The Red Knight (20 page)

“You can be such a dolt, Bear. It’s not the type—it’s her. I can’t close my eyes without seeing her. It’s driving me to madness. She’s always in my thoughts, I—”

“Alright, alright, Asha’s paps, I get it. You’re love-sick.”

“In the worst way,” he said and finished dressing.

“I can see why; she has a fair countenance, long, shapely legs, a curvaceous behind, and nice dugs. I might try for her myself. Perhaps that’s it—rather than a princeling—she might want a lusty warrior like herself. Now don’t look so glum. If I do bag her, I promise I’ll let you watch.” She grinned mischievously.

Talin wasn’t amused, it was probably the Pel, but damn it, that was no excuse to trample over his feelings. “Have a care, Lady Berwick.”

“Sweet Asha’s orbs, I’m being
‘Lady Berwick-ed’
. What have I done wrong?” She asked. Her face a picture of innocence.

“I’m serious. If you can’t be helpful, you can go.”

She threw up her hands. “Alright, alright, I won’t move on the Captain. You saw her first, and in truth, she scares me. Besides, there are plenty of other pretty things here and all at the mercy of my god-given charm. It would be unfair to take from my oldest and dearest friend, who, had it not been for a lucky accident of birth, would have probably died a virgin.”

Talin threw his towel at her. She ducked and it hit the wall with a wet
splat
. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were the heir to the throne and I merely the hanger-on.”

“Yes, I know what you mean,” she muttered, as she examined her cloak. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do; I’ll speak with her friends, find out as much as there is to know about her. What she likes to eat, what her favourite colour is, all that stuff. Let’s see if we can’t come up with a way to get you into her breeches.” She raised her hand as Talin was about to tell her not to bother. “No, don’t thank me, Highness. You can make me official wine taster to the King when you’re on the throne, or give me a huge castle and fill it with gorgeous servants. By the way, do you have a spare room in your quarters? We can’t possibly share; your snoring is really quite awful.”

She picked up the towel and used it to rub at a stain on her cloak. While she was busy Talin filled a bucket from the tub of cooling water.

“Here Bear, let me help you with that,” he said, and tipped the bucket over her.

The polished oak tables stretched the length of the Great Hall. They were not laden with dainty or exotic dishes; the food was simple, wholesome fare, well prepared and plentiful. It was a banquet to feed warriors and lacked neither quality nor quantity. If nothing else, Thorgulsen couldn’t fault the Steelskins’ hospitality.

He was sitting with Telvier and their Lieutenants. Bethanglyn was dancing with a lad whose face had turned as red as his hair. The boy didn’t seem to know what to do as Beth swayed against him. She occasionally threw a glance over her shoulder, just to make sure he was watching. The Thane sipped his ale, and feigned disinterest in his wife’s antics, but they were duly noted.
Let her play her little games
. One day he would plant his seed in her belly and that would kill her powers. Then she would have to cover her auburn locks and stay at home like a good wife. There’d be no more air fucking with Antian milksops then.

He stopped watching his wife and turned his attention to the knights of the Hammer. They were easy to pick out of the crowd, not only because of their scarlet surcoats and long braids, but they were also the biggest warriors in the hall. Even the women were a good head taller than most of the men present. Picked for what they looked like rather than skill, like prize cattle. He smiled to himself.
Let them graze, the wolves are watching.

Telvier leaned across to him, gold teeth shining amid the black. “Alas, Prince Talin will not be taking part in the tourney.”

Thorgulsen wasn’t surprised. “These Ants are as soft as horse shit. If a Guthani princeling didn’t take the chance to prove his worth it would bring shame on his entire house.”

The Suvian quirked an eyebrow. “Perhaps, Thane, but not three months ago, these particular knights taught my countrymen a hard lesson in fighting that they will not soon forget. There are many Suvian families in mourning because of these ‘soft’ knights. Even the Brotherhood of the Redemption has declared them demonically possessed, which is high praise in some circles. Don’t make the same mistake as my fellow Suvians, Thane. Do not underestimate them.”

