The Scarlet Traitor

The Scarlet Traitor

Book II of The Scarlet Cycle

By Richard Dearline

Copyright 2011 Richard Dearline

Smashwords Edition

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Table of Contents

Scarlet Hold

Rat

Blade Sisters

Tear’s Path

Bad Men

Deserters

The Hunt

The Swamps

Alone

The Scarlet Lord

The Trackers

The Message

The Bloody Fool

The Rule

Bones and Flesh

Eaters

Flesh and Blood

The Truth

The Ambush

The Green Hold

Small Freedom

Dead History

The Light

The Chains

Afraid

The Rings

Mad and Dead

The Offer

The Escape

All Gone

The Cold

The Rebels

The Destroyers

Run

Epilogue I

Epilogue II

Epilogue III

Scarlet Hold

They were thirty in all, three Knights counting herself, the rest young ones with clean faces and fresh-forged blades. Maru had begged to take her, but Selena refused, bidding the serving woman a bitter farewell. The tale of betrayal, however petty, still made a vile taste in her mouth, and leaving the woman was mercy anyways – the cold of the snow desert would have likely killed her.

Young Sir Gelan Alrin was among the men, resembling Talin more than ever in the warm riding furs. Selena caught herself throwing glances at him again and again and promised to cease, not to risk others noticing. At the Grey Hold, the old duchess’s son had asked to accompany her, coming to see her in the morning, with a bow and graceful smile.

The other Knight was Lewan Hild, a wide, square jawed man with easy laughter and bright eyes. He had chosen the Greys to ride with them. Knight Farmon Jormen was by her side too, though his mission was separate from hers. The former comrade was to bring a message south. When Selena asked him whether it was for Beron Volstrom, or Dalie Detha, Farmon only shrugged.

‘I cannot speak of it, my lady Oaken, not even to yourself. Immense trust had been invested into me and this message.’

Selena asked him of it no longer, her thoughts on much more important, and happier, matters.

South. She was riding south, to Syre.

When she came to ask Kirizil in the evening of the day they had received the news, the Small Lord said little. He had listened to her proposal, hands folded under his sharp chin, staring at the map before him, instead of her.

‘Even with Lord Volstrom gone west, I hold no power in his Hold,’ he had spoken when Selena finished. ‘He would be sure to establish a steward or a high commander to deal with matters in his stead, until he returned.’

‘A steward or a high commander is not a Lord,’ Selena had told him, forcing her voice to stay gentle yet pressing.

‘They have very specific measures in such matters, Selena.’

She had tried again. ‘In Lord Beron’s absence, they will have none to look up to for the final word. You are one of the Seven, Lord Kirizil. Your word will count.’

The Small Lord watched her suspiciously. ‘You mean to intimidate them with my name?’

‘If you wish to call it so, my lord.’

‘I call it what it is,’ he grimaced. ‘Very well. I will write your paper. But there will be conditions.’

‘Anything.’

‘You will have thirty days. I am sending another Knight with you… Lewan Hild would be a good choice. A just man. He will make sure that you are gone for no more than thirty days,’ Kirizil waited for her to nod. ‘And regardless whether and when you retrieve your daughter, you must return to the Grey Hold. Take her with you for all I care, or send her east to your husband with some protection. But you must be back to me.’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘Remember your oath. I will release you from it once this… muddle is done with. That is my promise to you, my lady duchess.’

‘Thank you.’

He had then grasped her hand with both of his, small fingers caressing her wrist.

‘Be careful. I need you.’

And now Selena was riding south. Again she touched the saddle bag where the Small Lord’s letter lay wrapped in protective skins. It was not merely his name Selena hoped to intimidate the Scarlet castellans with. There was also her own, and her husband’s, should it come to it.

I am coming to you, Syre. We will be together again.

The white desert which began at the foot of Grey Mountains seemed endless. The layer of snow was not thick – half a palm, no more – but the air was as cold as every tale spoke of it. Even under thick furs Selena shivered, and only in the nights, when fire burned high near her, it became easier.

