Bronze Magic (Book 1) (14 page)

The nuggety woodman smiled perfunctorily in return, then gave
Tarkyn’s good shoulder a pat and sat down next to him. “I can see
you won’t let this rest, Your Highness, so I will save you the trouble of
continuing your guessing game and tell you why I’ve spent all this time
with you.”
Tarkyn could feel his stomach tensing as he waited to hear what would
be asked of him. In his brother’s court, no one did anything for anyone
without a reason.
The woodman looked him straight in the eye and said, “It’s simply this.
I watched you talking to Stormaway and I saw how you handled Tree
Wind and the rest of us - and I liked what I saw. Most of it, anyway. Since
then you’ve become confused by the whole oath business and for a while
there, you were downright maudlin after your run-in with the bounty
hunters but basically, you seem to be an interesting sort of character with
a dry sense of humour and more integrity than many people I’ve met. And
right now, despite your title and your exalted status, you could do with
a friend. So here I am.” Waterstone cleared his throat self-consciously. “I
know that sounds a bit wet. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you, really.
It’s better if friendship can just develop over time. But that bloody oath
has made you so mistrustful….” Waterstone gave a grunt of laughter. “It’s
paradoxical really. The oath was designed to bind us together but instead
it has pushed us apart.”
Tarkyn desperately needed a friend but a lifetime of disingenuity had
taught him to trust no one. He could not easily accept this man or any
other as a friend. The offer of friendship just raised his suspicions and
highlighted his aloneness. He could make no reply. Waterstone heard the
prince swallow and saw a solitary tear escape from the side of his eye to
trace its way down his cheek. Tarkyn turned his head away and put his
hand over his eyes.
For a long while, the woodman sat there quietly. Then when he judged
the time was right, he stood up and clapped Tarkyn on his good shoulder
and said briskly, “And now Your Highness, I am going to submit you to
the torture of standing up.”
Tarkyn sniffed, uncovered his eyes and said flatly, “I can’t.”
“Oh yes, you can. Bring your knees up, and then roll onto your left
side. From there, get onto your left hand and knees… That’s it! Now I’ll
help you get up from there.”
Tarkyn gritted his teeth and complied. It was a trying process. Every
muscle in his body was stiff and protested at being moved. On top of this,
his ribs sent stabs of pain through his chest and back. As he prepared to
straighten up, the woodman resisted him.
“Whoa. The roof ’s too low. You’ll have to stay bent over until we get
outside.”
“Bent over is good.” Tarkyn managed to say. “I think straightening up
will be a whole new challenge.”
“I think you could be right,” agreed Waterstone. He called out to his
daughter. “Sparrow, can you move the screening aside please?”
A rustle of leaves and branches followed this request and the prince
looked through the doorway to discover that they were in the middle
of a huge bramble patch. Waterstone supported the prince outside and
through a short series of winding paths until they found themselves at a
point halfway between the clearing and the river.
“All right?” asked Waterstone.
When Tarkyn nodded, Waterstone said, “Now try straightening up.
Take it slowly.”
Tarkyn grunted as he straightened but gave no other sign of the effort
it cost him.
“Come on,” encouraged the woodman, as he placed Tarkyn’s good
arm across his shoulders. “Let’s walk down to the river and rest on
those rocks.”
Tarkyn sent him a sideways glance. The river looked a million miles
away. However, he said nothing, clenched his teeth and set himself the
task of making it the forty yards to the river.
Halfway there, Tarkyn’s legs were trembling and his weight bore
down ever harder on Waterstone’s shoulders. The woodman was
contrite. “My lord, I believe I have set you too hard a task for your first
time out of bed.”
“Maybe, but I would like to get down to the river, if I can.” The prince
took a slow deep breath then asked, “I know I’m pretty heavy. Do you
think you can make the distance?”
“Of course I can ma…” Waterstone stopped mid-word and looked
around to see the prince’s eyes twinkling at him. “Very funny,” grunted
the woodman but he was not deceived. He knew it was costing the
young man an enormous effort to keep going. For a couple of seconds,
Waterstone’s eyes went out of focus but Tarkyn’s reaction was immediate.
