Exile's Valor

Collegium. As they disappeared into the twilight shadows, he felt Kantor coming up beside him. He put his hand on Kantor’s shoulder, and felt the Companion’s silken hide beneath his palm, warm and smooth.

:Cheric can’t Mindspeak him very clearly yet, and the little lad was petrified,: Kantor told him. :He thought he was about to be put into one of those vile Boy’s Bands that the Tedrels used to “toughen” the boys. Nasty training, if you could call it training. Kept them on short rations, more or less forced them to steal if they were going to keep from going hungry, but beat them within an inch of their lives if they got caught. Weapons’ training with real, edged weapons— if you got hurt or died, too bad. Every infraction was punished with a beating, in fact. Small wonder he was terrified.:

:Well, I’m glad he recognized me. I only hope he doesn’t hero-worship me.: Alberich sighed. :Though it might be pleasant for me, it would do him no good.:

:I wouldn’t necessarily agree with that.: Kantor nudged him affectionately. :You could do with a little hero-worship.:

:Adoration is for the Sunlord. I am content with respect,: Alberich replied, but rubbed Kantor’s ears with affection. :So long as I have the friendship of my Companion and a few good comrades, I am content,:

:Piff. I can think of one other thing you could do with.: Kantor’s eyes sparkled with mischief, and Alberich had a very good idea what he was talking about, but he pretended otherwise. After all, it was usually Kantor who managed a jest on Alberich, rather than the other way around.

:Yes, indeed,: he replied blandly. :I could do with my dinner.:

And he laughed aloud at Kantor’s exasperated snort.

***

The following day was very much business as usual, although during the day he found himself looking forward much more than usual to dinner, because Myste had sent down a note asking if she could join him then. He didn’t know why, and she didn’t tell him; probably it had something to do with the players. Since she clearly was comfortable with them and was not going to have to act in order to fit herself into a persona, he had elected to leave her to get used to the situation, and her “employers” to get used to her, before he asked her to actually do anything. He’d told her to let him know when she thought she was ready, and that was probably why she wanted to meet him over dinner.

And yet—well, he wouldn’t be disappointed if it wasn’t the business of the actors that brought her.

When she arrived with the servant that brought his dinner, as usual, helping to carry the baskets, he did note that her step was definitely light, and that there was more than a mere suspicion of a smile on her face. But she only spoke of commonplace things—more rumors about Kadhael, in fact, and more slurs about Alberich himself— until the servant had gone. And when he bent to uncover the first of the supper dishes, she held out a hand, forestalling him.

“Dinner can wait for a moment,” she said, as always when she was with him, speaking in Karsite. It was an effective hedge against anyone who might, somehow, have gotten in close enough to be listening. Not that Alberich expected anyone to manage, for he’d have to get past the Companions to do so, but sometimes Trainees dared each other to particularly stupid pranks and it would be just his luck for one of them to sneak in to eavesdrop on the Weaponsmaster and overhear something he shouldn’t.

“I assume you have a reason?” he replied.

She nodded. “First, I want you to see these.”

And she handed him a folded packet of paper; the paper itself was odd, thin, very light, very strong. He unfolded it.

And knew immediately what it was, because it was in cipher, and there was only one place at the moment where Myste would have gotten a packet of papers in cipher. They were the same papers—or more of the same— that he’d seen passed from Norris to Devlin!

“No, they’re not,” Myste said immediately, as if she had read his mind. Not that she needed to; she would know exactly what he was thinking at that moment. “In this case, it’s a packet that was passed the other way, from Devlin to Norris.”

He looked from it, to her, and back again, speechless for a moment. “But—how did you—”

Her grin widened, and she sat down with an air of triumph. “He gave them to me.”

Alberich also sat down, then. He had to. His knees wouldn’t hold him. “If you’re joking—”

“I’m not,” she replied with satisfaction. “I swear I’m not. He gave them to me with his own lily-white hands. And do you know why?” She laughed, a rich and satisfied chuckle. “Because, my friend, he wanted me to copy them for him.”