The Cyber Chronicles VII - Sabre (17 page)

"Yes. I will
help Tassin, as much as I can."

She smiled,
rubbing her eyes again. "Thank you."

"And we will
spend a great deal of time together, getting to know each other
better, I think."

"I'd like
that."

"So, all that
fuss and tears for nothing. Why did you not just tell me?"

"I was
ashamed. I didn't tell Tassin, she guessed. Sabre only knows
because he overheard. He has ears like a bat. I didn't want anyone
to know."

He nodded.
"But you knew that if our friendship turned into something more, I
would find out. If, of course, I was free to pursue it. Which, if
everything goes to plan, I will be."

"You want us
to be more than just friends?"

"I am quite
sure I just said that."

"Say it
again."

Sharmian took
her hand. "I knew you were special when I first met you, and I
wanted to get to know you better right away. The more time I spent
with you, the more fascinated I became. I have read all your
letters many times."

Dena sighed,
her eyes dreamy. "The first time I saw you, I thought I was going
to die. My heart stopped beating. I never imagined you would think
of me as anything other than a potential ally, a friend to be
curried for political reasons. When I heard about Torrian's hold
over you, I wanted to help you, but a day later I lost
everything."

"If I had
known what had happened to you, I would have done something." He
looked down, frowning. "But you gave me no clue that you liked me
this much. I might not have risked losing my crown on such a
foolhardy gamble."

"I didn't want
you to know that a pathetic cripple like me had feelings for
you.”

"What a fool
you are, to think so little of yourself."

"I had a good
reason. What's your excuse?"

He smiled.
"Aside from being Torrian's puppet, I also thought I had a good
reason. I am a bastard, after all."

"And I'm
adopted; a commoner by blood."

"But you are
still a princess, regent of the most powerful kingdom in the world.
I am the bastard king of a pauper nation, a puppet monarch with no
power, without the freedom even to choose my wife, whom Torrian put
on the throne so he could rule Mandor by proxy."

"I wouldn't
have cared if you'd been a beggar on the street."

Sharmian
kissed the back of her hand. "Are you all right now?"

"I will be, if
you hold me."

He shook his
head. "That would not be proper."

"I don't care.
There's no harm in an embrace between friends."

"Ah, but we
are not just friends anymore, we are courting now. Your queen had
better succeed."

Dena sat up
and hugged him. “I don’t care, and she will. Tassin has never
failed at anything. Once she makes up her mind to do something, I
pity anyone who stands in her way.”

Chapter Twelve

Tassin gazed
at the assembled troops who stood before the castle in disorderly
ranks. Their polished helms flashed in the sun and the red and gold
pennants on their spears fluttered in the wind that always seemed
to blow in Mandor. Clearly most of them were raw recruits, but she
could sense their eagerness. Mounted veteran officers marshalled
them, resplendent in polished armour and spotless livery, their
cavorting destriers clad in chain mail and plumes. Beyond the men,
the drab landscape formed a dismal backdrop of grey crags and hardy
grass. A distant village nestled in a valley, where it gleaned a
little respite from the wind.

She turned to
Sharmian. "Four thousand? I only asked for three."

He shrugged,
smiling. "I was also surprised. Within a week of my call to arms
they were queuing at stations to enlist. These are the first to
join; other recruits are still in training."

"You cannot
train good soldiers in three weeks."

"No.
Unfortunately not, but they are good men, and courageous."

"Yes." She
smiled. "And how goes your courtship, My Lord?"

"Very well. We
have decided to be wed before the war starts."

"So soon? Is
that wise?"

"We may lose
our lives in it. We want to share our love first."

Tassin nodded.
"A thought that has crossed my mind many times." She glanced around
with a smile as Sabre came to her side.

Sharmian said,
"Dena tells me that you and Sir Sabre plan to wed. Perhaps we
should make it a double celebration."

She cast the
cyber a calculating look, which he ignored. "Unfortunately, my
marriage is a matter of state, and must be conducted in my kingdom
by my priests."

"You could
always have a second ceremony for officialdom."