He pulled away and scowled down at the woodman.
“Not you too,” he growled. “I should have known I couldn’t trust you,”
Waterstone was honestly bewildered. “What are you talking about?
What have I done wrong?”
“Don’t give me that! I can tell when you’re doing your mind talking
and I really object to sharing my conversations with other people without
my knowledge or permission.” Tarkyn was swaying slightly but held
Waterstone at arm’s length.
Now it was Waterstone’s turn to be offended. “And I object to you
doubting my integrity like that.”
“It’s nothing to do with your integrity. It’s to do with loyalty, and
obviously your loyalty is going to lie with your people above me.”
“Oh good! I’m glad you sorted that out for me. I wouldn’t want to
make my own decisions about it,” responded the woodman sarcastically.
He stood with his hands on his hips, green eyes blazing. “I don’t know
what your problem is. All I did was check with the lookouts before I
allowed us to get too far away from the shelter. I can’t see you being able
to run for cover if the need arises and you’re too heavy for us to carry
back quickly.”
They stood glaring at each other for a long moment before Tarkyn
conceded, “If that’s what you were doing, Waterstone, I apologise. When
Ancient Oak did that, he was passing on everything I said to Tree Wind
and Autumn Leaves.
The woodman raised his eyebrows. “I see. No wonder you don’t like it
then... Come on. Let’s just get you down to the river. Put your arm across
my shoulder again before you fall over.”
Once they had reached the riverside, Waterstone lowered the prince
carefully onto the ground so that he could lean against the rocks.
They sat in silence for several minutes while they both recovered their
breath. Tarkyn was looking grey and pinched around the mouth. His
head throbbed in time with his heart but despite that, he felt a sense of
satisfaction at having reached the goal he had set himself. While he was
recovering, Waterstone pulled out bread, meat and fruit from a bag he
had slung on his back. He walked down to the river and filled two small
cups with cold water and brought them back. He handed a cup to Tarkyn
and sat down next to him.
“Well done. That was a good effort,” said Waterstone, “You’re
determined, aren’t you?”
Tarkyn smiled faintly in acknowledgement.
The woodman cleared his throat. “I think we have a few things we
need to clear up, Your Highness.”
Tarkyn considered the man sitting next to him. Waterstone was very
different from anyone the prince had met before. He was tough and kind,
and although ostensibly respectful, treated Tarkyn as his equal.
“I’m listening,” said the prince quietly, wondering where this was
going.
“Firstly, I suppose we had better sort out the mind talking. I don’t
want you jumping down my throat every time I mind talk to someone.
It’s a natural part of the way we work with each other.” Waterstone’s
voice blended with the sound of the running water and Tarkyn had to
concentrate hard to discern what he was saying. “We rarely shout because
that might inadvertently give our presence away. So it’s the only way we
can talk over longer distances and it is essential when we wish to remain
hidden from strangers. It’s also very useful for co-ordinating hunting
parties without alarming the quarry.”
“And for eavesdropping,” added Tarkyn but without rancour.
Waterstone gave a little smile. “Only on outsiders, I’m afraid. Any one
of us would hear the thought if the person we were talking to transmitted
our conversation.” He picked up a couple of pebbles and started bouncing
them up and down in his hand. “But you seem to have tuned in pretty
quickly to what was going on, even if you can’t intercept the thoughts.”
“When Tree Wind showed me her memory, I could almost hear the
thoughts. I could feel they were happening but not what was being said.”
Waterstone considered him thoughtfully, “I wonder if we could teach
it to you?”
“It is not a sorcerer ability as far as I know, but I would like to try. I
haven’t had much formal training in magic, you know.”
The woodman frowned. “What? You must have. Don’t all sorcerers get
training as part of their education? Especially you. How can you win a
tournament with no training?”
Tarkyn grimaced as he shifted his position against the hard rock,
“Tournaments are quite restrictive of the skills you can use. You don’t use
much beyond shields and shafts of power. You mainly need good reflexes
and some agility.”
“So why haven’t you had much formal training?”
