The Bastard, page 13
“Yes,” I said. “It was.”
“And there’s still Rolf. And the other one, what was his name?”
“Durstan.”
“There’s still Rolf and Durstan to go.”
“That’s right.”
“So, what are you going to do to make it easier with them? To make it more of a sure thing?”
It was a good question. I smiled. “Funny you should ask,” I said.
She caught the humor in my voice and realized I’d already followed this line of thought and reached its logical end.
Her expression wavered between disbelief and mock horror, and for the second time, it looked like she wanted to hit me with one of her pillows.
“You want me to help you,” she murmured. Then she did it. She grabbed a pillow and hit me with it, albeit gently on account of my injuries. “You absolute monster! You had this in mind all along!”
I laughed out loud even though it hurt my ribs. I was caught, and both of us knew it. I did my best to fend off her pillow, laughing all the while, as her attacks kept coming.
30
It turned out that enchanting my sword to make me the greatest swordsman alive wasn’t an option. Meghan had heard of spells that could do such work, but from her understanding, the only living enchanter who could work such a spell had been closeted away by the King for decades.
It was disappointing to hear, but Meghan had other ideas.
We had climbed back into our clothes, and Meghan was showing me the part of her cottage where she stored her potions and powders and such. I’d seen it before, but this was the first time she’d taken me through it.
“This powder,” she said, “makes a person immune to pain, and I use it sometimes when I have to operate. But it also disorients a person and makes them nauseous. So I normally use it with other powders and potion to take that nausea away.”
She smiled at me. “It works almost instantly.”
I understood. Bryce had been focused and determined in his attack. But if he had been nauseous and disoriented, I likely could have ended the fight much more swiftly.
She handed me a few small, delicate packages out of her collection.
“Normally, I would open a package under the patient’s nose. You might have to get more creative. But I warn you, you don’t want to inhale it yourself, because it’ll work on you just as quickly as it would work on your opponent.”
It was an astonishing gift, an advantage in any fight. But Meghan acted as if it was nothing and moved on to a small glass of dark liquid.
“This one is the essence of bee venom. The slightest amount, when introduced to the bloodstream, will cause tremendous pain. It is viscous, and sticks to pretty much anything. I would advise coating the edge of your blades with it, to make even the slightest wound count.”
She expertly poured a small amount from the bottle into an empty vial and handed it to me. “Curiously, if someone is suffering from gout or arthritis, it can have the opposite effect, soothing the inflammation at the joints,” she added.
Another princely gift, and I gave her my genuine thanks. But she wasn’t finished. There was one more thing she wanted to show me.
On her shelves, in between bottles and powders, was a woven basket containing a few dozen wooden discs much like the two former amulets she had gifted to me. But these were far less ornate. If she had made them herself, then it was clear that she had put less effort into their production.
She handed one of them to me. “This is one that I use for my own protection. It contains an enchantment that can give you an advantage in any situation. Want to see how it works?”
But she didn’t give me time to respond. Instead, she snapped the wooden disk in two, and I once again saw a wisp of green magic emerge like a puff of Sir George’s smoke.
Then I saw nothing.
Nothing at all. The world had gone blank.
“I’ve gone blind,” I said, and couldn’t quite keep the anxiety out of my voice.
I heard Meghan laugh from right in front of me, then, seconds later, felt her pinch my behind. I spun about in the dark but didn’t know where she was, and she took me completely by surprise when she kissed me on the lips.
She pulled away before I could respond.
“What have you done?” I asked.
“Relax,” she said, sounding calm. “It only lasts for a short while.”
And she was right. Even as she spoke, the light was coming back to my eyes. I blinked, at first making out no more than shadows, and then, I could see normally once again.
Meghan was looking at me with a broad smile. “The range is limited. But the effects are absolute. Anyone within three or four paces of you when you activate the enchantment will be blind for a handful of seconds.” Her smile faded, and she studied me closely. “Do you think that might be of use?”
I did indeed. I nodded, and she asked how many I wanted.
“As many as you would care to give me,” I answered.
As she handed them over, I wondered what I could give her in return. I knew she had given me more than I could ever repay. Not just in terms of the powder, the bee poison, and the enchanted tokens, but in saving my life from the executioner, and more besides.
I could never hope to repay my debt to her but thought I might have something that would be a good start. I’d left the satchel I’d taken from Bryce next to the door when I’d come in. Coming to a quick decision, I returned to it, and for the first time since I’d taken it, and I opened it up.
It was filled to more than a third with coins. And in a city where coppers were the norm, silvers were rare, and gold but a dream for most, the satchel’s contents represented a fortune.
In the satchel, coppers were a rarity. Most was silver, with some gold thrown in for good measure. As much as I could hold in two hands without risk of a spill.
It was the single biggest score in my life, and I wondered just how much coin Rolf and his crew had been taking, and how much they were able to keep. Had this coin been destined for the King’s coffers or Rolf’s?