She spoke little. Knights Farmon and Lewan were in a conversation as endless as the light snow’s fall around them. Their chatter of going into the barbarian land and old battles and conquests in city bordellos became tiring to her, and she often slowed to the rear of the column. There she could ride in silence, and dream.

The infinitely wide road before them required little navigation, save for maintaining their direction, and Selena used the spare time in her memories. Of Syre’s birth, of her first words, of her games with the boys. Warm lands of Rosensleep were forgiving and careless, she reflected, in contrast to the frozen heartlessness of the west. Was it the conquest of the west that made them – Redgar Rentlyn, the Detha sisters so? A law to take every third children to be turned into a soldier could not have been thought by a man or woman from the Brightset east bank.

The Coup. The valorous idea, a march of the brave against the long oppression of western invaders. When Redgar screamed out his intention in the gathering of the easterners, none mentioned that King Rames had kept peace for two hundred years of his reign. In her heart, she always knew the true reason for the coup.

Love. Selena smiled to herself. The notion proposed by many to be the life’s solitary meaning. She remembered the wedding. Redgar rocking his wife in his arms. Nezarie woving the red stripes in his hair. Talin and herself kneeling before them. Dalie smirking like she thought it all a fascinating jest.

A fascinating jest. Maybe she was right, the younger Detha. She would think countless widows, sonless mothers and ten thousand men dead a truly fascinating jest.

On the seventh day, three Scarlets rode to meet them. Their huge, hairy crushers stomping about, the first man entered Selena’s column. Bearded and grim-eyed he looked around with distaste.

‘Who is the Knight in command here?’ he demanded.

‘I am,’ Knight Lewan replied. ‘And shall you name yourself, Sir?’

‘Kattom Stormbrin.’

Lewan Hild lowered his head in a short bow. Kattom Stormbrin was one of Lord Volstrom’s high commanders and thus far exceeding any one of them in stature.

The Scarlet’s eyes stopped on Selena. She looked back. ‘And who are you?’

‘Duchess Selena Oaken, Knight of Greyrock,’ she said. The two Scarlets riders behind Kattom exchanged glances, but the commander showed no surprise.

‘This domain is under Scarlet protection. If you are riding south, Tear’s path will take you there quicker and safer.’

Selena touched the saddle where the Small Lord’s letter lay. ‘My lord, we are riding south, but our destination is the Scarlet Hold.’

Knight Kattom scowled at her. ‘I am speaking to the commanding officer, not yourself, duchess.’

‘She said it, Knight Kattom,’ Lewan Hild sighed, usual smile disappearing from his face. ‘We are carrying a message from Lord Kirizil of Greyrock, the Fourth of Seven.’

‘Lord Volstrom is gone. If the news had not reached the north yet, he marched west a full week past.’

‘In that case we shall deliver it to the commander in charge.’

‘I am the commander in charge,’ Knight Kattom held out his hand.

Knight Lewan glanced at her. Selena felt her heart hammer. This man would not let her take Syre. For whatever reasons, he despised her, that much she could tell.

‘Knight Lewan misspoke, my lord,’ she said. ‘We must deliver the letter to the Hold’s steward.’

‘What does it matter?’ Kattom said. ‘Give me the letter and be on your way back north.’

‘Take us to the Hold’s steward,’ Selena said. ‘Please. It is a matter of great importance.’

‘I will be the judge of that,’ the Scarlet commander shrugged. ‘Fine. Waste your time. Gods know you serve nothing more. Greys.’

For that alone Selena was thankful. If they were let inside the citadel, she was that much closer to Syre. She would pray even for a single glance at her daughter. Just to know she was safe.

The Scarlet Hold grew out of the fog in less than an hour. How tall it stood. The Small King’s fortress seemed a dwarf in comparison. Three walls ascended at least three hundred feet upwards, countless towers and bastions rising even higher. Great standards of the Scarlet lightning hang motionless in the quiet of the desert. Ten thousand riders made it their home, Kirizil had told her.

