Mickey Reichert - The legend of Nightfall

"I love my brother, Sudian. You came from nowhere with a loyalty as fanatical as the most ardent priest. You can’t blame me not trusting you."

Nightfall said nothing. The highborn could teach him their ways and manners, but they could not change his inner feelings. He would place blame as he wished.

"The payment." Leyne returned the pouch of gold to his cloak. “It was a test. You passed gloriously, with more honor than any knight or noble here today."

Nightfall understood that Leyne gave him the highest praise he could muster, yet it did not wholly appease him. "Scant months ago, Ned would have turned that contest with a Mitanoan into a war of cause and conscience against slavery. Righteous rage might have driven him to kill." Leyne studied Nightfall as he spoke. "He would have credited his victory to the holy Father’s will rather than his own ability. He may not believe it, but he’s a reasonably good warrior."

"The best, Sire," Nightfall returned with habitual ease.

Leyne smiled. "That remains to be seen. He’s not better than me, I’m afraid, and I intend to win this duchy."

"Why?" Nightfall challenged. Then, realizing he had forgotten the title of respect, he continued as if he had not finished. "Sire, what need does a crown prince have for a duchy?”

Leyne shrugged as if the answer seemed too obvious for answer. "What use does any man have for a duchy? My father will live long, and I may never inherit the kingdom. Even if I do, we both believe I will appreciate my inheritance more if I understand the effort it took my forefathers to win Alyndar. Those who receive without toil become weak rulers and their offspring more so. More than one reigning line has degenerated into decadence and destroyed itself." His manner softened as he brought Nightfall into his confidence. "Besides, someday I’ll probably have more than one child of my own. Who does not inherit Alyndar will still have territory to rule."

The concept had seemed obvious to Nightfall from the start. Now, he needed to understand. "Sire, you would provide for your younger children? Why won’t your father do the same for my master? Surely, there’s enough of Alyndar for more than one."

"First, dividing a kingdom weakens it." Again, Leyne scrutinized Nightfall, though he had surely learned all from his previous efforts. "It would be better if what I say next did not reach Ned’s ears."

Nightfall nodded. "It is my mission, Sire, to do what’s best and safest for my master. So long as ignorance does not place my master in danger, I promise he will hear nothing of what you tell me.”

Leyne bobbed his head once as he made his decision. "My father is concerned about Ned’s ability to rule. He needs to win his land and title to truly appreciate and understand its complexities. Hardship and experience teaches."

"I understand hardship, Sire."

"Yes," Leyne grinned again, this time with genuine warmth. "My father said so. Though I think he worries still over his decision to let you squire, he believed you might have a good effect on Ned. I doubted it, concerned you would either prove as unworldly in your devotion to Ned as he with his to the causes he chooses or that you I had an agenda of your own in mind. Now, I can see my father was right, as always." Clearly, Rikard had not told Leyne about Nightfall’s identity, which meant almost certainly that only the king and his chancellor knew the truth.

Nightfall gained a new respect for King Rikard, now sure the king had not sent Prince Edward away to die. It required a competent mind to project how such an unlikely couple as Nightfall and Edward would fare, yet Rikard had, apparently, guessed well. Whether or not Edward got his land, the king had achieved his goal. Likely, it did not matter much whether the actual landing occurred so long as Edward benefited from the association. The fate of Nightfall’s soul, however, was not King Rikard’s concern. "So, noble sir, it would be very much in my master’s best interests to win this competition?"

Leyne laughed. "Certainly. But it won’t happen.” He sobered almost instantly, obviously realizing he had become insulting. "Not because of any frailty on Ned’s part, of course. I believed from the start he would win that first round if he tried at all. He’s better than he believes. He’s just used to sparring or watching me; and, with all modesty, I’m ranked the best on the continent. But it’s Ned’s first contest. And he’ll have me to fight, at least."

Nightfall took a chance. "Sire, if it’s in your brother’s best interests to win, why wouldn’t you let him."

Leyne’s forehead crinkled. "Let him? What do you mean let him? I’m cheering for him every match."

"Except against you, Sire."

"That goes without saying, of course." Leyne’s dark eyes went pensive as understanding seeped within. “You want me to purposely lose to him?" Horror and surprise tainted the question.

Nightfall’s shoulders rose and fell, leaving Leyne to work the suggestion through himself.

"That’s cheating. It’s dishonorable." Leyne shook his head so vigorously his yellow hair flew. “Ned would never feel good about winning in that manner. He would suffer from the shame for eternity."

Nightfall clung to the point. "Only if he knew you let him win. If he believed he had done so by his own skill…" He let the thought trail.

"No." Leyne’s dark eyes narrowed. "I would know, and I won’t forsake my honor for anyone. It’s unlikely Ned will make it far enough to compete against me. But if he does, he will win with his own hand or not at all." His features darkened, and his hands trembled slightly with anger. "This, I hope, is not what you’ve been teaching Ned."

Nightfall remained calm. "Sire, it’s my job to protect my master, not train him. I just thought, perhaps, my master’s brother would help him achieve the goals your father set. Help or not as you will. My master will win this contest with his own talent alone." Again, he spun around to leave and, again, Leyne stopped him with a word.

"Wait."

Nightfall turned back.

"I will not condone fraud for any man, but I do still admire your loyalty. I wish Ned luck and you as well, and I hope you see my integrity as a virtue not an evil, though it does not work in your favor this time. I understand that those born low cannot always understand the principles of nobility."

Honor loses meaning in the face of starvation and pain. I’ve never yet met a priest who would not abandon the Father for his own personal gain. Dyfrin had often warned Nightfall to learn men by deeds not words. Those who claimed to be most pious and devoid of sin veiled souls without conscience and deeds of greed and cruelty they justified as gods’ will. It was those most evil who generally believed themselves most good, surrounding themselves with lies to placate whatever shred of decency remained. "It’s not a matter of understanding, Sire. It’s a matter of circumstances. Morality, like laws, can’t cover every situation." He turned from generalities to specific. “Sire, I respect your honor and am truly sorry I suggested what I did. I’ve never done it before, and I won’t do it again."

Leyne saved face for both of them. “It seems a shame to let gold lie in the street. If we recover it together, our dishonors should cancel. Three for you and three for me, no favors involved."

Nightfall agreed to the compromise.

Nightfall spent that night swiping swords from the sleeping Astin, then whetting the blunted practice weapons to wickedly sharp edges. He finished by meticulously sanding the temper until its razor verge appeared as dull as prior to the filing. Although he had thinned the blades at either edge, he doubted the difference in balance would prove obvious enough to cue Astin. From rumors, he had learned that the baron’s heir had a ritual of practicing the night before a contest and blessing his weapons prior to sleep. He believed training prior to a contest would wash luck and benediction from the blade. Whether or not he kept to his routine, Nightfall doubted Edward’s opponent would notice the duplicity.