“Mount up. We will pay a visit to the Fultan’s directly.”
ǂ
Gwaynn and Vio were resting after another bout of sparring. For the last two hours they’d worked with each other, mostly with katas but they also worked at hand to hand and just for fun, the staff. Gwaynn was already her equal with katas, which was definitely an accomplishment because she was one of the most gifted students to come along in many years. Vio was also benefiting from their sessions, just as Tar Kostek had hoped. She was improving rapidly, a fact her fellow students from the Mele quarter were coming to notice. Tonight Gwaynn had defeated her with katas, but lost in hand to hand. He was still learning the many techniques needed to excel in such combat, and she completely dominated him with the staff, which he was finding to be a cumbersome weapon to learn.
“While I am gone,” Kostek said as he warmed some soup, “there will be no nightly bouts between the two of you.”
Gwaynn glanced at Vio, who was looking back at him, but neither spoke as Kostek brought two bowls of thin chicken soup to the table, placing one in front of each student. They both waited to eat as their Master turned back to fill his own bowl. They just continued to sit, glancing at one another to see what reaction the other might have to the news.
“There will be no bouts,” Gwaynn finally promised. “How long will you be gone?” he asked, as Kostek sat and immediately began to eat.
“A week only, possibly as long as ten days,” he answered and they all ate the rest of their late meal in silence.
“He may still run?” Vio finally spoke as she finished her soup, which was very good, not too heavy after such a strenuous workout.
“Uuum,” Kostek grunted as he ate. He swallowed. “Yes, yes he may run. We have made no secret to the fact that he works with us in that capacity. Tar Endid will be staying on Noble and working with all four quarters while the rest of us are away.”
Kostek stood. “Vio, I will see you in the morning, now I need to speak with Gwaynn alone.”
Vio nodded, wondering at the abrupt dismissal. “See you in the morning,” she said to Gwaynn and gathered her things. He made a conscious effort not to watch her every movement, the tension inside him finally easing as she stepped out the door. He leaned back, relaxing.
“More?” Kostek asked as he rose to fill another bowl for himself.
Gwaynn shook his head. Exercise always blunted his appetite and besides Shari fed him very well.
Kostek returned with a full bowl, sat and ate a few bites before stopping. “I am sure you’ve heard the High King is to marry,” he said without looking up and took another spoonful into his mouth.
“Yes,” Gwaynn answered, wondering just where this was going.
Kostek nodded but continued to eat for another moment before stopping. “What you probably haven’t heard is to whom he will be wed.”
Gwaynn remained quiet but instantly became very alert.
“The Lady Audra Deutzani,” Kostek said and pushed the now empty bowl away and sat up to his full height. He glanced at the boy, who still said nothing.
Gwaynn knew her. He had met Audra several years ago but she was just a young child then. Thinking on it, he decided she must still be considered a child. Finally Gwaynn nodded. “Thank…thank you for telling me.”
“Wasn’t my idea, was Master Amon’s.”
But Gwaynn was only now half listening and though he kept his face carefully neutral, inside his mind was racing. This would definitely explain why the High King had unleashed the Temple Knights on his homeland. It also made it clear that if Gwaynn ever moved against the Deutzani he would find another enemy in the High King, not that he had any notion of moving against the Deutzani, at least not in any future other than his fantasies.
“You understand what this means for you?” Kostek finally said, feeling for the boy, who had already lost so much.
Gwaynn looked over at him and nodded.
“It would be better if you resigned yourself to be just Gwaynn,” Kostek added, wondering again just how long the boy would survive.
Gwaynn just shook his head. “Better it may be, but that is something I will never do,” he answered, stood and without another word, left his master’s house.
ǂ
Thomas Fultan saw the Zani soldiers coming up the road nearly half a league before they arrived at the gate. The sight of so many of soldiers coming toward the house made his breath catch in his throat, but it was when he recognized the figure out front as an Executioner that his stomach truly lurched. Gale, who was busy creating a mash from the hops, which was the very beginning of the brewing process, noticed that Thomas was no longer working and followed his gaze.
He gasped as Thomas turned to him. “Gale, please go into the house and warn every one of our pending guests.”
Gale put down the large ladle he was using to stir the concoction and with obvious nervousness wiped his hands down with a towel.
“Do not hurry,” Thomas added his voice was calm but his mind screaming at him for ideas. The Executioner’s presence could only mean one thing…Afton Sath. He could only hope that they were just here searching and not acting on any definite knowledge.
After a moment Wellman hobbled out and joined his master and friend and they waited together silently as the party of horses and men rode up the lane and came to a stop before them.
“You are Thomas Fultan?” One of the Sergeants asked abruptly and Thomas took it as a good sign that no one showed any sign of dismounting.
“I am,” Thomas answered, surprised at how relaxed his voice sounded to him. His eyes traveled over the Sergeant, who was a great bear of a man, so tall that his legs hung down far beneath the horse, giving the illusion that he was astride a pony.
“How may I help you?” Thomas asked, his eyes now wandering over the rest of the party, before finally landing on the Executioner, who was looking around the estate with interest. Thomas saw the man’s nose wrinkle at the smell of the mash and felt a sense of relief. Many people found the smell slightly offensive. It gave the Executioner a more human quality that he too should find it so.
“I want everyone in the house, outside directly,” the Executioner stated without any emotion and turned his eyes on Thomas, whose relief at the human qualities of the man before him vanished in a blink.
“Of…of course,” Thomas stammered, his voice no longer relaxed. “Wellman,” he added and the old man hobbled back inside.
“I have heard of your ale,” the Executioner commented, and Thomas gave a forced smile.
“I hope you liked it.”
“I do not drink ale,” the man answered and fixed his unblinking blue eyes on Thomas and held him in his stare. Thomas, unable to take his eyes away, stared back, only partially aware that he was beginning to sweat. The man before him was a killer, of that Thomas had no doubt, and for a moment he wondered just what it was about the man that signaled his deadly intent. He was not big, this Executioner, nor did he have a particularly malevolent look. His features were dark, but with clear blue eyes. He was clean cut and dressed as well as any nobleman. The door behind Thomas opened and the Executioner’s gaze shifted, releasing Thomas, and as the man watched Thomas’ friends and family emerge, it hit him just what was different about him. His face showed no emotion, nothing at all. Even the marble statues in the great halls of Solarii showed more emotion than the man in front of him. Thomas shivered despite the warmth of the day, and he suddenly found the Executioner smiling at him. The smile made him all the worse.