The Dragonprince's Heir (8 page)

"You want me to stay?"

He nodded, grave. "For your mother's sake."

I shook my head. "I can't."

"I know you're looking forward the comforts of the City—"

"It's not that at all," I said. "I can't let her go off alone. She's already lost so much."

"Trust me, Taryn. You will only cost her more if you come along."

I looked away and sighed. "Did she ask you...."

For a long time, he didn't answer at all. When he did, it was with great reluctance. "No. No, she insisted I bring you to her."

"And you disobey?"

"I do indeed. For only the second time in fifteen years. Consider that carefully before you reject my suggestion."

I squared my shoulders and met his eyes. "I'm sorry. I have to go with her."

He glowered down at me, but when I defied his stare, he heaved a huge sigh. "Very well. Then I shall disobey her one time more."

"What?"

Instead of answering me, he turned to Jen, the shadow at my back, and gave her a sharp nod. Jen passed him a long, wrapped bundle, and Caleb led me into the deep morning shadows at the very base of the tower.

"If you insist on leaving the Tower, you need to have this first," he said. "It's for the best that they are not around to see it."

"The king?" I asked.

"Yes. Him." He glanced over his shoulder toward the empty gate, then back to me. "And your mother."

"What? Why? What is it?"

He held it out, now. The bundle was long and slender, wrapped in dusty burlap. He folded back the top layer of cloth and my heart leaped into my throat. I saw dull steel. He slipped a hand under it and let the cloth fall away.

It was a sword. Tears stung my eyes. It had a scabbard of old, hardened leather. A smooth shell guard protected the short, wire-wrapped hilt. The whole thing was barely as long as my arm, but wide and curved. The blade must have been as wide as my palm at its midpoint. It looked heavy and fast and brutal.

Caleb stood still while I surveyed it. I could feel his eyes on me, but he made no sound. A moment before I asked, he slid the scabbard six inches down to show me the strangest blade I'd ever seen. It was braced with a spine as thick as my little finger and an unblemished grind folded down to the glint of a perfect edge. But the whole of it was a pale blond color, like no metal I had ever seen. I raised a hand toward it, entranced, then hesitated.

Caleb waited a moment longer, then slid the blade home in its scabbard and flipped it around to offer me the hilt. "Wear it well," he said. "It is yours."

I took it from him and gathered it against my chest. For a moment I stood hugging it close, not thinking at all. He waited.

At last I cleared my throat. "I, uh...I don't know how to use a sword."

"You know how to use a knife."

"Yes, but—"

"It is a simple weapon, but I will teach you what I can along the road. We should have some time once we are on the ships."

I met his eyes. "You never taught me how to use a sword."

He glared for a moment, but then he relented. He dropped a fist down by his hip and made a short, sharp punching motion. "Stab it into the stomach—or the kidneys, if you get an opportunity from behind." He wrenched his wrist in a tight, violent curl. "Then twist. Then pull it free and get clear."

My mouth was hanging open. My skin felt cold. He frowned down at me, and then he nodded once. "It's not a toy for dueling. It's a tool for killing. A tool you may well need before this journey's done."

Before I could answer, Jen shifted behind me and murmured, "The new guards are on patrol, sir."

Caleb nodded and gave me a look that silenced all objection. I hastened to buckle the scabbard on my belt. It hung light on my hip. I raised my eyes back to Caleb just as he shot a hand past my head and knotted a fist in the shirt at the back of my neck. A moment too late I remembered our charade.

He jerked me forward, and I barely kept my feet. He dragged me out of the shadows beneath the tower and into the bright sunlight that flooded the northern courtyard. Fifty paces away, Toman waited patiently with our four horses, ready to go. Halfway between us was a knot of soldiers in the uniform of the King's Guard. Their eyes widened at the sight of Caleb, then narrowed when they saw me in his ungentle grip.

He propelled me another two paces forward with a shove and followed close on my heels. I stumbled, caught myself, and faked a resentful glare back at him. Mostly faked. I turned back to the guards and showed them some wide-eyed fear, then hung my head and stomped toward the horses.

