The Blackguard (Book 2) (12 page)

Aorun’s ire only rose when he saw the young woman that was fawning in service over the bastard. It was the woman from the jeweler’s shop. If she was serving at Luthian’s table, that meant she was one of the chosen attendants and only a step above a brothel wench. Aorun watched the exchange of uncle and nephew as both eyed the young woman. The High Minister owed Aorun a couple favors; it was time to collect and put a little of that favor beneath him in his bed. He smiled with hunger, watching her move, before turning his attention back to the table.

Aorun sat watching the other mages for some time when he saw the youth also assessing those about him. When their eyes met, Aorun did not smile or look away. He held that man’s gaze with all the hatred for the Daezun that seethed inside of him. This one, he would destroy. He did not care who his kin was, or what power he held. He was young, it was better to take the little cast-off out while he still had baby teeth. Aorun smiled at that thought. Yes. He knew how to pull teeth.

Chapter Nine

Alador felt as if the night would never end. Despite all the splendor and luxury about him and the fact his father had insured he was properly dressed, Alador felt like an oddity that traveling Mesmers brought into the village for people to pay to look at. He nodded politely to many women: ugly, old women with flat, white hair, simpering and giggling women with too much paint on their face, and cold marble visions of beauty. His uncle Luthian set up a receiving line so as to properly present Alador. He’d been told so many names that they started to blur together, and had long since forgotten the men that shook his hand. His father stood a little behind him, offering occasional comments and support.

Alador looked up as the next man approached to greet him properly, and blinked in surprise as he met the gaze of the man who’d been coldly staring at him earlier in the evening. Unlike many of the other guests, the man was not in robes; instead he wore black leather pants and a fine grey shirt. Their eyes locked, and Alador swallowed slowly. He’d never seen someone who could move with such deadly grace, and he’d only encountered such unveiled hatred in Trelmar. This man looked far more intimidating than Alador’s old bully. When Luthian spoke, Alador paid attention, this was a name he would need to know.

“Aorun, may I present my nephew, Alador. Alador, this is Silverport’s Trench Lord, Aorun Trevion.” Luthian glanced between the two with curiosity.

Aorun took Alador’s arm in greeting, “It is a pleasure to meet the new man of the Guldalian line. I was unaware
you would be a half-breed bastard.” Aorun’s eyes didn’t leave Alador’s, despite the minister’s close presence.

Alador bit back the pain as the man’s fingers dug into his arm.
 “Indeed a pleasure, sir. I was unaware that a lord would be so lacking in manners,” Alador fired right back. He knew he shouldn’t have said the words the moment they came from his mouth, but this Trench Lord was hurting his arm, despite the fact that Alador was doing everything he could not to show it.

In spite of himself, Henrick laughed outright. “I would be careful, Aorun. Alador shows every sign of having as much potential for power as either me or the High Minister.”

Luthian was watching both of them with a strange, satisfied smile when Alador glanced at him. He wondered what his uncle was plotting; he could almost see the windmill turning in his eyes.

A
orun’s mouth hardened at Alador’s quip, and he slowly released the boy’s arm. “I will have to keep that in mind in our interactions.” The man’s words had an oiliness that seemed to foul the air around them.

Luthian chimed in at that point. “Oh, I would encourage you to do so. Not only does he show the potential for power, but he has Guldalian scruples as well.” Luthian’s voice held an edge of warning.

Aorun bowed low. “Of course, High Minister. One could expect no less from kin of yours.”

Alador watched for a moment as the man moved, then turned to see that there was a lull in those approaching for introduction. “Uncle, can we withdraw yet? I fear that, while this is all very exciting, it’s also tiring. I’ve heard so many names that my head’s spinning.” Alador murmured this softly, trying not to insult any that might approach as he was speaking. He
could tell the dinner was winding down as some had taken their leave, but many others seemed to be waiting.

“Of course, my boy, of course. Come along. Let us return to my study and have a few words before you find your bed.” Luthian led the way, pausing occasionally to say his goodnights. He seemed to know everyone’s name and tier.