As their procession rode through the iron gates as high as Oaken mansion in Rosensleep, Selena noticed a suit of plate armor hanging on top of it.

‘Nerron’s Battleplate,’ Farmon Jormen said solemnly, looking up at it as well.

Ten thousand riders seemed too small a number once they were inside the outer wall. It was no fortress, Selena realized, but a whole city, home not only to the Scarlet riders, but to countless foot soldiers, craftsmen and servants. A courtyard as wide as a city square before her gave way to a web of streets and alleys, rows of houses and tents and pens, stairs and arches. The smells of food and horses mixed with sounds of the forge. Seeing the Hold for the first time, Selena remembered the decision she had made on day of the old King’s fall. It was then she and Talin had refused Redgar to ride west for the siege of Scarlet Hold, held by the doomed Varland Dromo.

‘It’s a jungle out here,’ Farmon said to her. ‘The training yards and barracks are on the second level. The Knights’ and the Lord’s quarters are on the third.’

‘Make way!’ the two of Knight Kattom’s guards riders shouted. ‘Make way for the commander of the Scarlet!’

A cart full of shields did make way for them, its driver having to move it aside. Their column rode on, ascending a round stone-paved path between countless stables on either side.

‘A week ago I saw the ocean for the first time,’ Sir Gelan Alrin was beaming, riding by Selena’s side. ‘And now this. So many wonders to behold, my lady, do you not think? And my mother wished for me to stay in White Dale, marry some girl and father children.’

So naïve. How many green boys died just so, without knowing the true wonders of love and parenthood? Yet she had witnessed both the ocean and now the Scarlet Hold along with him for the first time, and could not fully disagree.

‘The world’s wonders are endless, Sir Gelan,’ she smiled back.

Syre. She could feel her close. Closer than ever before.

As they column proceeded, Farmon asked her to fall to the rear with him. Her old friend was smiling, yet his eyes were sad.

‘This is where we part, dear Sel,’ he said. ‘I will find myself another horse and a Maybe a guide southeast. The Kattom fellow was right, Tear’s path could have been quicker, but I wanted to see you arrive here safely.’

‘Thank you, dear friend,’ Selena replied, both of them stopping. Still mounted, their embraced. The man’s neck smelled of sweat and leather and oil, yet something about him gave an odor of the East.

‘Find your daughter. Return home, when you can,’ Farmon said. ‘You’ve fought your wars Sel.’

‘Yes. I’ve had enough of them.’

‘Go, then.’

The column was already a full street away, though Sir Gelan stopped as well, watching them from a distance.

‘Hope to see you again one day, Far.’

The man grinned crookedly, touched the side of his brow with two fingers, and was off, while rode Selena to catch up with Gelan and the others.

‘You were friends during the Coup, yes?’ the boy asked.

‘Not really,’ Selena replied. She truly saw him as a friend only ten years afterwards, in the cold corner of the world.

They made their way on foot from the second level. Passing the training yards, she saw dozens of boys training with wooden swords in pairs. Some of them seemed to be as young as five or six years, wearing only oversized chainmail hauberks and black breeches and tall boots.

One of little ones with hair of dim auburn and face covered in freckles rushed towards her, his mouth gaping in astonishment.

‘Fair lady, I shall defend you from the evil barbarians!’ he shouted to her, brandishing his wooden sword above his head.

Before Selena could answer, Knight Kattom struck down, his fist closed. Boy fell under the blow, crying. The mailed glove made an open cut on his forehead and the blood trickled down to his nose. The boy wailed and Selena froze, gasping.

‘You will cry when you are dead, Scarlet?’ Knight Kattom kicked him in the stomach, and the boy slid away over stone floor.

Selena’s hand dropped to the longsword’s hilt before she could realize it.

Two strong palms closed around her elbow. Knight Lewan’s head shook only a slight.

‘This is the way of the Scarlet,’ he mouthed, lips barely moving.

