Chris Northern - The Last King's Amulet

“Do you know the contents of the letter you delivered?”

He had turned his head and stared pointedly at Meran who had in turn looked to me for instruction, leaving my tent with clear reluctance as soon as I dismissed him.

“Well?”

“I was there when he wrote it.”

He was a freedman. He didn't have to be more than courteous. There were a few customs about these things. It would be normal for him to use the phrase “young master” as I was my fathers son and it acknowledged the fact that I had some authority over him in my father's name, that I was due a share of the deference and loyalty he owed my father. The fact that he didn't use it, even once, told me something.

“Did he have any verbal message for me?”

“Not that he entrusted to me.”

“Why are you traveling with the army?”

He held my gaze, neither arrogant nor defendant. “My Patron so instructed me.”

I didn't let my annoyance show. “What is your mission?”

“I am under instructions to discuss my mission with no one.”

“Then I have no need to speak with you further.”

“It was my understanding that your father intended that I travel with you,” he looked around the tent as though deciding where to sleep.

“That was not asked of me.”

He didn't respond.

“You are not going to tell me anything, are you?”

“Your father instructed me not to discuss my purpose with anyone.”

“Then get out.”

He had given a slight bow, and then, making his disapproval of my decision obvious, he had left.

I had called Meran in and told him to watch Sapphire and report anything unusual. Only then had I unpacked the weapons and armor and inspected them. They were good kit and I was content with them, but that didn't make up for my unease concerning Sapphire and I wished that my father had confided in me. So far as I knew our family had no interests in the north and no connections with any of the Gerrian tribes. It seemed unlikely that his mission was related to the imprisonment of Orelia's betrothed. That was not family business. Her family or his own family should take care of that. Why had she asked me? We had been betrothed once, but clearly that was very much a thing of the past. I was a little put out that she had chosen to ask me to help her, but also a little proud that she felt she could trust me. Clearly her family was doing nothing. Well, the two were not yet married, so her family had no obligation. But what were his family doing? She had told me, after I'd calmed down enough to ask, that he was Tahal Samant. The Samants were a noble enough family, but a series of reverses had left them small and no longer seriously wealthy. Still, they must be doing something to free their son. I wish I had thought to ask what, and why, if the matter was in his family's hands, she had felt the need to ask me for help?

The order came down the line to pick up the pace, the shout of the centurions of each cohort ringing out together to confirm the command, and I was forced to pay attention to my horse until she got the pace right and seemed happy enough to continue it without my attention. The day was wearing on and I had nothing much to do but worry and fret. How fast was Sheo traveling? Would he succeed in his purpose? How well would he do? What were the Samant family doing about their lost sheep? What was Sapphire's mission? I had no answers and it all just nagged at me. I have never much liked waiting. I resolved to write a letter to the Samant family head, who was named Irian and was Tahal's great uncle if I remembered correctly. I would tell him only that I had become aware of the situation and would try to find a way to help their son should an opportunity arise while I was in the north. The response might tell me something even if they did not open their plans to me. I could get an answer as early as the next evening if I wrote the letter tonight.

The battle mages had set out an extra chair for me.

The tall battle mage smiled as I joined them, indicating the empty chair. “Please take a seat, Sumto. I am Larner Harrat, as you doubtless already know.” I didn't.

The small table beside the chair already held a large goblet of a deep red wine. I didn't touch it. I might take a sip later, or I might not. I had been drinking watered wine but I could tell at a glance this was not watered. I'm not saying I didn't want the drink, but I was being disciplined about it and to my surprise I wasn't that bothered about it. My boozing days might not be over but they were over for now, which is what counted in my mind. I felt virtuous as I sat down and thanked my host.

“These are Abrat and Hettar. And the student is Ferrian.”

I greeted them all and received casual replies. First names. Very informal all of a sudden, I thought. Very friendly. I had recognized the family name Harrat, but only just. A new noble family, small and fairly insignificant. I guessed the others were of even smaller and more obscure families, knights perhaps. Technically nobles and so entitled to buy stone, and some knights were wealthy enough to buy stone and training. It was a route to greater wealth. A battle mage's time in an army counted as military service, the first step on the ladder of magistracies that lead to high office. More usually the colleges were careers for those nobles who were from big and powerful families but not of the main line; it was a way to get more power into the family as the colleges themselves had one seat on the assembly of patrons reserved for their highest ranking member. A matter they sorted out amongst themselves according to rules that were not made public. Also, of course, a family member who was a powerful sorcerer was a useful ally, though the colleges had first claim on such an individual's loyalty.

“Thank you for your hospitality.” It seemed the polite thing to say and I hoped I would get some insight into why their attitude had changed from edge of rude, through indifference to this.

“You are welcome, of course. If you and your men are to protect us on the battlefield, it seems only right that we be well acquainted.”

“So that I am motivated to do a good job?”

Larner smiled thinly. “Just so.”

It was a lie. I knew it was a lie and so did he. We were six men, our duties were a courtesy and little more. A battle mage isn't in much immediate danger on the field and they are, after all, battle mages. They can look after themselves. They didn't need us. I had been making a joke. Why would he leap on such an obvious untruth? Did everybody think I was stupid?

“I'm sure you are all quite experienced and able to keep yourselves out of harm's way.”

His smiled stayed frozen. “By way of contrast, I understand this is your first military expedition.”

“First practical experience, yes.”

“Oh? Is there any other kind?” The fat one, Abrat, chipped in.

“Much of war is strategy, tactics and mistakes. Knowledge, in fact. I read a great deal.”

The old one, Hettar, hunched forward, eyes bright. “Who have you read, young man?”

“Everyone,” I told him, truthfully. “I have read everything there is to read on the subject in every language I know.”

Hettar was smiling openly now, “And whose ideas do you most respect?”

“Mine.”

He laughed out loud and his companions joined him more politely.

“Tell us about them, please,” by his tone it was clear that Abrat expected to hear nothing new. He might as well have asked me outright not to speak on the subject.

“Every encounter should have a purpose and it is not my purpose here to share the product of my cogitations on the subject.”

“Ha!” Hettar couldn't restrain himself. “So, this is an encounter! We are at odds! Who's winning?”