The Sorcerer's Oath Collection

Chapter 11

Over the next few days Tarkyn skirted villages and farmsteads, losing all idea of where he was heading. Twice he waylaid a small child to ask him to buy something for him from the village shop in exchange for a small fee, but these villages were so small that everyone knew everyone’s business, and both times he had had to run for his life as suspicious villagers had come looking for the stranger. By the fourth day, he was living mainly on berries and some apples he had found in an old gnarled tree by the side of the road. His big frame demanded more than this and his stomach growled constantly as he walked along mile after mile of dirt roads.

It was nearing sunset on the fifth day away from Tormadell when he sat down by the side of the road to rest before finding somewhere safe to spend the night. Up ahead of him, Tarkyn could see the beginnings of a forest and he hoped that it might provide him with some respite from the constant tension he had endured since leaving Tormadell.

He was tired and dispirited after days of living on his nerves. He had travelled fast, avoiding villages and farmhouses, shying away from contact with people. He was becoming very weary of detouring around the slightest signs of humanity and starting at every sudden sound. After days of unaccustomed solitude, he was sick to death of his own company and was beginning to think that his unknown future would be slow starvation if he could find nothing better than berries and apples to eat. Heaving a disconsolate sigh, Tarkyn put his hood up and dozed for a while in the shadows of an old oak.

When he awoke, an old man was sitting beside him. Tarkyn retreated further into his hood and glanced around to check whether the old man was alone. He seemed to be.

“Good evening,” said Tarkyn warily.

The scruffy old man seemed to be completely relaxed, “Good evening, young man. I was wondering, if you are going my way, whether you might like some company for a while, going into yonder forest? I have been travelling alone for some time and would appreciate a bit of company. Besides, the forest always feels safer when there is more than one person travelling through it, if you know what I mean.”

Tarkyn studied him for a minute, trying to discern any guile in his voice. Then he realised that the old man could have captured him while he slept, had he known who he was.

“I don’t suppose,” ventured Tarkyn hopefully, “that you’re any good at hunting or trapping, are you?”

The old man snorted, “Of course I am. Lived in these parts for years.” He peered at Tarkyn, “Hmph. Can’t see your face but your voice sounds a bit strained. After a feed, are you? Well, I think I can help with that. Got a good plump rabbit in my bag, all ready for dinner. Glad to share it, in exchange for the protection of your company.”

“Agreed,” Tarkyn stood and held his hand out to help up the old man. Together, they walked along the dusty road towards the forest.

Long before they reached the treeline, the heat from the waning sun made life inside Tarkyn’s hood uncomfortably warm. He was not particularly practised at withstanding discomfort and so, readying himself in case the old man attacked, Tarkyn threw caution to the winds and dropped his hood. At first the old man didn’t even look at him but when he did happen to glance around, he showed no sign of recognition. For several minutes longer Tarkyn stayed on tenterhooks, waiting for a surprise attack from the old man, but gradually, as nothing happened, he relaxed his guard.

Once they were well inside the forest, the old man made a fire for them and set about skinning the rabbit. Tarkyn watched this operation carefully, realising that he might have to learn how to do this himself in the coming days.

“I think I could stalk and kill an animal,” said Tarkyn. “I have hunted before. But I have never prepared an animal for eating.” He grimaced, “I can’t say it appeals to me all that much.”

The old man glanced up at him, his green eyes strangely piercing. “And where have you been, my young buck, that you have hunted, but not had to do the dirty work?”

Tarkyn cursed his unruly mouth. “I come from the city and have only been on organised hunts.”

The old man grunted, and returned his attention to the rabbit. “You may find stalking animals more difficult without beaters to flush them out and gamesmen to track them down in the first place.”

“Yes, I think I may.” The prince was beginning to realise that life was lot harder than he had expected.

As the evening progressed his spirits seemed to sink even further, despite his first good meal for a couple of days. The prince and the old man were seated on the ground, leaning against forest trees, the remains of cooked rabbit lying on a piece of bark near the fire.

After days of solitude, Tarkyn began to talk, “I don’t know where I’m going, you know. I have lost myself, my way of life and everything that has mattered to me until now. All the roads ahead of me lead nowhere.” He smiled with a touch of embarrassment, “I decided that, at each intersection, I would follow the road that felt best, the one with heart.” He shrugged, “But I’m finding that is easier said than done. Sometimes, none of them feels good.”