A jowly arms master approached Knight Kattom, drawing him by the shoulder.

‘These are too fresh, Kattom. Pardon the boy.’

The boy lay motionless, only faint twitching of his fingers a sign of life. Knight Kattom said nothing and resumed their way forward, up a wide stair onto the Hold’s upper level. Selena found herself exhaling heavily. Her thoughts raced to Syre. She would not survive one such blow, if it came to it.

I must steal her back. Whatever the costs.

By the High Keep a line of Scarlet soldiers stretched on either side of the stair to the gate.

‘Don’t imagine they are here in your honor,’ Knight Kattom declared. ‘There was another visitor, I think.’

A slim young man came forth to kneel before him.

‘Master Leffron awaits within his chamber,’ he spoke. ‘Our guesting Lord requires your presence, commander Stormbrin.’

Knight Kattom gave Selena a hating look.

‘A pity. I wished so much to hear out the message these men of valor bring from the north.’ Kattom paused and spat. ‘I do hope you find… sympathy from Master Leffron, lady Oaken.’ He turned away.

‘Do I know you from before, lord Stormbrin?’ Selena called him, Knight Lewan’s hand able to still her movements but not words.

‘Not myself, no,’ he faced her, head lowered, dark eyes burning with disdain. ‘But I’d seen my oldest brother die on your husband’s blade. My youngest brother had died on yours.’

‘War is war, Knight Kattom,’ Gelan stopped towards him. ‘I’ve lost two brothers too.’

‘And who gave you permission to speak, maggot?’

Knight Lewan Hild held the youth back by his shoulder. ‘With all due respect, commander-’

Kattom’s fist landed in his face. Within moments the soldiers on the stair were descending upon them. Three Greys held Lewan back as he screamed out obscenities. The Scarlet Commander spat again, the resulting splatter landing on Selena’s boot. She heard the hiss of steel unsheathed and grabbed for Gelan’s hand.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ a voice sounded from above. A tall grey-haired man in light combat garb stood on top of the stair of the High Keep.

‘Nothing more than several Grey cravens cawing up a storm,’ Knight Kattom replied and started away. Knight Lewan still raged, attempting to struggle out of his soldiers’ grip.

‘Warriors of Grey Host,’ the old man spoke as he descended the stair. ‘What disgrace. Did the Lord of Greyrock forget the meaning of discipline?’

‘Your commander struck this Knight,’ Selena said after a short bow.

The old man looked over her and scratched his stubbly chin.

‘And who the devil are you.’ His words did not sound a question.

‘Knight Selena, duchess of Oaken, last lady of Trien, at your service’ she replied anyways.

He nodded. ‘Master Cayne Leffron, at yours. I am the steward of the Scarlet Hold in Lord Beron’s absence, it is my presence you required, no? Will you be the commanding officer here?’

Selena found Knight Lewan shrugging off the hands that restrained him, his offender long out of sight. His cheek swelled red.

‘I will be so, and it is you we’ve sought,’ she said.

‘Very well. You may follow me. Leave your men here.’

He lead her through a long, dimly lit hall, the iron heels of their boots ringing loud against the stone floor. Passing two halberd-bearing guards in ceremonial plate, Master Leffron gestured her.

‘Come in.’

The expansive round room was dominated by a large table covered in stacks of paper and books – it stood under an equally wide window. Bookcases and hanging maps filled the walls, while the only matters of comfort were two large chairs and a great double bed.

‘Lord Volstrom’s chamber,’ Leffron informed her. ‘Sit.’

The hated name. He, who could have returned Syre, or at the very least take me to her with a single word. His emotionless face was before her again, in the bright sun of the Council’s Arena games.

"Gods grant you fortune, Selena Oaken"

As she sat, a shining object on the table attracted her eyes. Figurine of a gargoyle, wings spread sat in the corner, its maw open in a scream, a thin chain hanging over its lower jaw. At the end of it was a ring.

