The Sorcerer's Oath - Books 1-2

Chapter 3-2

“Just a minute,” Tarkyn stood up, transferred his knife to his right hand, and held the tip of it against the girl’s ribs so that he could free up his left hand to feel in his pocket and rummage through the leather purse. After considerable fumbling through larger pieces, his hand finally closed on a small diamond pin that he used to hold his necktie in place.

As he withdrew his hand from his pocket, the girl took her chance on his divided attention. She yanked herself to her left and around, driving her right arm back towards him. A small knife flashed in her hand. All Tarkyn could do in time to avoid the knife was to let her go and jump backwards out of range. At the same time the two men came at him from either side, the grandmother closed in beside the girl and the boy circled around to come at him from the back. With the thieves so spread around him, Tarkyn could not use his freezing spell on all of them. The girl swivelled into a crouch, her eyes filled with hatred, ready to s***h up at him. No use now, thought Tarkyn, to tell her that I would not have harmed her.

Then, as Tarkyn stood balanced on the balls of his feet, preparing for the inevitable attack, the fire died in her eyes and she sank to kneel on one knee. Slowly, she turned her knife and presented the hilt.

“Your Highness, forgive me,” she whispered. “I would never have attacked, if I’d known it was you.”

The grandmother put her hands to her mouth and gasped before she too sank to her knees. The two men, a little slower on the uptake, sent puzzled glances at the two women before turning to stare at him. Then they too knelt before him.

Belatedly, Tarkyn realised that his hood had fallen down as he had jumped backwards. “Oh blast,” he murmured to himself, unmoved by their obeisance, “This was not my intention at all.”

Neither the prince nor the thieves found it at all strange that they who defied the law on one hand, could still revere the royal family on the other. But now Tarkyn was in a real dilemma. Obviously the family knew nothing about the events at the Great Hall, but as soon as they ventured forth into the market place, they would hear. While he pondered what to do, a slight sound from behind made him spin around just as the boy’s arm whipped forward. Tarkyn ducked, even as the men shouted, “No. Stop!” and a knife whistled over his head to lodge in a wooden upright, only inches to one side of the women.

“No. You stupid boy!” yelled his father, desperation in his voice. “Don’t you know your own prince? Get down on your knees and beg his forgiveness.”

Dawning understanding of what he had just done brought horror to the son’s eyes as his gaze swung wildly from father to prince. Knowing he had just committed a hanging offence, he turned on his heel and bolted.

Tarkyn was not sure that a clear command would penetrate the boy’s panic so he murmured “Shturrum,” and dropped the boy in his tracks. “Bring him to me,” he said quietly.

“Please, Your Highness,” pleaded the father, “He was behind you. He didn’t realise who you were.”

“I said, ‘Bring him to me,’” repeated Tarkyn evenly.

It occurred to none of them that, at five to one, the odds were still stacked well in the thieves’ favour. Centuries of rule by the Tamadil family had elevated its members to almost omnipotent status in the minds of the common people. Tarkyn removed his spell and waited until the man and his son were knelt before him. Tears rolled down the boy’s face, leaving pale streaks on his dirty face while beside him, the father’s face was a mask of misery. For the longest minute of their lives, the prince looked down on them silently.

Then he said, “You did well to do as I asked.” The father looked, if anything, more stricken, until Tarkyn added gently, “I would not be so cruel as to force a man to bring his son to his own execution.”

Relief washed over the father. “Thank you, Your Highness. Thank you.”

Tarkyn considered them, kneeling before him, “It is not just your son who has transgressed against me. You know, don’t you, that all your lives should be forfeit. But because you did not know who I was, I will not exact that punishment. Equally, for reasons I will explain later, I will not turn you over to the city watch.”

“See? He’s a fine young prince, he is,” cackled the grandmother, a hysterical edge of relief in her laughter. “He’s kind, this one. That’s why he’s the best loved of the royal brothers.”

Tarkyn was startled, but after a moment’s reflection, smiled wryly to himself. Even if that were true yesterday, it won’t be today.

“Here, grandmother. Let me help you up.” As he put out his hand and drew the old woman to her feet, he could see that, much as she tried to hide it, it was a struggle for her to get herself up off her stiff knees.

“Thank you, Sire.” She c****d a sharp eye at her sons, “You two could learn some manners from His Highness here.”

The taller man grunted, still on his knees, “You don’t have to kneel for us in the first place.”

