Vaguely troubled, Relam followed the minor lord out and made for the royal apartments, two guards trailing him protectively. The young prince had seen quite enough of the nobility for one night.
Chapter 13
The next few days passed uneventfully. Relam spent most of his time in his room, either sleeping or working on his dragon carving or making progress on various other minor projects. Time seemed to pass painfully slowly, with the absence of scheduled activities and training. Relam simply did not know what to do with his new-found freedom.
On the morning of the day he was to meet Cevet, Relam rose early, nearly as early as he would have as a cadet. He washed and dressed quickly and thus refreshed belted on his sword and went into the main room.
Narin was waiting there. The guard commander was an early riser and he often took the morning shifts standing watch. He nodded briefly to Relam in greeting.
“All clear,” he reported quietly.
“Good morning to you too,” Relam said, grinning amiably.
Narin snorted. “What’s got you in such a fine mood, your highness?”
“Training at Agath’s facility,” Relam explained. “Cevet and I are meeting up. And a good thing too, I was getting bored of all this lying about.”
“You are indeed a rare sort of prince,” Narin observed, leaning on his spear casually. “You’ll be taking at least two guards with you, I hope?”
“Do I need to?”
“Absolutely,” Narin replied with no hesitation.
Relam nodded. “As you wish, commander. I’ll take two guards.” The prince knew by now that there was no use arguing the point. Narin was only looking out for their safety, and the assassination attempts had proved that there was a need for extreme caution.
“Very good, your highness,” Narin said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Breakfast isn’t here yet, unfortunately. They were not expecting you to be up so early, I suppose.”
“No matter. We’ll take the servants’ corridors down to the kitchens.”
Narin shrugged. “Works for me. Let me grab two of the guards.”
The guard commander opened the outer door, murmured quietly to the guards outside, then opened the portal a little wider to allow them to enter. Relam did not know the two by name, but he knew them by sight. They had been palace guards for many years, almost as long as Narin himself.
“Will that be all, your highness?” Narin asked.
The prince nodded. “For now, yes. Thank you, Narin.”
“I live to serve.”
Relam smiled in reply, then led the two guards to the door that opened into the servants’ corridors. The young prince found his way easily enough, remembering Griff’s directions from that fateful night only a few days ago.
When they reached the kitchens, they found the servants already up and moving about. Fires were burning in all of the ovens and white clad cooks and assistants were scurrying back and forth, burdened with trays, carts, platters, and vats. Relam stepped smartly to one side as a trolley came thundering through, pushed by a red-faced apprentice.
“Find yourselves something to eat,” Relam instructed the guards. “We’ll leave in just a few minutes.”
“Yes, your highness,” one of the guards replied immediately.
Relam moved to where pastries were cooling on rack upon rack, stretching nearly to the high ceiling. There were six different types of muffins, sticky buns, rolls stuffed with different jellies, and many more treats besides. He briefly thought about seeking a healthier breakfast, then shrugged and grabbed two muffins, a blueberry and a walnut. He was young. He could afford to be unhealthy every now and then.
Relam leaned against the back wall while he ate, watching the kitchen staff curiously. Hardly any of them took notice of him. Those that did bowed or curtsied quickly, and then went right back to work. Every person in the space had a role, a task to accomplish, a purpose to serve. Nobody was standing around waiting for a new job to pop up, and nobody seemed confused as to what they should be doing. The kitchens were a well-oiled, efficiently run machine, and an impressive one.
“Everything in its place,” Relam murmured. “And everyone knows their place and accepts it.” Was this what D’Arnlo was after with his talk of enslaving people whose ancestors were not from the Sthan Kingdom? Did he want to sacrifice freedom for the type of efficiency that was on display here?
Relam frowned for a moment, contemplating the last morsel in his hand. These people were servants though, not slaves. Would slaves work just as hard and as well? Somehow the prince doubted it. He popped the last bit of muffin into his mouth and brushed the crumbs from his hands and shirtfront.
“Is everything alright, your highness?”
Relam turned and saw his two guards, eyeing him inquisitively. “Everything is fine,” he said, standing up straight. “Have you eaten?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s go, daylight’s wasting.”
“It is dark yet, your highness,” one of the guards assured him.
“Then darkness is wasting,” Relam said with a grin. “Come on, off to Tar’s training ground.”
The guards led the way this time, proceeding through the main door to the kitchens, down a narrow hallway, and right into the main entry hall of the palace. They hardly hesitated before crossing the marble floor to the doors that led out into the city. There, they gestured for Relam to wait a moment, then shoved one door open a fraction and peeked out.
“All clear,” the guard reported.
Relam joined them quickly and slipped through the palace door, nodding to the guards outside, who saluted in reply. Relam then led the way down the steps of the palace and then to the River Road that led