‘Lord Beron’s wedding band,’ the old man noticed her attention of it.

She smiled uneasily.

‘I would ask you to excuse Knight Kattom. I imagine he was not a very welcoming host for your party, eh, Selena? If I may call you just so.’

‘You may, Master Leffron,’ Selena said. The freckled boy’s bloodied face was in her mind again at the mention of Kattom’s name. ‘As for Knight Kattom, I had been once warned that many of the Scarlet officers are still fighting the Coup, if only in their heads.’

‘It is so,’ the old steward said gloomily. ‘I have fought by the side of Varland Dromo then. Trained whelps in his time, in Lord Rentlyn’s time, and now in Lord Volstrom’s. There are times we must learn to let go. No matter how hard it is. ‘

Selena nodded.

‘Knight Kattom is a fine man, despite his vengeful mind. An honorable one, who puts the law and the ways of Scarlet above all.’

‘Just minutes ago he beat a boy of six years to near-death. Is this the way of Scarlet?’ Selena could not stop herself from asking.

The old Master’s heavy eye lids dropped. ‘We forge them young, Selena Oaken. Scarlet Order was established before Rames, before the Gladiator Kings. Some say even before the old Southern empire. The Scarlet Way is old, but it is the true one. Past a certain age, it is impossible to make a strong soldier out of them. We are more gentle than the real battle would ever be.’

Selena did not find words to answer with, cursing herself instead for bringing up the unfortunate boy. Showing disrespect was the last thing she needed now.

‘I suspect I know why you are here,’ Master Leffron said, leaning forward in his chair. ‘I suspect I know even the matter described in that message from Lord Kirizil.’

Selena put the satchel with skin-covered letter before her on the table.

‘News travel fast, Selena,’ the grey-haired steward continued. ‘But I needed not hear them to know why you’ve come. My own hand-’ He held out his palm. ‘My own hand had signed the order to cease your third child. Do not think it was a light decision. You and your husband are two of Lord Redgar’s closest friends, the Original Companions, after all. But I had no choice. Law is law. It applies to the poor and rich, honorable and wicked alike.’

Her thoughts a chaos, Selena began unwrapping the letter, but his hand stayed hers.

‘I know what it says. Lord of the Seven, Kirizil of Greyrock orders such and such and at once. I am no stranger to coercion through statures, Selena. Fifty six years a Scarlet.’

‘Master Leffron… I-’

‘You expected a thick-headed bureaucrat to sit here before you, in the absence of Lord Volstrom, and tremble at the mention of a Lord of the Seven. Well, does my hand tremble?’ Master Leffron asked.

His hand was cool and dry, the grip of his fingers steady and strong.

‘My daughter,’ Selena spoke, feeling her voice about to break. ‘My Syre. She is the world to me.’

‘I can promise you, she will be taken good care of. Not all children are trained as soldiers. We do not lack the need for medics and stewards. She could draw maps, cook meals, even sing and dance for the good of the Scarlet Hold.’

His gentle words were meant as a consolation, but Selena could not shake off the image of the motionless boy with the auburn hair.

‘Please.’

‘I am truly sorry, Selena,’ Master Leffron breathed out. ‘And even if I wanted to put my duty to the law aside, I could not help you. Your daughter is not in the Hold.’

A touch of cold ran up her spine. ‘What?’

‘The Scarlet caravan that took your daughter, among others, led by Knight Adria Cairlen, had not arrived yet. They are two weeks late, and we have had no news of them past Moonbreg. Whether they made their way south for another city, I cannot say, but if they did, it was not planned.’ He looked into Selena’s eyes. ‘As I say this, I see a fool’s hope on your face, Selena. I am telling you of this, because I believe I owe you so much, since it was my quill that stole your daughter.

‘Do not think of winning her back. It shall not be. Remember what I’ve told you. There are times we must learn to let go. No matter how hard it is. I’ve already sent out a Knight by the name of Morgan Brand to find the caravan. You might remember him.’

