Nightlord: Shadows (68 page)

“But if you really want to do this right, you can stay for a couple of days while you work out the details. Unlike most other heroic acts, you can
plan
this one. Planning is important; you want to get the details right so you can put on a show, don’t you? Whatever you want, just say the word; the hospitality of Karvalen is at your disposal.”

“You’re a most accommodating creature of evil,” he noted. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“How many people have you seen around here?”

“Uh? Two, three hundred, maybe?”

“Do they know why you’re here?”

“Yes.”

“And what did they do?”

“They, um, welcomed me as a guest.” He looked sheepish. “Some of the young ladies already invited me to the king’s table for dinner.”

“You mean, they
didn’t
mob you, club you unconscious, bind you with chains, and drag you naked before the throne of their dark lord?”

“Huh.” The idea obviously never even occurred to him.

“You give that some thought,” I advised, and got up. “Tianna!” I called. “It’s getting toward dinnertime. Come in; we have to get ready.”

She bounced over to me and hugged me around the middle.

“Grandpa! I can play kickball! I’m good at it!”

“I’m sure you are,” I assured her, and picked her up. That seemed to tickle her; she was really past the age where you casually pick up a kid. I missed out on that stage, but I’m inhumanly strong.

“Tianna, this is Sir Sedrick, the Hero. Sir Sedrick, this is Tianna, my granddaughter.”

“I am pleased to meet you, Sir Sedrick,” she said, politely.

“It is my honor to make your acquaintance, your Highness.” Tianna giggled again.

“Am I a highness?” she asked me.

“Yes, indeed,” he assured her. “Your grandfather is King, and your mother is Princess.”

“Wow! I didn’t know that! Her Highness, Tianna!”

“Just remember, people should only call you that on formal occasions, not on the playground. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Sir Sedrick, I hope you join us as a guest at dinner. Until later, good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon…” he replied, looking very confused. Well, it’s hard to just haul out a sword and go to hacking on someone who’s holding his adorable granddaughter on one hip. It really isn’t a Hero-type thing.

Day still going well? Check.

Dinner was in the great hall. Someone had knocked together some rough-cut trestle tables—very rustic, I thought—and the kitchen was fully up and running. We were a bit short on some supplies; they only served watered wine, rather than wine, for example. But we had a lot of food already in the mountain, from bread to cheese to chicken—well, it tasted like chicken. We also had spits set up over the firepits in the great hall; people could carve off whatever they liked from a
dazhu
already divvied up among the spits.

The ceiling, polished brightly with gold leaf, made the firepits illuminate the whole room in a mellow glow; a few globes of light hovered in the corners and added a more steady illumination. I made a mental note to check with the mountain about whether or not we needed a spell to keep the ceiling from getting sooty. For all I know, it circulates gold over the soot and absorbs it. I don’t know how the mountain does half of what it does, really.

People gathered around the tables and enjoyed the meal while a series of musicians took turns playing. Nice acoustics in the great hall. The ceiling had an excellent curve for reflecting sound as well as light.

Tyma, the lady minstrel, and her father, Minaren, also took a turn. She sang and played the stringed thing that looked like a cross between a mandolin and a lute; they call it a
tranta
. He played a wind instrument that reminded me of the bagpipes. It was hard to tell he was blind; he got around quite well. The only clue was the way he put his hand on Tyma’s shoulder to follow her to and from the center of the hall.

The other instruments played themselves: a lap-harp, a lute, and a recorder.

I recognized my handiwork. When I enchanted the things, I put a portion of Linnaeus’ soul into them, making them
his
instruments, and, incidentally, giving them a sort of quasi-life of their own. They needed it in order to play music with him; making them merely animate without giving them the gift of music would have resulted in nothing but noise.

When I enchanted them, I wondered if they would continue to play for someone after Linnaeus died. They were a part of him, after all. They might have fallen silent and never given voice again.

I was strangely moved to discover that they still made music, and beautiful music, at that. Linnaeus might be the one who gave a bit of his soul to music, but I was responsible for making it possible. The result was beautiful, and I was justly proud of that.