Tarkyn raised his eyebrows and the man muttered an apology and subsided into silence. “The rest of you may also rise.” He turned to the girl and offered her his hand, “And I am sorry that I treated you so poorly. It is not my usual practice to intimidate young ladies. I hope you were not too afraid. I would never have hurt you.”

The teenager blushed at being called a young lady then nodded casually, “Yeah, I didn’t think you would, Your Highness.” In response to Tarkyn’s evident surprise, she explained, “You were not very rough, you know. And half the time you forgot to hold the knife against my throat. Your hand kept dropping. And even when you did, you did it gently.”

“Hmm. Well, I must say it is not a skill I wish to develop.” Tarkyn shuddered inwardly at the experience of violence that lay behind her casually uttered words. He sat down on the large block of stone and crossed his ankles, “So now that you know who I am, we may need to renegotiate our terms.”

The grandmother bowed, “Of course, Your Highness. You have only to request it, and it shall be done.”

“Blast!” muttered the shorter man to his brother, “I thought we was onto a bit of a winner here.”

Tarkyn raised his eyebrows, “I beg your pardon?”

The shorter man pulled his forelock, “Beg pardon, Your Highness.” He glanced sideways and murmured, “Sharp ears.”

“Very sharp,” said Tarkyn, “And I would appreciate it if you would refrain from making little asides in my presence.” He waited for them to absorb this. Several glances passed between them but when they refrained from speaking, he nodded, “Good. And now, to return to our negotiation. I will not renege on our previous agreement. You will still receive one half of the value of this,” here he held up the diamond pin, “on delivery to me of the money and receipt.” He gave a faint smile, “So you may still make your profit.”

“You are a true man of honour, Your Highness,” said the taller man, still grateful for his son’s life.

“Of course I am. And despite your profession, I expect you to be men and women of honour also, in your dealings with me.”

The taller man’s chest swelled with pride, but the grandmother glanced contemptuously at her son. She had heard token words like these before.

Tarkyn crossed his arms. “And now there is something I need to tell you before you venture forth on my behalf. You may be seated while you listen.” He waited until they settled themselves on various tumbled chunks of masonry. Now that the time had come to tell them, Tarkyn was almost unable to continue. After a moment, he drew a deep breath and began, “Yesterday, during the Harvest Tournament, a shaft of my power went wide and hit a spectator stand. The stand was knocked awry but no one was hurt. In fact, after the initial panic, everyone climbed back onto it to watch the rest of our match. But…” He took another deep breath, “But the king brought me up on charges, because of it.”

Tarkyn stood up and began to pace back and forth, ignoring the little intakes of breath that he had heard. After a few moments he turned to his small audience and said, “And I did not accept his judgement. I threw up my shield and after that…well… after that, everything went a bit haywire and most of the Royal Guardsmen were killed and the Great Hall opposite the Palace was completely destroyed,” he finished in a rush, grimacing.

Five pairs of round eyes stared at him from slack faces.

“You defied the king?” the taller man breathed. “In public?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“So that was why you were alone and kept your hood up,” said the boy, pleased that a puzzle had been explained for him.

Tarkyn nodded.

“And the Great Hall has been destroyed?” asked the shorter man, eyes wide with astonishment. “What? You mean, gone? Completely gone?”

Unconsciously, Tarkyn wrapped his cloak around himself against the onslaught of their reactions. “Pretty much. There is only a big pile of rubble left.”

“You must have put up one almighty struggle,” said the shorter man, in some awe. “And killing all the king’s guards too. Wow! That is some feat.”

Tarkyn frowned. “No. It wasn’t like that.” He hunched deeper into his cloak “All I did was raise my shield. But something went wrong with it, and instead of blocking, it reflected back their own weapons at them… and at the walls. I didn’t intentionally kill anyone.”

“I’d hate to see you try, then,” quipped the shorter man, who did not count sensitivity among his virtues.

“Yes, you would,” said Tarkyn coldly.

“Now, stop it, Gillis. I beg your pardon for my son’s behaviour, Your Highness. He never has known when to stop.” The old woman sent a scalding glance at her errant son before beginning to talk to the prince in a soothing voice, almost as though she were calming a wild animal. “Hmm. I expect those guards’ deaths must have been quite shocking for you. You probably knew some of them personally. And you know, I had you down as a pretty harmless sort of a character.”

Tarkyn’s eyes gleamed in appreciation of her tactics as he replied, “You can never know what a man might do when he is desperate. But you are right. I am a pretty harmless sort of a character. It saddens me that those guardsmen lost their lives.” He gave a rueful smile, “And I could not have hurt your granddaughter.”