The Servant's Heart (3 page)

I felt a low growl emerge from my throat. "You touch her and I will kill you," I swore.

The prince and milady stared at me.

"Ooh hoo, the servant boy has fangs." Feather-hat laughed.

The spearman touched his blade to her throat hard enough to draw blood. I reached for the blades at my back and summoned to mind a spell to call lightning. Trumpets sounded. Men on horseback rushed in, and in a matter of moments, the bandits were dead and the prince had milady in his arms, holding a strip of his own shirt to her throat.

I brushed my hands on my pants, trying to make my earlier gesture look innocuous.

The leader of the guard, a lieutenant by the look of his uniform, saluted sharply at the prince. "Are you all right, your highness?"

"I am, but Linnaea was scratched. Terence, are you injured?" He looked over at me speculatively.

"No, your highness." I took the initiative and re-mounted the horse.

"We should head back," milady said. "I need a bandage and some tea."

"Shall I ride ahead and ready some for you, milady?" I asked softly, eyes on my saddle pommel.

"Please, thank you, Terence."

I bowed in the saddle, and set the horse off at a trot.

***

When milady arrived at her room -- in the arms of her prince -- I had tea and a physician waiting. The prince nodded to me, gratefully it seemed, and set the lady down in her favorite chair. I handed her a cup of tea and the physician treated her wound. It was just a scratch, but it still angered me. At least her ladies had the sense to stay out of the way, though I could hear them all a flutter in the solar. It was only just down the hall and they were being quite noisy.

I tried to hide my anger, but my hands were shaking. The tea shook in its cup when I handed it to her, and she noticed. "It's all right, Terence. There was nothing you could do."

The prince touched my shoulder. "You should go get something to drink -- take the edge off. I can take care of her."

His eyes met mine, and in them I could see a question, more than a question. I looked away and slipped out of the room. I did need a drink, I stole down into the wine cellar and begged a bottle away on the pretense of sending it on to my poor mistress. She didn't need -- or want -- wine, but I could do with it. I took it back to my room, popped the cork and took a drink from the bottle.

It was a good red, decent vintage. It was also one of the few wines from Veneser. It was a taste of home I dearly needed at that moment. I took another swig and my door swung open.

"That's a lot of wine for a boy," Iolyn said. "Bad day?"

I didn't look at him. "Milady was attacked, and I'm not a boy."

"I know. His highness asked me to check on you."

"How... kind of him."

"He said you were so angry your hands shook. I suppose he thought you might be a danger to yourself, or someone else."

"I'm not."

"He says when they threatened to kill her, you reached for something."

I felt the blood drain from my face. "I don't know what he's talking about." I stood up. "I couldn't have done a thing -- I'm no soldier."

"What a lie." He strode across the small room and grabbed my shoulder. "I know you're hiding something."

"Yes, we both know that," I said softly, taking another drink. "But the only thing you need to know is that I will lay down my life for milady. I swear to you."

Iolyn sighed. "The prince told me you threatened to kill them if they touched her."

"I did."

"And how did you intend to do that?"

"Any way possible."

He took the bottle from my hand and set it down. "One of these days, it'll be time for you to stop running."

"Why do you care? I--I'm just a servant."

"You're just a servant Terence! Nothing more, and you will never be anything else."

"You're also a good man." He shook his head and took a deep breath. He looked me in the eyes. There was something about his look that I recognized. He gripped both of my shoulders and kissed me very gently on the cheek. "Let me know when you want to talk." He left.

The kiss tingled on my cheek. I took a breath and retrieved my book from under the plank, tucked it into my shirt, and headed out into the rain. No matter what Iolyn said, I couldn't tell them.

I couldn't tell anyone.

It had been some time since I'd gone into the city, but I needed a break from it all. The tavern seemed like a good place to do that. The woods circled the castle about half way around, and the rest of the region opened up into the city after a good two hundred yards of gardens. It wasn't uncommon to see palace servants heading into the city, so I wasn't noticed as I made my way through the less popular gardens and onto the paths that led to the wall, and then out the wall via the small gate.

