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Loric now regretted discarding his father’s knightly log more than ever before, for it was his only proof of his lineage. His sword could almost testify to his claim, but he could as easily be a thief as the true Blood of Logant. The knightly log would add weight to his assertion and it could well hold keys to his father’s past. Yet, he had cast it away in a fit of foolish rage. Loric cursed his rash behavior once again. The log was gone forever, as was the story it told.

“I will have to return to Taeglin to fetch my proofs,” he decided. He sighed. “All in due time....”

Loric shrugged the matter aside and settled in. His spirits rose when he found a steaming tub of water to bathe in. A warm, soothing soak eased his tension. It gave him time to sift through his feelings, whereupon he determined that his lot was not so bad. He had made friends in high places. One of them was a lovely princess from across the sea. Another was now his liege lord, who had taken him to squire, which would set him on the path to knighthood and lordship. His outlook brightened. His situation could be far worse than that.

Loric dried off to his whistled rendition of
The Bayport Maiden
, which was a lively old sailor’s tune he had heard played at Spring Festival. He discovered fresh livery on the bed, so he donned brown pants, white tunic and green vest. He had no sooner finished dressing than there was a knock at the door.

Loric hurriedly stuffed his sword beneath his mat and lay his wet clothing aside to dry next to Avalana’s cloak. He opened the door to see Lord Aldric’s beaming face. His liege was also dressed in new garb. His expression was indicative to Loric that he felt refreshed.

“There is to be a feast tonight,” said Aldric, excitedly. “I will not be in need of service until then. You have my leave to make yourself familiar with the keep in the meantime. Learn it well.

I want you to be able to walk these halls in a blindfold ere we leave here. Someday your life could depend on knowing it that intimately.” The lord went on to list all of the tasks Loric was to handle for him each day. A training schedule came along with that. It was not a terribly long list of chores, but Loric knew idle time would soon be forgotten, especially taking into account an hour in the library each morning and two hours of sparring every afternoon.

Before any of that could overwhelm the son of Palendar, he had the unenviable task of demanding Aldric’s explanation for those lies he had commanded his new squire to swear. Loric gulped down his nervousness and prepared for the confrontation to come. When Aldric made to leave, Loric was ready. He leaned against his door to hold it against the Lord of Egolstadt and demanded, “Pray tell me, lord; what am I to make of my new birthplace and title? Loric of Shimmermir, Heir of Emerald Mountain, indeed?”

Aldric stopped Loric’s questions with an open palm, saying, “I understand your anger, Loric. A knight values honesty above his lifeblood, for that is the foremost principle of the Code of Honor, so this business is regrettable. I know it must seem like I made you speak false-”

“Seem?”
Loric questioned hotly. “I lied before gods and men, while swearing an oath, lord!

I demand to know why this was necessary, for I would cast off these false claims to free my conscience.”

“I would not have you stand as a common farm boy-” Aldric began, only to be cut off.

“Then let me stand forth as the son of Sir Palendar!” Loric snapped. “I refuse to live these lies!”

“It is for your own safety,” Aldric explained.

“It is always for my safety, lord,” Loric muttered in return. He tried to calm down and think rationally, but his thoughts were all confusion. He needed life to be simple once more. In an effort to extract that simplicity from the tangled lies of lords, he said quietly, “Tell my father’s story, so I will know who to fear, lord. I beg you this.”

Aldric was stone-faced as he told Loric, “You swore an oath to serve me, so I command you to accept these lies, knowing they are not your lies, but mine.” Loric opened his mouth to vent his furious protest, but Aldric snapped, “Enough!”

The room was so quiet that Loric could hear his heart pounding beats, as he stood with his fists clenched in anger.

Aldric went on, before Loric could say more. “In truth, these are not lies at all.”

“I am not of Shimmermir, lord,” Loric objected. “I am an heir, but not of Emerald

Mountain.”

“There, I beg to disagree with you, Loric,” said Aldric, with a cunning smile.

Loric disliked that smile. “What is your game, lord? Your expression reeks of

skullduggery.”

“You are in fact the Heir of Emerald Mountain, by your mother’s blood,” Aldric informed him. “And it is by your mother that you can claim you are of Shimmermir.”

“My mother is Taeglinite, born and raised, lord,” Loric argued.

