by P. S. Power
He grimaced on the third day and looked at Prince Erold, his face going tight.
The blond young man, blooded in battle, several times, complete with a line cut across his face which would make a nicely decorative scar, leaned in, from where his horse was.
“Is something wrong? Bandits or...”
He’d been checking for that, every few hours. Not just for attack, but for any animals that were near the road, as well as honey comb and for poor road conditions of anything that might slow their progress. It meant that he was fairly certain that nothing bad was going to come at them from that direction. Not in the next few hours. Unless someone was blocking him from seeing them, of course.
He hadn’t forgotten that someone had been behind them, heading deeper into the kingdom, seeking to make trouble. He simply hadn’t found them again. Even though he’d tried, many times.
“No, it isn’t that. We should be fine, up to and including dry weather for the evening. No, I just recalled that I know how to deaden pain. We have sick and injured and I actually forgot.” That idea was so new and different to Farad that he wondered, not for the first time, if he was losing his skills. Except that, when he used them, his recall was nearly perfect. So it wasn’t that, just distraction preventing him from using his powers properly.
The Prince nodded.
“It would be good, if you can aid some of the men. Perhaps so they can sleep? Not all of them will need it, so don’t tire yourself that way. They’re strong. Still, the man that lost his left arm has to be in agony.”
The words were whispered, so as to not offend the poor soul. Anders understood the idea, since the man had the limb removed by a surgeon on the field, after the upper portion of it had been split by a sword blow, length wise. Anders thought he might be able to heal the skin and soft tissue, but hadn’t, because he wasn’t certain what that would do to the bone underneath it. So, not understanding, he left the man alone, to suffer as the wagon lurched and bumped along the road.
“I’ll see to that when we stop next.” He glanced around, and nodded at the side of the road. “I’ll get some more food, as well. If we can feed them more, they’ll heal faster.”
That wasn’t always true, but it should hold for wounds that were fresh. Later, as they finished healing, not eating for a time would, possibly, aid their recovery.
Next to him, Prince Erold nodded.
“Let me know when. I’ll help you take what we can. Cook it, too. I’m not the one having to ride in the back of a wagon.” He winced then, because his voice could have carried to the injured, shaming them for things that weren’t their fault.
Anders simply nodded.
“Yes. We’ll do that.”
The next days were much the same, at least for him. He spent more energy than was prudent, holding pain away from the minds of several of the men. Mainly at night, but after the first days of being without much pain, several of them simply asked, when they needed his aid that way.
Prince Robarts didn’t speak to him much, though Sir Daniel and Sir Humphrey did, acting as if nothing had changed while they were gone. Squire Faine was darker, having had to kill in the last battle. Not that it was a first for him, but much as with Anders, the boy, who was a man, if a young one, had taken more lives than he’d figured would be possible. Only seven, but all of them were done at close range, face to face. That made it harder to live with.
At least Anders still recalled the faces of the four men that he’d killed that way. He wasn’t even trying to do it, which probably meant there wasn’t anything really wrong with his memory, outside of being too tired and lacking in energy. That could be cured by taking a rest, if it was allowed.
That it might not be, was, of course, the price of being young. It was expected for a boy his age to work twelve to sixteen hours every day, while working as an apprentice. He had several such situations going on at the moment, which could lead to up to forty-eight hours of each day being called upon for him. He grinned at that idea, as he traveled with the others.
The only difficult, or at least mildly strange, portion of things was that Prince Robarts was avoiding him. That didn’t truly make sense, given they seemed to be on good terms, otherwise. Anders couldn’t think of anything that he’d done that would have insulted the man or anything. Yes, he’d done well as a killer, which could make some people dislike him, he supposed. The Prince didn’t seem to be one of those types of people. At least he wasn’t having any difficulties with anyone else there. He even asked, on occasion, if Anders would send messages for him. Since that was his primary task of the moment, he did that without issue. Really, as he worked with the communications magic more, it became easier for him to do the work.
Translating the words needed into the components parts was the hardest portion of it, any longer and he found that he was able to do that kind of thing in his head, as long as he wasn’t riding or driving a wagon at the time. Walking was probably out as well, of course. If he could stop and close his eyes it wasn’t too difficult for him to manage now.
That situation, the Heir staying distant from him, lasted until they were back at the castle. They were met out front, by the King himself, as well as the Queen, and several others. Princess Peri and her daughter, Princess Mathia were there as well, which made sense. After all, Prince Robarts was the father of one and married to the other. That showed, since the Heir was very important to the kingdom. Everyone bowed to the older Prince first, as the wagons and horses stopped, in front of the main castle gate.
Then there was a quick round of bows for the rest of them, with hugs and a few kisses being passed out, even for the knights, as some of the court ladies and a few of the men had turned out to welcome them back. Anders grinned at the sight, as he climbed down from the wagon seat. He patted Brownie as he moved past, one of the servants, Jeld, standing there in a nice black suit of clothing, a bit tentatively.
