The Apprentice (12 page)

“Rowan,
you can be sure that no woman has been strong enough to tie me down. And I
strongly doubt that any woman ever will. The path I walk does not involve
settling down and sharing a life with loved ones.” Baird was still laughing
over Rowan’s question, but when he continued speaking his tone was slightly
more serious and layered with affection. “The only person that has been
important to me is King Alden’s daughter, the Princess Eliza. I consider her
the daughter that I never had.”

There
was a pause before Baird continued.

“And
since I have decided to take on an apprentice, I suppose that would make you
the next most important person. And I probably ought to warn you, Eliza can be
a very jealous girl.” Baird laughed again. “I hope she doesn’t take any offense
that I’ll be returning with an apprentice this time.”

“Why
would that matter?” Rowan asked, picturing some little girl fuming over his
presence.

“Well,
Eliza can be a little hellion when she has a mind to, and I would rather not
have her making my life miserable, as only she can do. I am responsible for the
safety of the royal family, and I often act as her personal escort whenever I’m
in the capitol. Alden knows I dislike it when he makes me watch over her, but
he does it anyways just to annoy me, and because I am the only one with any
manner of control over the young princess.”

“That
sounds boring,” Rowan commented. “I thought you’d get to do more important
things.”

“I have
many different duties, and I perform them all. Some are more important than
others, and some are unknown to anyone but myself. Acting as an overseer for the
princess does sound boring,” Baird agreed, “and yet somehow Eliza always
manages to make things very interesting. And when I say interesting, I don’t
mean it in a good way.”

“From
the way you spoke about her earlier, I thought you would… I don’t know, like
her more. You don’t make it sound as though you enjoy her company very much.”

“Do not
get me wrong, I love that girl like a daughter,” Baird said. “I would give my
life for her. But just because I love her, that doesn’t mean that she can’t
annoy me. After all, can anyone truly enjoy the company of another person all
of the time? No, they can’t. The people that you are closest to are easily able
to annoy you.”

Rowan
thought about that for a moment and decided that Baird was right. Petar was the
person that Rowan was the closest to and even though they were both fairly mild
tempered, every once in a while one of them would get annoyed and they ended up
fighting. They had spent so much time together that at times it would almost
seem necessary to go off and do something alone or with other people. Rowan
remembered one instance where Petar had gone into town on his own and when
Rowan had decided to follow him and see what he was doing, Petar had angered
and they had a huge fight.

Thinking
of this, Rowan felt that he could understand and even empathize with the way
that Baird talked about Eliza and he decided that he wouldn’t judge his master
for trying to avoid her.

They
continued to talk throughout the day as they travelled. The ground was soft and
everything was wet from the rain. Every so often they ran into areas that were
too muddy to cross safely or where the rainwater had collected in large pools
that they had to make their way around.

Rowan
and Baird rode on at a slow pace. The storm had turned the terrain against them
and made it dangerous to ride quickly.

“Keep an
eye out for muddy ground or hidden rocks,” Baird said. “It is better to ride
cautiously than to risk losing one of the horses to injury.”

They
travelled slowly and by the end of the day they had gained little distance. The
light rain which had persisted throughout the day was gone by the time the sun
went down, but in its absence it left the air cold and moist.

Finding
a place to camp where the ground was not too wet proved to be nearly impossible.
There were puddles everywhere and the earth, having soaked up all of the
rainwater from the storm, had been reduced to mud. Unable to find a spot that
was dry, Baird managed to improvise and create a decent foundation that they
could sleep on. He found a lone tree, dead and battered by the storm, leaving
it very weak. Baird used his sword to hack off a number of thick branches,
which he then cut in half and laid together to create a solid area elevated
above the mud. It was by far the most uncomfortable thing that Rowan had ever
slept on. Even with the bedrolls, the logs were bad enough to make Rowan
consider moving to the ground and just dealing with the mud.

But
before he even got to lie down, Baird had thrown one of the sticks they used
for sparring at him.

“You
will get no rest yet,” Baird said. “We have to make up for the time we lost
during the storm.”

“Have
you been carrying these around with you the entire time we’ve been travelling?”
he asked. Thinking back, he had always wondered how Baird had managed to find
good sparring sticks. Then Rowan noticed that the sticks were still dry. “Why
did you not use these to have some sort of small fire last night?”

