The First Blade Of Ostia Read online

  It was completely dark when he arrived at the gates to the mansion. Large mage lamps held within ornately decorated metal frames illuminated the gateway and several liveried men stood there checking the invitations. Bryn approached them and one held out a hand, a polite smile on his face.

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t have an invitation,’ Bryn said. ‘I’m here in the party of Amero dal Moreno. I think he’s already arrived.’

  ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to wait a moment, sir, I’ll have someone go and find him.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ a voice from behind Bryn said, a woman’s voice.

  ‘Very good, ma’am, might I see your invitation?’

  Bryn turned to see Joranna dal Verrara standing behind him, along with several other ladies and the chaperones of her party.

  She smiled demurely at Bryn and reached forward to hand her invitation to the servant.

  He stepped back to allow them all to pass. ‘Enjoy your evening, my lady.’

  After they passed into the courtyard Bryn stopped and turned to Joranna. ‘Thank you for that, gods only know how long it would have taken them to find Amero and bring him out.’

  ‘You’re very welcome,’ she said, and then more quietly so that no one else could hear her, ‘at the very least you had better offer me a dance this evening.’

  ‘I… Yes, of course.’

  ‘Well, you better go on ahead, it wouldn’t be seemly for us to go in together.’

  ‘Yes, of course, thanks again,’ Bryn said, realising that he had repeated himself. He turned and began to walk toward the house.

  ‘Don’t forget now,’ she called out after him.

  He cast another glance over his shoulder to look back at her, but she had already returned to a conversation with her companions.

  * * *

  AS SOON AS he got inside, he could hear music drifting out from the back of the house. It lifted his spirits, if they could be lifted any further after his brief exchange with Joranna and he felt the excitement of the night ahead flush through him. It was something he had never felt at a ball before.

  He walked through the house, being discreetly directed by more servants until he reached the ballroom. It ran the length of the back of the house and overlooked what he imagined to be an ornate garden, although it was too dark to see anything beyond the glass of the large windows. Half the room was filled with tables fully decked out with glassware and cutlery and it was something of a relief to Bryn that he hadn’t missed the start of the meal; he was starving. The other half was clear to allow for dancing later in the night, while the orchestra was set up at that end, still only playing quietly to allow for conversation.

  Bryn had never been in this house before, and the features that particularly caught his attention were the three ornate chandeliers that were suspended from the high ceiling. Each was a masterpiece of intricately cut crystal and home to what must have been hundreds of tiny mage lamps, each no bigger than the end of his thumb. They bathed the room in a warm, decadent light that shouted opulence and wealth as clearly as though the city criers in Crossways were announcing it.

  It only took him a moment to find Amero, propping up the bar at one end of the room with several other bannerets, all of them the new additions to his retinue.

  ‘I thought you’d decided not to come,’ Amero said as he approached.

  ‘It takes longer than you’d expect to look this good,’ Bryn said, eliciting a slight chuckle from the other bannerets.

  ‘No,’ Amero said. ‘I imagine it takes you quite some time. How’d you get in anyway?’

  ‘I have my methods,’ Bryn said. ‘Now, I’m parched, what’s good to drink?’

  ‘Dal Bragadin piss from the shores of the Blackwater is all, I’m afraid,’ Amero said. ‘Can never understand how they charge so much for a bottle of it. Compared to the wines from home, it’s not much better than vinegar.’

  Bryn raised an eyebrow. Blackwater wines—produced by the Elector Count Bragadin family—were amongst the most expensive available, and another one of the subtle statements of effortless wealth aristocrats liked to make at their balls. There was no love lost between the Moreno and Bragadin families though; they had long been political rivals. Bryn was delighted to get a glass or two. For him it was an unexpected, and rare, treat.

  The bar behind them was laid out with dozens of glasses filled with sparkling wine. Bryn took one and joined the others in their disinterested, yet surreptitiously watchful pose. It was only a moment or two later that Joranna and her group came into the ballroom.

  ‘The evening’s looking up,’ one of the bannerets said, and all the rest laughed, including Bryn.

  Seeing Joranna walking into the ballroom reminded him of his promise to ask her for a dance, which served to eradicate the relaxed feeling his glass of wine had been imbuing. Dancing lessons were given at the Academy in an effort to ensure all of the graduates would be able to function in polite society. Bryn had always appreciated that dancing and swordplay were not all that far removed from one another, but despite his love for music, the practical utility he saw in it and the effort he had made in learning, he had never taken to it particularly well. He felt nervous not just at the idea of dancing with her, but having to formally approach her in front of her chaperone to ask to sign her dance card. He had done it only rarely in the past, and never with an aristocrat and the additional formality that went with one of that station. All things considered he realised that it was unlikely she would turn him down; nonetheless, he felt little different than he had in the moments before stepping into the arena in Tanosa.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ Amero said.

  ‘Yes, fine, why?’

  ‘You’re sweating.’

  Bryn realised that his forehead was covered in a wet sheen. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it off. ‘It’s just the walk up the hill.’