"That is true,
but unlike you, I must wait to be asked. Perhaps you could give
Sabre the benefit of your wisdom. I shall leave you to it."

As Tassin
wandered off, Sabre cast Sharmian a flinty-eyed look. Nevertheless,
the young king met it with an honest gaze.

"Sir Sabre,
any man in your position would be eager to enter into a blessed
union with such a lovely girl."

"I'm not any
man."

"I do not
understand your reluctance."

Sabre leant on
the battlements and studied the soldiers. "That's my business."

"Is this a
political marriage on your part? Tassin's feelings are beyond
doubt, and it did appear to me as if you returned them."

"What possible
reason could there be for a political marriage between us?"

"Well, you are
a powerful sorcerer whom Tassin needs to aid her return to her
throne, and probably to keep it."

Sabre nodded.
"An interesting deduction, except for the fact that Tassin lost her
throne because she went in search of me."

"True. Then I
am at a loss."

Sabre
straightened and turned to him. "How about you do your thing and
I'll do mine?"

"Do you not
want to make Tassin happy?"

"Butt out,
Your Majesty."

Sabre walked
off, and Sharmian gazed after him, confused and disappointed. Dena
had asked him to persuade Tassin and Sabre to share their wedding
day, and he hated to disappoint her. Over the last three weeks he
had come to know her well, and his affection had grown in leaps and
bounds. Now he could hardly bear to be parted from her, and they
spent long hours talking and laughing together. He left the
battlements and went to tell her of Sabre's refusal.

****

Dena's
marriage to Sharmian took place three days later. The high priest
conducted it in the tiny chapel in the castle, and only a few close
friends attended. Dena wore a white satin gown whose skirt
comprised pointed lace panels that swirled when she moved. White
rosebuds adorned her hair, matched her bouquet and complemented the
pearl necklace Sharmian gave her on the day. The Mandorian King
looked dashing in an elegant outfit of royal blue with gold
embroidery, his modest crown encrusted with diamonds.

Dena insisted
that Sabre give her away, and Sharmian's tailors made the cyber a
black velvet suit picked out with silver designs, worn over a white
shirt. Tassin also received a gift from Sharmian in the form of a
dark blue silk gown ornamented with panels of cyan satin, its
bodice trimmed with tiny pearls. Even Tarl was given a quality dark
green suit. Dena chose Tassin as her maid of honour, and Sharmian's
cousin on his mother's side was best man.

After the
ceremony, the crowd gravitated to the orchard, where a merry feast
awaited it. Sharmian had hired jugglers, acrobats and musicians and
built a wooden platform for them, which would be used for dancing
later. While the guests dined on roast sucking pig and duck
accompanied by platters of spiced vegetables, jugs of gravy and
flasks of wine, three jugglers took to the stage first. Sabre
watched them each juggle four balls with a smile. He knew Tassin
would scoff at them, and she promptly did, nudging him.

"How many
balls could you juggle?"

He shrugged,
carving a slice from the roast pig on the platter in front of him.
"I don't know; I've never tried."

"Would you
like to see?"

"I think
they're doing fine."

"I'd like to
see."

He smiled.
"I'm not the entertainment."

"But you could
probably do twice as many."

"Maybe."

"Don't be coy,
Sabre."

"I'm not being
coy, I'm eating."

"When you've
finished then."

He sighed and
loaded his fork. "I'm much more interested in enjoying the
food."

"I want you to
try. Will you do it for me?"

Tarl, who sat
on the other side of the Queen leant closer. "The only limit to how
many balls Sabre could juggle is -"

"How many I'm
going to ram up your arse if you don't shut up," Sabre
remarked.

Tassin turned
to the ex-cyber technician. "Is what?"

"How high he
can toss them, and the wind factor," Tarl finished, shooting Sabre
a triumphant grin.

Sabre frowned
at her. "Don't encourage him."

"I wanted to
know."

"Great, now
that you do, I don't need to join the entertainment."

"But I want to
see you do it."

"There are
times when I want to see Tarl's head stuffed down a lavatory, but
we can't always have what we want, can we?"

Tassin
giggled. "That's not the same. They're just balls."