The man across the fire from him maintained a companionable silence, prodding idly at the coals with a long stick.

Somehow encouraged by this, Tarkyn continued, “It has not been in my nature to be so feckless. In fact, it has come upon me quite suddenly. Last week, my life was laid out ahead of me by the expectations of the c… those around me. But this week…this week, I am cut loose by circumstance and running hard from those very people who held me so closely before.” He gave a mirthless grunt of laughter. “Strange, isn’t it?”

His companion directed one quick, calculating glance at him before letting his gaze drop back to the fire. “Woman trouble?” he asked sympathetically.

Tarkyn gave a slight smile, “No.”

“If it’s not woman trouble and you’re on the run, I’d say you might have a price on your head.” The man’s eyes glinted in the firelight. “Do you?” he asked slowly.

The prince’s eyes narrowed. Incurably honest, he replied, “Yes, I do. I don’t know how much, but I do. Why? Thinking of turning a quick profit?”

The old man looked up at him and shrugged, “To be honest with you, it would depend on what you’d done.”

“And on what grounds would you base your decision? If the crime were sufficiently dire, would you feel honour-bound to bring me in, but for a lesser crime you would show mercy?” His voice hardened, “Or perhaps, it’s the other way around? If I seemed relatively harmless then it would be safe to take me in for a quick profit, but you would not risk it if my crimes suggested that I might be dangerous?”

The older man shifted uncomfortably. “Stars above, young man! No need to get so touchy! I am not planning to turn in someone I am sharing my fire with. I was talking generally, not specifically.”

“I beg your pardon. It did not come across that way,” said Tarkyn stiffly.

“You’re a courtly sort of a character, aren’t you, my young buck?” The old man leaned forward and pushed a stick further into the fire. “So,” he asked casually, “Are you going to trust me with your name?”

There was a long pause. The old man kept his eyes trained on the fire as the minutes ticked by.

“My name is Tarkyn Tamadil, Prince of Eskuzor.”

Without a word, the old man rose to his feet and bowed deeply. “It is an honour, Your Highness.”

Tarkyn looked up at him and inclined his head in acknowledgement, “And may I ask who you are?”

“Certainly, Sire. I am Stormaway Treemaster, Wizard of the Forest.”

The prince raised his eyebrows. “Are you indeed? I have heard of you, Stormaway Treemaster.” His eyebrows came together in a slight frown. “You were at court, were you not, in the service of my father?”

The wizard inclined his head but made no further comment.

“Please be seated.” Tarkyn smiled. “I have always thought Stormaway Treemaster to be such an excellent name. I wish I had one so colourful.”

“Do you?”

Tarkyn drew his cloak around himself against the cooling night air. “Any name but my own would be better right now.”

For the first time, the forest wizard returned his gaze levelly and said with unexpected sympathy, “I imagine it would be.” He leaned forward and poked the fire again, “Even if you weren’t sharing my fire, I wouldn’t attempt to turn you in. You are far too dangerous.”

Tarkyn gave a short mirthless laugh. “I see my reputation precedes me.”

“It certainly does. But I suspect the tales of your misdeeds may have been vastly exaggerated.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know what they are, but I can’t imagine that they are much worse than the reality.”

“But regardless of the rumours,” continued the wizard, “the strength and skill required to win the Harvest Tournament is indisputable.”

A genuine smile lit the prince’s face. “Thank you. I had almost forgotten that achievement in the turmoil that followed.”

Stormaway stirred the fire then asked in a completely different tone of voice, gentle and firm, “Would you like to tell me about it?”

After a minute’s silence he looked up to see Tarkyn staring at him, considering his decision. The wizard, who seemed to have grown in assurance, said, “Take your time deciding. We have all night if we need it.” His eyes fell to the fire once more as he continued, “If you trust me not, so be it. Perhaps the truth is worse than the rumours, but I doubt it. But knowing who you are, the truth places you in as much danger as anything you could say.”

Tarkyn eyes narrowed. “I thought you said you would not betray me?”

The wizard frowned impatiently, “I won’t. I’m saying that I need no further information to betray you, should I choose to do so. Therefore, you can tell me your story without fear of further consequence.”

Tarkyn re-evaluated his impression of the wizard. The man before him, who had seemed shifty and shiftless, now exuded natural authority. “I’ve been watching you, Stormaway. You’re like a chameleon. The person I sat down with is not who I see before me now.”