The man, who wasn’t that old, nodded at Anders.
“Master Brolly. May I take your horses and wagons? Or, well, can I call for several people to aid with that?” He cleared his throat, as if it were surprising to see Anders with that many things.
“Certainly. Thank you, Jeld. Call me Anders though. I’ve known you my entire life.”
The man bowed then, somewhat ironically. His smile seemed dry as well.
“I couldn’t, Master Brolly. I mean that, too. It’s against the rules, when greeting someone at the castle gate. You should keep that in mind, in case it’s ever my turn to be welcomed. I’ll want it done correctly, after all.”
He nodded since the man was being pleasant and probably correct as well, and passed the reins to the wagon over. Then he pulled his pack from the back of the wagon before the heavy wooden cart could be taken away. At about that time, Lady Lyse and Prince Alpert managed to make their way over to him, with others standing back, as if waiting to greet him themselves. Several of those people were a bit baffling to notice being there at all.
He could get that Princess Mathia might be pleased enough to see him, or at least to show him that her health had returned fully. She looked good, at least. Healthy and as strong as he’d ever seen her. There was a nice rosy color to her cheeks as well. The rash was totally gone, with no outward sign of it having ever been there.
What the others were there for, he didn’t understand. Not outside of getting him to do some work. Which was fair enough. He could use a good night’s sleep first, of course.
Lady Lyse wrapped him in a hug, which she held for some time.
“There you are! Did you, well, I imagine it wasn’t fun. Was it at least pleasant at times?”
That wasn’t the case, but he smiled and nodded, pretending for her, since she needed him to do it.
“I met many interesting people. Some of them very kind. Others less so, of course. That’s the nature of war, rather than a true reflection on each of them. I hunted regularly and collected plants, as well as spent time with the animals, which is always relaxing.”
Prince Alpert smiled at him. His eyes dark and not sparkling at all.
“Good. Not that Lyse doesn’t understand parts of what really happened, from her contacts. We’ve hidden... Well, much of it, from everyone here. I was instructed to let you know that, so you don’t accidently speak out of turn.” The man winced at the implied idea, that Anders was going to tell everyone everything he knew, if not warned.
Which wasn’t really true, but probably seemed like it to the King and his children. That was mainly due to the simple fact that Anders didn’t know enough about many topics, so had to seem rather clueless when they came up.
“I understand. Now, I should probably see to arranging my room and...” He didn’t know what to do after that, to be honest. Eating came to mind. Something not made by his own hands. That sounded delicious, once he thought about it.
The instant he spoke, several people descended on him. The young Princess curtsied toward him, her face making dimples at the edges. Next to her, dressed in light pink, to the younger woman’s dark blue velvet, was her mother. Princess Peri was less controlled, actually giving him a hug. It wasn’t truly improper seeming, though a few people stared, as if the woman were saying something with the move, other than to welcome a boy she hardly knew back home from the war.
Behind her, waiting, was Countess Rainly, and her coven of weather witches. The woman looked much better now, than she had for a while. That probably meant Lady Martya had finally forgiven her, for whatever it was that had angered her. It had been something about a man, Anders thought. He hadn’t cared before to find out what it was, exactly. Martya hadn’t made the Countess ill. Her coven, at least two of them, had tried to harm her, but had failed.
If anyone had actually done anything to give her the red fever on purpose, that had worked, Anders hadn’t been able to find them in the castle. Which didn’t mean they weren’t outside of it. They might also have hidden their presence, using magic. That, he thought, would need to be his next real project. Finding that magic user that had been behind them on their way to the front.
Princess Peri wasn’t finished with him, which she showed by holding him by the shoulders and not letting him go. It was all he could do not to frown at her. She wasn’t being bad, he simply didn’t feel like being held down, at the moment.
“Master Brolly! I worried each day that the red fever would come back and we’d have no way to battle it. It seems to have stayed away, thankfully. We should meet soon. I owe you still, for the magic you did on the staff here.”
Anders supposed that was true, even if he’d kind of assumed that the linen he’d been given was payment enough. He’d turned it into gambeson for twenty people, after all.
Still, he didn’t want to make her feel awkward, so nodded at her.
“We could have tea in a few days? Schedule permitting, of course.” He meant hers, but she smiled at him, as if he’d said something sweet.
“That sounds wonderful. In two days? After the mid-meal. I’ll send an invitation. Now...” She was going to say something else, when the King walked over to him and bowed. Then, in a move that seemed strange enough that Anders blinked, he patted him on the shoulder.
“Master Brolly! Do I get another report of what you did over the last weeks? I have enough, if you don’t wish to, but it would be interesting to hear of it from your perspective.”
Anders didn’t even have to think about it, since sitting and writing sounded restful, just then.
“I can have that for you today, if you like, Your Majesty.”
Those words had him patted again.
“After the mid-meal, perhaps? We’ll meet at Robarts’ office.” Then the man walked away, in a rather efficient fashion.
