Castle Town, page 12
“I’d counterattack after that, I’m assuming?” he asked.
“You’d try to, but he’d block!” Brin made clanging noises, turning his hand in a pantomime of a series of diagonal sword clashes. “And then he’d sneak one past your guard, tearing open your jerkin enough to give all the ladies and wives in the crowd a real show!”
“Mmm, yes,” muttered Koa. “With a thin trickle of blood dripping down one of my pectoral muscles. I could see that drawing a swoon or two. But how would I win from there?”
“Ah, well, on that, I can’t really say.” Brin shrugged and looked at him sympathetically. “I said you should duel him, not that you’d win.”
“You said I could take him.”
“As in, take him on for a time. Put up a good show for the crowd. Lose honorably.”
“Have you ever even seen Prince Harriston duel before?” asked Koa.
“Irrelevant. Most of taking a man on in an honest, eye to eye fight comes from the feeling in your gut. That personal sense of flair that we all develop and chisel and polish. Aye? You feel me, Makoa?”
“Ah, yes, I feel you Brin.”
“You have to get in his head!” Brin slapped Makoa’s shoulder with his free hand. “Come out into the arena acting like a wolf! Make him think you’re more beast than man!”
He let out his best attempt at a canine howl, swinging his mug sideways in the process. Some of the ale froth went airborne, landing upon the chest of a tall man in a heavy cloak sitting alone at the next table over, cowl up and face hidden.
The man turned to stare at them, revealing a face that left Koa speechless. He was handsome, with grey-streaked hair, a strong jaw outlined by a clean cropped beard. His right eye, however, was deep red, as though someone had poured blood into it. The man blinked once at them, the action out of sync from left to right, but said nothing.
“Don’t you think it’s a little early for you to be this drunk,” said Koa, forcing his attention back to Brin.
His friend sighed and played with the handle of his mug. “It is, but it hardly matters. There was an accident at the mill. Just a simple mistake on an order, but it might well be enough to have me replaced by Tristan’s apprentice.”
“You’re saying you’re out of a job?”
Brin shrugged. “I’ll know by tomorrow.”
“The castle is soon to be in need of new guards,” offered Koa.
“Never been much of a fighter.”
“What about a scribe?” Koa slapped his friend on the back. “I’m supposed to be searching for a suitable marriage candidate. Ruby’s been doing most of the writing, but you’ve always been good with women. Help me charm one with one of those intriguing and sensual wordplays you always seem so fond of.”
“Would I get to work alongside Ruby? She’s definitely filled out across these past years.”
“You know what, I’m rescinding that second offer,” said Koa. “The first on the list is Princess Rebethia anyway. I think your brusque brand of charm might not jibe with her sense of… delicacy.”
“Princess Rebethia?” Brin let out a long, snorting laugh.
“What?”
“I envy you in so many things, Makoa, but Rebethia is not exactly candy for the eyes. Are you sure it’s not too late to seek out a new princess to court?”
“Funny you should mention candy,” muttered Koa. “Gods, she’s obsessed with it!”
“Looking at her, I can somehow believe it.”
Koa finished his ale and departed shortly after, aware that someone would likely be missing him back at the castle. Even as he tried to orient himself up the road and up the hill, the reason behind why he’d wandered out in the first place began to gnaw at him again.
Nothing is simple anymore. Why can’t things just go back to how they were?
He deviated down a side path that led through an old field full of clothes drying lines and continued just out of town. Within sight of the road through the forest leading out of the glade was a small, interesting, shaped hillock that he and Ruby used to claim as their own when they were little.
A fallen tree covered the hollow side, creating this little hideout they’d called their “secret castle.” They’d played lots of child’s games there, king and queen, husband and wife, mercenary and monster. She’d felt more like a sister than anything, and the way his mother and Petra would occasionally swoop into guest roles within their imagined scenarios had made the two of them feel more like… more like what?
He was definitely drunk. He sat on the log and sighed and watched the road. An old man with horribly fucked up walking posture was all but scraping his way forward, both arms clutched around a staff that, gnarled as it was, still probably fared better than his spine.
