Richard Parker - The Black Horseman

With two of the soldiers still unconscious on the floor, Navarra wiped his brow and joined the King on the platform. He sat without being asked, without a bow of respect. Ja caught the slight but said nothing. King Arsinol, however, appeared not to have noticed.

“Your health is improving rapidly,” Arsinol commented. “I will want you to begin hunting for the prince soon.”

Navarra shrugged. “He is dead. Where do you suggest I search the bottom of the Inland Sea?”

The King frowned, disliking the man’s tone, but knowing the Executioner was still needed, and still deadly. Arsinol would never forget how easily Navarra had killed his former Weapons Master a few years prior. The Executioner had played with the man before finally slicing open his lower abdomen.

“I want to see a body. I want proof,” Arsinol finally answered.

“The people of Massi would be easier to control if there was proof to the end of the royal line,” Ja chimed in.

“I control them easily enough,” Navarra answered as if bored, and slung one leg over the arm of the chair in which he now rested. “Speaking of royal line, I suppose congratulations are in order.”

“Killing them is different from controlling them,” the King retorted, but smiled, thinking of his daughter’s upcoming nuptials to the High King. It was finally coming to pass, after years of planning. And though he had many strong, ambitious sons, it was ironic that it would be his youngest daughter who would lead him to the highest throne in the land. Ironic maybe, but not surprising, Audra was such a beauty. The High King Mastoc was smitten with her from the first time he set eyes on her, though the girl had not yet reach the age of twelve at the time. Ja Brude was the first to notice the lust in the old King’s eyes, and together they had played it very shrewdly. The two of them had dangled Audra before the King at every opportunity, and like a large fat pike, they had finally landed him, earning the Kingdom of Massi in the process. Even now it was hard to believe that the old King finally agreed, and that he, Arsinol Deutzani, would soon be “father” to the High King and then, in time, grandfather to the future High King. It mattered not to either of them that Audra who was now fourteen was nearly thirty years junior to her betrothed. She would be queen of the land, and that was indeed a fair trade for happiness. Arsinol turned his attention back to Navarra who was sipping wine and eyeing one of the men on the ground as he slowly came around.

“Let your spies find the boy then, and if they do I will crush all hope in the Massi people,” the Executioner said with a smile, “meanwhile I will begin to hunt the Weapons Master who helped him escape, this Afton Sath. He will be worth hunting, and killing.”

Arsinol had only a minor interest in catching the former Massi Weapons Master, who was an old man and would not live long in any case. But it was true that the man could become a rally point for the people and thus a threat, however slight.

“You hunt your Weapons Master then,” the King muttered. “You will be free until I return from the marriage festivities. But when my spies find the boy…who is alive… you will come and finish the job.”

Navarra smiled, rising from his chair “But of course M’lord,” he answered and left the room without being dismissed.

V

“It’s your quarter, so the final decision belongs to you,” Tar Amon told Kostek early the next morning. The day was starting off near perfect, not a cloud in the sky, warm but with a nice westerly breeze blowing in from the sea. Mornings were by far the best time of the day, Amon thought to himself as his colleague wrestled with the problem before them.

“But you agree that it is a good idea?” Kostek asked looking for help.

Amon shrugged. “Good for the boy, certainly. He will need all the help he can get if he is to survive. Good for your students may be another matter.”

“How so?”

“Gwaynn is at least fifteen, and while he’s sure to have had some training he will be no better than another first year, probably worse. Tam has only been here three months and she may have already surpassed him in skill,” Amon asserted. “Will practicing with someone so beneath their skill level truly improve your other students, or will it just distract them?”

“Yes, but remember he has been trained by Afton Sath,” Kostek argued, knowing that the old Massi Weapons Master was seriously considered for Tar rank upon his graduation.

“Hmm, yes. In his time, Master Sath was certainly the best of the families Weapons Masters,” Amon answered. “But remember he is now well passed his prime.”

“I see your point,” Kostek commented. “I would like to work with Gwaynn, late in the evenings after the day is over, just to see his skill level and then decide.”

Amon smiled. “That’s cutting a fine line. We are only supposed to train students sanctioned by the High King.”

Now it was Kostek’s turn to smile. “Well, in a way it was the High King who put Gwaynn here. Without his involvement with the Deutzani the boy would undoubtedly still be home in Solarii in his bed.”

Amon laughed. “Yes, that is most definitely true. All right, work with the boy. Test the level of his skill. I am sure he will be determined, but whether he has talent or not, we shall have to see.”

Tar Kostek bowed and as he left he couldn’t help wondering just what he had gotten himself into.

Two days went by before Kostek was able to pull the boy aside, but he caught up with Gwaynn one evening while he was finishing his dinner with Lane, Shari, and their four daughters. Kostek knocked and waited but when no one came to the door he let himself in; the entire family was talking and laughing loudly and they were unaware of his presence in the far room. The family chatter was animated and cheerful though Gwaynn, as always, was reserved. It was obvious to the Tar though, that the boy was enjoying the banter of his foster family and they seemed to be at ease with his presence. Kostek was gratified that Gwaynn appeared to be fitting in so well.

“I do not,” Mille protested loudly, turning red as she did so. She was the third daughter. She sported long blonde hair and deep indigo eyes, eyes which she kept riveted on Gwaynn as much as possible. A habit two of her sisters noticed. At the moment they were giving Mille grief for it, much to her and Gwaynn’s discomfort. The entire family fell silent the moment Tar Kostek entered the kitchen.

“I beg your pardon for the interruption,” Kostek said, aware of the anxiety he was causing. He was the master of the quarter, and this family served him and his students. Natural lines were drawn. It was as rare for him to visit as it was for anyone of the Leek family to present themselves in his drawing room in the evening. They were at different social levels and each in their own way respected the other’s privacy.

Lane jumped to his feet. “Not at all, join us,” he said motioning for Kostek to take a seat. Clearly everyone was uncomfortable with this idea, but good manners insisted on the invitation.

“No, no,” Kostek said holding up a hand and gesturing for the women to remain seated. “Gwaynn, I would like to have a word with you.”

Gwaynn looked about as he slowly rose to his feet. All the girls were smiling at him, especially Mille, as was her mother Shari. Lane and Leek just nodded to him. Kostek led him out of the room and into the night.

“Forgive me for interrupting your dinner,” Kostek began as they slowly walked toward his own quarters.

Gwaynn shrugged. “We were finished with the meal,” he explained, not daring to hope that this was about his practicing with the other students. He didn’t have long to find out.