“These
would make for a very small fire,” Baird said. “Besides, even if we used them
for a fire, that would only keep you warm for a short while. The bruises I give
you will last longer than that, as will the lessons that such marks will teach.
I believe it’s quite obvious that our lessons in swordplay are much more
valuable to you.”

Rowan
knew Baird was right. He had known even before Baird's lecture that it was
ridiculous to think that burning two sticks would produce a fire able to
provide any semblance of warmth, but he hadn’t been able to contain himself.
Rowan muttered “I guess so” in order to keep Baird from lecturing him further.

He
stood, stripped off his shirt to keep it from soaking up sweat, and began the
sword dance. The dance helped to stretch his muscles and gave him a good
workout. He stumbled several times, but he was getting better at it. He could
make it almost all the way through the stances now. His movements were far from
perfect and he could not hold himself as balanced as Baird, nor could he move
as slowly through the motions without his body giving out on him, but he was
noticeably improving. Baird no longer had to watch his every movement as Rowan
could now catch his own mistakes.

Even
after travelling all day on foot, Baird had Rowan spar for twice as long as
they usually did. The mud was a constant enemy, sticking his feet to the ground
or causing him to slide and lose his footing. Despite this added inconvenience,
Rowan found that he was beginning to get used to the exercise and he didn’t
tire as quickly as he had when they first started. He was becoming quick enough
to keep up with Baird most of the time, dodging and blocking many of his
powerful attacks. Rowan was even becoming adept enough to land a blow every
once in a while. Twice he even came close to winning a bout, but Baird always
managed to reinforce his superior skill with a blade. Rowan had a sneaking
suspicion that Baird was holding himself back when he fought.

When
they had finished sparring for the night, Rowan was able to take some amount of
pleasure in the fact that he was not the only one who was going to be wearing a
new set of bruises the next day.

Chapter 11
                     
 

The days following the storm saw
the return of the sun, and Baird and Rowan travelled without their cloaks or
many of the thicker outer layers they had been wearing before, all of which
were now thoroughly soaked. As the sun began to dry out the ground, the pair
were able to make better time.

The days
passed without much event as they continued onwards. During the day they
travelled, alternating between long periods of silence and drawn out
conversations that helped to pass the time. At night they continued their
sparring sessions, which grew longer and more intense as Rowan became more and
more proficient. Baird began to insist on performing the sword dance more often
to strengthen Rowan’s muscles and improve his balance. He still maintained that
it was an art meant to be taken as slowly as possible, the movements steady and
sure. However, Rowan could see in the dance the forms and stances used for a
blade. It seemed wrong to learn to move between such stances slowly rather than
quickly, but Baird was insistent. His master also voiced his opinion that Rowan
would soon need to begin practicing with a true blade. He said that Rowan would
need a true blade once they reached Estoria, and he promised to take Rowan to
the blacksmith who had forged his own sword. Rowan could barely contain his
excitement and began forcing Baird to spar with him more often.

After
two weeks of travelling, they were still far from Estoria. Baird was annoyed
because they were forced to travel so slowly, and he began complaining often.
“We still have a long distance to go, and yet we cannot even travel all the way
to the capitol! We must stop on the way to again pick up more supplies.” Baird
knew that there was no way to hasten their pace or do anything about their lost
food, but it did not stop his complaints.

While
Baird grew irritable at their lack of speed, Rowan felt a knot of apprehension
and excitement beginning to grow in the pit of his stomach as they drew ever
closer to their destination. Barrinell was not the capitol, but it
was
a
new city for Rowan to experience and it would be their last stop before
Estoria.

It was
not until the beginning of their fourth week that they finally neared the city
of Barrinell. Baird was the first to spot the city. The plains had begun to
give way to a much more lush landscape with grassy hills and trees. The land
was more green than brown and they finally had a road to travel on.

They met
people along the way, but none seemed to take any interest in them. No one
stopped to converse with the pair of travelers, nor did they ask for news or
wish to know where they were headed or where they had come from. Rowan found
such behavior odd. People seemed to almost distance themselves from others met
on the road.

“It is
different here than in the North,” Baird explained. “The roads are well
travelled and it is common to meet others as you travel. People receive news
much more readily and they are less inclined to trust a stranger. Highwaymen
are uncommon this close to Estoria and Barrinell, but one can never be too
careful.”