A branch cracked behind Koa. He felt a smile tugging on his face. It would be just like Ruby to come looking for him here after trying everywhere else. He pushed forward off the log, landing on his feet with a princely flourish.
“Do you remember all the games we used to play here?”
“This is no game.”
That wasn’t Ruby’s voice. Koa spun around, finding not his trusted companion awaiting him, but a tall, broad man in a dark and heavy cloak… with a blood red eye.
“You’ve taken me by surprise, ser,” said Koa, trying for aloof confidence. “Is there something you need?”
“You are Prince Makoa, are you not?” asked the man with the blood red eye. “The Sabantian. The Replacement.”
The man’s tone unnerved Koa, but the ale had a counterbalancing effect. “Who I am is none of your damn business.”
Reaching into the sleeve of his shirt, the man drew out a long-spiked dagger, pulling it loose like someone might draw out a splinter. “I was excited to kill a prince until I heard it was you. This almost feels like it doesn’t count.”
Gods, why hadn’t he brought his sword? His and Brin’s ludicrous conversation of the fantastical duel in the tavern suddenly seemed like a farce twice over, so detached from reality and the true stakes at hand. Koa took a step back, his foot dragging as it caught on a bush in the way.
He could try to run, but escape would be near impossible through the forest surrounding the glade. It was what made Gladetown and Harvestkeep defensible in the first place. The road was the only way in or out by horse, and while the dense woods could technically be traversed on foot, it was neither a fast nor comfortable passage.
“Who sent you?” snapped Koa. “I’m barely a prince, as you say. Who would see me as a threat?”
“You can think on it for the last moments of your life,” said the man. “Flattering, in its own way. I don’t show up for small jobs.”
The man rushed forward, the point of the dagger glinting in a sunbeam as he thrust it towards Koa’s torso. Koa managed to dodge, flinging himself onto and over the log against hillock, but he landed in a sprawl.
Even as he started to rise to his feet, he knew he’d be too slow. He might manage to stand and try to spin away from the next stab, but not the one after that or any subsequent. He’d walked into this trap, set it up for himself, even dulled his own reflexes through pointless day drinking.
A crash came from the nearby trees as a new, unexpected figure stumbled forward. The old man Koa had just seen walking along the road had somehow been drawn by the commotion. He wielded his staff like a battle hammer, lifting it high overhead in preparation to dome the man with the blood red eye’s head.
The assassin let out a considering hmm as he shifted his focus, stepping in preparation to stab the old man, simplify the situation. Koa rushed him in that moment, getting off a push that, in combination with the uneven terrain, knocked his attacker off balance.
“Why does death pose such an attraction to the unaffected?” whispered the man with the blood red eye. “Unfortunate, but two is still less than I’d been expecting.”
“Did ya expect this, ya dithering fucking dullard?” The old man let out a high-pitched screech as he swished his staff through the air, not striking the assassin but connecting with something else entirely.
His staff seemed to tear the air, tear the light, tear through a section of the realm itself. A black opening in the shape of a bulb of garlic hung in the air, glowing strangely at the edges, not that anything about it wasn’t strange.
Koa yanked the hand that’d briefly been in front of the opening back as cold air stung his skin. The assassin made a surprised noise and took an unfortunate step forward as an unexpected stream of water suddenly rushed out in such quick succession that it reminded Koa of the namesake of Twinfalls.
The water knocked the assassin back with such force that he struck the log and tumbled over it. It instantly turned to ice everywhere it fell, flash-freezing the grass into brittle strips of white that cold plumes of condensation wafted out from.
“I’d be leaving now if I was you!” shouted the old man.
He passed a hand over the back of the strange opening he’d created, wiping it away like a picture drawn in sand. Koa was right behind him as he started hobbling forward, even helping him along as they hurried through the dense thicket.