The blonde man, Crowen chieftain, as she found out earlier, had saved her life in the arena.

‘He had arrived with Lord Beron after a significant detour and still before Adria. They brought news of some… disturbances along Tear’s path. A band of raiders working that way, apparently. Whether Adria had encountered them as well – well, it is a possibility. But she had fifty Scarlets with her, in full steel. Whatever swayed her from the path, Knight Morgan shall find out and bring them back. You may go too, as I expect this shall concern you greatly. Widen the search, and maybe your daughter will be safe home sooner.’

Home.

‘Her home here, in the Scarlet Hold,’ Master Leffron clarified. ‘Well. What do you say, eh, Selena?’

‘We shall help with the search,’ she said.

‘Good, good,’ the old steward patted the top of her hand. ‘And Selena. Do not think of following your heart. In this particular matter, your heart is your enemy. Do the foolish thing, and you will have the Scarlet riding not only for your daughter, but for yourself. Do you understand my meaning? Do you understand what foolish thing I speak of?’

She did.

‘Follow your mind,’ Master Leffron said. ‘Still your heart until you are home again, with your husband.’

Rat

The Keep’s captain of guard heralded the dawn with a ringing call. Ladin walked to the balcony to watch the column of a hundred spear-bearing watchmen in blue and red march by. The air was cool and comforting, such that the wetness under his arms began drying up. Someone shouted and he saw two ladies pointing at him from the ground. He realized that there was nothing but the smallclothes upon him, and returned into his chamber.

Ladin had drank through the night and fell asleep only two hours past. Now dizzy, his throat dry, he could bear no more but to fall again onto the bed and pour another glass. Why did I have to do it today? Today was the day of his planned meeting with Rat, and having a soup for a mind was the last thing he needed now.

‘My lord?’ it was Quin. ‘It is time. Your breakfast is ready.’

After stretching painfully – his joints felt heavy and numb – Ladin sat on his bed and yawned. ‘Never mind the breakfast. I drank too much.’

‘As you wish. Your garb for today is ready.’

Ladin donned simple brown breeches and woolen shirt, not unlike those he wore for ambush on Knight Barinmor. With Quin’s help, he bound the hair, then realized that the Anru’s mark showed well enough, and discarded the shirt for another, with a higher collar. His boots were plain and sturdy. Last came a light straw hat, which showed him not for one of low folk but perhaps a lord’s servant. Quin offered the eye patch as well, and Ladin accepted it.

‘If only lady Levin had seen me now,’ he chuckled. ‘I would avoid the courting business with her altogether.’

‘Speaking of courting, my lord,’ his servant said. ‘The Eye’s lady sister, Fiona Rentlyn had asked for you to grace her with your presence for a supper on the nature.’

‘Fiona Rentlyn? Grace with my presence?’ he imagined the brutish dark woman in a silken dress of a court’s lady. It was too much to stomach, and Ladin burst into laughter. ‘A supper on the nature?’

‘She means to go hunting for blue bears in the Wetlands. The Penn heir and his lady wife, Saica Rentlyn are coming, and three other of the Lord’s sisters, as well many others, from the Eastern Bank.’

‘All of them are coming, yet the invitation came from Fiona?’ Ladin asked.

‘It is so, my lord.’

It was enticing. He did like hunting, and as their future lord, he would do good to earn their respect. Not to mention the added benefit of seeing Fiona Rentlyn in a lady’s dress.

‘Tell her I shall be there,’ he said, forgetting the matter at once. There were other things to think of now.

He considered killing the wine smell in his mouth by chewing green day leaves, but decided against it. Since he set out to be a lord’s servant, he would be best to act it to the end. Outside, the boy Bronk had the brown mare saddled for him, but Ladin only waved him off, afraid of the contents his stomach turning against him while upon horseback.

‘Do you want me with you, my lord?’ Bronk seemed drowsy with abandoned sleep.

‘No. Go back to bed.’