Aldric’s face disagreed.

A sickly feeling washed over Loric. It was plain by the look on Aldric’s countenance that the Lord of Egolstadt knew something more than he did, but was unwilling to share it. “What is the matter, lord?”

“Sir Palendar never told you,” he murmured, as if giving up his last breath.

Loric immediately prickled. “My father kept
many
secrets, lord. Out this one!”

“Adie is not your birthmother, Loric,” Aldric pronounced solemnly.

Loric first denied the words, questioning, “What lie do you speak? For it seems to have been birthed in the Black Pools from whence dragons rose.”

Aldric shook his head.

Loric’s bones went soft beneath him, until he slumped down against his door. “You speak no lie,” he realized, verbalizing his assessment.

Aldric seemed content to advance conversation without lingering over the issue of Loric’s real mother. “You will henceforth be known as Loric of Shimmermir, a distant cousin to me, come to enhance your skills in single combat and to learn all that I might teach you of command.”

“But, lord-” Loric tried to protest.

Aldric cut him short to say, “The first thing you must learn of command is how to follow one, Loric.”

“Understood, lord, but Princess Avalana already knows me as Loric of Taeglin,” Loric

blurted out, “and-”

“-and you will never pass for a Shimmerman anyway,” Aldric finished thoughtfully. “The people of Shimmermir are too cultured for your style. But the lie is already told, even if you could never pass as such.”

“I could so!” Loric snapped with righteous indignation.

“I intended no offense,” Aldric apologized. He crinkled his brow in thought for a moment, before he demanded, “Tell me how to milk a cow.” Loric had never milked a cow, but he had seen it done, so he started into his response in full detail. Aldric waved him to silence.

“Shimmermen do not know a thing about herd animals, Loric. Now do you see?”

Loric reluctantly nodded his understanding.

“You
are
a distant cousin to me, and that is no lie,” Aldric explained, his eyes intent upon Loric’s eyes, “from Jordy’s Vale in Shimmermir.” In answer to Loric’s doubtful expression, he said, “I know for a fact that your mother was born in Jordy’s Vale, which is a retreat for wealthy lords and ladies from Shimmermir.”

Adie is not my mother,
Loric thought.
I know nothing of this woman, who is my birthmother,
but I want to know,
he decided. “Tell me more of my mother, lord,” Loric begged, suddenly feeling as if this lying lord was the only honest man he had ever known. “What is her name?

What does she look like? Does she still dwell in Shimmermir? I would go to meet-”

“Peace! Be still,” Aldric commanded him. “I will tell all in due time, but be patient, Loric.”

“Why must I wait?” Loric demanded.

“Because I have more pressing matters to attend to before the feast than your family

history,” Aldric assured him. “I will tell you this: Lady Sadina of Shimmermir
was
the most beautiful woman to walk these shores since Queen Riana’s life was taken from the Great King, Luminus light them both.”

Loric felt a jab pound his heart. It was as if he had lost his mother to regain her, only to lose her again. “So, she is dead?” Loric questioned. “I mean, my lady mother, Sadina.”

Aldric nodded.

“Then, I suppose there is no hurry for me to go to Shimmermir and meet her,” he reasoned softly.

“We must focus on the here and now, Loric,” the Lord of Egolstadt said gently, to encourage his young squire.

“You are right about that, lord,” he agreed. “But what are we to do? Avalana knows me as Loric of Taeglin, as does Marblin of the city guard. I cannot pose as a man from all three: Taeglin, Shimmermir and this Jordy’s Vale that you have named.”

“Ah,
but you can,” Aldric informed him. “And here is how it works to your advantage.

Jordy’s Vale is but a rural part of Shimmermir.”

“But that does not explain how I am from Taeglin, lord.”

“Taeglin is your second home, where you have dwelt to learn farming methods for your

people,” Aldric told him. “That is truthful in every way,” he added. “Now you have come into my service, to enhance your skills in single combat and to learn all that I might teach you of command, which is also true; is it not?”

I was not born in Taeglin,
Loric thought glumly. To Aldric, he replied, “This seems like a terrible collection of half-truths. By my upbringing, it only takes one half-truth to make a whole lie.”

“This is the only way, Loric, else you will face severe punishments,” Aldric warned him.

