Storm Warning

Karal opened his mouth to reply, then thought better of it and closed it again. Ulrich was right; what had served him at the inn and the Children's Cloister would do him no good here. He was no longer just another child, and anyone who intended to attack him here was likely to be trained and practiced, perhaps even an assassin. Yes, the Valdemarans had provided guards, but anyone who had weathered the war with Ancar knew that guards were not always enough. For that matter, there were probably plenty of people in the Valdemaran ranks who would like to see him dead as a means of starting hostilities again.

'I've arranged for Johen to come and take you to your weaponry teacher in a few moments,' Ulrich said. 'So you ought to change into something like your riding gear; something you can sweat and tumble about in, and do it before he arrives.'

'Yes, sir,' Karal replied and stood up quickly. He was all the way to the door of his room when he thought to ask a question.

'Who is going to be teaching me these things, sir, do you know?' he asked, as he looked for a clean set of riding clothes in the chest at the foot of his bed. In a way, he was hoping to hear that Rubrik was to be his language teacher. It made sense, and Rubrik was the one friendly, familiar face here.

'Well, there's only one person who is equally fluent in Valdemaran and Karsite,' came the easy reply. 'Herald Alberich, the Weaponsmaster. He's already agreed to the idea.'

Clothing dropped from Karal's numb hands, and he felt as if his stomach had dropped right out of his body.

Alberich? The Alberich? The Great Traitor? The man whose very name was used as a synonym for traitor back home?

The man whose intimate knowledge of the Karsite Army and the Karsite Border had prevented Karse from gaining so much as a grain of sand or a word of reliable intelligence for twenty years and more?

The man who was the first that Solaris approached to arrange the truce, he reminded himself. The man she trusted to keep his word when she sent her agents in to negotiate for a Valdemaran envoy. He is not, cannot be, the enemy I was always told he was; if he was, Solaris would never have gone to him. She values honor above all else, except devotion to Vkandis. I have never heard the truth about him, nor why he deserted his post, all those years ago.

But still—Alberich? The very idea turned his blood to dust.

'As for your weaponswork,' Ulrich continued, blithely unaware of Karal's shock and dismay, since he could not see Karal from his seat in the next room. 'I had a volunteer before I even asked for one. Herald Captain Kerowyn.'

Karal dropped his clothes again.

'Karal?' Ulrich called, when he said nothing.

Karal tried to move, forcing his shaking hands to reach for his riding clothes. It took him three tries to pick them up, and when he put them back down on the bed, it took him an eternity to get the fastenings undone on his Court robes.

'Karal, there is nothing to worry about,' Ulrich said into the silence, finally divining the fact that Karal was disturbed by these revelations. 'She is not going to drive you the way she does the young Heralds-in-training. She knows that you are never going to have to do more than defend yourself in an emergency.'

But she is eight feet tall, his mind babbled, ignoring the fact that he had already seen her just this morning, and she was nothing like the creature that reputation painted. She eats babies for breakfast, and washes them down with nettles and wolves' milk! She can break warriors in half with one hand! She—

'At any rate, she's waiting for you now,' Ulrich said cheerfully, as Karal fumbled his breeches on. 'I'm really very flattered; she doesn't take individual pupils very often.'

I'm not! I'd rather have some nice, quiet little under-trainer—

Oh, calm down, Karal. It could be worse.

It could be Alberich!

He pulled his shirt on over his head, and came out into the sitting room. Ulrich had his back to him, examining some papers, as Johen tapped diffidently on the door and entered.

Ulrich looked up to see who it was, then waved absently at them, returning his attention to the papers. 'Off you go, then. I'll see you later, Karal. Try not to get too bruised; we'll be taking our dinner with the Court, and I'll need you to be presentable. I'll get a bad reputation if it looks as if I beat my secretary on a regular basis.'