He set out early, as merchants in the High District were only now setting up their wares. Feeling devious, he approached an old flower shop woman and bought a single orange daisy from her for a copper round.

The woman’s smile was toothless. ‘A fine flower to conquer even a noble lady.’

‘The noble ladies are making a line to court me already, I have no need of conquering any,’ he replied.

The old flower seller laughed at the joke that was not. ‘What gentleman you are! And no doubt they do! No doubt!’ And added quieter to her younger aid. ‘Some court stableman, no doubt he dreamed up a line of highborn ladies waiting for him.’ The girl chuckled, looking at Ladin. She was a slender one with large eyes.

‘Come here,’ he said.

Uncertain, she moved from behind the flower stands, leapt over a rack of plain soil. Ladin put a golden circle into her hand and closed her fist around it, then walked away quickly.

‘This is gold,’ he heard the girl speaking behind his back.

‘Is that so? Must be a thieving stableman. You ought to go tell the guards by the gate.’

‘Are you mad, grandmother? This is a whole gold.’

Her words became indistinguishable from other voices as Ladin crossed the bridge and turned to the Drunken Road that twisted in circles, going inevitable upwards, towards the High Square. There he merged with the crowd, walking with his hands in his pockets, straw hat low on his brow, a toothpick in his mouth. The master of transformation.

The High Square was the biggest open place in all of Moonbreg. It was said ten thousand people had crowded inside it on the day the statue was unveiled. And it was the statue that gave the square its name, though it already stood on the highest hill. So modest, Ladin thought to himself, looking at it now. The colossus stood a hundred feet tall, all white stone and mirrored its original down to the very slightest details – the combat kilt, the ring on a finger of the left hand, the stripes woven into the long, curling hair. Redgar Rentlyn watched over the city with three eyes, the third one lidless and large in the middle of his forehead. He held the greatsword, resemblance of the long-lost Shadow, unsheathed, blade down. The statue’s name was the Eye of Moonbreg, though Redgar was known to call it the Cyclops of Moonbreg.

The square bustled with people already, and Ladin wondered how he would recognize this Rat from a hundred other girls around. He pushed and squeezed his way towards stone Redgar’s feet only to find the place filled with musicians preparing their instruments. By gods, not the music! His head pulsed, ready to explode.

‘Apples! Sweet apples!’ someone was shouting. ‘Sweet enough for the lords themselves!’

Ladin made a circle around the statue, gawking in every direction to make certain he looked like a man waiting.

There was a light on his back and he turned to find a young girl with a sack slung across her shoulder.

‘Apples, friend? Sweet enough for a lord!’ she was small-bodied but perhaps as old as twenty.

‘Fine,’ Ladin replied and passed her a copper coin for a green apple. When Ladin took a bite out of it, his mouth went numb with the sourness.

‘What is this shit?’ he spat it out. ‘You said they were sweet!’

‘These are spring apples, friend, what do you expect?’

‘You promised they were sweet!’

‘Sweet in the summer and autumn. In the spring they are bitter and sour. You never knew that?’

‘By gods!’

He let the apple fall, and it was promptly picked up by a boy in ragged clothes.

‘You’re not getting that coin back,’ girl said.

‘Keep it,’ Ladin parried and turned to walk away.

She called for him. ‘You waiting for someone? Is that a flower for her?’

‘Maybe it is. Why do you ask?’

‘It is a nice flower. Maybe you’re waiting for me.’

Ladin faced the apple girl again and looked around to make sure they were relatively safe from being overheard. ‘Well what is your name?’

‘Whatever pleases you, milord.’

‘Rat?’ he whispered. The girl looked nothing like the rodent, however – at the very least her teeth were an even white line. She was plain faced, though with rather long nose, and short ash-colored hair.

Her hand gestured him to follow.

‘Apples! Sweet apples, sweet enough for the lords themselves!’

When they passed all the way through to the edge of the Square, Rat moved the apple sack from one shoulder to the other squinted at him. Out of the statue’s shade, the sun burned mercilessly.

