Mickey Reichert - Flight of the Renshai

"You didn't have to wait for me," Saviar asserted, sucking back welling saliva before it emerged as drool.

"We did." Ra-khir gestured at the bounty. "To do otherwise would be impolite."

Saviar shook his head without argument. He had told them to start without him, but the knights' unmitigated honor would not allow them even then. Saviar wanted to tell them that he would have found no rudeness in their eating while he practiced, and that they could abandon formality in his presence; but either comment seemed unnecessary, perhaps even insulting. The knights' honor had nothing to do with Saviar and everything to do with the code by which they chose to live.

Saviar scooped up a piece of jerky and a hunk of bread, not wishing to delay their meal another moment. In the future, he decided, he would practice on a full stomach. He would find it painful and would, likely, vomit; but it would save his father and grandfather from suffering. In addition, it would please his mother who insisted they practice on all terrains, in twilight and high sun, in blizzards and even states of fever. "An enemy," she often reminded him, "will not plan an attack based on your comfort."

Though driven to shove everything into his mouth and swallow, Saviar forced himself to chew. Kevral had a point, though it seemed a bit excessive and silly at times. Other than the pirates on the Southern Sea, Saviar knew of no one poised to battle any of them, except perhaps his own brother. If Renshai went to war, they did so by choice, to aid the Bearnides in the pirate skirmishes. Until Arturo's disappearance, however, those had not seemed much of a threat.

Saviar waited until he had consumed the food in his hands at a reasonable pace before swallowing the last bite and speaking. "So what happened to Arturo? How did he go missing?"

Ra-khir washed his last bite down with a swallow of water. "He was aboard a harbor warship. Pirates slaughtered the entire crew." He lowered his head respectfully. "There were no survivors."

Saviar caught himself wiping his hands on his britches. Though they said nothing, he knew the knights did not approve. "Including Arturo?" He shook his head as he reached for the fruit. "Then why do they say he's just missing?"

"The ocean has sharks and scavengers." Kedrin spoke plainly, as if to an adult. Though he had wanted Ra-khir to temper his words around the other Renshai youths, he made no attempt to do so now with his grandson. No matter the Renshai definition, Kedrin clearly considered Saviar a man. "Not every body returned intact or at all. It would not be prudent to put a prince to pyre until his identity is certain."

Saviar seized a piece of dried fruit and put it in his mouth, chewing as he considered. Kedrin had basically said that Arturo's body might have floated ashore in pieces. The reality of that image leaped suddenly to the fore: sharp, jagged teeth ripping into the young man's flesh, streaming blood that attracted more of its ilk, tearing him to pieces. Saviar could only hope the prince was dead when he hit the water. He gave no thought to the young man's escort. The Renshai would have reveled in the battle, earned and celebrated their deaths against superior warriors or numbers. Saviar had enough experience to realize the rest of the world thought differently. Savoring the sweet aftertaste, he swallowed the fruit. "What was a young prince of Bearn doing aboard a ship facing off with pirates?"

Ra-khir smiled ever so slightly. And, though it seemed an odd reaction to their current conversation, Saviar believed he understood. His father always appreciated when Saviar thought beyond the mind-set of a Renshai.

Kedrin responded again, "Until then, the pirates had taken only merchant vessels. Seven was supposed to sit in the harbor to protect the incoming tradesmen and scare the pirates from making landfall. No one imagined a bunch of thieves would dare attack a Bearnian warship directly. Even if they did, the defenses seemed impenetrable."

Saviar knew little about pirates other than that they stole from ships. For most of his life, they had worried the coast of Bearn, though in small numbers and infrequently. They seemed more of a nuisance than a clear threat. Yet Kedrin's expression told Saviar otherwise. Once a mere annoyance, the pirates had now grown into a serious problem. There was clearly more to Bearn's calling of the Knight's captain than just a mission of comfort to a grieving king and queen.

Saviar sat back on his haunches without reaching for more food. "This is critical, isn't it?"

Ra-khir pursed his lips. "The loss of a royal always is."

Saviar dismissed his father's words with a gesture. "I mean beyond that. Who are these pirates?"

"No one knows," Kedrin admitted. "Once dismissed as a greedy band of malcontents, they now seem to have become large and organized. They're clearly testing Bearn's defenses, not just stealing treasure."

"Someone is backing them," Ra-khir agreed. "A country at least. The question is who?"

Saviar froze, not liking what he heard. Neither his father nor his grandfather became distressed easily, and he had never heard either overstate a threat.

Kedrin shrugged. "Who, indeed?"

As the knights no longer seemed to need him as part of the conversation, Saviar returned his attention to eating. He did not have enough experience or knowledge to solve such a mystery, nor even to fully and clearly understand its significance.

Ra-khir rose, brushed crumbs from his lap, and bowed to his father. "Excuse me, please, Captain."

Kedrin dipped his head and made a majestic, but offhand, looping gesture that clearly granted the request.

Saviar smiled. These were the moments he loved, watching the knights perform routine acts with grandeur that made even tiny details seem important. He watched his father disappear into the brush, surely to relieve himself, then turned his attention to his grandfather.

Captain Kedrin grinned broadly at his grandson, showing teeth as brilliant as pearls that made a strange contrast to the dull, gap-toothed mouths of most of the populace. Like all knights, he cared for his body meticulously. "I'm proud of you, Saviar. Not every young man would volunteer for a mission this difficult. It won't be easy to face a friend who just lost a beloved brother, especially trained by a culture that doesn't look upon death as tragedy."

"Death in battle," Saviar corrected. The Renshai deemed succumbing to age, accident, or disease the direst of catastrophes, for it doomed one's soul to Hel. Only brave warriors killed in glorious combat could be chosen for Valhalla. "Though, in this case, your point stands. Prince Arturo did die in battle."

"Surely." Kedrin's blue-white eyes sparkled. "My point stands."

Cued by his grandfather's look, Saviar directed his thoughts back to Kedrin's original statement. His cheeks turned warm. "And I'm not sure I deserve your respect. I do plan to console Princess Marisole, but that's not the real reason I asked to come along."

"Oh?" Though an expression of interest, the word also carried a clear note of understanding. Kedrin, Saviar suspected, had known that all along.

The flush on Saviar's cheeks grew deeper. "Well, I… was hoping I might…" He spoke slowly, weighing his grandfather's reaction. "… get a chance to do some research." As the Knight-Captain showed nothing but curiosity, Saviar continued more boldly. "In the Sage's library."

"Ah." Kedrin encouraged his grandson to continue. He seemed to have wholly forgotten his dinner. "Well, this thing you need to know must be important for you to risk facing the Sage. He guards his scrolls and books with the ferocity of a she-bear with cubs."

Saviar winced. He had heard as much, but he had never directly faced the Sage in his tower. Charged with keeping all the knowledge in the kingdom, the Sage had an army of pages granted access to every event or occurrence, no matter how embarrassing or secret. To deny them would incur the wrath of ancient law, a crime as unthinkable as slaying a messenger or a man calling parley in battle. He lived in the tower with his many chronicles, writing them into history and rewriting the oldest, crumbling pages. "Well…" Saviar kneaded a dried apple between his fingers. "I'm just wanting one piece of information. The Sage might know it without me having to touch any of his treasured papers."