“We must all wear disguises in the face of potential danger, Sire.”

“And you would consider a lone stranger to be a potential danger?”

The wizard spread his hands disarmingly. “Often, Your Highness. But in your case, absolutely.”

“I hope you realise that I intend you no harm,” said Tarkyn quietly. Suddenly, he hit his hand on his thigh in irritation. “Blast it! I am not used to being treated as such a pariah.”

Stormaway smiled condescendingly. “Might I suggest that you are not used to being without a bevy of toadeaters and sycophants?”

The prince glared at him, “You would not say that of me if we were at court.”

“My point exactly.”

“That is not what I meant,” retorted Tarkyn hotly. The air around him shimmered with anger. Then suddenly, he gave a short laugh. “You’re deliberately goading me, aren’t you?” He looked at the unremarkable, tatty figure before him with dawning respect. “Despite what you say, you must be pretty sure of yourself to take that risk.”

“Oh, I get by,” replied the wizard airily. “So, will you deign to tell me your story?”

The prince stood up and towered over him for a moment, clearly annoyed. But then he merely turned and walked over to the woodpile. Between gathering dry branches into his arms, he looked over his shoulder and said, “I don’t know you well enough yet to know what I think of you, but you seem to have formed a very poor opinion of me.” He brought the branches across and fed them into the fire before he sat down again.

The wizard watched and waited.

“Not only that,” continued Tarkyn as he brushed the wood dust off his hands, “but having said that I could take my time deciding whether to tell you what happened, you are now trying to goad me into it…Why?”

The question hung on the night air for what seemed a long time. Then Stormaway leaned forward to adjust a burning branch and replied gravely, “Because I would trust you, my lord.”

Tarkyn was taken aback. After giving it some thought, he said slowly, “And I would value your trust, should I earn it. You say the rumours are bad but you may think the reality is little better. Still, I will tell you what happened and you must judge for yourself.”

He settled himself against the tree, drew his long legs up and rested his arms on his knees. Then he began.

“As you no doubt know, I have twin older brothers. One of them is king; the other would like to be. Kosar and Jarand have grown up in fierce competition with each other and their common ambition to assume the monarchy has overshadowed all other loyalties.”

The wizard frowned, “You have not been brought up in a moral household since your father died, then.”

Tarkyn threw an impatient glance at the wizard, “Stormaway, don’t judge my worth too hastily – and when you do, judge me on my own merits, not on my family’s.”

As Stormaway gave a short nod, Tarkyn continued, “The Harvest Festival was when it all went wrong.” He shifted his weight a little as he grimaced at the memories, “I think it might be about here that my tale will part company with the rumours…During the final bout, my shaft of power went slightly off target and damaged one of the wooden spectator stands. People jumped off in a panic as the stand sagged to one side but as soon as they could see it wasn’t going to collapse, they came back and sat down to watch the rest of the tournament.”

“That’s it?” demanded Stormaway.

Tarkyn gave a lop-sided smile. “The damage to the spectator stand is the only incident of any note that occurred during the tournament. More happened later of course, but I will come to that.

“Unfortunately, as you know, I won the whole tournament. I say unfortunately, because I gather it made my brothers realise how strong my magic had become and that I now have… or had, a following among the people. From what they said afterwards, they seem to have thought I might mount a challenge for the throne.” The prince shook his head in bewilderment, “But just because I possibly could, doesn’t mean that I would. The thought never entered my mind. I want nothing to do with the throne. All my life, I have watched the misery and anxiety caused by the manoeuvrings around the monarchy. I find even the peripheral intrigue of being the king’s brother enough to manage. I have never had any wish to become the focal point.”

Tarkyn ran his hand distractedly through his hair. “They didn’t even ask me my intentions.” He lapsed into silence, staring moodily into the fire. After a few minutes he stirred himself enough to glance up at Stormaway with a wry grimace, “Still, I suppose they wouldn’t have believed me anyway, once the idea was planted in their heads.”

Not wishing to stand up this time Tarkyn, with a flick of his wrist and a muttered “Liefka,” floated another branch onto the fire and when the branch was settled, he continued his story.

“For the first time in who knows how long, they acted in concert instead of vying with each other. They had me arrested late at night when no one was there to raise objections. I don’t know if you can understand how embarrassing it is to be arrested by Palace Guards whom you have known all your life?” He shrugged, “Hard for them, hard for me.” He waved a dismissive hand, “Anyway, because of the incident at the tournament, Kosar sentenced me to foreswear my power for four years, on pain of imprisonment.”

