A Snoop Without Magic, page 31
Sam nodded. “Indeed we were.”
“I can manage that for a dinner where we can catch up. Is that acceptable?”
Sam grinned, but then shed it. Effian didn’t grin. “I am an arrogant, not-so-nice person.”
“That shouldn’t be too hard for you,” Norna said.
Sam smirked. “Of course not.
She returned smirk with a smile. “Good luck.”
“And good luck to you,” Sam said.
“Effian,” Kened called.
Sam made his way to the sword master. “A girl from Polistia. We trained together at Tolloy. Now she knows me as Effian Walk, I hope.”
“Is she any good?” Kened asked, looking back at her.
“Good, but not great. I can beat her nine out of ten.”
Ian piped up. “Why not ten out of ten?”
“I slipped on the tenth point,” Sam said, smirking. He stepped up on the platform. “Let’s give the paying crowd their money’s worth.”
“Why not? Is there a healer around?” Ian said, turning his head back and forth, playing like he was searching.
“You are wasting time.” Kened held a whistle to his lips and blew.
Sam and Ian faced each other as if this was a real match. Ian used an opening he hadn’t before. Why would he waste it on a sparring round? Sam easily defeated it, and then he knew why. Ian was right in thinking it wouldn’t work on Sam.
Their sword work increased in speed. Sam’s focus zeroed in on Ian’s body and Ian’s sword, which was an extension of that body. Sam scored a point, and they broke off when Kened blew his whistle again.
“Save that stuff for the tournament gentlemen,” Kened said. “I couldn’t keep up with either of you. Perform like that, and you will face each other in the final.”
“That is my intent,” Ian said. “Now that they know we’ve trained together, make sure you put us in different brackets.”
“I can do that,” Kened said. “Second round.”
Sam looked around the arena. Most eyes were on their platform, and he could hear the buzz of the crowd. He shut that out and faced Ian again. The second touch went to Ian in a flurry of flashing steel lasting less than fifteen seconds.
“Maintain your focus, Effian,” Ian said. “That is the only thing good that these arena practices are for, and that is practicing blocking out the crowd. The Trials are much louder.”
Sam had to agree, and he acknowledged the advice from Ian.
“Third round, and then we will go through the mistakes,” Kened said.
The whistle blew, and Sam kept his composure and barely stopped from puncturing Ian. He withdrew, giving Ian a chance to make the third touch.
“That round was yours, Effian.” Ian bowed in gratitude. “I really would have needed a healer if you had followed through. In a match, you would have lost, even though you got the moral win.”
Sam rubbed his upper arm and looked at his bloody hand. Ian could have slashed deeper on that last touch. He pursed his lips to keep from smiling. He felt good about the sparring session.
Kened bounced up on the platform and went over issues both had. Before Kened had paid all his attention to Sam, but now the swordmaster worked with Sam and Ian. That seemed fair, and Sam found he was learning more about Ian’s tiny breakdowns, as well as his own.
~
The rest of the day was free. Sam was sure some competitors practiced outside the arena on the half-day when another group of duelists took over the venue. Kened told him to rest.
“You are home for the rest of the day?” Stefen said when Sam walked in the door.
“Time for a diversion. I’m going to make some jewelry for Antina. Do you want to help?”
Stefen’s shoulders slumped. “Again? You’ve made more than fifty pieces.”
“And Antina has been busy scrounging up more raw materials,” Sam said. “Another fifty, and she will have enough to introduce the stuff after the Trials.”
They went to work. Sam had discovered that Stefen had a creative mind and came up with designs that Sam would have never imagined. Antina made the journey from her shop and helped guide Sam’s work for a few more pieces.
“You are so fast, my boy, that I have enough for now. If I need a special piece, I will let you know,” she said. “Are you tired?”
“Not with these small pieces,” Sam said. “Bulk pollen tires me out as well as wards. Wards are the worst.”
