:Indeed. In my infinite leisure time,: he retorted as he pulled off the armor he'd worn to protect himself. He had been the 'assassin' for all of this practice, and as such, had worked harder than all of them combined. He was in good condition, as good as he'd ever been, but—ah, it had been a hard day, as well as a long one.
At least he'd been too busy to think, too busy to worry.
Today he had neglected all of the Trainees, leaving poor Dethor and a couple of the older Trainees to conduct lessons themselves. Tomorrow he would have to do the same.
And the day after, and the day after that—
He sagged down on the bench, suddenly, with an overpowering sense of guilt. He was supposed to be Dethor's Second, to take the burden of all of this off of the old man. :Ah, Kantor, what am I going to do?: he asked plaintively. :I can't be in two places at once—:
:And if you were not here, who would be teaching the Trainees? And who would have seen to it that Selenay had bodyguards? And who would be drilling the King and Heir's battlefield escorts?: Kantor replied. Someone else, of course. Dethor, and someone else. Someone who wouldn't have Alberich's experience.
Someone else—if he could figure out who that someone else might have been, maybe he could recruit him (her?) to train the Trainees.
:This last lot of Trainees won't see fighting,: he said, after a moment. :We've put everyone who is even remotely ready into Whites by now, but there're still the ones that are a year away from becoming full Heralds. There must be a dozen of them, and I've personally taught all of them from the time they came in as Trainees; I can put them to teaching the younglings, while Dethor supervises.:
:Good answer,: Kantor approved.
:And I can see to it that Dethor stays here, no matter how much he wants to go South with the full army,: he decided, clenching his jaw.: He'll fight me on it, but if the King orders him to stay, then no matter what happens to me, there will still be a Weaponsmaster at the Collegium.:
:He won't like that, but it's a sensible course of action:. Kantor sighed. Mind, all he has to do is try one night in a tent to know that he'd only be a handicap and a liability. One night spent in something other than a warm bed would leave him a cripple.:
By that, Alberich knew that Kantor and the other Companions were already plotting ways to get Dethor to make the experiment. Quietly, of course. Without anyone else knowing, of course. There was no point in embarrassing the old man.
:Or hurting his feelings.:
:Good answer,: Alberich replied, and levered his own stiff, sore body up off the bench. A hot soak, something to eat, and then— :Do you think I'd be allowed to sit in on any strategy sessions?: he asked. Perhaps he wasn't a great general, but there was only one way to get that expertise, and that was to watch an expert in the craft of war.
:Just slip in and stay in the background, and we'll see to it that no one notices you,: Kantor replied.
Well! That was interesting.
And he'd better take advantage of it.
He limped toward the door to his shared quarters. It was going to be a long night.
The first of many, he suspected.
:The first of many,: Kantor agreed. :But it won't be alone, Chosen. Never alone.:
«»
Talamir clenched his jaw and told himself that it wasn't wise to contemplate strangling his King.
He sat, rather stiffly, in the armchair that Sendar had nodded him toward. He knew that chair of old. It was seductively comfortable, and it was supposed to make him relax. He wasn't going to allow it to.
And he wasn't going to strangle his King. 'Sendar,' he said instead, 'I am fully aware that you are an