Alador mumbled goodnights as appropriate, but his mind was on his father’s warning. Henrick had mentioned that his uncle might see them parted this very night, and Alador wasn’t ready to be shuffled off to people he didn’t know. Despite Henrick’s faults, Alador knew his father, and there was comfort in knowing he was close by. When they finally returned to the study, Alador collapsed gratefully into a chair. “How do you do that?”

“Do what, my dear boy?” Luthian slipped into a chair across from Alador. Fresh glasses, fruit, and wine had been laid out on the table between them.

“Handle all these people and gatherings. You seem to know all their names and what they do,” Alador explained.

Henrick softly chimed in as he sat down, “To not know your enemy is to know death, my son.”

Luthian nodded, watching Alador. “It has paid me well to learn the names of everyone of influence on every tier. The higher the tier, the more I pay attention, not only for thwarting potential enemies, but also in making sure I have allies, if needed.”

Alador couldn’t believe anyone would want to live this way. He longed for the safety of Smallbrook, for the comfort of Mesiande’s arms and Gregor’s teasing comments. And, surprisingly, Alador found he also missed the security and protection his brother Dorien had offered him. He’d never known until the last couple of
days how safe Dorien had made him feel.   Alador didn’t feel ready for any of this. “What of this Trench Lord? What is he?”

Luthian raised his chin and considered that question carefully. “A necessary evil, but one I would not trust any further than the cast of his own shadow,” he admitted. “He keeps the criminal elements somewhat in check, and he is also good at handling my more subversive needs.”

“You mean he kills for you,” Alador spat out tiredly. “Please do not couch these things in your fancy politics. I would speak bluntly.” He didn’t want to play this game. He wanted out. He wanted to go home. But he couldn’t go home, he’d ruined all that. Alador sank into his chair a bit more, defeated.

Henrick rose to Alador’s defense at the heightened color in Luthian’s face. “I would remind you, brother, that we did not get a true night’s rest. Alador has been faced with many changes in rules, culture, and surroundings. Nothing for him is the same and it has only been one day.”

Luthian’s eyes roved over Alador coldly. “Fine. The lad wishes bluntness, then yes, the man kills for me when a direct approach is not warranted or wise.”

“He does not like me,” Alador pointed out. “In fact, there was hate in his eyes.” He sighed; the last thing he needed was for someone new to hate him. It was likely that this new enemy would be the one to sink a knife into him, rather than the other way around this time.

“I am sure there was. If I recall the man correctly, his mother fought in the Daezun war and was taken out by an arrow through the heart. I am not sure he will ever quite forgive them, even though a man does what he must in war,” Luthian admitted. “I, for one, hold no ill will toward those that fought; I would expect my people to fight just as hard if we were invaded.”

Both Henrick and Alador eyed Luthian suspiciously, but the High Minister managed to hold his face in passive blandness. Alador nodded but said no more.

Henrick, however, broached the subject of his son’s fate. “I wanted to ask, Luthian, that Alador not report to the guard until the morning. As we both know, the guard is rigorous, and I would see him get a full night’s rest before we upend his surroundings even more.”  Henrick’s request was murmured with an almost lazy indifference.  He leaned forward and poured himself a glass of wine, picking up handful of berries as he spoke.

Luthian eyed Alador for a long moment. “The hour is indeed late and you are right.
 Alador looks quite exhausted. I guess there is no harm now in waiting until morning.” Luthian looked at him curiously. “Unless you wish to report now, Alador.”

Alador looked at Luthian with alarm and hurriedly answered. “Oh no sir!
 I have had enough change in one day. I would honestly prefer to wait longer.”

“Well, unfortunately, I can’t have an untrained mage wandering about on the wrong tier.
 You will have to report by tomorrow afternoon.” Luthian’s tone left no room for argument.

Alador sighed but nodded. At least he would be in the same bed from which he’d sent his scroll. Perhaps in the morning there would be an answer from Mesiande. He would have to ask Henrick if the scroll case could find him if he slept elsewhere. The familiar wrench of pain cut through him as he thought about her and how she would respond to his letter, and the knife turned as he worried about whether or not she would even write back at all.

“Well then, I had best get him home and tucked into that big bed of his.” Henrick looked relieved to have the matter settled. He downed his glass of wine and moved to stand.

“
I will have someone see him to a room here, Henrick.” Luthian’s quiet, even response held an edge of authority.

