Part 4 (1/2)
”Don't say I didn't warn you. Come with me.” The guard called to another atop the wall, who came to hold the gate while the Ceuran led Solon into the estate. A stable boy took the nag, and Solon kept his sword.
He couldn't help but be impressed. The Gyre estate had a permanence about it, the deliberate gravitas of an old family. Acanthus was planted inside the walls and out, growing from red soil Solon knew must have been brought in especially for the purpose. The thistly plants hadn't just been chosen to keep beggars or thieves from the walls, they also had long a.s.sociations with Alitaeran n.o.bility. The manse itself was similarly daunting, all heavy stone and broad arches and thick doors that could withstand a siege engine. The only compromise strength had made with beauty were the climbing blood roses that framed each door and every ground floor window. Against the backdrop of black stone and iron-barred windows, their perfect red hue was striking.
Solon didn't pay attention to the ringing of steel until the guard walked past the entry to the manse and around to the back of the building. Here, with a view across the Plith to Castle Cenaria, several guards were watching as two men bundled in practice armor pummeled each other. The smaller man was retreating, going back in circles as the larger man's blows thudded on his s.h.i.+eld. The smaller man stumbled, and his opponent bullrushed, leveling him with a s.h.i.+eld like a ram. The man raised his sword, but the next blow sent it flying and the next rang his helmet like a bell.
Logan Gyre tore off his helmet and laughed, helping the guard to his feet. Solon's heart sank. This was Lord Gyre? He was a child in a giant's body, baby fat still on his face. He couldn't have been more than fourteen, probably younger. Solon could imagine Dorian laughing. Dorian knew he didn't like children.
The Ceuran guard stepped forward and spoke quietly to Lord Gyre.
”h.e.l.lo,” the boy lord said, turning to Solon. ”Marcus tells me you fancy yourself quite a swordsman. Are you?”
Solon looked at the Ceuran, who gave him a self-satisfied smile. His name is Marcus? His name is Marcus? Even the names in this country were a mess. With little regard for people's origins, Alitaeran names like Marcus or Lucienne mixed freely with Lodricari names like Rodo or Daydra, Ceuran names like Hideo or s.h.i.+zumi, and normal Cenarian names like Aleine or Felene. About the only names most people wouldn't name their children were the slaves names common in the Warrens, like Scar or Harelip. ”I can hold my own, Lord Gyre. But it is words I wish to exchange with you, not blows.” Even the names in this country were a mess. With little regard for people's origins, Alitaeran names like Marcus or Lucienne mixed freely with Lodricari names like Rodo or Daydra, Ceuran names like Hideo or s.h.i.+zumi, and normal Cenarian names like Aleine or Felene. About the only names most people wouldn't name their children were the slaves names common in the Warrens, like Scar or Harelip. ”I can hold my own, Lord Gyre. But it is words I wish to exchange with you, not blows.” If I go now, my old mare and I can make it to the garrison in six, maybe seven days. If I go now, my old mare and I can make it to the garrison in six, maybe seven days.
”We will speak then-after we spar. Marcus, get him some practice armor.” The men looked pleased, and Solon saw that they loved this young lord like he was their own son. And laughed too easily and spoiled him. He was suddenly the Gyre, and the men were still entranced by the novelty of the idea.
”I don't need it,” Solon said.
The chuckling stopped and the men looked at him.
”You want to spar without armor?” Logan asked.
”I don't want to spar at all, but if it is your will, I shall consent-but I won't fight with a practice blade.” The men hooted at the prospect of seeing this short Sethi fight their giant, unarmored. Only Marcus and one or two others looked troubled. With the thick armor Logan wore, there was little danger that he would be seriously injured, even with a sharp sword. But the danger was there. In his eyes, Solon saw that Logan knew it too. He was suddenly doubting if he should have been quite so brash with someone who he knew nothing about, someone who might well wish him harm. Logan was looking again at Solon's stocky build. suddenly doubting if he should have been quite so brash with someone who he knew nothing about, someone who might well wish him harm. Logan was looking again at Solon's stocky build.
”Milord,” Marcus said, ”maybe it would be best if-”
”Agreed,” Logan said to Solon. He pulled his helmet on and locked the visor. He unlimbered his sword and said, ”Ready when you are.”
Before Logan could react, Solon jabbed his fingers through the boy's visor and grabbed the nosepiece. He yanked Logan forward and twisted. The boy slammed into the ground with a grunt. Solon drew a knife from Logan's belt and held it to the boy's eye, his knee resting on the side of Logan's helmet, holding it in place.
”Do you yield?” Solon asked.
The boy's breaths were labored. ”I yield.”
Solon released him and stood, brus.h.i.+ng the dust from the leg of his breeches. He didn't offer to help Lord Gyre stand.
The men were quiet. Several had drawn swords, but none moved forward. It was obvious that if Solon had meant to kill Logan, he would have already done it. No doubt they were thinking about what Duke Gyre would have done to them if such a thing had happened.
”You're a fool boy, Lord Gyre,” Solon said. ”A buffoon performing for men you may one day have to ask to die for you.” He said Duke Gyre, surely Dorian said He said Duke Gyre, surely Dorian said Duke Duke Gyre. But he sent me here. Surely he would have sent me to the garrison directly if he meant the duke. The prophecy wasn't about me. Dorian couldn't have known that I would be held up, that I would get to the city this late. Could he? Gyre. But he sent me here. Surely he would have sent me to the garrison directly if he meant the duke. The prophecy wasn't about me. Dorian couldn't have known that I would be held up, that I would get to the city this late. Could he?
