“Don’t worry, sir,” Eric said brusquely. “He’ll be around when you get back, like as not.”
Relam nodded distractedly, then pulled the door to the royal suite shut and led the way down the corridor towards the entrance hall.
There was a light mist falling over Etares as Relam and his guards made the journey to Oreius’ house. The far bank of the river was shrouded in fog and the taller buildings disappeared into the low-lying clouds. Sounds were amplified and redirected in mysterious ways. Ordinary people bundled up against the weather appeared as sinister shadows rising from the mist. Each time they were approached, Relam and his guards would stiffen and lay hands on their blades, only to inevitably relax as a merchant or other citizen ambled past, nodding politely.
The Citadel looked particularly sinister, the towers and walls appearing as black shadows stretching up into the sky until they vanished, with indistinct figures patrolling the walls. Relam looked but could not see the bridges between the three central towers. They must have been hidden by the mist. He wondered briefly what it would be like to stand on one of those bridges on this morning, and shuddered inwardly before hurrying on his way.
At Oreius’ house, Relam stopped and drew his two guards closer. “You can wait out front or return to the palace,” he told them. “I don’t care which. I’ll be safe enough with Oreius, and there’s no need for you to stand here all day.”
“Yes, sir,” Eric replied. “When will you be finished? Will you need an escort back?”
“I should be done six hours after noon,” Relam said. “That’s when we usually finish.”
“Good,” Wil replied airily. “Best of luck, sir. Watch the nose today, eh?”
“I will,” Relam promised. “See you later.”
The guards turned smartly and began heading back to the palace. Relam meanwhile followed the path around the side of Oreius’ house to the back, wondering if the old man would be out in this weather. Relam was not even remotely surprised to find Oreius on the stone bench, as usual.
“Good morning,” Oreius said as Relam approached, gravel crunching under foot. He opened his eyes and looked up at Relam, then frowned.
“I thought I told you to rest up and recover this weekend?” he said, raising both eyebrows.
Relam nodded. “You did.”
“And your idea of resting up is a broken nose and a couple nasty scratches?”
“Not exactly,” Relam said. “The weekend didn’t quite go as planned.”
“Hmph,” Oreius grunted. “Well, we can talk about it later with the commander. I’m sure he’ll want all of the details. Come, sit on the bench.”
Relam smiled, glad that they would be sticking to the normal routine this morning.
“Draw your sword and place it by your right hand.”
The prince frowned. This was not part of the normal routine and he was instantly wary. But he did as Oreius said, thinking that he would surprise the old man by being ready if there were any tricks in the coming exercise. Relam laid his bare sword blade on the bench beside him, close to his right hand.
“Now, close your eyes,” Oreius instructed. “And tell me what you sense around you.”
Relam was used to this part of the drill by now. He took a few moments to really relax and focus, then began identifying smells and sounds. “I sense-”
“Defend yourself!”
Relam’s eyes snapped open and he snatched up his sword, rolling forward off the bench and springing to his feet. As soon as he had, Oreius struck and Relam was forced to parry. The sword master locked blades with the prince and shoved him backwards as he disengaged.
“Tell me what you sense,” he demanded, advancing on Relam.
Relam stumbled off balance, trying to refocus, to find the calm he normally needed to succeed in this drill. But his heart was pounding too fast and his brain was too busy worrying about where Oreius would strike next.
“The river,” he said finally, knowing that this was a safe guess.
“Not good enough!” Oreius shouted, lunging forward and driving Relam backwards again. “You must be able to keep your focus, even on the field of battle. You must be able to sense and hear threats before they materialize, must instinctively know what is going on around you. Now, what do you sense boy?”
Oreius struck again, a looping side cut followed by a lightning fast backhand. Relam parried clumsily, sliding to one side so that the house was to his left and the river to his right.
“Birds,” Relam said desperately.
“What are they doing?” Oreius asked, slamming his blade into Relam’s again.
“Building a nest?” Relam guessed. Immediately, he kicked himself knowing there was no way he could have divined that using his senses.
“Wrong answer!” Oreius grunted, confirming the prince’s fear. “Try again.”
“An oxcart, on the far side of the River Road,” Relam gasped, parrying another blow. “A blacksmith, not far to the north.”
“Ah, better,” Oreius said, striking again. “What else?”
“A ship on the river,” Relam answered, just before a ship came into view, headed downstream, sliding eerily through the morning fog.
“Keep going,” Oreius barked, driving Relam back towards the house.
“The flowers, I can smell their scent. I can hear the fountain, directly behind me,” Relam panted as he backed up the sward towards the stone bench. “There’s a bench around here somewhere-”
A different noise reached Relam’s ears as he was speaking, a footstep crunching on gravel. And neither