Either way, I had no doubt Rolf would have found plenty of ways to skim from the top. The Blackcoat was not only a powerful man in a position of authority, but he was wealthy as well.
For long moments, I stared at the glittering wealth. Then I moved to Meghan’s small table and emptied the contents onto it.
The enchantress had followed me out from her storage area. She stared at the pile of coin on her table for some moments, then turned back to me.
“What is this?” she asked.
“A gift. A thank you, if you like. For everything.”
She shook her head. “I can’t take this.”
“Yes, you can.”
But she still seemed uncertain. “What will I do with it?”
It was a good question. And I wasn’t exactly the right one to ask. For me, money was transient in nature. I either had it or not, and if I did, it would quickly be gone, spent on clothing, drink, the night in a more upmarket tavern than usual, or just given to others if they happened to need it.
I knew that if I kept the coin, I would simply fritter it away, and in a month it would be gone. It would be a fun month, but in the end, I would have little to show for it.
“Whatever you want,” I said.
She was still staring at the glittering pile. “There are some rare herbs I have been meaning to get. Medicines from a long way from here. Maybe I could do that,” she said.
I smiled at her, then decided that wasn’t enough. I reached for her and drew her close in an embrace.
“You could buy a silk dress,” I said. “Set up a shop in the city, if you desire. Or you could give it away. The choice is all yours.”
Even as I held her, she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the table. But finally, she did. She looked at me, gave me a kiss, then leaned back and smiled.
“Maybe I will do some of that. Or maybe I’ll just put some of it aside. I have a feeling there will be some time when it is needed.”
It sounded as if she meant I might need it, rather than herself. As if she knew something of my future that I didn’t.
I frowned in puzzlement, and might have asked what she meant, but her secretive smile had returned.
“Thank you, Mordie,” she said. “It is a wonderful gift.”
31
While recovering, I spent several days with Meghan, and the enchantress proved correct about my bruises. They were a sight to behold, turning a deep shade of purple and spreading over my left and right side as well as up and down both arms.
Yet the enchantress’ healing balm proved effective, taking away much of the pain and bringing me through the worst of it swiftly. By the fourth day after my fight with Bryce, I was starting to feel good once again.
Nor was I the only one. Sir George forgot about his injured leg more quickly than I did, and was back to his usual self very quickly.
During the entire time I was with her, Meghan stayed in her younger form, and I couldn’t have said if it was her medical expertise or simply her company that healed me the most.
I had known many women during my short life. I had loved tavern girls, chambermaids, bakers, seamstresses, and even a handful of noblewomen. They came and went much like the coins in my pouch, but by and large didn’t have much impact on my life.
Meghan was different. The thought of spending my life with any one of the others never crossed my mind, but with the enchantress… maybe I would be happy to do so.
Yet that sort of decision was a long way in my future. For now, and for the first time in my life, I had goals, and none of them could be accomplished by staying in the cottage. So when the fifth day dawned and my bruises were largely faded, I climbed into my clothes and got ready to leave.
Meghan watched me with an understanding expression.
“Shouldn’t have let you heal quite so fast,” she muttered, even though she was smiling.
It took real effort not to head straight back to bed, and in a very short time, the enchantress was seeing me off at the door.
She held me close for a moment before kissing me again on the lips. “Next time, come visit me when you don’t need my aid. Show this old lady that you want nothing more than to spend time with me.”
I promised I would, and once more made my way back into the town.
32
I made my rounds as I had done the last time, smiling and nodding to Rosylin, Cassandra, Ember, and the rest, but this time it took a little more effort than usual. Even as I chatted and bantered with a bevy of buxom barmaids, I knew I had left part of my heart in Meghan’s cozy little cottage.
A few of them noticed and asked me why the long face, at which point I smiled and said something innocuous and largely untrue.
“I was just thinking how long it’s been since you and I were together,” I said, grinning, and that was typically enough to earn me not only a laugh, but more often than not, a bed for the night.
And the information continued to flow. I learned both Durstan and Rolf’s habits without ever having to risk coming face to face with either of them. And with that information, I slowly put together a plan of how to take on Rolf’s big, prodigiously strong number one thug.
This time, it had to go more smoothly.
This time, I couldn’t risk taking on the huge man one-on-one. I kept practicing with my sword every single day and was becoming more familiar with the blade. And then, quite by chance, I learned of an old master who might be interested in taking on a student, and went to seek him out–only to learn it wasn’t a him, but a her.
The Lady Emmeline Hemonnet was a tall woman who stood straight and firm even though she was well into her seventh decade. She was stern of expression and elegantly dressed, and I met her in her own home, which was spacious and richly appointed.
Yet instead of a servant opening the door to let me in, it was the Lady herself, and I could tell at a glance that she no longer possessed the wealth she might once have had.
Yet that didn’t mean she was desperate. Lady Emmeline had once been the sword mistress for the King himself, and saw no reason to accept anyone who didn’t at least have the chance to be great with a blade.