Logan removed his helmet, and he was red-faced, but he didn't let his embarra.s.sment flare into anger. He said, ”I, I deserved that. And I deserved the manhandling you just gave me. Or worse. I'm sorry. It is a poor host who a.s.saults his guests.”
”You know they've been losing on purpose, don't you?”
Logan looked stricken. He glanced at the man he'd been fighting as Solon arrived, then stared at his own feet. Then, as if it took an effort of will, he raised his eyes to Solon's. ”I see that you speak true. Though it shames me to learn it, I thank you.” And now his men looked ashamed. They'd been letting him win because they loved him, and now they had shamed their lord. The men weren't just pained, they were in misery.
How does this boy command such loyalty? Is it just loyalty to his father? As he watched Logan look at each of the men in turn-staring until each met his gaze and then looked away-Solon doubted that. Logan let the pained silence sit and grow. As he watched Logan look at each of the men in turn-staring until each met his gaze and then looked away-Solon doubted that. Logan let the pained silence sit and grow.
”In six months' time,” Logan said, addressing the men, ”I will serve at my father's garrison. I will not sit safely in the castle. I will fight, and so will many of you. But since you seem to think sparring is entertainment, very well. You will entertain yourselves by sparring until midnight. All of you. Tomorrow, we will start training. And I expect all of you to be here an hour before dawn. Understood?”
”Yes, sir!”
Logan turned to Solon. ”Sorry about that, Master Tofusin. About all of it. Please call me Logan. You'll stay for dinner, of course, but can I also have the servants prepare a room for you?”
”Yes,” Solon said. ”I think I'd like that.”
8
Every time Vurdmeister Neph Dada met with Rat, it was in a different place. Rooms in inns, cellars of boat shops, bakeries, east side parks, and dead-end alleys in the Warrens. Ever since Neph had figured out that Rat was afraid of the dark, he'd made sure they always met at night.
Tonight, Neph watched Rat and his bodyguards enter the tiny old overfull graveyard. It wasn't as dark as Neph would have hoped; taverns and game halls and wh.o.r.ehouses huddled not thirty paces away. Rat didn't dismiss his bodyguards immediately. Like most parts of the Warrens, the graveyard was less than a foot above the waterline. The Rabbits, as the natives of the Warrens were called, buried their dead directly in the mud. If they had the money, they erected sarcophagi above ground, but ignorant immigrants had buried their dead in coffins after some riot or another years ago, and the ground had swollen above those graves as the coffins fought to float to the surface. Several had broken open, their contents devoured by feral dogs.
Rat and his bodyguards looked sick with fright. ”Go on,” Rat finally said to his bigs, nonchalantly picking up a skull and tossing it at one of them. The boy stepped back quickly and the skull, weak with age or disease, shattered on a stone.
”h.e.l.lo, child,” Neph rasped into Rat's ear. Rat flinched and Neph smiled his gap-toothed smile, his long, spa.r.s.e white hair falling in a greasy trickle to his shoulders. Neph stood so close the boy took a step back. his gap-toothed smile, his long, spa.r.s.e white hair falling in a greasy trickle to his shoulders. Neph stood so close the boy took a step back.
”What do you want? Why am I here?” Rat asked.
”Ah, petulance and philosophy all bound up in one.” Neph shuffled closer. He'd grown up in Lodricar, east of Khalidor. The Lodricari thought men who distanced themselves so much that you couldn't even smell their breath were hiding something. Merchants in Cenaria who dealt with the Lodricari complained bitterly about it, but stood close eagerly enough when Lodricari coins were at stake. But Neph didn't stand close for cultural reasons. He hadn't lived in Lodricar for half a century. He stood close because he liked to see Rat's discomfort.
”Ha!” Neph said, exhaling a gust of rotten air over Rat's face.
”What?” Rat said, trying not to edge back.
”I haven't given up on you yet, you great stupid boy. Sometimes you manage to learn despite yourself. But that's not what I'm here for. Not what you're here for, either. It's time to move. Your enemies are arrayed against you but not yet organized.”
”How do you know that?”
”I know more than you think, Ratty Fatty.” Neph laughed again, and spittle flew onto Rat's face. Rat almost struck him then, Neph could tell. Rat had become a guild Fist for a reason. But of course he'd never hit Neph. The old man knew he looked frail, but a Vurdmeister had other defenses.
”Do you know how many boys your father has whelped?” Neph asked.
Rat looked around the graveyard as if Neph hadn't already checked for anyone eavesdropping. The boy was hopelessly stupid. Stupid, but capable of cunning, and utterly ruthless. Besides, Neph didn't have many choices. When he'd come to Cenaria, he'd been placed in charge of four boys. The most promising one had eaten some bad meat in the first year and died before Neph had even known he was sick. This week, the second had been killed in territory fight between guilds. That left Neph with only two. ”His Holiness has fathered one hundred and thirty-two boys the last time I counted. Most of those lacked Talent and were culled. You are one of forty-three who are his seed. I've told you this before. What I haven't told you is that each of you is given a task, a test to prove your usefulness to your father. If you pa.s.s, you may one day become G.o.dking yourself. Can you guess what your task is?”
Rat's beady eyes glittered with visions of opulent splendor.
Neph slapped him. ”Your task, boy.”
Rat rubbed his cheek, trembling with rage. ”Become s.h.i.+nga,” he said quietly.
Well, the boy aimed higher than Neph would have guessed. Good. ”His Holiness has declared that Cenaria will fall, as will all the southlands. The Sa'kage is the only real power in Cenaria, so, yes, you will become s.h.i.+nga. Then you will give your father Cenaria and everything in it-or, more likely, you will fail and die and one of your brothers will do this.”
”There are others in the city?” Rat asked.