“What?” demanded Stormaway, incensed. “For misdirecting one blast in a tournament? If they were worried about it, they should have organised boundary shields.”

Tarkyn shrugged. “That’s what I said, but I realise now it was never about that. The twins just wanted me disarmed and that was their excuse.”

“So what did you do?”

“I couldn’t let them take my magic. It would have been like…I don’t know… losing my arm, being blinded, having my heart ripped out of me.”

Stormaway nodded sympathetically. “Totally barbaric, even to consider it.”

“So I defied the king and threw up my shield…” He trailed off and glanced uncertainly at Stormaway before clearing his throat, “Hmm. This may be the point where the rumours have a greater basis in truth…”

“Go on, Sire,” said the wizard gently, “I don’t have to agree with everything you’ve done, to be able to trust you.”

The prince grimaced, “I’m not sure how far that holds…. However… Basically, things spun out of control. I think perhaps the intensity of my emotions altered my shield’s composition. Instead of blocking, it reflected.

“If no one had attacked me, nothing would have happened. But one guard threw a bolt of magic at me and my shield reflected it straight back at him. Next thing I knew, every guard in the room was sending beams of power and arrows at me and coming at me with swords. They were all reflected back, knocking out guards and ricocheting around the walls.”

Tarkyn rubbed his hands up and over his face and down his hair, to hold his head with linked hands at the nape of his neck. He sighed, “I don’t know how many died that night. My brothers didn’t die. They left me to my fate. I saw them later in the palace. But many guards were killed or wounded.”

“So how did you escape?”

“As the building collapsed and the guards were running for their lives, I finally recovered my senses enough to use a re-summoning spell on my surcoat that took me to the tailor’s out in the town. And then, while everyone’s attention was still on the Great Hall, I went back to the palace and collected enough valuables to sustain me, at least for the foreseeable future.”

Seeing the speculative gleam in the wizard’s eyes, Tarkyn added hastily, “No. I’m not carrying them all with me, if that’s what you’re wondering.

The wizard smiled disarmingly. “Just trying to gauge your level of competence, Sire.”

Tarkyn grunted in self-deprecation, “It was not my competence. In fact, I heeded the advice of a thief, and went to some lengths to hide them.”

Stormaway blinked. “Not where he could find them, I hope?”

Tarkyn sent him a look of pure derision. Stormaway assumed he had received the look for stating the obvious, but in fact it was because he had cast aspersions on a thief whose honour Tarkyn trusted.

Stormaway hastily changed the subject, “And what about your friends? Did they help you?”

“I didn’t ask them,” replied the prince shortly. “I didn’t want to compromise anyone else’s safety. One life in tatters seemed plenty for one day without dragging my friends down with me.”

“Not to mention the guards,” added the wizard dryly.

“I did have some particular friends among the guards but none of them was there that day. So I wasn’t talking about them”

“Obviously.”

Tarkyn stopped short and stared at the wizard.

“You really don’t think much of me, do you?”

“On the contrary, Your Highness. I think more of you than I expected to.”

“Stars Above! The rumours must be bad then”

“They are.” Stormaway looked at him sympathetically, “But it’s obvious to me now that none of this was your fault. You were just the fall guy.”

The prince stared at him. “What? Weren’t you listening? I caused the death of all those guards and the destruction of the Great Hall. Something went wrong with my shield.”

“I wondered if you would see that,” said the wizard mildly.

“Oh, you condescending, old hedge-dweller!” exclaimed Tarkyn, outraged. He stood up abruptly and shook out his cloak. “I find,” he said icily, staring down at the wizard, “that I am no longer interested in gaining your trust. You hold me in such low regard that it would be pointless. Believe what you choose. There is no good version. But don’t bother telling me what you decide, because I am no longer interested.”

So saying, Tarkyn pulled his cloak around him and turned to stalk off into the night.

He found his way blocked by a slight, green-eyed man with light brown hair, dressed in a brown jerkin, loose-fitting leggings and soft leather boots. Tarkyn turned and realised that he was surrounded by similar figures. They looked harmless enough, but he wasn’t silly enough to believe appearances. A trap after all, he thought bitterly. Why did I trust a complete stranger when I can’t even trust my own brothers?