‘What should I call you?’ she asked, her eyes measuring him up and down. Ladin stood a full head above her, but somehow did not feel taller.

He glanced around them. ‘I am Ladin Detha.’

Rat frowned at that. ‘That will not do. You’ve only began your business with me, and already you’ve made three mistakes.’

‘Three mistakes?’

‘You were asked to come disguised-’

‘And I did!’ his hand swept down his shirt. ‘Look at me.’

‘What good are the clothes when you do not act them? The first thing you do past the Keep’s gates is flash your gold.’

So I was followed from the very start. That did not surprise Ladin one bit.

‘They thought me for a drunken stableman!’

‘You do look like one, and you smell like one. It was only fair. Milord, if the requirements of our business insult your self-worth, it would be best if we parted ways now, before worse things could happen.’

‘Fine. I was not thinking proper this morning. What else did I do wrong?’ Ladin asked. The curiosity outweighed the anger.

‘You told me my name.’

‘I told you your name? I asked if the name was yours.’

Rat’s melancholic eyes lit up, as if she heard a joke. ‘And what if it was not I, but another taking an interest in our business, who had followed you. You would have revealed her all she ever needed to know.’

‘So others might now of this whole affair, is what you are saying?’

‘Others do know, milord, have no doubt.’

Ladin studied the crowded men and women and children. They were shouting, walking silent, playing, arguing. The eyes can be anywhere. But whose?

‘Fine. I did not think proper of that either. What else?’

The girl who called herself Rat shrugged. ‘You told me your name.’

‘So I did.’

She nodded in the direction of the downward street, relatively void of people.

‘So what should I call you?’

‘V…’ he cursed and spoke the first thing on his mind. ‘Apple.’

‘Apple.’

‘What, is that my fourth mistake?’

The smile on her face came and went. ‘Apple’s as good as any a name.’

They walked in silence for some time, Ladin unsure of their direction or destination.

‘So are you Rat?’

‘If that is what Knight Barinmor called me, then I am.’

‘Then you must have other names?’

The glance she gave him closed the matter of names. She was Rat and he became Apple.

‘If you knew who I was from the start, why did you peddle me that sour apple?’ he inquired for the lack of a better thing to say.

‘Only to test how spoiled of a lord you are,’ Rat replied promptly.

Ah.

‘So what, you will judge me now because I had not known how city apples aren’t sweet in the spring?’

She did not answer, only kept on walking with her back straight even under the weight of the apple sack, which was no less than fifty pounds from the looks of it. This only made it worse. He looked her up and down. Plain half-shoes, short breeches and shirt, with sweat stains under the arms. No jewelry besides a two copper rings that bound strands into two thin tails. She could not be rich, not even by the standards of the low folk.

‘Judging those above you by the way they were born,’ he scoffed. ‘You are like the rest of these small folk. What does your master pay you? A silver round in a month? That girl I gave a gold back at the flower shop – she would not make so much in a single year. You grew up with nothing and likely die with nothing, so all you have to show against the highborn is that you know which time of year the apples grow sweet or which time they are bitter. Well, tell you what, tomorrow I will be out hunting for the blue bears with the Rentlyn sisters, and we shall feast in the nature on sweet Lynean apples and melons and pears and oranges, roasted deer meat and wild boar and darkest wine from the Lakelands. And by gods, if I will think about where any of it came from this time of year, I will curse myself, only I won’t think of it because the sweet sisters Saica and Karine will be wooing me into courting them and they are far too beautiful to fail at that. How low do I fall now in your judging eyes in the degree of being a spoiled lord?’

Rat did not interrupt his tirade, but by the time he was done, her cheeks reddened and she stopped at a street’s corner.

‘What say you now?’ Ladin pursued. This girl may be in the same business as Knight Barinmor, but she ought now where to stick her teaching and her judgments.

She looked at him with sadness. Or is it pity?

‘First, I will say that you are not going on the blue bears hunt tomorrow,