Alex Lidell - The Cadet of Tildor

“Uncle Palan!” Diam grabbed the man’s ring-ladened hand the moment he moved past the doorframe. “Come see what I can do! Do you want some water?” The boy carefully filled a large cup, but in his enthusiasm to bring it over, sloshed the contents onto Palan’s starched shirt. The lord pretended not to notice and claimed a chair, Diam settling cross-legged on the floor before him. Renee sat too, unnerved by their growing familiarity.

“Watch me,” Diam instructed, and closed his eyes. Nothing happened at first. Then, infant wisps of blue flame touched the boy’s fingertips, played there, and died away. His eyes flew open. “Did you see?”

“I did.” Lord Palan smiled. “You’ll grow to quite the mage.”

“Yes.” Renee forced her way into the conversation. “You can register in Atham. They will have the post rebuilt by that time, I wager,” she added for Lord Palan’s benefit, although whether registration would be possible given the bond, even Zev had no idea.

Palan smiled again, but it failed to reach his eyes. “Not something to worry about until your thirteenth birthday, my boy. Just stay safe and enjoy yourself for now.”

Unable to contradict him, Renee scowled.

Diam looked from his uncle to Renee, and hugged his knees as if smelling the undercurrents of the exchange. When neither spoke, he bit his lip and picked at the rug. “Uncle Palan, why doesn’t Korish like you?”

Renee stiffened.

Lord Palan sighed. “Because Master Verin does not like me.”

“Why?”

“A difference of philosophies. Yes, yes, I know you’re about to ask what kind.” He pursed his lips and brought his hands together under his silk shirt collar. Renee leaned forward to listen, but several seconds passed until he spoke. “Imagine that we have ten very sick people, but only one dose of medicine.”

Diam crinkled his nose and nodded.

“Who should get it? This is where Master Verin and I differ in opinion. I’d give the medicine to the person I cared for most. For example, you, if you were one of the ten. Master Verin, however, would choose whoever he thought most valuable to Tildor, even if his own mother ailed.”

“But what if all the sick people were bad, like bandits?” Diam asked. “What would he do then?”

Lord Palan stroked his chin. “Hmm. Destroy the medicine, most likely.”

Diam frowned. “Would Korish do that too?”

“Your brother keeps his own council,” Renee interjected, sparing them Lord Palan’s assessment of Savoy. “What would you do, Diam?”

He ran his hands through Khavi’s fur and looked out to the streets. “I’d make more medicine.”

A knock sounded at the door, announcing that Cory and the Seventh had arrived to make final preparations for the following day. The sergeant popped his head in and, seeing the lord, hesitated.

Renee rose. “Thank you for your company, Lord Palan.”

Taking the cue, the man lumbered to his feet. “Korish fights tomorrow,” he said, stopping at the door. “I do not wish for Diam to attend.”

Neither did she, but the gods damn her if she let Palan use Savoy’s fight to snare Diam closer. The boy would wait at Zev’s. “We’ve covered this ground, my lord. Diam stays with me while Korish lives.” The words made her wince.

“I do not ask to take him, only that he not watch. In fact, my lady, permit me to recommend your lack of attendance as well.”

“My lack?” The hairs on Renee’s neck stirred at his tone. “I fear I cannot fulfill that request either.”

“Not a request, my lady. Only a suggestion.” His bow encompassed her and Cory both. “Forgive my intrusion. I will leave you to your planning.” He hesitated, adjusting a ring on his finger. “One more suggestion, if I may. If you do attend tomorrow’s festivities, bring water and towels.”

Wrinkling her forehead, Renee waited until Cory’s companions filed into the room and closed the door. She glanced at him. “Towels? What for?”

Cory’s face grew dark. “To clean up blood.” He shook his head. “I don’t believe yer friend intends to leave the rescue on our shoulders alone.” He pulled the writing table to the center of the room and spread Renee’s map on it while the other men crowded around. “It will be as it will be. For now, we might review what we do know.”

Outside the arena the following day, the crowd, as big as last time, shoved and jostled. Vendors shouted their goods. Entertainment of this sort, it seemed, suffered little from the concerns otherwise plaguing the city. The scent of meat pies and honey sweets nauseated Renee. Beside her, Cory munched a bit of bread-wrapped cheese. “Lure the mage outside,” he reminded her quietly, letting her ahead of him into the arena entrance. “We’ll handle him there. I want the boy hand-walking us in. If you dinna think he’ll go, signal Mag.” He jerked his chin at the Seventh’s archer hiding a crossbow beneath his cloak. “He’ll kill the opponent if the commander can’t handle it hand to hand.”

She frowned at the cage standing in the belly of the underground while Mag took his post near the exit. “He’ll never make the shot.”

“He’ll make it. But the bolt may pierce bystanders on its way.” They pushed their way down the rows. People parted for Cory the way they did not for Renee. He continued speaking. “Dinna worry about Mag. Your mark is the mage boy.”

Jasper. She looked around. None of the fighters or staff had yet arrived. Lord Palan’s warning of the previous night nagged at her, but before she could give them voice, the trumpets called out and the crowd roared in anticipation.

The trumpets blared. A hand between Savoy’s shoulder blades shoved him into the holding pen. He shielded his eyes from the light. His mouth was parched after over a day without water. The Vipers left little to chance.

“Anger Boulder; he’ll kill you quicker.”

Savoy turned and lowered his arm enough to see Den step into the pen. “Brilliant plan.”

The trainer’s head bowed. “I told you, no one leaves the Vipers.”

“Return to your fighters.” Savoy stretched his back.

“In a moment I must.” Den hesitated. “Something’s wrong with the crowd today. I cannot say what, but something feels off. And your girl came.”

Renee. Savoy forced his gaze to the stands. Hundreds of crammed bodies fidgeted in their seats. “Alone?”

“No, with a young man, broad shoulders, dark curly hair. They sit at the top.”

Savoy traced the rows of benches rising toward the ceiling. Faces and figures blended together. At the top, a cloaked figure standing beside an entrance raised a hand in signal. Friend in sight . Then, another. Target in sight .

Savoy turned to the other entrance and found a second sentry signaling his report. Military. Someone he knew? Savoy tried in vain to find who the sentries were signaling to. “Be careful, Den,” he said under his breath. “I’ve a sense that Boulder and I won’t be the only ones fighting today.”

“Mag sees Savoy,” Cory whispered to Renee. “He has a shot at the man beside him. Ye know him?”

She leaned forward, squinting over the spectators’ heads, and winced at Savoy’s worn look. Had the Vipers bothered to give him food? “Den, a trainer. Savoy trusts him. And there is Jasper.” She fingered the knife hidden up her sleeve. The boy was herding his fighters into the eastern pen. “He sat with the spectators the last time.” Renee frowned at the bars separating the fighters from the public.

A moment later Jasper disappeared from view. He reappeared at a side door on the spectators’ side of the bars.