  It looked as though half of the intended guests had arrived before Bryn. The room continued to fill until the gong was rung to call everyone to their tables for the meal.

  He found it hard to concentrate on the conversation at the table, or the meal itself. By the time it was finished he felt more nervous than he ever had when faced with an impending duel. One by one the other bannerets at the table began to disperse to track down the young women they wanted to ask for a dance. This was usually the point where Bryn made himself comfortable with a bottle of wine to listen to the music.

  It was not long before he found himself alone at the table and felt the sheen of sweat return to his brow. As circumspectly as he could, Bryn scanned the room for Joranna. He didn’t want to have to wander around the room like an idiot trying to find her, so he decided not to make his move until he spotted her.

  When he did eventually see her, he hesitated a moment too long. She turned and caught his gaze. He completely lost his nerve and looked away. In that moment the prospect of being run through in the arena felt a lot more comforting than the idea of walking up to Joranna and, in front of dozens of other people, asking to sign her card. Nevertheless, that was what he had to do. He took a fortifying breath, stood and walked across the room to her with as much confidence as he could muster.

  ‘I was wondering if I might have the honour of a dance,’ he said, his delivery not nearly as authoritative as he had imagined it would be.

  Joranna’s expression changed as she regarded him, but she said nothing. Bryn flicked his eyes to the older woman standing to the side, whom Bryn took to be Joranna’s chaperone, before flicking back to Joranna. She held out her card, cream with gilt lettering at the top and a small pencil attached by a piece of crimson ribbon. He took it and flipped it open, casting his eyes down the list. He felt his face flush as each line his eyes passed was already filled in. He breathed a sigh of relief when he realised there was one dance, the last, still free. He signed his name.

  ‘I was beginning to run out of excuses,’ Joranna said, as Bryn handed her back the card. ‘That last spot has
been much in demand.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought that it would fill so quickly,’ Bryn said, realising the implication as soon as the words had left his mouth and wishing he could pull them back in.

  ‘My, my, you are the charmer.’ She smiled with mock indignation. ‘See you for the last dance.’ She turned and walked away in the company of her chaperone, leaving Bryn standing alone feeling more than a little foolish.

  * * *

  BRYN KNEW it was foolish putting all of his eggs in one basket by not bothering to ask anyone else to dance that night, and letting Joranna see that he wasn’t interested in anyone else, but he did so regardless. As the dancing began he idled around the bar chatting with the other bannerets he knew, much of which revolved around making amusing, but disparaging, remarks about those gentlemen present who hadn’t been to the Academy.

  Eventually the time came for his dance with Joranna. As her card had suggested would be the case, she had not left the floor since the dancing had begun. Bryn had found it difficult to take his eyes off her all night. She moved with practised grace and elegance as though she was floating across the floor in her pale blue gown, and he couldn’t help but think she would make a superb duellist, were the sport open to women.

  When his turn arrived, he made his way over to her and took her hand.

  ‘Ah, Banneret,’ she said. ‘From the amount of time you’ve spent at the bar this evening, I’m surprised you’re still able to stand, let alone dance. But it is a little flattering that I’m the only one you’ve chosen to dance with.’

  He hadn’t realised that she’d noticed him, and although he’d been far more moderate in his drinking than the others he had been talking to, he was feeling a little more relaxed than he might have otherwise.

  ‘Dancing with anyone else seemed pointless,’ he said, trying to sound tongue in cheek.

  She smiled and looked at him with teasingly indignant eyes. ‘It’s an improvement on your last effort, but you’re going to have to do better than that.’

  Bryn smiled as the music began and he led her in the dance. She was far better than he, but the basic classes he had taken, along with the agility imbued by countless hours of swordplay allowed him to acquit himself reasonably well. However the conversation was stilted, as Bryn needed most of his concentration to keep up with Joranna’s greater skill. It was a relief when the music finally ended.

  ‘Thank you for the dance,’ Bryn said.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ she said, in the formal fashion. She cast a quick glance at her chaperone who was standing to the side of the dance floor, no doubt ready to drag Bryn away by the ear like a naughty schoolboy if one of his hands wandered too far for propriety.

  She produced a small card from somewhere and handed it to him. ‘Call on me if you wish. I’ll be in the city all winter.’

  He went back to the bar where Amero and the others had gathered, feeling very pleased with himself. The ladies at the ball would start to filter away now that the dancing was finished, but some of the men would remain drinking until dawn.

  Amero watched him as he approached, a wolfish expression on his face that made Bryn think he was about to be on the receiving end of a ribbing.

  ‘That looked like it went well,’ Amero said.

  ‘Reckon so,’ Bryn said. He was still waiting for the teasing to start, and didn’t want to say anything that would give Amero an opening.

  ‘Courting a girl like that will hit your purse pretty hard, you know.’

  ‘Well, hopefully the five points I picked up in Tanosa means that will no longer be a problem,’ Bryn said, still watching Joranna on the other side of the ballroom out of the corner of his eye.

  ‘You never did tell me why you charged out of the city like that with Bautisto,’ Amero said. ‘The first I knew of it was a note under my door telling me to take a couple of days off.’