CHAPTER 20
The assassin didn’t follow and the one glance Koa risked showed him to be still on the ground, with a leg frozen stiff at an odd angle to the grass. The old man was panting and coughing in exhaustion as they reached the road, but they didn’t stop there, only slowing as they drew within sight of the guard tower outside of town.
“Gods dammit,” muttered Koa. “Who exactly are you? What in the Herald’s name was that?”
“That was me having my time wasted by some foreign-born upstart with a smarmy way of talking.” The old man’s accent was odd, with all of the th sounds rounded with the heft of a d. “I came out this way to run some simple errands and end up having to pain my back pulling your grits out of the fire. What do I look like to you, huh? Some kind of hero from up in the hills?”
Koa held back a smile. “No, my goodman. I would not say that’s what you look like. I will say that there’s a reward for what you just did, if you’re interested. Come with me back to the castle and—”
“Nah, nah, nah, I don’t do castles,” said the old man. “All the stone and men in their matching clothes standing on pins with the sticks up their holes. Pay me now!”
“Uh…” Koa didn’t actually have much more than a few silver caelins left after his outing with Brin. “Could I at least meet up with you later?”
“Makoa!” Ruby’s voice cut in from up the road, with a distinct annoyed and impatient quality invading the tone. “Where have you been? The guards were about to start looking for you. Brin said the two of you were day drinking again!”
“I was and then I went for a walk, and…” He shrugged, feeling a sudden rush of safety and relief. “I was almost assassinated. I was saved by my new friend…”
He trailed off as he realized he hadn’t gotten his rescuer’s name.
“Hazafallius,” grunted the old man. “You may call me Haza. This your woman, boy?”
“What? No!” He winced, realizing he’d put too much vehemence into the word. “She’s my friend and my servant. Her name is Ruby and I’m Prince Makoa.”
“Oh, I know who you are,” said Haza. “Koa of Sabantius! I wouldn’t have bothered to risk my hide saving you if it weren’t for that.”
Koa blinked. He had never in his life heard anyone call him Koa of Sabantius and… actually make it sound respectful. Looking more closely at the old man, he noticed the obvious detail he’d somehow missed before. His skin wasn’t just tanned dark from hard years under the sun. He was dark haired, dark eyed, with a deep copper skin tone — a fellow Sabantian.
It wasn’t as though Koa had never met other ethnic Sabantians before, but they were rare in Osteanus and usually of the lower social castes. Servants and laborers and most often, beggars, with the rare merchant and craftsman interspersed. His mother had done her best to raise him as her son and through no fault of her own, the background of his blood had mostly fallen to the wayside.
“Koa, exactly how much did you have to drink?” asked Ruby with a sigh. “What, did he save you from a fall into a roadside ditch?”
He shushed her, staring at Haza with far more respect than he’d had earlier. “Please, good ser. If you have no wish to accompany me to the castle, perhaps we could go wherever you’re staying in the area? I… would very much like to speak more with you, if it please.”
Haza flashed a grin composed of surprisingly well-kept teeth. “Now this is a fair show of manners, all considered. Follow me.”
He started off at a rather slow and plodding pace toward the town’s western edge. Koa suspected they were heading to The Battered Blazepot, the only inn located in that direction. Ruby had a skeptical but patient smile on her face as she fell into step beside him.
“You are too much sometimes,” she muttered. “It’s kind of you to humor this man, I suppose. He looks like he could use some charity.”
He shushed her again. “I will catch you up on everything that happened later, but for now, please just be silent and try to avoid offending him.”
“Hey! I—”
He put an arm around her shoulders and clamped his other hand over her mouth. Ruby made a noise into his palm and then licked it. He pulled back on reflex but was surprised to find he found the sensation of her tongue a lot less gross than he once might have.
“A lover’s quarrel if I’ve ever seen one!” called Haza. “Mayhap you might need a room at this inn as well?”
Koa and Ruby both talked over each other in a jumble of words.
“She’s my servant not my…”
“…annoying and he drinks far too much and takes me for granted!”
“…constant nagging on behalf of my mother!”
