"Sleeping. We were able to extract the arrowhead and have wrapped the wound. I am confident he will make a full…" Elk's gaze dropped to the floor beside the tub where Achan had shed his clothes. "Is that your sword?"
Achan scratched his shoulder. "I suspect it's yours. Sir Gavin gave it to me. It's called Eagan's Elk."
Elk pressed his lips in a straight line.
The door opened and Sir Caleb entered, followed by Kurtz and Inko. "I don't care. The answer is no."
"One hour, eh?" Kurtz had trimmed his scraggly beard short and combed his bushy hair into a tail. He looked twenty years younger, like a slender, blond version of Shung.
"No one goes out again tonight, Kurtz," Sir Caleb said. "Esek's men might be anywhere."
The men resituated themselves on the pallets. Elk still stood staring at Achan's sword.
"Eagan's Elk is yours, isn't it?" Achan asked. "Sir Gavin said it belonged to you."
"Achan," Sir Caleb said, "this is Sir Eagan Elk, former heir to the lordship of Zerah Rock."
Achan straightened in the tub. "But…isn't Elk a stray name? How could you have been heir to Zerah Rock? And why the dagfish? That's Tsaftown's crest."
Sir Eagan's brown knit. "A stray name?"
"Ten years ago, no such practice of naming strays existed," Sir Caleb said. "Back then an animal surname labeled one disowned by his family. Eagan's father-"
"My father did not approve of my serving the king as a soldier. He wanted me as Lord of Zerah Rock, nothing less. He did not understand. Rhomphaia originally belonged to one of Lord Livna's uncles. I squired for him in my youth."
"Rhomphaia." Achan stared at the ivory pommel, wishing he weren't in the tub so he could hand the blade over properly. His heart ached that he would have to give it up.
Sir Caleb jumped in with a change of subject. "Are you hungry, Eagan? We have stew."
Sir Eagan called through the cracked door, "Boy, come have dinner," then sat beside Kurtz on the bed nearest Achan.
Sparrow poked his head through the doorway, glanced over the room, and disappeared again.
Achan wished he'd bathed faster. How awkward to dress in front of so many spectators. He turned as he stood, facing the wall, water trickling into the tub. He stepped out, dried quickly, then pulled on his clean undershorts and trousers. He pulled his shirt over his head, and, finding nowhere to sit, slid down against the wall in the corner.
"What do we do next?" Achan asked.
"If Gavin is not up to it, I'll go to Lytton Hall tomorrow, first thing," Sir Caleb said. "He intended to officially ask for Tsaftown's support. It's my guess Lord Livna will throw a banquet in your honor tomorrow night. If I know Tsaftown, the celebration will last several days."
Kurtz rubbed his hands together. "Excellent."
Sparrow opened the door, peeked in, and entered fully. Sir Eagan dished the boy up a bowl of stew and handed it over.
Sparrow beamed. "Thank you, sir."
Kurtz pointed at Sparrow. "You and the minnow have the same face, Elk."
Sparrow paled and stared at Sir Eagan, who quirked an eyebrow at Kurtz. Sparrow and Sir Eagan stood awkwardly, glancing between one another.
Achan tipped his head to the side. Kurtz spoke truth. Sir Eagan and Sparrow both had round faces, thin lips, and fine, black hair. Easily mistaken for relatives.
"Do you know your father?" Achan asked Sparrow. Many strays knew the identity of one parent. Sparrow bloodvoiced his mother, but if he didn't know his father's identity…
Sparrow swallowed and croaked out, "I do."
Sir Eagan chuckled. "I fathered no son, Kurtz, as you well know. And Rigil would be much older than this boy."
"I've met Sir Rigil," Achan said. "He's a fine knight."
Sir Eagan snorted. "Is he now? Last I saw him he was eleven and begging to be my page."
"I hear he excels at the joust," Achan said.
Sir Eagan snorted again. "That does not surprise me."