In all, it was a strange enough event that everyone there watched him leave, including Princess Peri. The woman behind her, Countess Rainly, stepped in then. She faked a kiss to the side of his face.
“Master Brolly. I too, must press in and consume some of your time, when possible? It’s pressing, but not a thing to displace the King, of course. Perhaps tomorrow? We could meet for first meal, in my chambers?”
Prince Alpert coughed then, with Lady Lyse smiling, a bit blandly. It was clear that she felt the Countess requesting him in such an intimate setting was suspect. He didn’t see a way out of it, without being rude.
“I can’t do that, I fear. I have other tasks to see to then. We could meet later in the day? For the mid-meal, perhaps? My chambers would serve for that, I think?” He could go and get something to eat, for the two of them. That would give him time to find out what she might want from him.
The woman wrinkled her nose. At first, he thought it might be about his humble chambers, but her words spoke of something different.
“That would normally be fine, of course, but I fear I have another appointment then. Would you...” She looked around and spoke softly, even if everyone near them could hear her. “I can be available tonight, after the late meal. We need to speak.”
He nodded, figuring that he could find her, if it were that important.
“I’ll see you then, of course.”
The woman left then, with three rather disgruntled women following her. Why she still had anything to do with them, he didn’t understand. Two of them had tried to have her infected with a disease that was fatal over half the time. If someone had done that to him, he wouldn’t be inclined to be their friends any longer.
Touching his arm, as if concerned, Lady Lyse took control over her son again.
“Now, Anders, it seems you must be straight off to work. It’s important not to fail on such things, when requested by the King to do them. Will you be in your room?”
He nodded, since he was going to have to hurry, if he was going to actually write up several weeks’ worth of reports for the man.
“I should go and do that now, actually. I’d visit more, but I truly don’t have the time. Is... Something going on? Things feel off here. They have for days, in fact.” That was only in how Robarts was responding, but it had been after communications from Master Tolan. Things that had gone to the Heir directly, which was a thing that Anders hadn’t figured would be allowed. It was clear it had taken place, but he hadn’t been told the why of it.
Prince Alpert smiled and then nodded as if responding to something he’d said, other than his actual words.
“That’s wonderful, Master Brolly. I’d love to go riding with you tomorrow. Perhaps Princess Aisla and your mother could attend as well? You’ve been riding of late, haven’t you Lyse? In preparation for the trip to come soon? You do recall that we’re slated to go to Barquea, don’t you Anders? There has been another set of missives from Sula Darian. He seems to expect us to arrive there in about three months.”
There was an ocean voyage between the two continents, but three months sounded oddly long. Depak Sona had spoken of the trip taking closer to a true month, with a few days longer being possible, if the ship was becalmed at some point. Duma Sett had mentioned the whole thing taking her less than that, by nearly a full week.
They weren’t to leave for nearly a month, of course, so perhaps it was mere prudence to give them two months for travel. There would be an overland journey on the other side of things, of course. Thankfully that would be through the relatively peaceful kingdom of Domas. They held a common border with both Barquea and Modroc, of course, so attack from either source was possible. Not that it should happen from the Barquean side of things. Not traveling with one of their Princesses.
He nodded.
“Has a date been planned for us to leave?”
Prince Alpert nodded, his head moving slowly as he did it.
“In three weeks’ time. There has been some talk of not letting you go, of course.” The man seemed to find the idea delightful, or at least a thing of mirth. Farad wished to see a place so close to his old home, but was willing to forego it, if the need arose.
“Oh? Well, that’s a shame. I already speak the language, after all. W
as it requested that I not attend, after all? The part about my parentage might detract, I suppose.” Not that he cared about that, at the moment.
The Prince made a strained face at him. Possibly at his demeanor, though it could have been for those watching them at the moment.
“Nothing like that at all. It’s just that several here wish you to stay, for their own ends. We’ve had an official message from two of the Generals you made the acquaintance of, insisting that you be conscripted and delivered back to the front lines, as soon as possible. We also have messages from one of the Captains, requesting the same thing. That one was rather clever, given that the man had Master Tolan deliver it for him, using your new magical system of far talking. A Captain Horner?”
He nodded then.
“That makes sense. A good man, Captain Horner. Solid. Though, it might have been better for me to simply stay there and save the travel time. Am I being sent back soon, do you think?” He got the idea, after all. He’d proven adept enough at killing, which on the field of battle was important and useful. He didn’t really want to over winter in a tent, in the north, but he’d probably survive, if it what was needed.
There was a snicker, from the side, where a man from the court that Anders had never seen before stood, watching them closely. He was blond of hair, though that was thin on the top, and his body was lanky, and didn’t seem particularly robust. This then, was a man who stinted himself at meals, but he didn’t do much of a physical nature. Many of the men at the cloister had been of a similar look, when Farad had been there. He was dressed in black and had a clean face, with no hair there, to show his age. Only fine lines around his eyes did that for him.
