Resolution (21 page)

A chime sounded, and a Palace Halberdier, weaponless, entered on Tom’s command. He bowed to Tom, and said: ‘I have a verbal invitation for you, sir, to visit the Palace barracks. It’s from an officer on secondment here, Lieutenant Gervicort. He presents his compliments.’

This was the heart of Palace V’Delikona where he ought to be safe, but Tom did not trust such a message. ‘Is that all he said?’

‘If you asked, I was to say, remember when A’Khelikov apologized?’

Tom thought for a moment, then smiled. ‘That’s Adam Gervicort, all right. Which way do we go? I’m ready now.’

‘If you’ll follow me, sir.’

Adam had been a servitor in the Academy - formally, the Akademia dell’Guerro - and had startled Tom and Jay, Lord A’Khelikov, as they observed the training grounds. Jay’s glance had flickered over Adam as if he were an inanimate object, dismissing him not just as a threat but as a person. Afterwards, though, he had
apologized,
and clasped forearms with Adam as though Adam were an equal, not a servitor. It was the moment when Tom realized the Academy was not run like a normal realm.

Since then, Adam Gervicort had obtained manumission, fought as a freedman and been decorated in the field, promoted to Brevet-Lieutenant in the midst of action.

We should spend time with our friends, while we can.

Tom followed the Halberdier through the main portal of the barracks. Tom’s intestines seemed to vibrate just for a moment before he was in the plain corridor: some kind of deepscan with a vengeance.

‘Sorry, sir. Should’ve warned you.’

‘That’s all right. Carry on.’

They took a ramp downwards to the next level, where an echo of subdued yells and scuffling feet mixed with the scents of fear and striving upon the air. Tom smiled, breathing deeply. They were nearing a fight-gym of some kind; he felt at home.

At the gym’s entrance, they slipped to the left where a hard bench was placed for the benefit of observers. Tom sat, turned his attention to the fight in progress ...

Fate!

...
and gave an astounded smile as he recognized the huge, black-skinned warrior in a carl’s plain tunic, crouched at the mat’s centre, tracking the seven Halberdiers with padded weapons who were circling him. One of them charged forward with a yell, but the warrior spun and lashed out a kick which dropped a different man: the more immediate danger, a Halberdier who had crept closer from the rear. Then the dark warrior ducked low, grabbed the legs of the charging, yelling Halberdier and straightened up, sending the Halberdier flying.

‘Kraiv,’ said Tom delightedly. ‘Kraiv, my friend.’

The housecarl was all muscle and no fat, yet it was still a surprise to see a fighter of such bulk move so fast. The remaining Halberdiers were canny, using teamwork to attack simultaneously, but Kraiv was having none of it. He chopped down the biggest of their number with a scything kick to the thigh –
He’ll be limping for a tenday,
thought Tom - and banged a second Halberdier into a third, heads clashing. Immediately, Kraiv charged the remaining two attackers, taking the offensive, and hit them precisely at the same time. He stepped back as the bodies landed.

A row of watching Halberdiers looked stunned. Then, to a man, they thumped their fists against their chests and yelled their appreciation for Kraiv’s skills. His fallen opponents, scattered around the mat, were trained fighters in their own right, not amateurs.

You should see him with a morphblade in his hands.

A narrow, hard-looking man was lowering himself onto the bench beside Tom.

‘Have I missed anything good?’

‘Adam! Adam, you old bastard.’

‘Good to see you, too, sir.’

They clasped forearms, hard.

‘Sorry to hear about General d’Ovraison,’ Adam added. ‘We all admired him, but he was also your friend.’

‘Thank you.’ It was Jay who deserved Adam’s sympathy, but Tom wondered whether he should mention it. Diplomatically, he said, ‘Funny that your message referred to Jay A’Khelikov. He’s been here, too.’

‘Um ... I think he knew the general quite well, Tom.’

Tom smiled, to show that he understood what Adam meant, and that he, too, was aware of it.

Then two massive ebony fists twisted Tom’s tunic and hauled him up to his feet, and he was hugged in an embrace he could not have escaped from.

‘Tom, my friend.’

‘Kraiv ... You can ... put me down ... now.’

‘Thank you, Lieutenant Gervicort.’ Kraiv’s voice rumbled, basso profundo, as he addressed Adam. ‘Old comrades are well met.’

‘Who are you calling old?’ said Adam, and grinned.