Caleb nodded once to the guards as we passed them. I heard their footsteps clatter away behind us. Caleb threw one glance back to check on them just as we arrived at the horses. Then he caught my eyes.

I tried to ask, "But why—"

But he cut me off with a tight shake of his head. The knights were already mounted. Caleb finished checking his horse's packs and swung himself up into the saddle. "Come!" he barked down at me. "We must ride."

Caleb set off while I was still scrambling for my own saddle. I chased after him, but every time I drew close he spurred his horse on. We were a mile outside the gate before I was able to settle into a pace beside him. Then I shouted, "Why?" over the thundering of the horses' hooves.

He glanced my way, then back to the road. The king's train had made better time than Caleb expected. There was not yet any sign of them ahead.

He shrugged one shoulder. "I told you. You may need to protect yourself on the way—"

"No," I said, "why did we hide this from Mother?"

He didn't turn, but I saw the muscles of his jaw clench while he considered his answer. Then he raised his chin. "She had no wish for you to learn the sword."

"No. You're lying." I looked down at the weapon on my belt. I slipped it three inches free with one thumb and considered the strange blade. It was almost white. Perfect, spine to edge. I looked closer and saw no seam between the blade and the hilt. Even the wire wrap seemed to fold itself unbroken into the smooth edge of the guard.

I had to blink away tears again. "No," I repeated. "Mother would not have kept this from me."

Caleb shrugged one shoulder.

I sent my horse closer and grabbed his shoulder. "You're lying! This was your doing.
You
wouldn't teach me the sword. You—"

He didn't deny it. He didn't even shake his head. He only looked at me. But that was enough.

I held his gaze for four galloping paces, then dropped my eyes. "You wouldn't teach me the sword," I said again.

"Your mother's orders."

My fingertips traced the fine threading on the hilt. "But...it's my father's sword."

"It's yours," Caleb said. "He made it for you. Before he left."

My breath escaped me in a long, quiet sigh. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to remember what he'd looked like. I couldn't. I never could. "Why?" I asked again.

Another four paces passed before he answered. "I don't know."

I opened my eyes to glare at him, but he was already looking my way.

He shook his head. "I don't know. I've asked her. She would not explain. Perhaps she can't."

I dropped my eyes back to the sword. I drew it out, felt the weight of it in my hand. I stared at the strange blade, and Caleb watched me. After a time I said, "What is it?"

He said, "Perfect."

I frowned. "No, I mean—"

"I know," he said. "It is nothing. It is magic. It is the essence of metal, not any real thing. Except...he would have called it real. He would have called it more real than anything we can dig from the dirt." He gave a little grunt and a little shrug. "It's perfect. Wear it well."

"I will." I slid the marvelous blade into the plain, sturdy scabbard, then turned my eyes north again. I squared my shoulders. "I will."

"Good," he said. "Now let us ride."

We caught up with the king's train just before midday. The king's army overflowed the wide, dirt road, spilling out into the barren countryside for half a mile to either side. There were carts and wagons, walkers and riders, armored soldiers and humble servants.

There were lanes among them, too. The king's men traveled in orderly formations that reminded me of the neat square blocks of the tower's south courtyard. The effect was strong enough that it felt like we were entering a dusty town when we passed between two of the formations and pressed toward the nobles' position at the front of the train.

Others moved along the lanes, too, slipping from one formation to the next. There were officers checking on their men, stragglers hurrying back to their places, idlers seeking out gossip with their companions. I chuckled at the strangeness of it—a whole bustling town drifting north across the plains at an impressive clip.

Caleb cast me a glare to silence me then urged his horse to a faster gait. I stuck with him, and we moved quickly up the artificial lane. But after a short way the formations changed. They became sharper, heavier, and the lanes emptied as we approached the main body of military men.

We reached the infantry first, and I could feel curious eyes upon me as we rode past their ranks. We passed the archers next, and I could hear mumbling and grumbling from the nearest as we went by. A mounted officer came away from the third formation of crossbowmen we passed and drifted in our direction. But about twenty paces away he must have recognized us, because he dipped his head in a nod and returned to his place.

