Manhouch XI still had many years left to him.
Tamas watched him take two more shots, considering each for several minutes before setting his cue to the cloth, each shot more masterful than the last. After that third shot Tamas dare to speak up.
“How may I serve you, my lord?”
The king pointed the cue at him. “You may serve me by standing just there and not speaking unless spoken to.”
What was he, a schoolchild? Tamas felt his cheeks warm and a flare of indignity. “Yes, my lord.”
The old king took several more shots over the next twenty minutes. There was only one in which he scored less than six counts on a stroke, and when it happened he swore quietly to himself.
Tamas had seen similar behavior from senior officers. They would call a man in and ignore them for some time, going about a leisure activity like solitaire, letter-writing, billiards, or what-have-you for some time before addressing the subordinate. It was meant as an intimidating tactic. Something to make the victim feel insignificant.
Of course, the king didn’t need to make it clear he was more important than you. The king, if Tamas guessed correctly, was sending an entirely different message. And it was to the royal cabal. Tamas could very well have been as important as a piece of paper.
Tamas let his mind wander to Erika. She has occupied his thoughts quite a lot the last few weeks. More than she should, that was for certain. They had trained nearly every day for at least a few hours, either shooting out in the glen or dueling in an abandoned warehouse in the factory district of Adopest.
She had learned the basics of controlling her powder trance almost immediately, and Tamas had no doubt that she could defeat any two men at a time with her newfound speed and strength. It was remarkable, really. He had never met a woman of that age with such grace and confidence. And the way she smiled at him made him wish that he was half as good a student for her dueling techniques as she was for shooting.
After his tenth shot, Manhouch glanced at the grandfather clock at one end of the billiards room and nodded to himself. “That’s about right,” he said. “You may go.”
Tamas ducked a bow. “Thank you, your majesty. My lord, if I may?”
“You may,” Manhouch glanced at Tamas with some annoyance. “But if you’re about to say anything that isn’t advice in improving my game, I suggest you not.”
“I think it is, my lord.”
Manhouch set the cue on the far end of the table and rolled it beneath his fingers. “Oh, is it? Well then this is something I had better hear.” There was a note of bemusement to his tone, as well as danger. Be careful, it said. You are a worm to me.
“My lord,” Tamas said, swallowing hard, wondering if he were about to commit career, political, and possibly literal suicide all at once. “I’d call your memory back to a couple of weeks ago. I mentioned a hearing in which my status and rank were up for review, and a request that you step in on my behalf?”
Manhouch snatched up his cue, looking somewhat disappointed. “And I told you no. That’s quite enough, Captain. Do not lie to me again.”
“I didn’t, your majesty,” Tamas rushed ahead. “If no one represents me at the hearing I will lose my status and rank, and I will be no more use to you.”
Manhouch paused lining up his next shot, watching Tamas like a cat watches a mouse.
“The cabal will have won,” Tamas finished, his mouth dry.
“I don’t know what you think you know, Captain. But you’ve overstepped your bounds. Leave.”
Tamas tried not to seem as if he were fleeing, but he couldn’t help a hurried step as he left the king’s billiards room.
Tamas left his horse with the boy at the stable down the road from the small house he rented in a northeastern borough of Adopest.
It had begun to snow on his way back from Skyline Palace. Three inches lay on the streets when he left the stable and he guessed there would be that much or more again in the morning, turning to muddy slush with the daily traffic. He could sense that it would be a miserable winter and wished that he was on campaign in sunny, warm Gurla.
There was a chill deep in his bones. He didn’t think even a warm bath would get it out. He had made a terrible mistake with the king. At the very best all chances of future favor were gone. At the worst? He might not even have to wait for a hearing. He could awake in the morning to a message that his rank had been withdrawn and he was back among the non-commissioned soldiers.
The thought left him sick to his stomach, and at first he barely noticed the figure that hurried up from behind and fell into pace beside him.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
Erika brushed the straw out of her hair and straightened her bicorn. “I was waiting for you in the stables but I fell asleep.”
“I can see that. But what are you doing here?”
“I thought we could go shooting.”
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, trying to decide what she was getting at. She noticed the look and gave him a sly smile. “It’s almost midnight,” he said.
“You said I would have to learn to shoot at night.”
“And it’s snowing.”
“Adverse conditions,” she replied, her smile widening to a grin.
Tamas felt the corner of his mouth lift slightly. Erika was already shooting better than most infantrymen. Once he taught her how to float a bullet she would take the apple off a tree at three quarters of a mile. Spending the night out in the country with a gorgeous woman, shooting pistols and muskets, sounded like the best idea he’d ever heard.
He cursed silently to himself. He had to remember who she was. Fighting his urge to say yes, he shook his head. “Not tonight.”
“Why not?”
“I … I just don’t think it would be appropriate without a chaperone.”
“Not appropriate? You keep telling me how well I’m doing and you still insist on helping me adjust my aim. That’s not appropriate.”
Tamas thought about standing behind her, pressed close, his hand on hers under the stock, arm around her shoulder as they look down the rifle barrel together. He suppressed a smile. Pit, what was he doing? He couldn’t help himself. “You haven’t stopped me.”
“Maybe I like it.” Erika swayed into him, her shoulder gently knocking against his chest, and then gave a playful skip. “Come on. Tell me what the matter is.”
Tamas stopped and watched her walk on ahead. When she noticed, she came back around, eyebrows raised expectantly.
“I’ve just come from an audience with the king,” Tamas said.
Erika’s playfulness was gone. She leaned forward. “Really? A private audience?”
“It wasn’t anything good. This is the second time he’s called me in and had me stand there while he ignored me.”
“Perhaps he’s testing you.”
“I don’t think so. He’s using me in some game with the cabal. I’m no use to him otherwise. Just a common soldier.”
“You’re a commoner who has risen to the rank of captain. You’re nothing short of extraordinary.”
Tamas looked up sharply to see if she was mocking him, but her expression was in earnest. “No,” he said. “It’s the cabal. I know it. But anyways, that’s not it. Tonight I tried to use that knowledge to get him to help me.”
“You tried to leverage the Iron King?” Erika said, giving a nervous laugh. “How big are your balls?”
Tamas blanched at her choice of expression. “It was a mistake.”
“I’ll say. What did you want his help with?”
“Nothing,” Tamas said. This wasn’t something she needed to know. She might want to offer help, and he could not accept it. He would feel too much a cad.
She leaned closer to him and looked up. He could have kissed her without bending more than a few inches. “I don’t think it’s nothing,” she said. “Is it about that duel with Captain Linz?”