A trap after all, Why did I trust a complete stranger when I can’t even trust my own brothers?Fighting panic, he took a breath to slow his heart rate then flicked up his shield, hoping that calming himself first would make his shield absorbent and not reflective.

A deep voice rang out from behind him. “Woodfolk of the forest, you are right to appear before him. He has passed my final test.”

Tarkyn took a moment to recognise the wizard’s voice. He spun on his heel and beheld Stormaway exuding power, resplendent in emerald robes, brown hair smoothly spilling over his shoulders. As the prince watched, Stormaway raised his staff. But before he could bring it down, the sounds of the forest seemed to swell into a frenzied cacophony.

Tarkyn looked up into the trees in confusion. He could hear the sounds of wind blowing through the trees, water gushing over rocks, leaves and rain falling, thunder rumbling and a myriad of other sounds that should have accompanied the sight of a storm surging through the forest. But none of the trees moved.

Slowly, Stormaway lowered his staff and nodded his head. He did not look pleased as he addressed the people standing around them, “If I am right, the spell’s binding will begin to take effect over the next twenty four hours. At moonrise tomorrow night, I will seal it beyond return unless you give me good reason not to. You have until then. But remember; only I can make the final decision.”

“What is going on? What test, what spell are you talking about? And who are these people?” Tarkyn asked wildly.

With an effort, Stormaway brought his attention back to the prince’s confusion. “I thank you for taking care with your shield, Sire.” He waved his arm in invitation. “Why don’t you come back and sit by the fire so that we can discuss this further?”

“I would know your intentions first. There is some sorcery here that I do not understand. And are you planning to turn me in, despite your assurances? You have me surrounded,” said Tarkyn stiffly, “so is your request an invitation or an order?”

Hand on heart, Stormaway bowed low, “I would not presume to issue an order to you, Your Highness. You are free to leave if you choose. I am hoping your curiosity will get the better of you.”

“Humph.” After careful consideration the prince returned to resume his seat at the fire, while the people surrounding him remained watching him, faces impassive.

“This is very unnerving,” Tarkyn muttered to himself.

“These people are the woodfolk, Sire. Although unknown to the sorcerers of Eskuzor, they inhabit these forests. And they have been here all evening. It’s just that you can see them now.”

“That’s even more unnerving. They could have attacked me at any time. I’ve been completely unshielded.”

The wizard gave a low chuckle. “Now you know how high the stakes were, when you told your story.”

Tarkyn mouth tightened. He took in a deep breath and composed himself, as he thought back over what he had said.

“Don’t worry, Sire. You have acquitted yourself well.” The wizard gestured. At his request, a couple of the woodfolk brought them goblets containing an oaky silver birch wine.

Tarkyn gazed in bemusement at the goblet in his hand. After a moment, he sniffed it surreptitiously before trying it. His brow cleared as he said, “This is an excellent wine. I’m sure I’ve tasted similar before.”

“The woodfolk supply wine to many great houses in the country, including your own.”

Tarkyn looked up from the wine and asked, “And what was this final test of yours? That I accepted responsibility for the deaths?”

“No, although that was one of them. The final test was that you held to the truth of your tale, when you no longer cared for my good opinion.”

The prince frowned as he considered this.

Stormaway leaned forward, “You do understand, don’t you? I had to be sure you weren’t lying to gain my trust.”

Tarkyn scowled, “Oh I understand, all right. I’ve been played like a fish on a line from the start. You couldn’t lie straight in bed.”

“I do apologise, Your Highness. However, I have found that being devious provides a much more accurate estimate of character than straightforward questions and answers.” The wizard sipped his wine and looked at Tarkyn over the rim of the goblet. “And now, at least to my satisfaction, I have established your integrity.”

Tarkyn looked at him long and hard. Then in a sudden movement, he clicked his fingers and the shield winked out of existence. “It seems I am in your debt. I thank you for giving me the chance to explain myself to you. I hope I will not disappoint you in the future.”

He waved his hand to indicate that he was also talking to the woodfolk, only to find he was waving at empty space. They had disappeared. Tarkyn scanned the woods around him then turned back to the wizard.

“Where have they gone?” he demanded in hushed tones. “Or are they still here and I just can’t see them?”

The wizard was chuckling quietly. “I think waving your arm around on such a short acquaintance and with such a dire reputation as yours may have pushed the friendship a bit far at this stage.”

“Oh lord! I’d better not drink any more wine then, if people are going to run for cover every time I gesture.”

