Mickey Reichert - The legend of Nightfall

Nightfall opened the door, amid a turbulent shrill of hinges that made him wince. Apparently, however, the patrons had become so accustomed to the noise that most did not even bother to turn. Inside, open windows on either side of the building admitted a cross draft that brought the smell of damp and greenery to a room that otherwise reeked of stale beer and sweat. The perfume of freshly cooked vegetables and lamb became nearly lost beneath those stronger odors, but Nightfall’s hunger dredged the food scents from the others. All of the tables were occupied, many surrounded by half a dozen chairs or more. Kelryn and Edward sat with their backs to the entrance, apparently oblivious to his arrival. Nightfall did not miss the arm the prince chose to rest not-quite-casually across the back of Kelryn’s chair. He felt a stab of jealously, discarded it, and immediately suffered a second warning pain, this from the oath-bond. As long as he considered Kelryn a threat, it would do so also. Four strangers, all men, sat at the table with them, probably begging news of Alyndar and their travels.

Nightfall approached, taking a position between Edward and the closest Schizian, a man he now recognized as a local stone hauler. He knew the other three as well, two builders and the cooper. All were harmless, though none could keep a secret from one end of a room to the other which explained their attraction to travelers with news, especially one dressed as richly as Prince Edward. "Master, I’m sorry it took me so long."

Prince Edward looked at his squire, smiling a warm greeting and demanding no explanation. Apparently, he had enjoyed himself enough not to notice the time. "Ah, Sudian. We saved you some food." He shoved over a platter with shredded lamb, tubers, and peas that had, apparently, served as a common plate.

"Thank you, Master." Nightfall searched for and found an unoccupied chair, using the hunt as an excuse to examine the tavern’s patrons. Most were Schizian commoners familiar to Nightfall by face if not by name. Others appeared to have come from Meclar or Noshtillan, either to gather news or because they preferred their drinks in a different location now and again. Aside from Edward and Kelryn, only one man seemed not to fit. He wore a well-scrubbed leather jerkin and a tailored cloak of fine linen. A servant tended his needs, dressed in white with a red stallion embroidered on the front of his tabard. Nightfall did not recognize the standard. He scooted his chair to the table with enough noise to interrupt the talk, then seized on the ensuing silence. "Who’s the highborn with the horse symbol?" The stone hauler did not bother to turn to look. "That’s Datlinst, a knight’s middle son. He’s been courting the duke’s daughter, Willafrida; but he’ll be moving on to the Tylantian joust soon like the others, I’d warrant."

Nightfall ate, looking down at his plate to keep from revealing an expression until he decided on the proper one. He had now heard of the competition for the second time, and Edward still had not mentioned it. Surely, if a knight’s middle son had received an invitation, Alyndar’s younger prince had not been excluded. Thinking back, Nightfall recalled several instances earlier in their travels when they had met warriors headed in various directions for special weapons training or for competitive preparation.

The stone hauler continued talking, a favorite pastime. "Now that Hoson and the others have gone, I think Datlinst thinks he has a better chance. But he can’t stay much longer. The competition’s in just two weeks, and it’s a good week’s journey to Tylantis. As it is, he probably won’t find no place to settle there. Surely, all the inns are long full.

Nightfall considered carefully. With most of the suitors gone, it opened the way for him to work his plans as well; but he needed to know why Edward had no interest in a contest that could get him landed. If he could find the reason, counter it, and talk Edward into entering, he would need to cheat the prince to a win. That seemed difficult, yet no more so than creating love between strangers. For now, he left both options open. He would attempt to bring prince and duchess-heir together swiftly. As the week neared an end, he would assess how that strategy seemed to be working and make a decision. Meanwhile, he would need to uncover the reasons for Edward’s apathy.

One of the builders asked the obvious question. "You’re headed for the contest, I presume, noble sir?"

"Me?" Prince Edward seemed surprised by the question. "No.”

The Schizians exchanged confounded looks, but they did not press. Nightfall appreciated that they left the probing to him.

Nightfall let the matter of the Tylantian contests settle, allowing Edward to take a watch, then sleeping through his own. As usual, throughout the night he remained on the restless edge of awakening.

Constructed for meeting and drinking rather than hostelry, the He-Ain’t-Here Tavern kept its overnight visitors packed into two rooms. Though it meant sharing his quarters with seven more men, Nightfall appreciated that the tavern owner had decided to divide his guests by gender. Kelryn stayed with the travelers’ wives, enough company for Edward to believe her safe and for her to feel no need to intrude upon the men’s shelter. In truth, her welfare was of no concern to Nightfall, and he felt certain Ritworth meant her no harm at all. The Healer’s description in Delfor and ·Kelryn’s sleep-talk left him no doubt that she worked with sorcerers. Even if the Iceman was not her usual contact, she would know the right words to league with him and she surely would not hesitate to sell Nightfall out… again.

Nightfall assessed the men around him, curled under whatever blankets or tattered cloaks they had brought with them. All claimed to have journeyed from distant countries, three from Hartrin and four from Mitano, to watch the competition in Tylantis. Although they came from slave country, none brought any of their own. Nightfall knew by their manner and gear that these men could not afford such luxuries had they wished to do so, but he was quick to point out the respect with which they treated him.

Prince Edward seemed withdrawn. Longer than a week had passed since he proselytized about anything, and Nightfall feared he had succeeded too well at crushing the fanatical idealism, sapping the prince of any drive at all. His sleeping neighbors did not concern Nightfall. He had watched their movements, seeking a grace, offhand comment, or hidden strength to suggest they were other than they claimed, and he found nothing to worry him.

Still, the night passed for Nightfall with fretful slowness.

Nightfall, Prince Edward, and Kelryn spent much of the next day shopping for gear and rations, the squire quietly supplementing their meager money from the pockets of wealthier passersby. For the first time in his life, remorse prickled at his conscience for the intrusion, though whether born of exposure to Edward’s morality or from the realization that being exploited and downtrodden no longer worked as an excuse, he did not know. He did find himself taking smaller amounts from a larger number of victims, a fairness that hardly justified his crimes, although it did ease his guilt as well as place him at more risk of discovery.

Kelryn and Edward spent large amounts of time discussing the merits of foods and fabric, which left Nightfall more than enough chances to purchase a grappling hook, rope, knives, and a container for shartha petals as well as obtaining capital to cover the prince’s acquisitions and still leave silver in his pocket for their rooms and board. Though engrossed in his own activities, Nightfall spared more than enough attention to keep Edward safe. He could not help but also overhear much of the conversation between prince and dancer. They chatted about the pros and cons of myriad products as if they had done so together all their lives, though Kelryn had never shown interest in such talk when he had courted her. Apparently, there was much about Kelryn he had never known.