looked less than pleased. ‘He may be a very clever spy, but you’re right. There’s no harm if we keep a close watch on him. Father Tully, why don’t you take these men to soldiers’ commons and see what you can learn from them. I’ll be along shortly.’
Tully spoke to the three slaves and indicated they should follow. The two timid slaves moved at once, but Tchakachakalla bent his knee before Arutha. He spoke rapidly in the Tsurani tongue; Tully translated. ‘He’s just demanded you either kill him or make him your man. He asked how a man can be free with no house, clan, or honor. On his world such men are called grey warriors and have no honor.’
Arutha said, ‘Our ways are not your ways. Here a man can be free with no family or clan and still have honor.’
Tchakachakalla bent his head slightly while listening, then nodded. He rose and said, ‘Tchakachakalla understand.’ Then with a grin he added, ‘Soon, I be your man. Good lord need good warrior. Tchakachakalla good warrior.’
‘Tully, take them along, and find out how much Tchak … Tchakal …’ Arutha laughed. ‘I can’t pronounce that mouthful.’ To the slave he said, ‘If you’re to serve here, you need a Kingdom name.’
The slave looked about and then gave a curt nod.
Longbow said, ‘Call him Charles. It’s as close a name as I can imagine.’
Arutha said, ‘As good a name as any. From now on, you will be called Charles.’
The newly named slave said, ‘Tcharles?’ He shrugged and nodded. Without another word he fell in beside Father Tully, who led the slaves toward the soldiers’ commons.
Roland said, ‘What do you make of that?’ as the three slaves vanished around the corner.
Fannon said, ‘Time will tell if we’ve been duped.’
Longbow laughed. ‘I’ll keep an eye on Charles, Swordmaster. He’s a tough little fellow. He traveled at a good pace when we brought them in. Maybe I’ll turn him into a tracker.’
Arutha interrupted. ‘It will be some time before I’ll be comfortable letting him outside the castle walls.’
Fannon let the matter drop. To Longbow he said, ‘Where did you find them?’
‘To the north, along the Clearbrook branch of the river. We were following the signs of a large party of warriors heading for the coast.’
Fannon considered this. ‘Gardan leads another patrol near there. Perhaps he’ll catch sight of them and we’ll find out what the bastards are up to this year.’ Without another word he walked back toward the keep.
Martin laughed; Arutha was surprised to hear him. ‘What in this strikes you as funny, Huntmaster?’
Martin shook his head. ‘A little thing, Highness. It’s the Swordmaster himself. He’ll not speak of it to anyone, but I wager he would give all he owns to have your father back in command. He’s a good soldier, but he dislikes the responsibility.’
Arutha regarded the retreating back of the Swordmaster, then said, ‘I think you are right, Martin.’ His voice carried a thoughtful note. ‘I have been at odds with Fannon so much of late, I lost sight of the fact he never requested this commission.’
Lowering his voice, Martin said, ‘A suggestion, Arutha.’
Arutha nodded. Martin pointed to Fannon. ‘Should anything happen to Fannon, name another Swordmaster quickly; do not wait for your father’s consent. For if you wait, Algon will assume command, and he is a fool.’
Arutha stiffened at the Huntmaster’s presumption, while Roland tried to silence Martin with a warning look. Arutha coldly said, ‘I thought you a friend of the Horsemaster.’
Martin smiled, his eyes hinting at strange humor. ‘Aye, I am, as are all in the castle. But anyone you ask will tell you the same: take his horses away, and Algon is an indifferent thinker.’
Nettled by Martin’s manner, Arutha said, ‘And who should take his place? The Huntmaster?’
Martin laughed, a sound of such open, clear amusement at the thought, Arutha found himself less angry at his suggestion.
‘I?’ said the Huntmaster. ‘Heaven forfend, Highness. I am a simple hunter, no more. No, should the need come, name Gardan. He is by far the most able soldier in Crydee.’
Arutha knew Martin was correct, but gave in to impatience. ‘Enough. Fannon is well, and I trust will remain so.’
Martin nodded. ‘May the gods preserve him … and us all. Please excuse me, it was but a passing concern. Now, with Your Highness’s leave, I’ve not had a hot meal in a week.’
Arutha indicated he could leave, and Martin walked away toward the kitchen. Roland said, ‘He is wrong on one account, Arutha.’
Arutha stood with his arms folded across his chest, watching Longbow as he vanished around the corner. ‘What is that, Roland?’
‘That man is much more than the simple hunter he pretends.’
Arutha was silent for a moment. ‘He is. Something about Martin Longbow has always made me uneasy, though I have never found fault with him.’
Roland laughed, and Arutha said, ‘Now something strikes you as funny, Roland?’
Roland shrugged. ‘Only that many think you and he are much alike.’
Arutha turned a black gaze upon Roland, who shook his head. ‘It’s often said we take offense most in what we see of ourselves in others. It’s true, Arutha. You both have that same cutting edge to your humor, almost mocking, and neither of you suffers foolishness.’ Roland’s voice became serious. ‘There’s no mystery to it, I should think. You’re a great deal like your father, and with Martin having no family, it follows he would pattern himself after the Duke.’
Arutha became thoughtful. ‘Perhaps you’re right. But something else troubles me about that man.’ He left the thought unfinished and turned toward the keep.
Roland fell into step beside the thoughtful Prince and wondered if he had overstepped himself.
The night thundered. Ragged bolts of lightning shattered the darkness as clouds rolled in from the west. Roland stood on the southern tower watching the display. Since dinner his mood had been as dark as the western sky. The day had not gone well. First he had felt troubled by his conversation with Arutha by the gate. Then Carline had treated him at dinner with the same stony silence he had endured since their meeting on this very tower two weeks earlier. Carline had seemed more subdued than usual, but Roland felt a stab of anger at himself each time he chanced a glance in her direction. Roland could still see the pain in the Princess’s eyes. ‘What a witless fool I am,’ he said aloud.
‘Not a fool, Roland.’
Carline was standing a few paces away, looking toward the coming storm. She clutched a shawl around her shoulders, though the air was temperate. The thunder had masked her footfalls, and Roland said, ‘It is a poor night to be upon the tower, my lady.’
She came to stand beside him and said, ‘Will it rain? These hot nights
