The cadets murmured their thanks.
“The trials will be held next week,” Agath continued. “Until then, dismissed.”
The cadets rose as one and began talking excitedly amongst themselves. Master Agath disappeared into the largest of the stone buildings flanking the training field, his personal quarters and office. A few cadets began moving towards a low building to the right, the cadet barracks for Agath’s older students. Across the field was a barracks for younger cadets, twelve years old or less, who were learning from the master. A few were sitting outside their barracks, watching the older cadets jealously.
Relam stripped off his practice jerkin and padded helmet, sighing as a cool breeze swept over him. Summers in Etares were hot, especially near the end of the season. He couldn’t wait until autumn, when the temperatures would begin to drop and the leaves would begin to fall.
As Relam made for the exit, five other cadets, including Sebast, joined him.
“You should be glad I went easy on you, your highness,” Sebast said loudly. “Otherwise they’d be picking up the pieces in a basket.”
“Is that so?” Relam replied. “That’s strange. I was under the impression that you were lucky to win even one of the three.”
“Only because I can’t practice full speed against you,” Sebast replied hotly, jostling the young prince as they passed through the narrow exit and onto the crowded River Road that led back to the wealthier neighborhoods.
“Why? Scared?” Relam asked, looking at the dirty, sluggish river and the squalid dwellings on the far side. How different the western side of Etares was from the east, he reflected.
“You wish,” the lordling replied. “Really, none of our bouts should count. After all,” he said, turning to the other cadets walking beside him. “Everyone knows that his highness has to be protected from injury. The heir must not suffer damage.”
“Enough, Sebast,” Relam growled irritably, finally looking back at his adversary. “I know you didn’t hold anything back. Anyone who saw the way you sharpened the edges of that wooden practice shield would agree.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Garenes sniffed haughtily. “I resent your implication that I engaged in dishonorable actions in hopes of beating you. I don’t need that kind of trick to win.”
“No? Then let’s go again some time. See what the result is. Or would you rather we leave the standings for the week as they are: Six wins for me, one for you, with the one earned by cheating.”
“There’s no point! You’re still the prince and, therefore, untouchable!”
“And there would not be repercussions if you were . . . damaged?” Relam asked, stopping and turning to Sebast, fixing him with a cold stare. “You are a son of a major lord after all, and your father is very influential. In fact,” Relam said, looking around the circle. “All of us are sons of nobility. Don’t try and pass off your losses with such weak excuses again.”
“Sebast has a point though,” another lordling countered. “You are the prince.”
“Something you would do well to remember, Delan,” Relam muttered.
“It doesn’t matter,” Sebast decided, pushing past Relam. “When our formal training starts, the playing field will be leveled. Master D’Arnlo will not play favorites like Tar Agath does.”
“Has D’Arnlo accepted you then?” Relam asked, already knowing the answer. “Congratulations! I hear he only accepts the very best. It’s rare for a cadet that hasn’t passed the trials yet to be taken on by the master of the Citadel.”
“I thought D’Arnlo wasn’t even talking about students for next year yet?” Jatt Reshi interjected, sounding betrayed. “How could you possibly be accepted?” Jatt was the son of a minor lord, big and powerful, but none too bright.
“He hasn’t been accepted yet,” Relam explained with a superior air. “But his influential daddy will fix him right up and get him the very best.”
“And yours won’t?”
“No, because I’ll be getting in on skill,” Relam replied.
Sebast glared at him. “I have plenty of skill. And I’m bigger and faster-”
“Except for your brain,” Relam countered. “That’s small and rather slow. Do you think it will be up to the demands of a great lord one day?” Relam turned away, as though Sebast were beneath his notice, looking up at the bright blue sky. “I wonder if the four families the great lords come from have ever been altered because of the heir’s incompetence?”
A heavy blow exploded behind Relam’s ear, sending him stumbling. Then, as his vision flashed red and black he was shoved against a rough stone wall, a forearm across his throat, choking him, crushing his windpipe.
“Sebast, no!”
Hands entered Relam’s field of vision, pulling the lordling back. The moment he was released, Relam sagged against the wall, rubbing his neck. Sebast was being restrained by Delan and Knet, another son of a major lord. Jatt was standing to one side, looking confused. The remaining lordling, who had been quiet to this point, looked stunned. He was Cevet