They relaxed in the officers’ mess, swapping news. Adam and Kraiv had both attended the wedding, but there had been little time for Tom to catch up with either of them. Now, over indigoberry cordial (Kraiv and Tom) and Golden Angels (Adam), they talked about their friends and families. Kraiv’s wife, Draquelle, was happy at the Manse Hetreece, having returned there with their young son Homric after Tom’s and Elva’s wedding. Adam was less happy with his current posting, as an administrator on Lord Akezawa’s staff, which was perhaps why he tossed down the Golden Angels fast enough to make his eyes water. At some point he gestured to the cordial in Kraiv’s goblet and said: ‘Sure you won’t try a real drink?’

‘He follows the Way of Rikleth,’ Tom answered for him. ‘That means he’ll abstain.’

‘Suit yourself,’ said Adam, but on the next round he switched to daistral, and drank it while it was still too hot for comfort.

Kraiv smiled in approval.

‘You know how the Book of the Tri-Fold Path begins?
Distrust every system, including this one.’

‘Ah,’ said Tom. ‘I like that.’

‘I thought you would.’

It was an hour later when a Halberdier came up to their table, bowed, and handed over a message crystal to Tom. ‘By civilian courier, sir. Sorry, we couldn’t allow him on the premises. No authorization.’

‘He’s been paid?’

‘In advance, sir, by Lady Corcorigan.’

‘Thank you, soldier.’

Tom opened up the brief message, scanned it, shut the holo down. Then he picked up his drink, frowned, and replaced it on the table.

‘What is it, Tom?’ Kraiv’s voice deepened even further than usual. ‘Trouble?’

‘I don’t... think so. It’s from Elva. She’s arriving in the morning.’

‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ said Adam.

‘Yes, but ... She’s picked up a travelling companion on the way, she says. And that’s
all
she says.’

Adam looked at Kraiv, then grinned.

‘The Lady’s keeping you on your toes, is she, my Lord?’

‘I ... Go heisenberg yourself, Gervicort.’

‘What kind of bifurcatin’ language is that for an officer and a gentleman?’

Kraiv shook his head sadly, and took a surprisingly delicate sip of his cordial. Tom and Adam burst into laughter, which only slowly faded.

Corduven. If only you could be here, too.

Then Tom raised his goblet. ‘To missing friends.’

Kraiv and Adam clinked their goblets against his, and all three drank the toast in unison.

Next morning, Tom was there to meet Elva’s blue arachnargos as it danced on slender tendrils to a docking platform, lowered its thorax all the way to the ground, and opened an exit. Elva stepped straight down onto the flagstones. The luggage drone floated past her and alighted, as the arachnargos reared up once more.

‘I’ve missed you,’ said Tom, then shook his head. ‘That sounds soppy, doesn’t it?’

‘It’ll do.’ Elva reached out her arms. ‘Hug me, for Fate’s sake.’

Tom did, and kissed her, too.

Then he finally had to ask: ‘So this ... companion ... that you mentioned. Where are they?’

‘She
should be coming’ - Elva turned and pointed - ‘round about now. See?’

A stub-winged grey lev-car came hurtling at a dangerous angle past a tall natural pillar in the cavern system, straightened up, then flew directly towards the platform.

‘Um ... Perhaps we should get out of the—’

Before Tom could finish speaking, the lev-car had twisted to one side, hovered, and dropped down to a silent landing beside them. The bubble-membrane liquefied, and a short, lean figure wearing a soft blue beret strode down onto the wing, and jumped lightly to the ground.

‘Hello, there,’ she said brightly. ‘You must be Tom.’

‘This’ - Elva was smiling - ‘is the Lady Renata of Realm Shinkenar. You know.’

‘I’m sorry, er ...’ Tom looked from Elva to the stranger. ‘Should I?’

‘Well, I
am
Avernon’s sister,’ said Lady Renata. ‘I presume the little blighter at least mentioned my existence.’

‘Oh ... Well met, my Lady.’

Tom had been about to bow, but Renata strode forward and clasped his forearm with a surprisingly strong grip, as peers and comrades would.

‘You’re a climber, I hear.’ Her voice sounded approving. ‘I clamber about a bit myself.’

‘I can believe that.’

Renata grinned. ‘Avernon said you weren’t much of a one for noble manners.’

In her family, that was obviously a compliment.

When you‘ve your own realm, you can afford to mock pretension
—

‘There’s an interesting route I was looking at yesterday, while I was walking around.’ Tom looked at Elva and shrugged. ‘If you’re interested...’