"And Tarl's
just a moron, so what?"

"Tarl's not a
moron, he's your friend. Don't be so nasty."

"The day I'm
nasty is the day I do stuff him down a toilet."

She tilted her
head, and the sunshine caught her eyes, making them glow deep
indigo. "Please?"

He speared
some vegetables. "No."

"Come on,
Sabre, I want everyone to admire your skills. I'm proud of
you."

Tarl eyed the
cyber’s plate. "You know, you should eat more meat and potatoes and
less vegetables, you need the protein and carbohydrates -"

"Tarl." Sabre
glared at him. "When I want your opinion on my eating habits, I'll
ask for it."

"Yeah, but
-"

"Shut it."

Tarl muttered,
"I'm just trying to help."

Tassin poured
Sabre a glass of wine. "If you're shy, this will help."

Tarl shook his
head, clearly horrified. "That's a bad idea."

"That just
makes me sleep," Sabre said.

"Just a few
sips. We have to toast the bride and groom, anyway."

Sabre
concentrated on eating while the jugglers finished their act amid
enthusiastic applause, and the acrobats took to the stage. The
guests gasped in awe when the three men performed simple backflips
and somersaults, cartwheels and handstands. Tassin nudged Sabre,
who was slicing more meat from the roast.

"You must show
them how much better you are at that."

"No."

Tarl snorted.
"He could make them look like rank amateurs."

Sabre shot him
a glare. "I could make you look like a man with a fork up his arse,
too. Doesn't mean I'll do it, though."

"Oh, please,"
Tassin said.

"I'm the
giver-away-of-the-bride, not the entertainment, okay?"

"For me?" She
batted her eyelashes at him, slipping her arm through his.

"No."

"You said
you'd do anything for me, and I'm not asking for much."

"I was talking
about life threatening situations, not showing off for a bunch of
primping nobles."

"I'll give you
a kiss," she said.

"That's not...
I don't..." He frowned, trapped.

Tassin looked
hurt. "You don't want a kiss?"

"No. I mean
yes, of course I do, just... ah, shit." Sabre pushed his plate away
and leant back.

"Fine, I won't
kiss you again."

Tarl shook his
head. "Now you've gone and dug yourself a big hole, bud."

"You stay out
of it," Sabre said. "Tassin, you know what I meant, so don't
pretend you don't."

"No, I don't."
She folded her arms and turned her head away.

"Of course you
do, I meant..." Sabre glanced around at their neighbours, some of
whom were listening unashamedly.

Tarl leant
closer to Tassin. "He meant he's not exactly keen on them, but he
wouldn't say no, so as not to hurt your feelings."

She nodded.
"That's what I thought."

"That's not
it." Sabre glared at Tarl. "Stop interfering."

"Hey, I'm just
trying to help. See, you've upset her now."

Sabre said, "I
didn't mean it to sound like it did."

She sighed,
looking mournful. "You said no, and I think you meant it."

"Many a slip
happens between brain and tongue," Tarl quipped, "especially when
they're not too well connected."

Sabre reached
past Tassin and gripped Tarl's collar, dragging him closer. "One
more word out of you, and I swear, I'll -"

"Hey!" Tassin
elbowed him. "You're squashing me."

Sabre released
Tarl, glaring at him, and sat back. "Sorry."

"I think
you'll have to make up for it now," Tarl said, picking up his glass
of wine.

"What did I
just say?" Sabre enquired.

Tassin turned
to him, her expression woeful. "Perhaps I could forgive you if
you'd just show us some tricks."

Sabre eyed
her, unsure now, and spotted Tarl leaning over to whisper to Dena,
whose eyes sparkled with mischief.

Tassin laid a
hand on Sabre's arm, drawing his attention back to her. "I do so
want to see you do those wonderful acrobatics again. It would make
me happy."

"I'm not
dressed for it." Sabre muttered, glaring at Tarl, who was
poker-faced.

"You could
change. It would only take a minute. I promise not to kiss you for
a whole week."

"I didn't mean
-"

"You said you
wanted her to stop,” Tarl pointed out. “What else could you have
meant?"