a nobleman’s cloak, or perhaps a wise-man’s discarded sock?”
“Neither,” Robert said. “Someone pissed in a gopher hole, and out I came, wet and angry. Now tell me why you’re here, or I’ll go to King Vaelor myself and let him know how displeased I am with your cooperation in this endeavor.”
If Gerand was upset by the threat, he clearly didn’t show it.
“Love red-heads,” he said. “You know what they say about them? Oh, of course you don’t, mud-birth and all. So feisty. But you want me to hurry, so hurry I shall. I’ve come for the boy.”
“Aaron?”
Gerand poured himself a glass of liquor and toasted the old man from the other side of the room.
“The king has decided, and I agree with his brilliant wisdom. With the boy in hand, we can force Thren to end this annoying little war of his.”
“Have you lost your senses?” asked Robert. “You want to take Aaron hostage? Thren is trying to end this war, not prolong it.”
Then the old man realized why Gerand had stalled. His eyes had swept every corner of the room, as well as peered through the doorways, his attentive ears hearing no other signs of life.
“You have troops surrounding my home,” Robert said.
“We watched Thren leave,” Gerand said. He downed his drink and licked his lips. “He was here alone, and now there are none. You can play your little game all you want, Robert, but you’re still a Haern, and lack any true understanding of matters. You say Thren doesn’t want this war of his to end. You’re wrong. He doesn’t want to lose, and therefore he won’t let it end. The Trifect won’t bow to him, not ever. This will only end when one side is dead. Veldaren can live without the thief guilds. Can we live without the food, wealth, and pleasures of the Trifect?”
“I live off mud,” Robert said. “Can you?”
He flung his cane. The flat bottom smacked through the glass and struck Gerand’s forehead. The man slumped to the floor, blood dripping from his hand. The old man rushed through the doorway as shouts came from the entrance to his home, followed by a loud crack as the door smashed open.
Robert burst into Aaron’s training room. The boy winced at the sudden invasion of light. He jumped to his feet, immediately quiet and attentive. The old man felt a bit of sadness realizing he would never have a chance to continue training such a gifted student.
“You must run,” Robert said. “The soldiers will kill you. There’s a window out back, now go!”
No hesitation. No questions. Aaron did as he was told.
The floor was cold when Robert sat down in the center. He thought about grabbing the dying torch to use as a weapon, but against armored men, it would be a laughable ploy. A burly man stepped inside as others rushed past, no doubt searching for Aaron. He held manacles in one hand and a naked sword in the other.
“Does the king request my tutelage?” Robert asked, chuckling darkly.
In answer, the soldier struck him with the butt of his sword, knocking him out cold.
2
The exotic fruit cost its weight in gold, but Leon Connington felt it a fair bargain. He bit into the purple skin, making a loud slurp as he sucked in the juice that ran down his chin. The pulp was so soft, he thought it better than a woman’s thigh. He moaned.
“Winter is coming,” one of his advisors said, holding a quill as he stood before an inkwell and some parchment. So far he’d only written down a few random orders involving shipping, plus Leon’s opinion of upcoming marriages between high-blood families in the Hillock west of the Kingstrip. While Leon had no official say in such matters, his opinion had meant both the creation and destruction of many engagements.
“What do I care about winter?” Leon said as he took another bite. “I have enough fat on me to hibernate with the bears. The wind can only tickle me while I laugh.”
“I more meant the fruit,” the advisor said. “Try not to get too addicted to the plums. They come all the way from Ker, and I doubt any more shipments will arrive. I’ve heard reports of an early frost.”
“A shame,” Leon said. He sucked the rest of the fruit into his mouth and chewed around the pit. “So, what word from our little puppet?” he asked, slobbering the whole while.
“Gerand Crold has taken the tutor Haern into custody, although it