Self-Made Scoundrel (3 page)

“Fine. And switch sides with me, this one’s warmer.” Quickly the boys climbed over and under each other, switching positions in the bed so the younger one had the warmer side. Ceric cuddled up to him and Dershik pushed him away a bit but rolled over and threw his arm around his brother. He couldn’t help but wonder when even this would be denied to him.

When he woke up in the morning the room was warm but he was alone in his bed. Someone had moved Ceric in the night while the both slept, the lump in the bed across from him rising slowly and steadily. Dershik considered throwing a pillow at him or dragging him out of bed but there was no point. It wasn’t Ceric’s fault.

Quietly and soberly the boy dressed, noticing his trousers needed to be lengthened if not replaced. He washed his face quickly in the bowl of water left out and looked at his reflection. Dershik knew he had his father’s blond, wavy hair and bright blue eyes and their jaws were the same, which made them look very similar. But certainly something about him was different? Something his own? Dershik pushed and pulled on his cheeks, distorting his features as he looked for something he couldn’t place.

Off in the distance the bells rang, signaling fourth watch had ended and first was about to begin. Splashing water on his hair he grabbed his wooden sword, and as he wrapped his fingers around the hilt he remembered the day before, his father’s hilt stained with the blood of the farmer. Dershik gulped hard and slipped out of the room, tying the sword about his waist. He knew he was different in some way, he told himself. He would just have to find out how.

The Point of a Dagger

Dershik knocked on the door as loud as he dared, unable to keep the grin from pulling at his mouth. He looked over his shoulder to see if anyone had followed him, but the yard was dark. The sounds of the Coming of Spring party carried through the air, music and the occasional laugh making its way to his ears. He was supposed to be at the party but he didn’t care. Parties were boring and full of people who knew who he was and constantly reminded him, bowing, introducing themselves and saying where they were from even though he already knew. Even his step-mother looked bored during the greetings, excusing herself to make sure the new tapestries were hung correctly.

Dershik wished he could make an equally ridiculous excuse. He hated the feel of everyone’s hand in his. Some were so dry they felt like autumn leaves, others so wet it took effort to not make a horrid face in response. Dershik knocked on the door again, louder, looking back before he called through it. “Cira!” he whispered as loud as he dared. “It’s me, Derry. Open up!”

The door swung open. He thought his heart had beat quickly during the dance, but when his eyes fell upon the young priestess his heart thumped in his chest as he entered her room. She hadn’t been sleeping, he knew that. Her light grey eyes were bright though weary, a book open on her bed. Her dark, wavy hair was still plaited and fell over her shoulder. She must have been reading; the tail of her braid was wet from chewing on it, one of her habits. Getting to know one another was part of the acclimating process, although Dershik had been surprised when his father approved it. Still, he rarely entered the young priestess’ small room. He gazed about the simple trappings, the carved chest at the foot of her bed, the quilt her mother had made. “You left early,” he said.

“I did. It wasn’t my party,” she accused, laughing. “And I’ve already changed. You look as if you should still be there.” Both Cira and Sister Kiyla had come to the celebration, dressed in their second finest robes. Dershik wore his best, brand new clothes decked in azure and gold. His father had even gifted him a new brooch carved with the maned bear. What was supposed to be an imperfection in the rich blue stone turned into a silver fish in the bear’s jaws. Ceric had whooped when they received their new clothes, yammering about the Spring Party held at the keep after Baron’s Day. Dershik tried not to stand up straighter and show off but he felt his spine tighten, his toes wiggle in his boots as he took a wide stance. He couldn’t help it. The way Cira smiled at him made him want to be taller, broader. Dershik reached into his cloak to bring out what he wanted to show her. “Maybe I’ll go back after but first, look at this!” He held
out the dagger, his hands trembling as he held it, careful not to cut himself on its naked edge. The hilt was delicately carved, several stones glittering among the crescent pattern. When he turned, it caught the light of the lamp and the feel of the cold metal sent shivers down Dershik’s spine. Even Cira drew in her breath.

“It’s beautiful, Dershik,” Cira said. She looked to him and her eyes met his. “Did your father give this to you?”

