legend!”
“I’m not part of my legend,” Lotto said.
“It’s an order.” Gully assumed his serious face that brooked no dissent.
Medals? He didn’t want any medals. He just did his job as best he could and now he had to carry General Kirrello’s battle staff. Lotto then noticed the leather cover in the corner of his bedroom. He covered the staff and felt a little better about taking it.
The walk to the castle seemed to take forever, but they arrived at the barracks in time for a late lunch. Gully gathered the rangers and inspected the troops. Two would have to stay back, having spent too much of the morning in the local drinking establishments. Lotto wondered if he should have done the same to have an excuse to miss the meeting, but the time came for Gully to push him ahead of the unit as they casually marched through the castle. It looked like Lotto would lead them into the throne room.
He thought they would be noticed as they entered, but they were a little late and the large hall had already filled up and the rangers had to squeeze into an empty space between columns at the back. So much for images of a triumphal entry and that suited Lotto just fine.
He’d been in a throne room before with a sword in his hand, but Valetan’s was much, much bigger. He’d never been to Beckondale’s and the ceilings seemed to go up forever. Banners hung from the ceilings and weapons festooned the walls between huge tapestries.
With his head still craned to the ceiling, the crowd hushed and everyone went down to one knee as the king entered, leaving everyone kneeling except Lotto who hurriedly bent down, holding onto his staff. He thought he glimpsed a trace of anger on the monarch’s head.
Court etiquette stalled the proceedings until the king raised his arms.
“We have some business to discuss with our advisors after we adjourn, but I want you all to know that Oringia has decided that picking away at our borders is not enough and is massing thousands of troops to invade Valetan.” Murmuring broke out among the nobles in the crowd. The soldiers, officers and common alike, merely took the announcement in stride since rumors of such a thing had been running through the barracks since before Lotto had returned from Prola.
“A man who has recently returned from the west—“ Lotto began to look at the hall again when Gully elbowed him in the ribs.
“He’s talking about you!” he said, whispering in Lotto’s ear.
Lotto had to blink to get his attention back and by that time all he heard was his summons. He walked up towards the raised dais, his battle staff ringing, despite the leather cover, with every other step. Had he missed what kind of award he had been given?
He stood next to Mander, who clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Congratulations, Lotto.”
“Lieutenant Mistad, I award you the honorary title of Knight of Valetan. You will remain assigned to Mander Hart to serve the kingdom as he sees fit.” The king raised a ribbon with a large star on the end. Lotto thought that knighthood had gone out of style in Valetan. He’d have to talk to Mander about it and then it hit him. He’d been officially promoted to Lieutenant. He nearly groaned as he thought back to Lessa’s gaggle of lieutenants. He tried to keep up a smile as applause lit up
the room. “Stay here, Sir Mistad,” the king ordered.
“Another promotion for another hero of Valetan,” the king said to the audience. His words instantly cut the applause. “In the northwest, the Duke of Ashdown defied our alliance and convinced the late Duke of Forthwith to rebel, he being a liege lord to the Crown. In a stunning move, the Captain of the forces took Ashington and captured Lord Ashdown, who is currently a resident here in Beckondale Castle.” The declaration brought laughter. “That Captain is Restella Beecher, my daughter. It’s not nepotism that prompts me to do this, but we need more field officers in our fight against the Oringians, so it is my pleasure to announce that she will assume the field command as Captain-General in the Eastern Army under the direction of General Piroff. Other vacancies will be filled as the situation dictates. Princess Restella?”
Lotto spotted a movement in the crowd as Restella made her way to the dais dressed in the blue officer’s uniform of the Valetan army. He had never seen her in her uniform and she looked… formidable. He blinked as she came closer and the link blossomed. He could nearly hear her thoughts and wondered why, and then he saw the Moonstone mounted in the pommel of her sword. So close, he thought.
She embraced the king and the queen, who Lotto had never seen. Two younger men, dressed as courtiers and an older woman gave her hugs. These must be siblings. Since Restella was the youngest of King Goleto’s children. Mander had said she was fifth in line to the throne. The king opened his mouth to say something, so Lotto broke himself out of his thoughts.
“I’d like these two to shake hands to congratulate each other and that will end our assembly,” King Goleto said.
Lotto panicked. He couldn’t spurn the king’s command in front of all of these people. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. What could he do? Restella didn’t look as bothered as he did. His eyes became locked on the Moonstone. No. He couldn’t touch her in front of these people. What if the stone stole his mind again and he shrunk to his former size. He backed up and ran into Mander.
