Michael Sullivan - Nyphron rising

She looked up to see Tim-or Tommy-leaning against the near wall, biting his fingernails. He glanced up at her and smiled. "I hope you're planning on heading to the kitchens, I'm starved-practically eating my fingers here," he chuckled.

She pushed away from the door and quickly strode down the corridor. She almost did not see Mauvin Pickering sitting on the broad sill of the courtyard-facing window. Feet up, arms folded, back against the frame, he crouched in a shaft of sunlight like a cat. He was still wearing the black clothes of mourning.

"Troubles with His Majesty?" he asked.

"He's being an ass."

"What did he do this time?"

"Replaced me with that sniveling little wretch, Linroy. He's sending him on the Ellis Far in my place to contact Gaunt."

"Dillnard Linroy isn't a bad guy, he's-"

"Listen, I really don't want to hear how wonderful Linroy is at the moment. I'm right in the middle of hating him."

"Sorry."

She glanced at his side and he immediately turned his attention out the window.

"Still not wearing it?" she asked.

"It doesn't go with my ensemble, the silver hilt clashes with black."

"It's been over a year since Fanen died."

He turned back sharply. "Since he was killed by Luis Guy you mean."

Arista took a breath. She was not used to the new Mauvin. "Aren't you supposed to be Alric's bodyguard now? Isn't that hard to do without a sword?"

"Hasn't been a problem so far. You see, I have this plan. I sit here and watch the ducks in the courtyard-well I suppose it's not really so much a plan as a strategy really, or maybe it's more of a scheme. Anyway, this is the one place my father never thinks to look, so I can sit here all day and watch those ducks walking back and forth. There were six of them last year. Did you know that? Only five now. I can't figure out what happened to the other one. I keep looking for him, but I don't think he's coming back."

"It wasn't your fault," she told him gently.

Mauvin reached up and traced the lead edges of the window with his fingertips. "Yeah, it was."

She put her hand on his shoulder and gave a soft squeeze. She did not know what else to do. First her mother, then her father, Fanen and Hilfred-they were all gone. Mauvin was slipping away as well. The boy who loved his sword more than Wintertide presents, cake, or swimming on a hot day refused to touch it anymore. The eldest son of Count Pickering, who once challenged the sun to a duel because it rained on the day of a hunt, spent his days watching ducks.

"Doesn't matter," Mauvin remarked miserably. "The world is coming to an end anyway." He looked up at her. "You just said Alric is sending that bastard Linroy on the Ellis Far-he'll kill us all."

As hard as she tried not to, she could not help but laugh. She punched his shoulder, then gave him a peck on the cheek. "That's the spirit, Mauvin. Keep looking on the bright side."

She left him and continued down the hall, as she passed the office of the Lord Chamberlin the old man hurried out. "Your Highness?" he called, looking relieved. "The Royal Protector, Royce Melborn, is still waiting to see if there is something else needed of him. Apparently he and his partner are thinking of taking some time off, unless there is something pressing the king needs. Can I tell him he's excused?"

"Yes, of course, you-no wait." She cast a look at her bodyguard. "Tommy, you're right. I am hungry. Be a dear and fetch us both a plate of chicken or whatever you can find that's good in the kitchen, will you? I'll wait here."

"Sure, but my name is-"

"Hurry before I change my mind."

She waited until he was down the corridor then turned back to the Chamberlin. "Where did you say he was waiting?"

The Nature of Right

The Rose amp; Thorn Tavern was mostly empty. Many of its patrons left Medford, fearful of the coming invasion. Those that remained were the indentured, infirmed, or those simply too poor or stubborn to leave. Royce found Hadrian sitting alone in the Diamond Room-his feet up on a spare chair, a pint of ale before him. Two empty mugs sat on the table, one lying on its side while Hadrian stared at it with a melancholy expression.

"Why didn't you come to the castle?" Royce asked.

"I knew you could handle it." He continued to stare at the mug, tilting his head slightly as he did.

"Looks like our break will have to be postponed," Royce told him, pulling over a chair and sitting down. "Alric has another job. He wants us to make contact with Gaunt and the Nationals. They're still working out the details. The princess is going to send a messenger here."

"Her Highness is back?"

"Got in this morning."

Royce reached into his vest, pulled out a bag and set it in front of Hadrian. "Here's your half. Have you ordered dinner yet?"

"I'm not going," Hadrian said, rocking the fallen mug with his thumb.

"Not going?"

"I can't keep doing this."

Royce rolled his eyes. "Now don't start that again. If you haven't noticed, there's a war going on. This is the best time to be in our business. Everyone needs information. Do you know how much money-"

"That's just it, Royce. There's a war on and what am I doing? I'm making a profit off it rather than fighting in it." Hadrian took another swallow of ale and set the mug back on the table a little too heavily, rattling its brothers. "I'm tired of collecting money for being dishonorable. It's not how I'm built."

Royce glanced around. Three men eating a meal looked over briefly, and then lost interest.

"They haven't all been just for money," Royce pointed out. "Thrace, for example."

Hadrian displayed a bitter smile. "And look how that turned out. She hired us to save her father. Seen him lately, have you?"

"We were hired to obtain a sword to slay a beast. She got the sword. The beast was slain. We did our job."

"The man is dead."

"And Thrace, who was nothing but a poor farm girl, is now empress. If only all our jobs ended so well for our clients."

"You think so, Royce? You really think Thrace is happy? See, I'm thinking she'd rather have her father than an imperial throne, but maybe that's just me." Hadrian took another swallow and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

They sat in silence for a moment. Royce watched his friend staring at a distant point beyond focus.

"So, you want to fight in this war, is that it?"

"It would be better than sitting on the sidelines like scavengers feeding off the wounded."

"Okay, so tell me, for which side will you be fighting?"

"Alric's a good king."

"Alric? Alric's a boy still fighting with the ghost of his father. After his defeat at the Galewyr his nobles look to Count Pickering instead of him. Pickering has his hands full dealing with Alric's mistakes, like the riots here in Medford. How long before Pickering tires of Alric's incompetence and decides Mauvin would be better suited to the throne?"

"Pickering would never turn on Alric," Hadrian said.

"No? You've seen it happen plenty of times before."

Hadrian remained silent.

"Oh hell, forget about Pickering and Alric. Melengar is already at war with the Empire. Have you forgotten who the empress is? If you fought with Alric and he prevailed, how will you feel the day poor Thrace is hanged in the Royal Square in Aquesta? Would that satisfy your need for an honorable cause?"

Hadrian's face had turned hard, his jaw clenched stiffly.

"There are no honorable causes. There is no good or evil. Evil is only what we call those who oppose us."

Royce took out his dagger and drove it into the table where it stood upright. "Look at the blade. Is it bright or dark?"

Hadrian narrowed his eyes suspiciously. The brilliant surface of Alverstone was dazzling as it reflected the candlelight. "Bright."