His heart thumped again as he weighed the dagger in his hands. “No,” he said. “I…I took it.” He raised his eyebrows at her and smiled, not able to keep from being excited. “Do you remember the boy in the dark blue tunic, with the green trim?”

Cira’s frown disappeared and she nodded. “I do. He didn’t seem very.…”

“He’s an ass,” Dershik assured her. “He thinks he’s important because his father runs the eastern silver mine. Anyway,” Dershik continued, waving the formalities away with his hand. “All us sons had to sit together and he was going on and on about this dagger, how his father had given it to him after he had his Moon dream.” Dershik laughed, thinking about how ridiculous the boy’s story had been, how big he had pantomimed the Goddess’ Bosom when she visited him in the night and made a man of him. Dershik’s father promised him a sword if he would just admit the Goddess had visited him already. The Goddess had already visited him in the night but Dershik wouldn’t admit it, not yet.

The youth tossed the dagger in his hand, catching it by the hilt effortlessly. “But then he goes on about what he’s going to do with it. He said he threatened his little sister with the blade before he and his father left for the festivities, and said he’d use it on one of their servants if they didn’t watch themselves.” Dershik tossed it again and caught it, loving how it felt, the weight of the metal, the texture of the hilt. “What was that all about?”

“So you stole it from him?” Cira asked. She asked him in her priestess way, not her friend way.

“I took it from him,” he answered. He couldn’t keep a smile from creeping onto his face as he remembered. “You should have seen his face when he realized it was missing.” Karic was the boy’s name. His expression when he realized it was gone, only noticing when someone asked to see it. Plates were overturned and a pitcher of beer broken when he ransacked everything on the table looking for it. Dershik’s father laughed at the boy’s reaction but Karic’s own father’s face was red. He grabbed the boy by the arm and escorted him out of the hall. Dershik took the opportunity to slip out to the priestess’ chambers.

“Are you going to give it back?” she asked. Cira took the blade from him and held it, seeming interested in the dagger. Dershik wondered if she’d ever held anything this nice before, something which wasn’t a tool used in the temple. His guess was she hadn’t.

Dershik looked back and forth from the dagger to the young priestess quickly. “Don’t you want to know how I got it?” he asked, dodging her question. When he said it he knew he had no intention of returning the dagger to its previous owner. What Karic had been given Dershik had won. Seeing Cira hold it only made his victory sweeter. When he had dreams of the Goddess visiting him, she usually looked like Cira. Of course he never told her this.

“Are you offering to show off for me?” she asked, a taunting smile on her mouth. She held the dagger behind her back. Cira often accused him of being a show-off; for some reason it didn’t bother him. At least he had something to show off. He reached to grab it from her, reaching behind her but she turned and stepped back. Dershik smirked and lunged for it, still missing but meaning to do so. Cira let him stand very close to her, his arm brushing against hers as he reached for the dagger. “I’m starting to think maybe he just left it on the table and you took it,” she laughed.

“Please, have some faith in me,” he said, backing off. “Besides, he wasn’t holding it like you are. Do you know ‘Ten Petals On Spring’s First Bloom’? The dance?” Cira shook her head and Dershik pressed his lips together, trying to think of the best way to explain the dance with only two people and in such tiny quarters. “Well, there’s a circle of people in the middle and then there are the petals, which are pairs of people, so there are actually three rings of people.”

“You know, it is possible to dance with only two people involved,” she joked.

“I didn’t make up the dance! I’m just telling you how it’s done!” Dershik couldn’t help but chuckle along. “Look, just come here. You pretend to be Karic, I’ll be myself, of course. You stand here,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and moving her slightly to the right. He took a step back and to the right. “Now, you would have a girl in front of you and I had a girl in front of me so we bow,” he said, bowing at the knees with his hand out toward his imaginary partner, Cira mimicking him a breath later. “Put your hand out and do a half turn, right?”

By now they were both smiling, knowing they looked ridiculous, performing the dance to no music and no one else around. Dershik watched as she turned toward him, wisps of dark hair framing her pretty face. He wished she had stayed at the party. He wished he could have danced with Cira the way people did in the barns and in the dance halls, hands on waists and hand in hand. There was the Lovers Dance done at weddings but he wouldn’t be doing this for some years he hoped. When he would, it wouldn’t be with Cira.