“I may have you do a few unique articles, since I plan to have a few customers wear your designs to a few after-Trials parties. The excitement from all the dueling and bloodshed will be over, and the ladies can concentrate on other things…my things.” She laughed and squeezed Sam’s hand. “You are so good to me.”
“I try, Auntie Antina,” Sam said.
That made the woman laugh. “That is good enough for me.” She patted Sam on the cheek. “I must be off.”
“I will help you summon a carriage,” Stefen said.
Sam sat back, exhausted. He didn’t tell her that the fine work did take a toll, but now that they were done, he could rest for a bit.
A few hours later, Dickey Nail showed up.
“A few minutes of your time, Effian Walk,” he said in the foyer.
“Come through to the sitting room. I assume you know the way?”
Dickey gave Sam a gentle kick in the rear.
“Hey!” Sam objected.
“We aren’t in a crowd, so be your humble self.”
Sam recognized Dickey’s playful moods, and this was one.
They sat. Stefen served a goblet of wine to Dickey. Sam begged off.
“What are you going to do after the Trials?”
“If I’m not dead?”
Dickey nodded. “If you and I aren’t dead.”
“I want to be what you are, a consulting snoop.”
“It isn’t a full-time job, you know, consulting.”
Sam nodded. “I have a side business with Antina.”
“The jewelry? That isn’t going to satisfy you, is it?”
Sam shook his head. “No, but she doesn’t want to flood Baskin with the stuff, so it will be very part-time. I have my dueling to continue.”
“I agree that you shouldn’t allow your talent to go to waste, but you’ll only want to do that for a few years.”
Sam took a deep breath. “My last enterprise was an idea I had hatched with Hander Pot, so that won’t work.”
“What was that?”
“I was going to buy an interest in Red Marine Shipping and use my Polistian contacts to become an importer/exporter. Winnie wants to run the business. I would fund it and get things going.”
“A partnership with Winnie Bentwick?”
Sam could feel a blush coming on. “Yes. A business partnership.”
Dickey smiled. “I suppose all that is enough to keep a growing boy busy.” He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, and that made Sam uncomfortable. “When everything is done, and things get back to normal, whatever that will be, I thought we would make a great team. I miss the snooping, but I found if I do too much of it, the constabulary snoops get a little touchy.”
Sam really liked the idea. “What if Harrison wants you in his government?”
“I am comfortable with saying no. My talents aren’t in administration or war. They aren’t in the law, either. I’m a damn good snoop, and with your pollen sense, we can do enough snooping to enjoy life. I have more money than I will ever need through what Keet and I have.”
“I would like to do that, especially if I can do the other things. I don’t think I will have to worry about my financial situation,” Sam said, still thinking of his letter of credit.
“Then it is settled. A couple of idle wastrels embarking on a new enterprise. Shall we shake on it?”
Sam shook his head. “No need until after the Trials. I would like a bit of paperwork to document any kind of agreement. Remember my notebooks? I still use them.”
“Sure,” Dickey said, sipping his wine. “I didn’t know if I should make an offer, but after you solved the Vane murders in a flash, I knew you hadn’t forgotten anything I taught you, and that you had learned a lot more. You won’t renege on our informal agreement?”
Sam grinned. “No, sir, Captain Nail.”
“No senior-junior stuff between us,” Dickey said. “I’ve already given you something that will likely distract your training, but there it is. Keet is waiting for me at home. One more thing, I wouldn’t give up on the import-export business.”
He left as quickly as he had come. Sam sat back down in the sitting room. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. The way he thought of it, a consulting snoop business might take considerably more time than Dickey thought. Sam had visions of a consultancy with an international reach. He laughed and tucked the happy thought back in his mind.
He went up to his room and pulled out his Lashakan sword from underneath a false bottom in a wardrobe that Stefen had found. He practiced the rest of the day using Lashakan forms, weaving them into everything else he had learned. Ian would give him a few surprises when they met in the finals. Sam was sure he would have some of his own to show his favorite opponent.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
~
“T his is the last one,” Stefen said for the umpteenth time.