The street the small gate opened onto was lined with the homes of those nobles who wished to remain as close to the court as possible -- in other words, the richest and most influential. From there the wealth gradually subsided into the merchant's district and the best taverns and inns. There was the district below that where high-class servants and tradesmen spent their coin and below that where much of the rest of the city lived and purchased goods.

I, being a high-class servant, went for the district I would be least likely to get myself robbed in. I wasn't in the mood to deal with ill-trained lowlifes. The heavy slab paved roads were clean here, and the gutters free of debris. I kept my head down and ignored those I passed, choosing a tavern called the Green Knight. I'd been there before and the stone and wood building reminded me of my homeland -- that, and they were one of the few places that served
absys
, a green liquor from Veneser. The tavern interior was a cheerful sort of place, for one, it had no animal trophies on the walls, for another, it didn't smell like stale beer and vomit.

I took a seat near the door, a waitress in a low cut blouse -- though not as low as it would've been a few streets down -- and a blue skirt, swept up with a smile.

"What can I get you?"

"
Absys.
" I fished three coins from my pocket and set them on the table, the gold flashed in the light. "Until my money runs out."

She blinked, nodded, swept up the coins and hurried off to get my order.

***

Absys
is served in an odd little glass with a cylindrical top section and a spherical lower where the spirits themselves reside. I took the slotted spoon and a cube of sugar, setting them on top of the glass, and last, taking the chilled water, poured it into the glass and over the sugar. I liked it with three parts water myself, but others preferred more.

I stirred the sugar into the glass, and in a single swallow, drank it down. I poured more spirits into the glass, and repeated the ritual. It was the thing I loved most about the drink.

The ritual.

Of course, four glasses later and I stopped bothering.

I rested my head on the table, one hand on the bottle of spirits while the other stroked the portrait of Anna. A slightly rowdier crowd had absorbed the tables near the fire -- likely the sons of wealthy merchants and perhaps even some petty nobles. After all, this was one of the few places you could get
absys,
the taverns higher up the street refused to serve the stuff.

There was a touch on my shoulder, a tap. I looked up, sliding the book closer to my body and closing it in the same gesture. "Can I help you?"

The man who had tapped on my shoulder was moderately well dressed and far drunker than myself. I could hear the slight slur in my words, but it wasn't anything serious. He blinked and then pointed at the bottle in my hand.

"Care t' share?" He hiccupped.

I clutched the bottle to my chest. "Not really."

He slapped my shoulder playfully, "Come on. We're s'elebratin'."

"I think you've celebrated plenty, besides, I'm not done drinking." To illustrate my point, I took a drink from the bottle. It would haunt me in the morning -- or in a couple of hours -- but it was worth it.

He frowned. "Don't be so stingy--" he took a look at me, blinking owlishly, "--servant boy."

His friends took that moment to join him, drunken fools with irritable natures.

I felt a grin twitch its way across my face. This would be fun. It'd been too long since I bloodied a few noses.

***

Veneseran prisons were not nearly as clean as Jorian's. Not that I'd ever been in a prison in Veneser as a prisoner. I lounged on the wooden bench in the stone room -- I still had my blades, they hadn't bothered to check me for weapons -- idiots. But they had my book. That irritated me.

My head was pounding, and the dim light coming in through the window hurt my eyes, I covered them with my arm and held back the urge to vomit.

"This is not a place I ever expected to retrieve you from," a man spoke from the door as it creaked open.

I peeked from under my arm -- it was Iolyn. "And I wasn't expecting
you
to retrieve me."

"I always come get palace servants when they end up here. It's my duty to ensure they do not repeat the trip." His raised eyebrow made me wonder how many bruises I was going to accumulate while the rest of my brain was churning over the kiss.

"I can assure you, this was a onetime thing." I got up from the bench; the floor moved a little. "I was... working off some steam. I suppose the incident yesterday upset me more than I thought it did."