“You have no idea what it’s like at court,” began the prince and promptly
looked stricken. “I didn’t mean that to sound rude….” Waterstone waved
his hand dismissively and Tarkyn continued, “What I meant was, you
can’t imagine how complicated and devious the relationships and the
manoeuvrings are around gaining favour with my brothers.”
“And with you, I presume.”
“To a lesser extent. I was merely seen as way to my brothers. Anyway,
so much time was spent on all the intrigue and scandal that no one ever
seemed to have time to get around to organising my education. My
father would have made sure I was trained properly, but he died when I
was eight and my mother’s time has mostly been spent adjudicating my
brothers’ arguments and indulging in court intrigue.”
Waterstone stopped bouncing his stones up and down and threw
them, one at a time, into the river. “That sounds hideous.”
Tarkyn grinned suddenly. “Oh, I don’t know. A lot of people would
give their eye teeth to be able to have and do virtually anything they
wanted.”
“And you…?” asked Waterstone as he picked up two more pebbles and
started to bounce them.
The prince flicked him a glance. “I suspect you would like me to say
that I don’t care about all those things but the truth is that I do. I’ve
been brought up in a life of luxury, had everything I wanted at the lift
of a finger, been surrounded by people wanting to please me…either
for their own ends or from a loyalty that has been bred into them over
generations. It will take some getting used to, not having all of that.”
Tarkyn took a sip of water and gave a lop-sided smile. “On the other
hand, I won’t have to dress for dinner every evening and endure hours of
sycophantic conversation….”
When Waterstone remained silent, Tarkyn looked at him. The
woodman kept his eyes on the pebbles he was bouncing and waited.
Finally Tarkyn sighed and said, “All right. You’re right. In many ways, it
has been... difficult. Life in court since my father died has been tense, and
even dangerous, most of the time. It hasn’t been easy sharing a life with
two pathologically jealous brothers. I lost my father. My mother loves
me, I think, but can’t cope with my brothers, and certainly has never
had time for me. But don’t treat me like a poor little rich boy. I’m not….
At least, I wasn’t until a couple of weeks ago,” he added with a flash of
dry humour. Tarkyn picked up a stone and threw it hard into the river.
“Anyway, all families have their problems. It’s just that ours is played out
in the public arena.”
The woodman walked down to the water’s edge and re-filled their
cups. As he handed Tarkyn his water, he said, “Public arena or not, most
families can’t order the imprisonment of a family member on a whim…
and wouldn’t, even if they could.”
Tarkyn put down his cup, “You’re determined to feel sorry for me,
aren’t you?” He picked up a stone and threw it hard against a nearby
tree. “Look. In another family, the precocious younger brother might be
relegated to the rotten jobs around the farm, get beaten up behind the
barn, forced to work longer hours, sent away on long tedious errands...
I don’t know…but in my family, everything is on larger scale. There is
influence riding on everything. So, all the actions are more extreme. I
don’t know that the ill-intent is any greater, just the power is.”
Waterstone snorted. “That’s the whole point though, isn’t it? That
power has corrupted all the relationships within your family and within
the court. No wonder you struggle to believe in friendship.”
The prince stared hard at Waterstone then looked away to contemplate
the sun sparkling off the rippling water of the river. After a while, he
returned his gaze to the woodman. He nearly spoke, but hesitated and
instead returned to watching the river. The woodman began to pack away
the remains of the lunch while he was waiting. Then he just sat there
quietly. Finally, the prince dragged his eyes back around to meet and hold
Waterstone’s.
“You’re right,” Tarkyn said slowly. “If anyone ever professes their
friendship, my mind automatically asks, ‘What does this person want
from me? What do they hope to gain? Why are they doing this?’ I’ve
thought about all my friends back at court and I think I can answer those
questions for every one of them. I don’t know whether any of them will
remain true to me now that I no longer have influence. Some might, but
I honestly don’t know and even then I would be wondering what they
would be hoping to gain.” He shook his head and looked down at the
ground as he selected some pebbles to fiddle with. He shifted position a
little, then looked back up at Waterstone. “And then we come to you. I
can think of a lot of things you would gain from having my friendship.”