Sam shook his head. “I should follow Ian’s path and not attend these things.”
“Next year will be quite different,” Stefen said. “But you are still playing the part of Effian Walk. One more.”
Sam sat down and pulled on his boots. This was the most formal event yet, a royal ball, but Kened told him it was doubtful the king would show up. The only other royal gathering had been the banquet held on the night Lord and Lady Vane were murdered by Hander Pot.
“I will be wearing armor tonight,” Sam said. “Is that acceptable?”
“Swords will not be permitted in the palace,” Stefen said.
“Pollen swords made on the spot can kill a man.”
“And yours are the best,” Stefen said.
Sam could tell the man was trying to encourage him. The Trials would begin the next day, and when he should have been at home meditating and reviewing the notes that Kened had made, together with the ones he had written, he had to rub elbows with the very people he hoped would no longer run Toraltia.
Sam wore two silk undershirts to protect the thin armor he would create under his formal attire every hour if he could. If anyone was to stop Effian Walk, tonight was the best chance. Stefen thought the chances were slim that anyone would try something, but Sam could feel the tensions rising during practice at the arena. It reminded him of the Open Tournament in Tolloy. He wouldn’t walk out this time.
“The carriage is here. You are much too wound up, sir,” Stefen said. “Please try to relax. Effian Walk would be able to handle it.”
Effian Walk, Sam thought. He knew Stefen was right. He lifted his chin and pulled down the front of his black silk vest. “Lead on, servant,” he said.
“That is better, Sam,” Stefen said.
They rode in silence to the palace. At least there wasn’t rain this time, Sam thought as he walked with others through the courtyard. Everyone was in silk dresses or silk court clothes. Sam had chosen to wear all black, and Stefen had concurred.
Sam saw that quite a few competitors had the same idea, and that would mean no one would be able to point him out by the color of his clothes. The feeling of something bad happening nearly overwhelmed him. Stefen brushed off Sam’s shoulders before he left him to ascend the stairs to the palace.
The ballroom, once filled with tables for the banquet, was now filled with people. Sam confirmed that at least twelve competitors wore black. He wondered what he should do besides stand by the refreshments table all night. He smiled when he decided to number each one of the men in the order of how good he thought they were. The trick was that they were spread out in the ballroom, but Sam had memorized faces and names for the Trials to match the notes he had accumulated for every competitor.
He actually had fun placing an invisible pollen number for each duelist on their back. Nobles stopped him from time to time to get his opinion on other competitors. Sam always cut the conversations short. Such a thing was beneath Effian Walk, of course. He had succeeded all too soon and found himself hovering around the refreshments table, anyway.
Norna Hawkal approached him. “Would you like to try dancing, Effian Walk?” she asked. She looked surprisingly feminine wearing a proper gown with hairpieces softening her chopped up hairstyle.
“I thought Tolloy was creepy,” Norna said once they got out on the dance floor. “I’ll be leaving Toraltia the minute I am washed out of the Trials,” she said. “At least I will be able to say I once competed. It won’t matter where I place.” She smiled. “What about you? Are you going for the win?”
“I’m capable enough. I’ve trained as hard or harder than Professor Grott made us. I can only hope there aren’t any tricks like there were at the Open Tournament.”
Norna laughed. “That I didn’t see, but I heard about it. That was the turning point, I think. Someone actually stood up to Kreb and his stooges. I know when I left Trakata that few knew your name, but everyone knew that a duelist had defied Viktar Kreb.”
“I did more than that,” Sam said. “I killed him with a ward attached to a crossbow bolt.”
Norna’s eyes grew. “He died in battle, but you?” She stopped dancing.
“He was going to have me killed. He gave Glory Wheeler a sword and me an empty crossbow to fight in the middle of battle. His mean streak kept him from paying attention to the fight. I spelled a warded crossbow bolt into the weapon and fired when everyone was finally distracted by a shift in the battle.”