“They may have plucked a few peacocks, but they’ll find Guthani hirths more than a match.”

The mercenary stiffened. Thorgulsen took a swig of ale, content for now to watch the cattle.

Jamie wasn’t sure how he’d ended up dancing with her. One minute he was making his way through the crowd, the next he was been dragged off by the Guthani. As pleasurable as it was having her lithe body pressed against him, he was relieved when the musicians took a break and he was able to disengage himself.

As he made his escape, a weighty arm fell across his shoulders. Startled, he looked round expecting to see an angry cuckold. It wasn’t, it was the Prince’s lover; Lady Iris Berwick. She clamped her arm around his shoulders and steered him over to an empty table where she pushed him into a chair against the wall and sat down beside him, trapping him behind her huge skirts.

“Here you go,” she said and pushed a flagon of ale towards him. “You look like you’ve worked up quite a thirst.”

“Er, thank you.” He took a long drink, confused by the sudden interest he was receiving from the most unexpected quarters. Confused, but not complaining. Lady Berwick wasn’t as pretty as the Guthani, she was perhaps a little square in the jaw and broad in the back for his tastes, but her breasts were magnificent. After a moment he realised he was staring at them and forced himself to look up at her face. Her eyes were light brown, almost golden, not that he could see much of them; her pupils were huge. When she breathed he caught a strong whiff of Pel.

She coughed. “I said: I know your brothers.”

“Er…yes. Me too.”

“While our parents argued about taxes and the state of the kingdom we court brats were sent for lessons together—etiquette, fencing, history and gods help us, dancing. I’m not sure who had the least fun, our parents or us. How are your brothers doing? I haven’t seen them in years?”

“They’re well, but I don’t see them much either. Thom is in Suvia—with the ambassador in Toresta.”

She smiled. “Ah, that sounds like him. How’s your Captain? You must see more of her than you do your family.”

The ale was beginning to take its toll and he let his gaze drift down to her breasts.

“She’s well—and yes, I suppose I do.”

“Is she still seeing that handsome bastard, Rufus Corvinius?” Lady Berwick beckoned to a page who was weaving through the crowd with a jug of ale.

Jamie had to catch himself before the ale made an honest man of him. He was a squire and had to show respect for all senior knights, even a piece of dog shit like Corvinius.

“I don’t believe …I mean, I don’t know, my Lady.”

Lady Berwick smiled and took the jug from the page. Despite his weak protestations, she re-filled Jamie’s mug.

“They are nice aren’t they?” She flicked her gaze down to her chest. Jamie almost choked on his drink.

She laughed. “Don’t be embarrassed, if I didn’t want people to look at them I’d cover them up.”

He was about to mumble an apology when someone put their hand on his shoulder.

“I see now why you ran away, sir knight.”

He immediately recognised the voice and the musky perfume. They both sent a thrill of excitement running down his neck, straight to his groin. Lady Berwick’s lips parted in a languid smile.

“I cannot imagine what possessed him to leave such a delightful companion. Please, join us. I’m Iris by the way, but my friends call me Bear.”

The Guthlander slid onto Jamie’s knee as light as a whisper, quite the opposite of the solid presence of Lady Berwick. He was either in a really good situation with two attractive women flirting with him, or a really bad situation for the same reason. He took another drink and decided not to think about it.

“Bear? How appropriate. My name is Bethanglyn.”

Lady Berwick looked surprised, but then she laughed. “It’s awfully hot in here, don’t you think? I wonder—would you like to go for a walk? Perhaps, Squire Turlowe could be our guide, show us a thing or two?”

“I’d like that very much,” the Guthani purred. She slipped her arm around Jamie’s shoulder. “What say you, sir knight?”

If this was a dream Jamie did not want to wake up. He got up and sketched a slightly unsteady bow. “I’d be delighted.”