Because of this, I was as nervous as a virgin boy before becoming a man when she invited me to stand in her parlor.
“Good posture,” she said as she looked me up and down. “Not too tall, or too short, but good proportions. Are you strong, what was your name, Mordie? Can you hold a sword fully extended in front of you for an entire day?”
It was an unexpected question. “I don’t know. I’ve never tried.”
She accepted my answer without comment and continued her inspection. “You’re very handsome,” she said, but before I could thank her for the compliment, I learned that she hadn’t meant it that way. “Pretty boys tend not to be inclined to work very hard. Is that what you’re like, Mordie? Because I’ll not take on a student who isn’t prepared–”
I was already shaking my head. “I’m here to learn,” I said, putting just enough edge in my voice that she knew I was serious.
“Please, do not interrupt when I’m speaking.”
“My apologies, Lady Emmeline,” I said.
She accepted my words with good grace. “I see you have brought your own weapon. May I see it?” she asked, holding out her hands. I drew the weapon in question and presented it to her hilt first. Yet when she took it, she was still looking at me.
“A little clumsy,” she said. “How long have you owned it? This weapon?”
“Um, just a couple of weeks?” I said.
“A couple of weeks? Then I guess that isn’t too bad. The rest of your movements seem well-knitted together. How coordinated are you, in general?”
There, I had to smile. “I used to make my living as a juggler,” I said. I didn’t feel it was right to add that I still made my coin through my dexterity and touch, lifting coins from unsuspecting strangers I bumped into on the street. It had been a long time since I’d needed to resort to cutting cords and absconding with the entire coin pouch. It had taken years to perfect the movements, but I could squeeze my fingers into a stranger’s coin pouch and empty it of half their coin and be gone without them ever being the wiser.
I’d learned it was better that way, for the simple fact that too many blatant thefts caused a panic and could bring the Blackcoats swarming into whichever area I was working. This way, most folk never even realized they had been robbed.
“Did you now?” the swords mistress said, her eyebrows raised in genuine interest. She nodded in approval. “And are you ready to work?”
“I am,” I replied.
“You know I do not come cheap?”
I gave her a grin. “As long as you’re worth the coin,” I replied.
Emmeline Hemonnet pursed her lips at the perceived slight. But she didn’t pursue it, didn’t even try to defend her expertise. Instead, for the first time, she focused on my sword.
“Good length,” she said. “Well-wrought grip. Excellent ratio of width to length, a keen edge and a sharp point.” She said it all with a hint of approval, which suggested she had higher hopes for the sword than she did for me. She gripped the blade with a gloved hand and gave the weapon a flex. “Good,” she said. “This is Garath’s work, is it not?”
I had to admit, I was surprised. “Yes, it is. You can tell?”
“Garath is the best man behind the forge in the city. Even better than his father was. I don’t know why the King’s elite guardsmen have switched to that Barry Vell.”
I gave a quiet smile. I knew why the switch had been made but didn’t think it was right to say.
She handed my sword back, hilt first, and watched the way I moved to accept it.
I don’t know what I did, but apparently my movements were fluid enough to earn another quick nod.
“Good. Right. Let’s see what you have got.” With that, she turned and picked up a decorative letter opener from the tray sitting on the table next to the wall. Then she stepped into the center of the drawing room with all the grace of a dancer.
“Attack me,” she said, holding the letter opener before her in a relaxed fencer’s stance.
I hesitated.
“Attack me,” she repeated. “Not only will it tell me if you are worth my time, but it will also tell you if I am worth my price.”
I had to admit I found myself admiring Lady Emmeline immensely. I nodded to her, brought my sword up, and did as she asked, promising myself to hold back to avoid hurting her.
I needn’t have bothered. The lady countered my every attack with consummate ease, stepping away from my inexpert lunges, parrying each unstable slash with the edge of her letter opener, and basically making me look like a complete amateur without even trying.
I could have grown angry and tried to fuel my attack with frustration. Instead, I enjoyed every moment. Lady Emmeline, despite her age, showed no sign of infirmity. She moved with the speed and grace of a wild creature, seemingly barely paying attention to the blade in my hand, focusing more on my feet and shoulders, completely at ease with the flashing steel blade cutting the air around her.
She said not a word throughout my attempts, and it was all I could do to keep from laughing out loud. Not at her, but at the absurdity of the spectacle, a man with a sword unable to get close to an old woman with a letter opener.
It was like trying to fight a ghost. An apparition who could move like the wind, a teasing sprite with no physical substance. I could have sworn more than once that she’d left her riposte, dodge, or parry too late, only to find that she was no longer where I’d thought her to be.
Finally, as I was beginning to sweat, and the sword mistress still looked as fresh and unbothered as she had at the start, she stepped in, caught the edge of my blade on her letter opener, then moved at an impossible angle and speed. Somehow, she ended up with my sword hand caught in an unexpectedly steel-like grip, and her letter opener at my throat.