Then I noticed a motion from Caleb and saw his hand closed tight around the hilt of the sword on his hip. I shot a glance back to the officer who had almost confronted us. Then I looked around again. We were deep in the heart of the army now. Even straining up in my stirrups, I could see nothing but uniforms in all directions.

Had he truly been prepared to do battle here? My heart beat harder. I looked to my companions for comfort, but Jen's eyes were narrowed and her own grip white-knuckled on her sword. Toman sat stiff in his saddle and refused to meet my gaze. Caleb only clucked to his horse, and we moved on ahead.

Beyond the archers were the cavalry, and as we approached the first row of their formations, a party of four horsemen—three soldiers and an officer, by the look of their uniforms—peeled off from the block on the right. An identical party came from the left. Three soldiers abreast fell into step ahead of us, and three behind us, and the officer from each formation moved up to ride beside us.

The one on the left was closer to Caleb. I noticed nothing about him; my eyes were fixed on Caleb's white-knuckled grip on his sword. I found my hand resting on mine, too. I consciously forced it away.

The officer on the left demanded, "What is your business?"

Caleb shifted his shoulders, but he did not turn his head. "I go to join my lady," he said. "She rides at the head of the train."

"The retinue is filled," the officer barked. "Go and ride with the porters."

He began to rein away, as though the conversation were done. Caleb shot out a hand, still without looking, and knotted his fist in the shirt at the officer's right shoulder. Caleb nearly pulled him from his saddle before the officer steered his horse closer again.

"You misunderstand," Caleb growled. "I am not under your command."

The officer shook his shoulder, and Caleb released his grip. "The command doesn't
come
from me." The officer's voice dripped malice.

Caleb finally turned his head. He moved slow as a thundercloud, slow as a stalking panther, and fixed his gaze on the officer's. I could hear his response clearly in my mind, "I am not under
his
command, either." I tensed against the outburst that would draw.

But Caleb said nothing. We rode in heavy silence for several paces, but I saw the officer pale under Caleb's gaze. The officer pulled away again, this time out of fear.

A voice from my right startled me. "Use your eyes, Pollix. It's the boy from the fortress! And their captain. These are the ones!" It was the other officer, the one from the formation on our right, and I almost turned to him. I stopped when I saw the expression on the first officer's face.

His eyes opened wide. His mouth set in a tight line, but small muscles twitched on his cheek and jaw. His hand fell to his sword. Behind me, I heard our three escorts draw their blades. Those three ahead of us whirled as one, stopping in their tracks, and bared their blades as well.

Caleb raised a fist and we stopped, too. I could not tear my eyes from the sharp weapons of the guards facing us. I reached across my body, scrabbling frantically at my new sword's hilt, but Caleb released his own to slap my hand away with a casual backhand.

He took one slow breath and let it out. I recognized the action from my training and forced myself to do the same, relaxing my shoulders and stilling my mind.

Caleb spoke with quiet, undisturbed authority. "What is the meaning of this?"

The officer on my right answered him. "A misunderstanding," he said. "Or perhaps a precaution." He spurred his horse forward, so he sat facing the four of us. His hands were nowhere near his weapons, but there was calm authority in his eyes. "You are Caleb Drake and Taryn Eliade, yes?"

Caleb's chin moved up a quarter inch. "Yes."

The officer nodded. "Yes. The king has given instruction concerning your party. He'll be relieved to know you've joined us but regrets to inform you there is no position for you among his retinue."

"But my mother is with them!" I shouted.

Caleb dropped a restraining hand on my arm without breaking the officer's gaze. "We are the personal retinue of Isabelle Eliade. Under invitation from the king."

"I understand. Yes." The officer gave a sympathetic frown, as careful and deliberate as his words. "But you see the contingent around us. There is a great journey ahead of us, and many bodies to coordinate. It is a delicate matter, and the king's retinue has no more accommodations for you."

"That suits me well enough," Caleb said. "We'll settle for a place among your tent."

"I regret that isn't possible, either."

Caleb shrugged. "Any of the cavalry camps will do. How about yours, Pollix?"