table of drinks over and sending lords and servants scrambling.
“Well, we can’t say we didn’t see it that time,” Lord Hunt commented.
“Exactly,” Edyon replied, though he felt like screaming. Why did things always go wrong for him?
Edyon’s father, however, came to the rescue with a seri-ous question. “The boy has impressive speed. How long before it wears off?”
Edyon was relieved to reply in an equally serious man-ner. “Ellis could run at that pace all afternoon. He could repeat what he’s just done a hundred times over. He’s not even out of breath. And Byron is unhurt from his fall, as the smoke heals any cuts or bruises instantly. An army of boys on foot could outpace soldiers on horseback.”
“Very good, Edyon.” Thelonius nodded and clapped. Many of the lords joined in, though Edyon noticed that Lord Hunt and some others near him did not.
“We’ll demonstrate the spear next,” Edyon said.
“Will we need protection?” Lord Hunt asked.
“Step back, everyone,” Lord Birtwistle joked.
Edyon smiled and ignored them. “I’ve chosen the spear to demonstrate how the smoke gives power without reducing accuracy. As you can see, there are targets painted on those gates. I don’t think even the best spearman in the Calidorian army could get his spear to fly that distance, but Byron and Ellis will hit the bull’s-eye.”
Byron and Ellis picked up their weapons and launched their spears as Edyon muttered, “Please don’t miss. Please don’t kill anyone.”
But the spears flew with perfect accuracy, landing so hard that they almost split the wood of the targets.
Some of the lords whistled and there were a few com-ments of “impressive” and “impossible.”
“And just once more,” Edyon said. “Though Ellis and Byron could do this with the same force and accuracy a hun-dred times, our gates would not stand it.” And the throws were repeated with the same results.
Thelonius clapped again, and now most of the lords joined in.
“And how are they with a sword?” Lord Hunt asked.
“We’re doing that next, Lord Hunt,” Edyon replied. “Ellis and Byron will spar for you, showing their speed and agility.”
“It would be more relevant to see how they’d fare against an ordinary soldier,” Lord Hunt said.
“It would be too dangerous, I’m afraid,” Edyon replied.
“Well, I’d like to think I’m not that ordinary a soldier, but I’ll risk a bruise or two,” Regan said, stepping forward and drawing his sword. “I want to feel the boys’ strength. Byron, come at me. Just don’t kill me, and I’ll do you the same courtesy. I’ve only just recovered from one stabbing.”
Regan didn’t mention that the stabbing had been at the hands of March and his compatriot, Holywell. He didn’t have to.
“I’m delighted you’re entering into the spirit of the dem-onstration, Lord Regan.” Edyon looked over to Byron and nodded. “Lord Regan wants to feel your strength, Byron. Let him feel it.”
Please don’t hold back. But please don’t kill him either.
Byron smiled. “I’ll just disarm you, Lord Regan. I don’t wish to—”
Regan slashed at him with his sword, hoping to catch him unawares, but Byron parried the attack, retaliating with a hard swing to Regan’s raised sword, knocking it from his hands, and then somehow Byron was standing, dagger at Regan’s throat, making a pretend slice across it. Byron held the position for a moment before moving back gracefully and bowing to Regan. It was all terribly quick but rather beautiful.
Goodness me. Byron’s someone to watch.
Regan rubbed his hand, clearly in a little discomfort, though he was trying to hide it. The lords were clapping and laughing.
“Byron’s strength is impressive, but his speed is amaz-ing,” Thelonius said. “Normally he wouldn’t get close to you, Regan.”
Edyon was delighted.
“And what’s this about healing?” Lord Hunt asked. “Are we going to get to see that too?”
They hadn’t rehearsed this, but it was important.
Edyon said, “Injuries heal faster when you’ve inhaled smoke, but the fastest way to heal is to apply smoke directly to the skin. Perhaps if I have a cut, Ellis can heal it.” Edyon really didn’t want to cut himself. But Byron had a dagger at the ready, and he stepped forward, already slicing the blade across the palm of his own hand, saying, “Your Highness, allow me.”
Byron really is rather heroic. And, yes, I most certainly will allow it.
Byron was now holding out his hand, dripping blood, to show the audience. Ellis inhaled the smoke and bent his head to Byron’s hand, while Edyon commentated: “It looks a little strange, but Ellis is holding the smoke in his mouth and put-ting