The Warrior's Bond

The D’Olbriot Residence, Toremal,

7th of Aft-Summer in the Third Year of Tadriol the Provident

The Sieur’s compliments and will you attend him in the library.” The footman delivered the message with a bland lack of emotion and I received it with a similar nod.

I was in the gatehouse watch room amending a duty roster, one of a whole collection of tasks allotted me as soon as the Festival had ended. With Naer and Stoll both senior to me, I was chosen for all the most tedious and recurrently exasperating responsibilities. That’s always the way of it, I reminded myself sternly as I took my penknife to the recalcitrant quill. I had no right to complain. The lowliest sworn find themselves emptying privies and sweeping the floors until the sergeant-at-arms recruits someone new for them to look down on in turn. It’s the longest sworn who man the gates, bowing and courteous to passing nobles and pocketing passing silver.

By that same custom Stoll was out visiting a swordsmith on the House’s behalf, while by this chime Naer would be sharing a companionable flagon with Fyle, discussing just who they might recognise out of the eager would-be sworn who fetch up after every Festival. Which is why I was trying to make sense of hastily scribbled notes working out how to allow Verd leave to visit his sick father when Indar was out of the reckoning on account of coming back from Festival with a broken hand.

I took one last look down the roster; surely that would suffice? Then I cursed under my breath, seeing I’d placed three raw recruits all on the same watch. There was no way that could stand, with no one experienced to stiffen their backbone.

“Pense, you’ve got the duty.” I snapped the lid on the inkwell and set down my pen. The senior sworn man came in with alacrity to take a stool in the watch room. “Make the most of it,” I advised him lightly. “We’re on duty in the stableyard this afternoon.”

Pense groaned. “Tell me we’re seeing the back of the last guests today?”

I nodded. “As far as I know.” I’d be as relieved as anyone else not to spend my days ferrying trunks, caskets and frivolous purchases to the carts and coaches that had cluttered up the yard and lanes for the last few days.

I walked through the empty grounds to the residence. The halls were strangely silent after the constant commotion of Festival. Everywhere was clean and polished, garlands all tidied away, the few servants round and about taking their time over minor tasks. There was a faintly tired air about the place.

Messire was alone in the library, where everything was once more in its customary place. The chests of documents and deeds brought out in anticipation of battles in the courts had been returned to the archive. Avila’s casket, its hidden treasures and her lists were nowhere to be seen. Everything co

“Good day to you, Ryshad.” The Sieur sat in a chair on one side of the empty fire. He didn’t motion me to sit.

“Messire.” I bowed.

“I understand you were summoned yesterday by the Justiciar gathering evidence for and against Kreve Tor Bezaemar?” Messire enquired.

“Indeed. I told him everything I knew.” And much that I suspected or merely guessed; it was the Justiciar’s job to sort the wheat from the chaff. If he’d questioned everyone in the same exhaustive detail he’d demanded of me, it was going to be a long job.

“If you’re on duty with the guard, D’Alse

“Where is D’Alse

“He’s visiting the Sieur Den Janaquel,” I replied promptly.

“In co

I hesitated half a breath before answering. “To discuss that House’s holdings around Kalaven.”

“To discuss how Den Janaquel grain might feed D’Alse

“I can’t say, Messire.” I said simply.

“Can’t or won’t?” Messire raised a hand. “I’m sorry, but then that’s not the first time I’ve said that to you, is it? I don’t suppose you’re finding this division of your time any more satisfactory than anyone else.”

He paused, clearly expecting an answer.

“I do my duty as it’s presented to me,” I said stiffly. I’d found the constantly changing demands on me something of a trial, true enough, but at least it meant I’d been too busy to think about anything beyond that day or the next.

“D’Alse

Something must have shown in my face because the Sieur burst out laughing.

“Forgive me, Ryshad, but you look like Myred bracing himself to dine with his aged aunts. It’s my fault, I suppose. I kept you out on the roads for so long as an enquiry agent you’re spoiled for this kind of duty, aren’t you?”

I wasn’t sure I liked that, but equally these past few days had shown me with brutal clarity that I really didn’t like barracks life any more. “I’ll soon get used to it.” As soon as I spoke, I wondered how long the words would remain a lie.

“No doubt you would,” said the Sieur briskly, “but it wouldn’t alter the fact you’d be as well suited to it as a saddle horse pulling a coal cart. And there are other concerns.”

He paused again but I stayed silent.

“The time’s come to speak frankly, Ryshad.” Messire leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands beneath his chin. “You’re a good man, always have been, but no man can serve two masters. D’Alse

This time his silence demanded a response and one sprang from the most basic precepts of my training. “My first loyalty is to my oath.”

“Forgive me, Ryshad, but however much you might believe that I’m no longer convinced it’s true.” Messire’s conversational tone couldn’t mask the severity of his words. “Again, I bear much of the responsibility. I encouraged you to use your own initiative as an enquiry agent, your own judgement, but over this Festival I’ve seen too many occasions where your judgement has been to place D’Alse

I managed to keep my voice emotionless. “Are you saying I should be wearing D’Alse

“My business isn’t with D’Alse