“…least princely prince I’ve ever met!”
Haza cackled with laughter as he made his way up the steps and into The Battered Blazepot. The innkeeper greeted him with a curt nod, but shifted into genuflecting over Koa in a complete about-face. They climbed the creaky stairs up to Haza’s room, which aside from a rough looking bag in one corner was otherwise bare of personal possessions.
“Sit,” said Haza. “Give me your money.”
Ruby looked like she really wanted to voice her opinion, but Koa hushed her. He took out his coin purse and emptied every silver caelin and copper penny into one hand, holding them out to the wizened Sabantian.
“Hers, too,” said Haza.
“He didn’t do anything for me!” snapped Ruby. “I’m not paying him a copper cent.”
“Ruby.” Koa touched the small of her back, leaning in to whisper in a serious, desperate voice. “Please. I’ll pay you back twice over! I’ll assign half the work you usually do for the next few days. Please, please, Ruby.”
She scowled and let out a long, annoyed huff, but emptied her purse as well. Haza laughed again, counting his take in one hand and nodding to them both.
“I’m sure the two of you will be working this out under the sheets later.” Haza set the money down on the table and shuffled over to his bag. “As it happens, this is a workable arrangement for us all. I needed someone to give my apprentice spellbook away to. Even considered you from the start, Koa of Sabantius, but had you figured to be a right noble fop!”
“Accurate assessment,” muttered Ruby.
Koa elbowed her and shushed her again. “You said spellbook? Did I just hear you correctly? You have a book of Sabantian magic?”
He could see Ruby rolling her eyes from where she was sitting next to him, but of course, she hadn’t seen Haza’s incredible display of power. This was it! Forget dueling or marrying the princess of candy. A book of powerful spells from his homeland, no less. This was his path to building himself into a true prince, and perhaps a man with the potential to be even more.
Haza paused as he began rifling through his belongings, taking a bit of twine out which he used to tie back his long, grey dreadlocks. He made a tutting noise and rubbed at one knobby elbow. He was incredibly thin and boney, but the vital quality underneath that was not unlike the sense he got from Osteans bonded to espers deep into their extended lifespans.
“Here we are.” Haza drew forth a battered looking tome with words on the front written in a language Koa didn’t recognize. “In your language, this would be… Pathways of Power or Pathways of Peril. The word used here can mean one or both, see?”
“I see.” Koa reached for the book, but Haza pulled it back and clunked him over the head with his staff. “Ow!” he cried.
Ruby burst out laughing. “I suppose that was almost worth losing my spare change to witness, but… ow!”
Haza hit her, too. “Be quiet! Do not interrupt me. My words could well save your life. Now… where was I?”
“The title,” said Koa. “Pathways of Power and Peril.”
“Power or Peril!” snapped Haza. “Not both! Are you not even listening, boy? Clear your head and just listen. Listen from the heart, not the ears! Not the head! Not the heart!”
“Ah… all right.” Koa gave a small nod and made an effort to keep his mouth shut.
“Now, see this book?” Haza opened the cover. “See the pages within it? The spells are contained not just within the words, but the vellum itself. You must digest both to access the truth that is held within.”
He waited until he was sure that Haza wasn’t about to continue or hit him again before replying. “I think I understand. But let’s just… pretend I don’t, for a moment. When you say digest, you mean… in terms of mental digestion?”
“Yes,” said Haza. “But also digestion of the body. Of the stomach. In through the top, out through the bottom.”
“Is he… seriously telling you that you have to eat the book in order to pretend at casting spells?” asked Ruby, with an edge of mocking.
Haza hit her on the head with his staff again. Koa chuckled and Haza hit him, too.
I’m going to have a lump or two come tomorrow.
“We… made mistakes,” muttered Haza. “Sabantius was the land of knowledge and discovery. The old land, where we all sought the truest truths and feared no question, shrank back from no answer. We were arrogant. I will admit that, even to the two of you in your ridiculous Ostean clothing. You look like you rolled around in pickled pollen!”