Stormaway did not try to reassure him, “I think it would be wise to be careful. They have no reason to love you… And anyone branded a rogue sorcerer is bound to be feared.”

“What!” Tarkyn was stunned. “Is that what they are saying? A rogue sorcerer?”

“I’m afraid so, young man.”

Panic flared in the young prince’s eyes. “But I’m not a madman. I defied the king but the rest… the rest just happened.”

“So it would seem – but the evidence against you is quite damning. You fled, leaving a pile of corpses behind you. The popular belief is that you went berserk in the Great Hall and lashed out at everyone in sight.”

The colour drained from Tarkyn’s face. “No! No. I thought the truth was bad enough… It’s bad enough being branded a traitor. But a rogue sorcerer!” He dropped his eyes to the fire and said in quiet despair, “They will proclaim it across the kingdom, you know. I will be hunted down like a rabid dog.” After a few moments, he frowned, “Why didn’t you kill me as soon as you knew who I was?”

Stormaway picked up a branch and stirred the fire. “Ah. I thought you might ask that.”

“And the answer?”

“Well, to be perfectly honest with you…” began the wizard.

“No, Stormaway. Please,” said Tarkyn wearily. “Don’t lie.”

The wizard scowled at the prince and said sharply, “I don’t think, young man, that you are in a position to take your welcome for granted. A little civility would be appreciated.”

Oh ho. So now the claws are out. “In case you hadn’t notice, Stormaway, I said, ‘Please.’ Frankly, I am too confused and too overloaded to cope with any more of your games tonight.”

“You are too smart by half, my young buck,” snapped the wizard. “I think you should consider your position very carefully. If I send you away from here, what chance will you have of survival?”

The prince lifted his head from his contemplation of the fire and raised supercilious eyebrows. “I would say that depends very much on whether you choose to kill me once my back is turned. Other than that, I am prepared to take my chances. At least I now know what I’m up against. And I can assure you that I have no intention of becoming a slave to your every whim to buy myself safety.”

The wizard grunted. “Stinking Tamadils! So stinking arrogant! You’re no better than the rest of them, that’s obvious.”

“You’re no shrinking violet yourself,” retorted the prince and then added for good measure, “except when you’re prevaricating!”

They locked gazes for so long that it became a battle of the wills.

Finally Tarkyn said quietly, “Stormaway, I find your behaviour towards me offensive. You may have the right to be master of your hearth and forest. But you do not have, nor ever will have, the right to be my master.” The young prince drew his cloak around him and rose to tower over the wizard, sending bizarre shadows dancing up into the trees. “You will treat me with respect, or not at all.”

Then he strode off into the dark, leaving Stormaway to contemplate his words.

The wizard’s eyes narrowed in appreciation, “He’s his father’s son, that one.” As the minutes ticked by and Tarkyn did not return, Stormaway started muttering to himself. “Oh well done! You wait for years to see him and then you antagonise him. Brilliant! Your age is really serving you well. Now you’ve got him up on his high horse –and let’s face it – it’s all because you didn’t like him rumbling your tactics. He’s pretty sharp. You’re going to have to do better than this if you don’t want to lose him.”

A resounding crash made the wizard jump as a branch landed on the fire, thrown from behind him. Stormaway swung around to find Tarkyn standing behind him, casually leaning against a tree, arms and legs crossed and looking as though he had been there all evening. Even more disconcertingly, he was grinning.

“Come on then. Out with it! Why don’t you want to lose me?”

Mindful of the prince’s stricture, the old wizard began to scramble to his feet but was waved to stay where he was. Reassured, Stormaway said grumpily, “Blast you, Your Highness! You shouldn’t eavesdrop on a man’s conversation.”

The grin broadened. “I agree. I apologise. Still, the question remains… given that I did overhear you…Why don’t you want to lose me?”

The wizard looked distinctly flustered. “To be perfectly honest with you…” he began. In response to the prince’s delicately raised eyebrow, he re-iterated firmly, “To be perfectly honest with you, Sire, it’s complicated and will take a bit of telling…and to be perfectly honest,” Stormaway continued with a challenge in his eye, “I would rather tell you when you have a better gauge of my calibre.”

“I see,” said Tarkyn slowly, “At least, I don’t see but I will accept that you don’t want to tell me yet. Frustrating, but at least honest.” He grinned, “And at least someone doesn’t want to lose me. That has to be an improvement.”