As the younger cadets finished the second pattern and went on break, the guards’ comments about common birth jogged a memory in Relam’s brain. He looked around quickly to see if Tar was occupied, then rose abruptly.
“Wait here,” he said to his guards as they made to rise. “I’m just going to have a word with Tar.”
The guards relaxed, leaning back against the wall again, but Relam could feel their eyes on him all the way across the training ground. Tar saw Relam coming almost immediately and raised a hand in greeting. The prince smiled and replied in kind, lengthening his stride.
“Well, good to see a former student hard at work,” Tar said when Relam had joined him, clapping the prince on the shoulder. “You already bored of the time off?”
“A little,” Relam admitted. “It sounds like a wonderful thing until you’re two weeks in and haven’t done anything with your time.”
Tar laughed, a great booming laugh that echoed around the walls of the training center. The younger cadets looked around in surprise, then went back to their break, joking and shoving each other playfully.
“Ah, it does the heart good to start the day with a laugh,” Tar observed, glancing at his students.
“Yes,” Relam agreed. “No better way. The boy on the far left there, who is he?”
Tar grinned knowingly. “Noticed him, did you? He’s very good for his age. His name is Daram, lives in the eastern quarter near the outer wall.”
“Not of the nobility then?”
Tar’s smile faded slightly. “No, and a real shame too. None of the others will take him on, unless he is worthy of Oreius and has the nerve to face him. By the way,” the sword master said, lowering his voice. “Rumor has it that you and your fellow graduates are planning to apply to Oreius. As a sort of competition amongst yourselves.”
“And the rumors would have it right,” Relam replied easily. “How did you find out?”
“I know everything in this city,” Tar replied. “Or at least, everything related to the training of young warriors. You intend to follow through with applying to Oreius?”
“Yes, no matter what he does to the others.”
A smile split Tar’s craggy features. “Ah, I now divine the true purpose of this competition. Humiliation for the other lordlings, yes?”
“That is one purpose,” Relam admitted, wincing. The whole thing sounded rather vindictive when framed in that light. A cruel trick played on unsuspecting victims. Although, Relam reflected, there were no better victims for such a ploy than Sebast, Delan, and Knet.
“I just hope Oreius is sensible,” Tar muttered. “He can be a little testy with applicants sometimes. I don’t want him getting into trouble.”
“From what I’ve heard, he doesn’t particularly care if he gets into trouble,” Relam said with a slight smile.
“That is the trouble,” Tar replied grimly. “He has become reckless, careless. He cares not what others think or how his reputation deteriorates. He cares for himself only at this point, and the few friends he has retained over the years.”
“I see,” Relam said carefully. “Speaking of sword masters, there’s something I wanted to ask you about.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“I have a servant, Aven, who recently joined the city guard part-time, training to be an archer. He’s extremely hard-working, cheerful, helpful, determined - everything you could want in a soldier. Problem is he’s small for his age still.”
“Hmm. You helped him get into the guard?”
“My father and I, yes. But . . .” Relam hesitated, then plunged forward. “A few days ago, I went to interrogate the prisoners at the Citadel. The boy came with me as a guard and an extra set of eyes. I wasn’t thinking at the time, but there’s a chance I’ve dragged him into the middle of a very dangerous situation.”
“You want him trained to defend himself.”
Relam blinked in surprise.
Tar smiled tolerantly. “It really wasn’t hard to discern what you were asking for, Relam. I suppose you are asking if I would train him?”
“Yes.”
“He trains with the guard in the morning, I assume?”
“Usually.”
“Age?”
“Thirteen years, no formal training in the sword.”
Tar rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “He might do well with my twelve-year-old cadets then, especially if he is smaller as you say. They practice in the early afternoon. Does that work with his schedule?”
“If it doesn’t, we’ll find a way to make it work,” Relam promised.
“Good man,” Tar said grinning. “I’ll take him, of course.” The sword master scanned his students and his expression softened. “Regardless of age, rank, or talent, if they have the heart I will take them and train them all the same.” The sword master sighed. “If only there were more sword masters interested in the rewards of teaching instead of the profits associated with it.”
“You do great work, Tar,” Relam said gently. “And for what it’s worth, I’d put you above every sword master I’ve ever met.”
Master Agath nodded briskly. “Thank you, Relam. It does help to hear encouragement every now and then, even if you love your job. Now, I’d better get these boys working again or they’ll think I’ve gone soft.”
“You, going soft? Never!” Relam replied with a laugh. As he turned away from Tar to head back to the benches, he noticed a slim figure slipping through the gates that led out to the River Road. Cevet stayed out of the way, nodding to Relam and unobtrusively joining his guards to the side.
“Sorry I’m late,” the smaller boy said, grinning sheepishly. “Overslept. It’s been a while since I was up this early.”
“About two weeks?” Relam guessed.
“Roughly,” Cevet confirmed. “You’ve been here a while?”
“Little over an hour. I’ll give you some time to warm up before we face off.”
“Let’s talk first, while they’re practicing,” Cevet said urgently, sitting on the benches, angling his scabbarded sword
