The Elemental Jewels (Book 1) (31 page)

The boys shouted, and took off running at an even faster speed, frightened by the sword’s action.

Did you miss me?
Ariana’s voice asked him dryly.

“What happened?   Did you do that?” Grange held the blade in front of himself and addressed it.

I am pledged to you.  The sword is yours, blessed by Miriam, destined to be one of your weapons in the battle that will come
, the jewel-spirit said.

Grange tilted the handle of the sword up so that he could see the sparkling crystal at the end.  “I know that you’re not soulless; I don’t care what Brieed says,” he laughed.

Don’t you forget it
, Ariana said. 
Now, let’s go to the armory for more practice, shall we?

Grange left the water and pulled his clothes on, then walked back to the palace and used his pass to enter through the gate.  He walked to the armory, and walked only a half dozen steps within when he heard his name called.

“Doesn’t that wizard ever make you do any magical work?” Brielle asked.

“Doesn’t your squad ever make you do any cavalry work?” Grange asked in reply, as the woman came striding over from where she had been practicing her knife throwing.  “I came to get in some extra practice today,” he explained.

“Let’s go back to working on your knife grip then,” Brielle told him.  “I’m not doing anything else this afternoon; come over here.”

“I’m not throwing knives until you promise I’ll get to practice with my sword,” Grange said stubbornly.

Brielle stared at him through narrowed eyes, her lips pursed.  “I could have let Cale stab you in the back, you know, and not had to deal with your stubbornness about this sword of yours.  What makes it so special that you want to practice with it, when there’s so much else you need to learn?”

“I want to make sure I remain good at it,” Grange answered.

“Alright,” Brielle threw her hands up in the air.

The two of them practiced with swords for over an hour, using wooden swords and pads, until Brielle called a halt, and they switched to knives again.  When Grange’s fingers began to cramp from practicing the grip, Brielle finally let him start throwing the weapon.  After a session there, it was back to using the staves again, where they remained until Grange finally called a halt.

“I have to clean up and go,” he told Brielle with relief.  He was sore and exhausted, and he knew he had to still double back to the wizard’s hall to meet Grace and escort her to meet Guy’s musical group, for whatever purpose the wizard had in mind.

The shower at the armory provided only cool water, but it felt good after all the work with the weapons, and he left the building with a promise to Brielle that he would return the following day.

He realized as he crossed the palace grounds that he didn’t have a wand that was empowered to allow him entrance to the wizard’s floor, but when he saw Grace sitting on the steps of the building waiting for him, the problem disappeared.

She grudgingly went with him and opened the door so that he could fetch his flute from his room, and then the two of them were off.

“What did you do today?” Grace asked him as they crossed the palace grounds.

He told her about swimming and the armory.

She made a disgusted face.  “You didn’t take a nap, or go to a tavern or do anything fun?  Why would you think you need to practice at an armory?  I saw what you did to Cale with a sword – you don’t need practice,” she protested.

“How many members are in your band?” she asked.

“Six, sometimes seven,” he answered.

“What are those jewels that Master Brieed mentioned this morning?  The ones that helped you with the Flame of Focus,” she switched topics.

Grange paused, not sure how to answer, then decided to reveal a slight amount of the truth.  “They’re tools to help me focus,” he said.

Tools?
The jewels repeated in a disgruntled tone.

“Approximately, sort of,” Grange clarified.

“Jewels are sort of tools?” Grace asked, as the jewels asked approximately the same question.

“It’s hard to explain,” Grange realized he was not going to answer either Grace or the jewels satisfactorily.  “I’ll try to answer better later,” he added.

There was a frosty silence, but no further pressing questions, and they passed out of the palace gates, just as the sounds of horses’ hooves clattered inside the palace grounds.

“Someone’s going out on the town tonight,” Grace said.  They both turned to look back, and saw the guards at the gate salute, as a dozen men and women rode out of the palace on horseback or in a pair of open carriages.  An escort of guards rode with them, and Grange saw Brielle among the riders.  She and all the other guards were alertly inspecting the crowds around them as they and their wards passed by; when she saw Grange, their eyes made contact, and she gave him a broad wink, and the ghost of a momentary smile, then continued by and disappeared down the road.

“Do you know her?” Grace asked.

“She’s the one who is teaching me how to use weapons at the armory,” Grange answered.

“That figures,” Grace snorted.  “You become the favorite of the wizard just because you play music, then you start seeing the energy of the Flame after just one day, and now you’re pals with the palace guards.  Some people live the lives of the lucky,” she said in disgust.

Grange started to reply with a heated denial, but stopped.  He didn’t think growing up as a pickpocket from an orphanage, or working as a slave laborer in a prison camp counted as the life of the lucky, but he knew that Grace knew none of that.  Only Garrel knew most of what had happened in Grange’s life.

They went in the opposite direction from the princely retinue, and within fifteen minutes they were at the plaza where the other members of Guy’s musical group was already atop a low stage, preparing to play their instruments.  Grange walked Grace through the gathering crowd, and up to the stage.

“You can sit here by the stage and watch,” Grange suggested to Grace, a few minutes after introducing the girl to Guy and the band members. 

“She’s a singer,” he had told them at that time, and found their response to be unenthusiastic.

“We have at least one person tell us at every job that they could sing for us,” Guy said in an aside to Grange, as they turned away from Grace.

              “I wasn’t going to ask to let her sing,” Grange protested.

“If things get slow at the end of the last set, maybe we can let her sing along,” Guy suggested, “if you think it’ll get you in her good graces ,” he believed he was doing Grange a favor.