A tented city surrounded the Arth, and the hall was thronged with happy guests. Despite the revelry, Alyda could taste the steel in the air. It was going to be a hard tournament.

Nevenna passed her a mug of ale. “Good thing we enlarged those stands.

“Aye, success in Suvia has brought a few more challengers—all keen to make their names.

“Let ‘em try. Have you seen how many Guthlanders there are? There’s even a Thane.”

“I’ve seen him.” Alyda had marked the Thane the moment he’d walked in. He was as tall as her, but twice as wide, and as cold-eyed as they came. He was sitting next to someone who, by his dress, had to be Suvian. She could just make out his rat-thin face and bright, little eyes peering from beneath an extravagant wig.

“They’re an odd couple aren’t they,” said Nevenna as they surreptitiously eyed the outsiders.

Alyda shrugged. “That’s what happens at tournaments, Nev. People come together who’d never meet otherwise.” Logical as that sounded; there was something odd about their association.

“Aye. Warriors come together; share food and drink, swap tales and then try to smash each other’s brains in.” Nev laughed.

“Captain Stenna, there you are.” The crowd parted and the Prince stepped forward. He inclined his head to Alyda and Nevenna.

What was I thinking?
The realisation that she had been a fool struck her the moment she laid eyes on him. She’d allowed herself to think of him as just another knight, an ordinary man, but he wasn’t, and right then the illusion was shattered.

It had been easy to forget he was the heir to the throne when he was out on the practice fields, covered in mud. Tonight he was wearing a fine fillet of gold and his doublet and hose were blood red velvet, embroidered with gold and studded with rubies. He was also wearing the company surcoat, but a single scale does not a dragon make. It wasn’t only his attire that marked him out, it was his whole bearing. This was the real Talin,
Prince
Talin, and far beyond the reach of a mere knight.

“Good evening, Highness,” she said. Every word felt like lead in her mouth. “Would you care to watch tonight’s entertainment?”

“It would be my pleasure, Captain Stenna. Other than Bear’s disappearing act, what is the entertainment?”

“We have an earth mage, Highness.”

When they were seated, Alyda gave a nod to the robed and hooded mage who was standing in the middle of the hall, waiting for her signal. He raised his hand. The huge candelabras flickered and dimmed to nothing. At the same time, the roaring fires died back to barely glowing embers. An excited murmur rippled through the hall as pages cleared a space around the mysterious figure. Time passed, a few nervous coughs echoed in the darkness.

Alyda thought she saw a light, smaller than a candle flame, appear next to the mage. Fascinated, she watched the light slowly float around him. Before long, dozens, then hundreds, and then what seemed like thousands of tiny, pin pricks of light were swirling around the mage and bathing the hall in a radiant glow.

Alyda had always imagined mages to be imposing individuals who exuded power, and then she’d met Kilner. He was short, and fat; quite a homely fellow, but his skills were undeniably impressive.

The crowd gasped as the lights swirled around him. He flicked his wrist, and a twisted hazel wand appeared in his hand and he began to weave intricate patterns in the air.

The lights were now shining so brightly that people were forced to shield their eyes or look away. The flickering motes flew apart and formed into a half dozen, roughly head-sized spheres that floated above the awed crowd for a few seconds before silently exploding into millions of tiny, gem-like points of light. The mage waved the wand and the lights flew together and formed into giant, shimmering butterflies, glittering dragonflies and exotic birds that flew up to the rafters, before diving down and scattering the thrilled audience.

For the next half hour the magician dazzled them with a myriad of conjured animals, flowers, and mythical beasts, all created out of light and fire. Then, as suddenly as they appeared, they vanished, surprising everyone.

The room was once again plunged into darkness. For a moment there was silence, then the fires roared back to life and the candles sprouted flames. The hall erupted into rapturous applause, only there was no one there to receive it. Like all good magicians, Kilner had vanished.