"He swore fealty to Achan," Sir Caleb said.
"Did he?" Sir Eagan slapped his arm, then scratched it.
"The mosquitoes got me bad, too," Achan said.
Sir Eagan laughed. "Fleas, Your Highness."
Blood seemed to slow in Achan's veins. "Fleas?" He glanced at Sir Caleb. "From the furs on the sled?"
Sir Caleb wrinkled his nose. "So it would seem."
"And from the squalor of the Pit, eh," Kurtz said. "Fleas have been our companions these past years."
Achan sighed and scratched a red bite on his arm. At least there were no women around to complain.
"What time do you suppose it is now, eh?" Kurtz asked.
"You're not going to the tavern, Kurtz," Sir Caleb said. "We cannot risk our king for a night of mead and dancing."
"But we've been in prison thirteen years, we have. We've earned a night out, eh, Eagan?"
"Leave me out of your escapades, Kurtz," Sir Eagan said. "I am enjoying the quiet."
"But it's just downstairs. And The Ivory Spit's a classy tavern, it is. A tavern fit for a king." Kurtz winked at Achan. "What say you, Highness, eh? Fancy a mug of mead?"
"Absolutely not!" Inko said. "He's only being sixteen years of age and I-"
Kurtz puffed out his chest. "Sixteen's a man, it is."
"Being out gallivanting with you isn't being fit behavior for a king."
Kurtz swung his legs off the pallet. "What's wrong with my behavior, eh?"
"I'm remembering a time when you were being thrown out of The Ivory Spit."
"Once, when I first joined the Kingsguard." Kurtz shrugged it off as if it were nothing. "They didn't like me dancing on the tables."
Achan stifled a laugh.
Inko glared at Kurtz. "Be imagining that."
"Do you dance, Highness?" Kurtz asked.
Achan winced, recalling his awkwardness with Yumikak. "Not really, no."
"That settles it, it does. You can't introduce him at court if he can't dance. What will the maidens think, eh?"
"Achan is a quick study," Sir Caleb said. "And Tsaftown is hardly court."
"Livna is a noble lord, he is. Sounds like court to me."
"Enough, Kurtz," Sir Eagan said. "We stay indoors tonight. Let us hear no more of it."
"Bah!" Kurtz fell back onto the bed and tucked his arms behind his head.
"Vrell?" a voice whispered.
Vrell opened her eyes. A shadow crouched beside the bed she shared with Sir Gavin. In the pale glow from the coals in the fireplace, Sir Eagan's face glowed.
The man's familiarity unhinged her. And Kurtz's pointing out their similar looks prayed on her mind. Darkness had no doubt been the cause. She should have stayed in the other room where the conversation would have distracted her mind.
"What time is it?" She sat up and glanced at Sir Gavin, whose breathing rumbled a steady snore.
"It is late. Kurtz snuck out to the tavern and took the prince with him."
Vrell jumped out of bed. "What?"
"Shh." Sir Eagan set a finger to his lips. "I do not want to wake everyone. I hoped you could help me convince him to come back to bed without a scene."
"Achan is not a drinking man." Vrell knew that much. But what could he be thinking? These men had sacrificed so much for him. He would endanger that for a night in a tavern?
Vrell snuck out of the room with Sir Eagan and down the interior steps. Voices grew as they descended, then music and laughter. As they neared the first floor, light spilled into the stairwell, shadows bobbing inside it.
Vrell followed Sir Eagan into a stifling room crowded with at least three dozen people. Worn square tables lined each wall. Those in the center had been pushed haphazardly into one another to create a small dancing area. The walls were paneled timber, decorated with antlers, carvings of fish, and various hooks and sconces. Iron candelabras with three fat candles each hung from the ceiling. In the far corner, a band played an upbeat tune. The band consisted of three men dressed in blue tunics. One played a lute, one played a flute, and the third beat on a tabor drum.