Tyma, Minaren, and Linnaeus’ instruments played something about the time I challenged the King of Rats to a game of
vrai
—a sort of checkers-like game—to win back the children he had stolen from a village. I don’t recall that. I’m sure I would remember. I do remember how to play
vrai
, though, and I’ve never even seen a board.

Everyone else seemed to not notice. They treated songs about things that never happened and magical instruments that played themselves as normal things. They applauded enthusiastically when the pair—group?—finished. It seemed to me there was a theme to the music of the evening; everyone had something to play about
me
.

I kept repeating to myself that I’m the King, they’re going to do that sort of thing; smile and nod, smile and nod. It seemed the appropriate response. Nobody seemed put out of sorts, anyway.

Tianna was very well-behaved, considering. She was in her robes again and seated at my right hand, where I could keep an eye on her. Under the circumstances, I wasn’t on the throne—it’s not really a good seat in the first place, and it’s almost impossible as a place to eat. Instead, we had a lot of rough-cut benches to go with the rough-cut tables.

Someone—I’m thinking Tort—had an actual, full-size, heavy-duty chair brought up from Mochara for me. It held me easily. I suspect she had it built for the purpose. I leaned to my left, where Tort was seated, and muttered the question to her. She smiled and ate another bite, saying nothing but confirming everything.

Sir Sedrick didn’t know what to make of the place. He kept looking around as though expecting a roast baby to be served, or a human sacrifice brought before me in chains. Possibly even a sudden rush to grab him and drag him up to me for my dessert.

I already had a quiet word with my cadets to explain my Hero problem and what I wanted them to do. During the explanation, they started out irate at Sir Sedrick, but rapidly came around to vastly amused. I had to exact a promise from Kammen that he would
not
laugh, but do his best to actually help. He promised, but his huge grin gave me reservations about his ability. Seldar promised to step on his toes when needful. I get the feeling Seldar does that kind of thing a lot.

Poor Sir Sedrick. All through dinner, people came up to him and asked if he had a plan. Everyone offered him some advice or gave him their opinion. Nobody offered any criticism of his goal; if he wanted to try and kill the King, that was his business. And had he given any thought to what he was actually going to say? Something as momentous as this deserved some proper oratory. Maybe a minstrel could help compose a good speech, or even an epic poem? And do you have a banner? Banners look good. We could conjure a wind for you, to make sure it’s displayed properly. Would you like some retainers, temporarily? We can turn out in armor and stand there behind you to help you look impressive. Or, we could form an honor guard! You could march down a lane between us. Wouldn’t that look great?

Flabbergasted. That’s the word. He graciously equivocated, not accepting or refusing, but promised to consider all the offers. I felt sorry for him.

Tianna also got her share of attention. Quite a few people came up to the high table to bow and introduce themselves. She warmed up to the role of princess pretty well. I got the impression that most of the people present didn’t spend much time in Sparky’s temple. Tianna wasn’t sure what to do—well, I’m not an expert on etiquette, either. I have the advantage of being King; if I do it, it must be right. I encouraged her to greet people politely; I also told her not to worry about remembering them. They would introduce themselves again if need be. She seemed relieved. I’m not sure she’s met that many people in her life, much less at one dinner.

The dinner was marred by only one real incident. A young lady, serving at the tables, bumped into another one and spilled half a pitcher of watered wine down the back of a cadet’s neck. He yelped in surprise and turned, angrily, to strike her across the face with the back of his hand.

I stood up, drew my sword, and slapped the flat of it down on the table with a ringing
whack!
The music died a strangled death and everyone turned to me. I pointed my sword at the former cadet, a guy named Terrel.

“You! Come here. And you,” I added, to the girl, as she started to rise from where the blow had landed her. They both came up to the table. Terrel did the kneeling thing and rose; the girl curtseyed. I remained standing and looked down the length of my blade at him, keeping it pointed at his eyes.