“Effian, if I didn’t know you so well, I would have thought you were lying. Glory Wheeler. She was the Toraltian warder, wasn’t she?”
Sam nodded. “We traveled to Holding together.” Sam shook his head. “She has Emmy, but I don’t know where she is.”
Effian Walk doesn’t have a girlfriend, does he?” Norna asked.
“An interest,” Sam said.
“Not me? Am I too old for you?”
“My interest is probably as old as you. I’ve known her for a lot longer, and she isn’t Glory Wheeler,” Sam said.
The music stopped. “Let’s get together when neither of us is competing on the first day,” Norna said. “A little talk about old times will be enough to think about when I travel back to Trakata.”
“I will look forward to it, fellow Polistian.”
Norna appeared confused but then smiled brightly. “Yes, indeed, Effian Walk.”
Sam bowed and found another refreshment table he hadn’t frequented yet.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Lord Instep said. Two other men accompanied him.
“Not really,” Sam said. “I did find a Polistian competitor who trained with me in Tolloy. We could only stand each other for one dance. I am more than eager to begin the Trials tomorrow.”
“I see you are wearing black tonight,” Instep said.
“Black is a good dueling color. You can’t see the blood,” Sam said.
One of the men recoiled in horror.
“It’s true,” Sam said to him. “In a duel, a referee sometimes misses a touch, but if blood is spotted, it might be called. With black, a touch might be overlooked, you see.”
The man relaxed. “A duelist trick.”
Sam nodded. “Tricks abound; some are legal and others less so,” he said. His comment was meant to have a double meaning, but it looked like it was lost on Lord Instep.
“You are indeed a seasoned duelist. I was told you were someone else, but you proved him wrong. I am speaking of Hander Pot.”
“Hander Pot?” Sam said.
“Have you seen him recently?”
Sam shook his head. “Sometime before the banquet, perhaps at a party. I was surprised to see him in Baskin. I thought certain lords were banished from the capital.”
“You did?” one of the men asked.
“I think it is common knowledge for anyone who travels Toraltia as I did during the tournament tour. I heard rumors of banished nobles just about everywhere I went,” Sam said. He hadn’t, but it might help confuse the Court of Nobles.
“They are false rumors, Master Walk,” Instep said. “They are false, even if Hander Pot told them to you.”
Sam raised his eyebrows to show his nonchalance. “It doesn’t matter to me how you manage nobles. I have seen worse in Vaarek.”
“And what did you see in Vaarek?”
“Foreign businesses shutting down, citizen rights curtailed, the continual tightening of the dictator’s grip. The tax situation was a bit better though. Viktar Kreb wasn’t as interested in increasing taxes as much as decreasing personal freedom.”
Lord Instep came closer. “Watch your tongue, boy. It might be difficult to blather such nonsense if someone cuts it out.”
The venom in Lord Instep’s voice took Sam back. “I will remember your words, Lord Instep.”
The man changed his mood. “Good luck in the Trials, and take care of that tongue.”
“I will, my lord.”
Sam watched the snake slither away with his two toadies. If they were fellow Court members, Toraltia had already tipped into a dictatorship with Instep taking Viktar Kreb’s role. The big difference was that Sam was certain Kreb was a competent, but misguided, dictator. Instep was a thug, no different from the criminals in Port Pundia where Sam had fought the College of the Cathartics.
“The King of Toraltia has arrived!”
Sam saw the king shuffle into the ballroom not far from where he stood. The man paused and looked at him, but then moved on. He stopped a few paces away.
Sam looked at the king’s back as the short man said some words about bravery and valor and representing Toraltia tomorrow. Sam caught movement a few rows away from the king. Someone shouted.
A man in black raised a pollen sword to strike down the king. Sam would have none of that. He dropped a pollen helmet and armor over the king, making the little man sway under the weight. He created a pollen sword of his own. His pollen armor was fresh when he stepped in front of the king a moment too late. The sword careened off the helmet Sam had placed on the king.