Grange shrugged, decided not to make a pun, then went back to Grace to point out the stage-side spot for her.

“May I dance if someone asks me?” she asked sourly, unhappy with being given direction.

“Perhaps,” Grange tried to hold a straight face, but broke into a smile as the girl scowled at him. “Of course.”

He began to tune up with the others, and just minutes later, they broke into song.

Grange watched Grace as much as he could, without her noticing his observations.  She smiled and tapped her foot to the rhythm, quietly singing along with some songs.  She left to get a glass of wine from a vendor, and drank that until a boy from the festival crowd asked her to dance.  She looked up at Grange and stuck her tongue out at him, then stood and danced with her inviter.

She sat again, but then danced with another boy soon after.  She appeared ready to accept a third invitation, as Grange watched, when Guy tapped his foot on Grange’s to gain the flute player’s attention, then nodded his head off to the side.

Grange saw a brightly-dressed party standing to the side, observing the street carnival’s joyous festivities.  “That’s the prince, from the palace,” Guy spoke softly.  “We’ll have to play a flourish to welcome him as soon as this song is finished.”

The song was in its first stanza, but Guy gave the signal to wind it up, much to the surprise of those on the dance floor.  He then began the first notes of the royal flourish; the other band members knew the tune, while Grange stood with his instrument ready, pretending to know the pattern of notes that he wasn’t familiar with.

The audience turned and bowed in the direction of the prince’s party as the flourish revealed his presence.  With his arrival announced, the prince and the other nobles and guards broke out of their cloistered corner of the square and began to walk about, visiting vendors to purchase food and drink.  Grange saw Brielle, and the guard’s eyes widened when the musician on the stage waved at her, then she waved back, before resuming her examination of the crowd.

“Stay alert,” Guy said to Grange, as the group prepared to take a break between sets.

“Why?” Grange asked.

“The man to the left of the prince,” Guy indicated a nobleman wearing a garish green and yellow set of robes, “was accused of riding his horse through the city streets while he was drunk last month, and he galloped through a group of children playing in the street.  The horse killed two of the children, and the man didn’t stop or show any remorse.

“The regular folks of the city are pretty upset with him, and with all the ale and wine and cider folks are drinking, something could happen,” Guy explained.

Grace was still on the dance floor, speaking to the boy she had danced with.  Grange placed his flute on the stage, then hopped down and approached her.  As he did, the prince and his friend in the green robes, attended by Brielle and another guard, also began to walk across the open dance floor towards Grace.

“Dirty scum,” an anonymous voice called from the crowd.

A ceramic mug of ale flew through the air, and struck one of Brielle’s fellow guards in the shoulder.

Grace looked up from her conversation with her dancing partner, while Grange paused in his approach, uncertain about what to do.

“Who did that?” the guard who had been struck by the mug asked angrily.

“That’s nothing compared to killing young children!” a voice answered, and there were mutterings throughout the crowd.  Brielle stepped in close to the prince, her hand on the hilt of her sword while her eyes roved over the crowd, and she said something in a low voice.

The prince listened, then shook his head negatively.  Grange looked around, and saw that the other guards were doing two things: some were escorting their noble guests back to their carriages, while others were moving in closer to the prince and his friend.  The vendors were starting to close up their stands; Grange knew from his days in Fortune that the vendors’ action indicated they thought trouble was coming.

Even Guy’s musicians were trying to unobtrusively pack their instruments away.

Grange walked quickly over to Grace, arriving seconds ahead of the prince and the others.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said urgently to Grace, placing his hand on her shoulder.

“Take your hand off of her,” said her dancing partner, oblivious to the drama around them as he focused on Grace.

Just then a stone was thrown by someone in the crowd; it missed its intended target and struck Grace’s partner in the head, knocking him to the ground.

Grace looked outraged.  She shook off Grange’s grip, then pulled her wand free from her blouse.

“There’s trouble here; we need to leave,” Grange told her.

She looked around finally realizing that the prince was standing almost next to her, and she gave a small curtsey.   As she did, a splattering of bread and mustard rained on the group.

“Outrageous!” the prince’s friend roared.  “Guards, seize them!”

“We’re here to protect his highness,” Brielle replied.  “Your highness, we need to leave right away,” she urged.  “The others in your party are back in the carriages, on their way to safety.”

“We shall leave; this was ill-advised,” the prince replied.  “Take the lead, guards,” he said, with a nod to Brielle.

Two other guards had joined the group in the middle of the open dance floor, as Grace started to kneel to tend to the injured boy she had danced with.

“Get up and let’s go,” Grange hissed as he bent down by her.

“I’m not going to leave him to be further hurt,” she replied vehemently, as Brielle and the others started to move the prince and his friend away.

“He won’t be hurt,” Grange answered.  “These people don’t care about him; they want to get their hands on the prince’s friend.  He rode his horse and killed some children around here recently.  The mob will ignore everyone else.”

A shower of objects suddenly began to fly through the air, and then the crowd around the dance area seemed to turn into a packed mob, as people surged forward.

Brielle gave a shout, and Grange saw that the Prince had been struck by some flying object.  He was crouched over, holding his head.

Grange pulled his sword free.  “Bring your friend if he can walk,” he urged Grace, who was helping the boy to sit up.  Grange reached over with his free hand and grabbed the collar of the man’s shirt, then lifted him to his unsteady feet.  The three of them moved over to where Brielle and the others formed a square around the prince and his friend.  Grange pushed Grace and the dancer into the middle, then took a position in the protective guard group, holding his sword ready for action.