“Tell me why you, who once hoped to be a knight in my service, struck a defenseless girl,” I ordered Terrel. He gulped and paled; his knees wobbled. He already knew he was in trouble; I think he realized then just how
much
trouble he was in.

“She, she, poured a pitcher of wine down my back, Your Majesty.” Oh, yes, he was nervous.

“Did you do this thing?” I asked her.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she said, stuck halfway between crying and screaming. “It was an accident! I swear it!”

“I know. Terrel, what damage has been done to you?”

“Eh? None, I suppose, Your Majesty.”

“Girl. Show me your cheek.” It was a lovely shade of crimson and was probably going to turn an even prettier shade of purple.

“Look at her, Terrel,” I told him. “There’s your handiwork for—what? Being wet? Do you think a blow like that is the right response to being damp? Do you think she’s
earned
that mark?”

When your angry-sounding King asks you a question like that, there’s only one right answer. Terrel wasn’t an idiot, so he gave it.

“No, Your Majesty,” he said, and hung his head.

“Very well. What is your name, girl?”

“Battae, Your Majesty,” she said, thoroughly scared.

“Battae, from now until sunset tomorrow, Terrel is at your service.” I eyed Terrel. “He will be
delighted
to help you with any and all of your duties, chores, or tasks. You will find him happy, even
eager
to be of service to you in all your daily doings. You have only to tell him what you are to do, and he will
spring
into action to assist you, starting
right now
with helping you serve all our guests.

“Isn’t that right, Terrel?”

Again, there was only one right answer.

“I am honored to be of service to the lady,” he replied, sounding incredibly sincere. I sheathed my sword and sat down.

“Go,” I told him, and he rose to offer Battae his arm, as though she were a noblewoman. I gestured at the musicians in the middle of the hall, and they resumed their performance.

“Grandpa?” Tianna asked, under the music.

“Hmm?”

“Why didn’t you hit him like he hit her?”

“I beg your pardon?” I asked, surprised.

“Wouldn’t that be fair?” she asked. “You’re an angel of justice, too, aren’t you?” The word she used was
arhela
. “That’s what I heard. Don’t you at least hit people who displease you?

“Well, sometimes, yes,” I admitted, “but hitting him won’t help Battae. Terrel has to… hmm. He’s the one who incurred a debt to her; he’s the one who has to pay it. He hit her, which cost her some small bit of life as she heals it. He should spend at least as much to make up for what he did.”

“I could just fix her cheek,” Tianna offered. “So could you.”

“I know. It’s about fifty-fifty that Battae or Terrel can do it, too. But fixing it isn’t what I had in mind. I want him to see that mark and remember what he did, all day, and why he’s being made to do things that he probably regards as beneath him. Maybe he’ll have a little more respect for people he thinks are below him, now; at the very least, he’ll treat them better. And it also shows everyone else who thinks they might be a knight, someday, that they need to be…” I paused, thinking, trying to find the word. “Gallant. Courteous. Even noble, in the sense of holding themselves to a higher moral standard.”

Tianna looked troubled.

“I don’t think I understand.”

“I want them all to be nice to people, unless the person
deserves
to be thrashed.”

“Oh!” she said. “Okay, I think I understand what you want.”

“That’ll do for now,” I assured her. I glanced at Sir Sedrick. The poor man was having a terrible time reconciling his mission with his observations. I returned to my dinner.

Tort let me get through another plate before she leaned close to get my attention.

“My angel?”

“Yes?”

“I am not certain why T’yl is not awake. To the best of my knowledge, he should be. When night falls, may I ask that you look in on him as your first order of business?”

“I’ll do that. Anything else of note going on?”

“I have looked at the mammoth shield you have erected,” she said, sounding more than a little impressed. “It is ingenious, as well as huge. It has also been the subject of many scrying attempts since it was erected. I believe it to be entirely efficacious, at least for now.”

“For now?” I repeated.

“When someone finally discovers the way it functions, it can be counteracted, eventually.”