“He is
my
son, Luthian. Let us have one more night together.” Henrick’s own tone took on an edge of anger. “I promised his mother I would watch over him.”

“I am sure you did. However, he is also my nephew and you have had years to get to know him. I have had a single evening. Run along home, Henrick.” Luthian’s tone of voice clearly indicated a dismissal.

Henrick stood, glaring at Luthian. “If I refuse to leave him in your care?” he asked in his own dangerous tone.

Alador looked worriedly between them. He needed his father; the last thing he wanted was these two fighting over him. He opened his mouth to speak his own thoughts when Luthian answered.

“Then your brother will leave the room and the High Minister’s guards will see you thrown off the tier,” Luthian said, rising to meet Henrick.

Alador jumped up. This couldn’t continue, he suspected his father needed only one more excuse to try to kill his uncle. The feud between the two was clearly only held back by a tentative truce, at best.

“Stop it!” Alador cried. “I’m not some toy for two brothers to fight over. I need to be trained. I need to know what I must know because, whether you meant to or not, you both painted a bloomin’ target on my back tonight.” He looked between the two stunned mages angrily. “If you two don’t mind, I’m tired and I want a damn bed and I really don’t care whose house it’s in.”  His eyes moved to Henrick with a bit more boldness than he would have dared to show to Luthian.

Both Henrick and Luthian stared at Alador in absolute amazement. First, Luthian began to laugh and then finally, although it was a bit forced, so did Henrick. Alador didn’t see what was so funny. He’d just stood yelling at the only kin in the city he had; kin could probably kill him without a second thought if they chose.

Henrick put up his hands in defeat.  “I apologize.  As Alador stated, tonight was trying and it was very tiring keeping track of different houses reactions to my son’s presence.”

Luthian moved to Alador and clapped him on the back. “You have some nerve, yelling at the High Minister like that, my dear boy. Be careful; in a public forum I would have to respond.”

“I wasn’t yelling at the High Minister or Henrick Guldalian of the fifth tier,” Alador spat out.

“Oh? And just who did you think you were daring to scold?”

“My uncle and my father, who can’t decide who has the strongest grip on their new toy,” Alador quipped angrily.

Luthian grinned and nodded. “Noted, then.” He turned to look at Alador’s father. “Henrick, I will send him to you after breakfast to gather his things. Make sure he is at the training compound before the dinner bell. Best he has a chance to settle in before he joins his new comrades at his first meal.”

Henrick nodded and looked as if he were turning to leave when Alador spoke. “If my father could go with me to these rooms you spoke of, I would like a moment alone with him before he leaves for the night.” Alador forced more respect into his tone.

Luthian grinned. “Of course. I am sure you have questions that a young man would only ask of someone he has learned to trust. I will see you escorted to a room and send for you at breakfast.” Luthian moved to the wall and pulled a tasseled cord.
 It was just a few moments before the door opened.

You rang, sir?” The servant was dressed in a simple black tunic with red trim.
 

“Take Master Alador to my finest guestroom.
 I hope all arrangements were made as I requested?”  Luthian’s tone had a crisp edge with his serving staff.

“Of course High Minister, all is as you commanded.” The servant bowed low. “Right this way, gentlemen.” He stood to one side of the door as Alador and Henrick moved to exit Luthian’s study.

“Oh!  Alador!” Luthian called as they got to the doorway. 

Alador turned to look back. “Yes sir?” He was tired and would be glad to escape the constant tension he felt in this room.

“I hope you have a most enjoyable evening.” Luthian held up a glass of wine and toasted him.

Alador nodded, but he was puzzled. Only once the door was closed and they had walked down the hallway a ways, following the servant, did he look to his father and ask, “What was that about?”

“It is Luthian. I have no idea. He could have poisoned your bedding for all I know,” Henrick snapped.

“
I thought you would be pleased with how tonight went.” Alador frowned. “I did not make any social errors did I?”

Henrick rubbed his face in frustration and took a deep breath before he looked at Alador. “No, you did me proud in there, though your mouth is going to be the death of one or both of us,” he answered.

Alador sighed. “Sorry. He just seems like…a bully. I do not like bullies,” he reminded his father.