The Weaponsmaster snorted. "Three of the men are in the prison hospital with broken bones. It was only at the Lady's insistence that you were released, Terence."

"They tried to take my alcohol, I protested, and they decided to attempt force. It's not my fault they were too drunk to properly defend themselves." I closed my eyes for a moment. "Did they give you my book?"

In response, he held it out to me. I stumbled forward and took it, tucking it back into my shirt.

"Pretty girl."

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. "Yes. She was."

His face clouded for a moment, "Ah, I'm sorry. What was her name?"

"Anna, my sister."

He put a hand on my shoulder, steering me out of the cell. "How did she die?"

"She was murdered."

"Did you ever find who did it?"

"Yes. Justice was done."

"By you?"

I shook my head. "I made her a promise not to seek revenge. He was killed in the war."

"Ah."

The sunlight was too bright for my taste; I covered my eyes as we departed the gaol. Iolyn had horses waiting. I groaned. "You are an evil man."

"You realize my friend, that for the entirety of our conversation, we have been speaking Veneseran. Apparently, all I have to do to get information from you is get you drunk. I'll keep it in mind." He gave me a look that suggested more than "information".

I groaned again, but let him help me mount. "I repeat myself, you are an evil man." At least that time, I remembered to speak the language of Jorian. Jorian was a prettier language anyway.

"When we get back, his highness wants a word."

"That sounds... fun." I noticed absently the hawk perched up on the horse Ioyln rode, it watched me.

Iolyn snorted and I concentrated on staying mounted and not vomiting.

***

The palace seemed to loom in my vision, but at least clouds had finally obscured the sun to the point it was no longer setting fire to my eyes, though my head still pounded.

"Looks like rain again. I suppose the farmers are happy," I commented. While I was pleased the clouds covered the sun, I was getting tired of the rain. It never seemed to rain this much in Veneser.

"They are indeed."

"You think the prince is angry?"

"I don't think angry is the word," Iolyn said softly.

What did that mean?
"Enraged?"

"Not particularly."

"Then what?"

"Amused."

I felt my eyes widen as I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. "I really dislike him."

The Weaponsmaster laughed, "I don't think he cares whether you like him or not, Terence. He's the sort of person who enjoys irritating people. Try not to take it personally."

"I'll keep it in mind."

***

Being in front of the prince rumpled, hung-over, and smelling of sour beer was probably not the best impression I'd ever made on the man. He looked at me for a moment and then nodded to Iolyn.

"Hold him."

When Iolyn decided to hold on to someone, he did. "Don't struggle, my boy, you'll only hurt yourself."

While he was right, I knew deep down that if I wanted to, I could get free of both him and the prince. Probably, so long as the dancing spots in my vision cleared. I wasn't sure what to do. Iolyn held me tight, one arm across my throat and his other hand holding my arm twisted high. It hurt. The prince reached first into my shirt for the book and then into my waistband for the blades-folded scythes. He stared at them, and then unfolded each one with a flick of the wrist.

"These, these are not child's toys," the prince said softly. "Veneseran. Prayer scythes, am I right?"

I didn't answer.

"It's rare for someone trained in their use to be found outside of Veneser." The prince folded the scythes and tucked them into his belt. He stepped forward and forced my eyes up to meet his. "Who
are
you?"

"I--I'm not
anybody
!" I pulled away from Iolyn, ducked the prince, and scrambled out the door. I heard them make pursuit, and rushed outside, where it had started raining again. It was raining. Just like that day.
 

***

It was near the middle of a long and bloody war. I studied a map of Rothwell, the kingdom we had invaded, and frowned. The fire in my room threw shadows all over, and a large bruise on my back ached -- my king had kicked me for dropping a cup. The infection of war was spreading across my map; soon it would envelop what little of Veneser that had not joined the effort. I stroked the spine of the book Anna had given me,
The Virtue of War,
and wondered if she had known then what would happen to her.