They did
not see the city until it was less than a day’s distance away. Rowan had
thought Attica a large city, and to him it had been. But Barrinell was of an
even greater size. Rowan instantly grew excited upon seeing it. The city spread
out, covering the landscape. Buildings rose above the walls of the city and
even from a distance, Rowan could see that the streets were filled with people.
He remembered the press of the crowds from Attica and shuddered at the thought.
But the excitement of experiencing another city was greater than his distaste.

As they
approached the city, the road grew crowded, forcing Rowan and Baird to slow to
a walking pace. Here and there an idle cart forced people to clog the road as
they passed. Soon the press was thick enough that Baird and Rowan had to
dismount and lead the animals on foot.

As in
Attica, when they reached the city, they had to wait before being admitted by a
pair of guards. Once inside, Rowan found that the streets were not as full as
he had expected them to be. There was ample room to walk without pressing
shoulders with others. He still felt confined by being surrounded by so many,
but not to the point of being uncomfortable.

With
enough space on the streets, Baird had them remount and he took the lead.

“I know
this city well enough. There is an inn on the eastern edge of the city where I
have stayed before. We will head there.”

“Do you
mean to stay the night?” The thought of staying in an inn again was pleasant.
Rowan’s body had grown hard and stiff after so many nights spent sleeping in
the cold under the stars. A bed, if there was one, would be welcome. Even a
floor with makeshift bed of straw or blankets would be decent, though not
entirely preferable. Rowan still had some money from his father. He did not
know if it would be enough to buy him a bed, but if it was then he would make
sure that he slept well.

“While
we are in the city, there is some business that I wish to attend to. We will
spend the night here and leave with the rising sun once my business is complete
and our saddle bags carry enough food to see us to the capitol.”

Baird
led Rowan through the city streets. Barrinell was indeed a large city and its
streets were wide and filled with stalls and smells and sights and a myriad of
different peoples. They passed vendors crying their wares and carts laden with
food and grain. Smells of cooking and sounds of laughter and mirth came from
the common rooms of the inns that they passed. Rowan noted many different
signs, each with their own image to mark the inn from which they hung. In
alleys and plazas were performers looking to earn coin by juggling or jesting.
The tellers of tales and the musicians earned their coins in the inns, but
street performers offered a show that could excite a crowd and keep their
attention.

Twice
Rowan saw men that he assumed were city guards walking the streets, eyeing the
crowds with distaste. Baird had donned his cloak and pulled up his hood when he
first sighted a pair of them. Rowan wondered if his master wore his hood to
stave off the sun’s heat or to mask his face.

They
came to a small inn by the city’s edge called the Ten Penny Tavern. Out front,
they were met by a youth who stared at the pair of them with a furrowed brow.

“Stable
our horses. Make sure that they get fed and watered, and see that our
saddlebags are taken in.” Baird handed Shadow’s reins to the boy and pressed a
coin into the youth’s other hand, which made him move just a bit more quickly.
The boy shoved the coin into his pocket after biting into it to make sure it
was good. He then took Chourl’s reins from Rowan and led the horses to the back
of the inn.

They
found the common room only half full. Men sat at tables in groups of twos and
threes, but there were many unfilled seats. To one side, a man was playing a
lute and trying to give the commons some sense of atmosphere.

“Sir
Gawyn! You have returned.” A large man hurried across the room, bowing and
addressing Baird. Rowan looked to his master, wondering if the innkeeper had
forgotten or misremembered Baird’s name, but the knight seemed ready to answer
to it.

“I was
not expecting you back. It has been months since you last stayed here and I did
not expect you to return so soon. Most often it is at least a year between your
stays.”

“I have
business in the city, Horst. I trust that you have a room available for the
night?”

“Of
course, of course. There is always a room at my inn free for your use, Sir
Gawyn.” The innkeeper bowed as far down as his girth would allow. “Forgive me
for asking, but the boy, he is with you?”

“He is.”

“Then
you will be needing two beds. Would you prefer two rooms as well? I know how
you value your privacy.”

“A
single room will suffice.”

“Of
course. As you wish it. Should you change your mind, you will let me know and I
will have a separate room ready before you can even ask.” Horst flashed a
toothy grin and then bowed deeply.

“Come,
come. Allow me to serve you a drink. You look in need of a good wine.”