“Punish me, if that is your wish!” growled Loric.

“I meant no threat to you, lad,” Aldric answered him firmly. “These punishments would come from Lord Garrick, for
posing
as someone other than you are, but your danger is far greater than that for
being
who you are.”

Loric rubbed his forehead and heaved a violent sigh. “If deceit is the only way-” he began hesitantly.

Aldric cut him off with a sharp word, interjecting, “Yes!” He went on more gently, adding,

“It is. Moreover, your very life could depend upon my skill in the lowly craft of lying and your willingness to accept the halves of this lord’s lies that are truthful. It is essential that you embrace concealment of certain truths about yourself whilst we visit Lord Garrick’s noble court, or your life will certainly be forfeit. For Beledon, you must do this.”

“For Beledon?” Loric inquired. “Truly, lord?”

Aldric nodded. “Yes. I swear it upon the Great King’s Honor.”

“That is a weighty vow,” Loric remarked. He was still uneasy about lying. It seemed

contradictory to a knight’s honor. He felt tightness in his chest as he said, “I will trust your lies, lord.”

“Never trust the lies of lords, Loric,” Aldric shared with a smirk. “That is a dangerous practice.”

“Is there no one or nothing I can trust, lord?” Loric asked, as he rose to step away from his door.

“Trust yourself,” Aldric commanded him. Then he left Loric alone to weigh the lies of lords against the honor of knights.

Chapter Ten

The Hall of Heroes

Loric swung the door shut behind Aldric, leaned against it, stared at its wood-grain pattern.

Those lines were as confusing to follow as those lies of lords that summed up Loric, Squire of Egolstadt. He clung to the door handle as though it could prevent him drowning in the current of wood-grain pattern and lordly deception.

Loric shouldered his body from the door and shuffled to his bed as he wrestled with

uncertainties relating to his circumstances. He sat on the end of his mat awhile, enjoying the softness of the pad beneath him, while he tried to cipher truth from lies. It was a hopeless task.

He tugged the two sets of tangled strands into a vexing knot, which he could not separate. In fact, it seemed to worsen as he drew upon this truth or that lie, until he flopped onto his back with a huff.

The young traveler from Taeglin--or was he from Shimmermir or Jordy’s Vale--needed a

distraction.
The beauty of Aldric’s lie is that I can claim all three places as my home and no one
will hold my slip against me, once I explain it,
he decided. In any case, he needed something else to do besides brooding over matters of knights and lords. He remembered Aldric’s advice to explore Moonriver Castle, so he rose to a sitting position and considered what he would like to see on site. Surely, there was something he should enjoy seeing. His answer came to him like a whisper on the wind.

“Yes,” he muttered to himself, “and I only need to go ten paces to find her.”

A knock at the door startled Loric awake from his daydream. He jumped to his feet and raced to answer it. He hesitated for a moment to look himself over in his pewter washbasin. Once he deemed himself presentable, he opened the door. Much to his disappointment, Marblin was waiting to greet him. Loric attempted to hide his expression of unwelcome from the city guard, who had escorted him to Avalana’s chamber by mistake.

Loric took closer note of the guardsman’s features on this, their second meeting. He was a stoutly built fellow of around fifty years, whose warm green eyes were set beneath a wrinkled brow. Looming above that permanently lined forehead was a collection of short-cropped brown curls that were fading into gray with the tally of years. He also wore a neatly trimmed beard of like color to his hair.

“Hallo,” said Marblin in greeting. “I just got off duty and I thought a newcomer like yourself might like a tour of Moonriver Castle, Sir Squire.”

“I hope you will not lead me astray, as you did earlier,” Loric remarked.

Marblin’s face fell. It was obvious that Loric’s callus words had hurt him. “I misguided you, Sir Squire?” he questioned.

“Please, call me Loric,” said he. In an effort to minimize the incident, he resigned himself to say, “It was a simple mistake.” Loric regretted bringing up the subject. He had not meant to sting the kindly guardsman with his thoughtless comment, so he downplayed it, saying, “You were not far astray. You simply pointed me to the wrong side of the corridor.”

“I’m glad that’s all it was,” Marblin said, sincerely relieved. “For a moment I thought I had blundered badly. Sometimes, I do, you see. Why, I once escorted a nobleman to the servants’