“I don’t think I need to know all the steps of the dance to know how you got it from him,” she said, tilting her head at him. “Just do the part where you relieved him of it.”

“But you have to understand how well I planned it out, how I counted-”

“I’m glad you can count, Dershik but I don’t have all night.” Cira folded her arms across her chest, holding the dagger in one hand.

“Fine,” he huffed. “Hold the dagger behind your back but not too tightly. The hilt wasn’t tight. I know because I checked when Karic showed me earlier.” Dershik waited for her to comply then nodded again. “Now, turn toward me, an eighth turn. Reach your hand forward.” He reached forward and grabbed her by the forearm, pulling her toward him and around so they traded places. When they were back to back, he reached behind him with his free hand and took the dagger from her, the same place Karic had kept the knife.

Dershik wore his cape to the dance so he had tucked the dagger into the back of his trousers quickly while facing Karic, hands behind his back as the song indicated. He tried not to grin as they looked at each other, knowing the boy had no idea what just happened. At the next count Dershik had traded spots with someone else and when the song was over, he retreated to await the commotion that ensued. “See?” he said, holding the dagger up, a grin on his face. “Easy as that. For me.”

Cira looked like she was trying to frown but her mouth twisted into a smile. “Yes, you are clever, aren’t you?”

“I’d say so,” he answered, looking the dagger over again. He could see his blue eyes in its shine and he grinned again. He didn’t have a sheath for it but he didn’t need one, not right now. Dershik knew where he could keep the blade hidden. The wooden box with a key his father had given him last spring would be the perfect spot.

“How’re you going to get it back without him noticing?” Cira asked. There was a hint of judgment in her voice. Dershik furrowed his brow at her in response

“I’m not giving it back,” he said simply. “I took it, it’s mine. Besides,” he said, walking past her and sitting down on her bed, “He’s just going to do something stupid with it. I told you what he said.” Dershik gazed at her, then looked to the book opened on her bed. “I’m doing everyone a favor.”

“Except for Karic.” Her arms were crossed over her chest. Dershik stood up from her bed and put his hands on her shoulders, putting his forehead on hers.

“Look, Cira,” he said. “Please, don’t tell. I just…I wanted to take it from him. I wanted to see if I could, and I did!” He was beseeching her now. “You have to understand, I did something I wanted to do, not something my father told me or something they expected from me. Please? I know you can keep a secret.”

Cira broke away from him, leaving an empty space where she had stood. She sat on the edge of her bed, eyes on the book she had been reading. “Of course I can keep a secret,” she answered. It was part of her calling, to keep the matters of the hearts of others to herself. It was why Dershik could talk to her about this, about his unease at becoming the next Baron, about how much he hated reading the ledgers and records of past harvests and past censuses, the commissioning of mines to be further explored. It wasn’t just boredom. It was something else, a disjoint between what he wanted to be and what his father said he had to be. It didn’t excite him, the promise of being the Baron. Holding the stolen dagger in his hand did.

“Then you have to keep this one,” he said, tucking the dagger away. “Please.” He walked over to her bed and felt bold, sitting beside her. Dershik reached out slowly and took her hands in his, his arm touching hers. Cira was the prettiest girl he knew and he wondered how she felt about him. She didn’t pull her hands away or shift away from him. “Please.”

Cira held his hands in hers. She rubbed the palm of his hand with her thumb. “I will. Of course I will keep your secret. But please remember, sometimes you have to look for the joy in the things you do. Happiness rarely comes easily. For everyone, not just you.” Cira wasn’t moving away from him. Derk bit the inside of his lip, his mouth wanting to meet hers. Should he? What would she say? What would she do? Would she just become a priestess to him, no longer a friend? She could tell Kiyla or worse, his father. Dershik had no idea what his father would do if he knew of his feelings for the priestess. Cira was the only friend he had. He didn’t think he could risk losing her. Dershik let go of her hands, standing up from the bed before he did something stupid.