The
innkeeper tried to herd Baird towards the bar, but Baird stayed put. “Thank
you, Horst. But the wine will have to wait. Tonight, perhaps. By then I may be
feeling better and my business will be done. For now, I wish to have my room.
And I think that the both of us will be needing a bath.”

“Yes, of
course. Forgive me. You are weary from your days of travel. It is only natural
that you wish to be clean and rest. Later, perhaps, I will give you some of my
finest wine. I am sure that you will be pleased.”

“I will
trust in your judgment, Horst.”

Horst
showed them to their room, bowing all the while. He gave Rowan the occasional
glance but otherwise ignored him, focusing all of his attention on Baird. The
innkeeper promised to have hot water sent up as quickly as it could be heated
and then he left them to themselves.

The room
was much larger than their room in Attica had been, and it was well kept. Rowan
was glad to see two separate beds against opposite walls. It had been so long
since he had slept in a bed that it now seemed a luxury.

“Why does
he call you Sir Gawyn?” Rowan asked when they were alone.

“It is
the name that I have given him in the past. I do not like to give my true name
to strangers. It makes it harder to be found or followed.”

“You are
distinct. I think anyone given your description would be able to match you to
your name.”

“So it
would seem. But you would be surprised what a false name can hide. Add to that
an accent and a hooded face and it becomes very hard to identify me. I may be
noticed, but I will not be recognized.”

“You
care that much about hiding who you are?”

“Sometimes.
You have seen what can follow me. You ought to understand the danger.”

The same
boy who had taken their horses soon came bearing their saddlebags, along with a
second youth who brought hot water. It took the two boys several trips before
they had filled the tubs that were brought, but the water they carried was
steaming hot as though it had just been boiled. When the last trip was made,
the two left. The wash tubs were filled with water that was hot enough to sting
the skin.

Rowan
stripped down to his smallclothes and quickly set about rinsing himself with
the warm water, scrubbing away the dirt from weeks of travel. It felt great to
be clean again. When he was done, he set about rinsing and washing his clothes,
all of which had accumulated a layer of grime as thick as what he had worn on
his body. It was over an hour gone when he was done and by then the water was
no longer warm.

“Let us
eat and then we shall go and buy our supplies.”

Rowan
finished pulling the driest of his shirts on before nodding his agreement. The
cloth was still a bit damp, but it would dry within an hour.

The two
of them went to the common room, where Horst quickly approached Baird and asked
if there was anything that he needed.

“We are
looking to take our lunch here before we go about our business for the day.”

“Of
course. It is only natural that you are hungry after your travels. Do you have
a thirst as well?”

“Yes,
but not for anything too heavy. Perhaps a nice cider or a sweet wine.”

“As you
wish. I will have food and drink for you soon. And for the young sir as well?”

“Yes. He
will eat as I do.”

Rowan
could see Horst glance at him quickly, flashing a mixed look of confusion and
annoyance. “Of course. Please enjoy yourselves as you wait, and let me know of
anything that you require.” Horst bowed and retreated to the kitchen.

Baird
chuckled. “He does not know what to think of you. You dress as a commoner but
you follow me and I treat you as almost equal. I think it frustrates him and so
he avoids addressing you directly, preferring to interact with you through me.”

“Why
does he care? I am obviously not a lord and I have no riches. We are only
staying for a single night. I don’t see why he should care who I am.”

“It is
all part of a game. Knowing someone with power, money, or influence, or someone
who may gain such things, is of great use. Making one’s self useful to
important people, becoming an asset, is a good way to increase one’s social
standing. The nobles have made a game of it, and many below them try to play as
well, serving as a foundation for those above. Like a game of stones, only the
pieces are people and it is never clear who the players are.”

“Sounds
bothersome,” Rowan said. He was the second son of a farmer from the Vale. He
may travel with Baird and he may be the knight’s apprentice, but he did not see
himself as a person of great influence or importance. To have someone think
that he might someday become such a person was odd. He looked around, imagining
how the innkeeper saw all of the people who came here. What did he use to judge
who was important or who might become important? All it would take is some
dirt, a few days without bathing, and a hooded cloak to hide even a great lord
among all the others. All it would take is a random twist of fate to make a
commoner into a knight’s apprentice. Who could be bothered to try and predict
the path that fate would take?