  The topic surprised Bryn. ‘It was last minute. I needed to get a duel and a good spot came up. I didn’t really think about it, we just went.’

  ‘All the way to Tanosa? Could you not just have waited until something came along in the city.’

  ‘No,’ Bryn said. ‘I needed to get one quickly, and it was the first that came along. There was extra money because it was last minute.’

  Amero raised his eyebrows. ‘Money problems?’

  ‘Nothing serious. I just needed to send a little coin back home.’ Bryn felt that he had already said more than he was comfortable revealing. ‘Let’s have another drink.’

  CHAPTER 19

  ‘I’ll come right to the point. I’m still having difficulty in finding you a suitable duel,’ Bautisto said.

  Bryn felt his heart drop and his muscles tighten with frustration. With the points he had earned in Tanosa he thought he would be able to get regular placings. His disappointment was tinged with anger. What more did he have to do? ‘Is there anything on offer at all?’

  ‘Yes, but they’re of a lower rank than you now, and the prize purses are low also. The only option that I can think of for you is to take these matches whenever they become available and bide your time until your rank increases to a point where you will have to be offered something better.’

  Bryn took a deep breath. He felt a flush of anger, but knew it was not Bautisto’s fault and that taking it out on him would be senseless. While the idea of the Ladder was egalitarian and merit based, arena owners were not. All they were interested in was filling seats, and a low ranked, no-name duellist wouldn’t do that. He had to build a reputation to get duels, and needed duels to build a reputation. He wanted to scream; not just from rage and frustration, but impotence. What could he do to get his career moving?

  Amero on the other hand had a name, and that was drawing attention from duellists ranked well above him. He might think that a poisoned chalice, but it was one from which Bryn would gladly drink.

  ‘I don’t care who they are,’ he said. ‘I’ll fight them. I’ll beat them, and I’ll force the higher ranks to take notice. Try to get me into as many as you can and I’ll rack up enough points to get out of the mire. If that doesn’t work, I’ll just have to give more serious consideration to going out on the regional circuit. If the schedulers won’t take notice on their own, I’ll make them.’

  Bautisto nodded and smiled at him reassuringly, but it wasn’t much consolation. Bryn wondered if it would have been more sensible to take Major dal Damaso’s advice after all, and stayed away from the arena altogether.

  * * *

  AMERO FOUGHT another duel in a boutique arena in Lowgarden, matched against a swordsman of a far higher rank. It seemed the thought of embarrassing the son of an elector count was a very attractive proposition to hard working swordsmen, as it was to promoters seeking to draw a crowd. There was also the added bonus for his opponents of knowing that the crowd Amero drew would ensure a healthy prize purse if they won.

  Amero won again, but the victory didn’t come easily. Despite being a Banneret of the Blue, there was no substitute for experience in the arena and Bryn had to give credit where it was due; Amero was holding his own in waters that would drown many of his peers. It didn’t make his own lack of success any easier to bear, however.

  As they left the arena to walk back down toward Oldtown, Amero limping slightly from an unlucky thrust to the thigh, Bryn noticed a vaguely familiar face following them a few paces behind.

  ‘I think there’s someone following us,’ Bryn said.

  ‘I know. It’s Emeric, my father’s lap dog.’

  Bryn instantly recognised the name, which explained the familiarity. He had been at the Academy under the sponsorship of Amero’s father, a senior student—they were known as ‘Adepti’—while Amero and Bryn had been Under Cadets. He had been expelled after killing another student in a duel. Some said Emeric was hard done by, others said he had gotten what he had deserved, and the same was said of the student who had been killed. It was one of those things that everyone had seemed to have a different opinion on. Expulsion was th
e ultimate dishonour for a student, and for many it would be a taint that they would never recover from. Bryn recalled Emeric as being good with a sword—confirmed by the reason for his expulsion—so Amero’s father must still have found a use for him, which for the time being was following Amero, presumably having been instructed to keep him out of trouble.

  He had aged a little since Bryn had last seen him and taken to shaving his head, but his face was still the same: hard and ruthless. Almost all of the younger students had been terrified of him, Bryn included.

  ‘Why’s he following us?’

  ‘My father found out about the duel with dal Strenna. No doubt his father whined that I’d spoiled his idiot son’s dashing good looks. Emeric’s here to make sure that I don’t get myself into any more trouble.’

  Bryn could not help but feel relieved by the proposition.

  By the arena’s door, a group of men had gathered. They were chatting animatedly, about the evening’s duels most likely. One of them spotted Amero and must have said something, as the conversation stopped and they all turned to look.

  Despite standing more than a foot away from Amero, Bryn could feel his tension increase. The memory of the day that they had met dal Strenna on the street flashed through Bryn’s mind and he was suddenly glad of Emeric’s glowering presence. He felt his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. With that many men, if insults were exchanged it was as likely they would fight there and then as deal with things in a civilised manner and postpone it until an appropriate time.

  One of them passed a comment, not loud enough for Bryn to hear, but obvious in its content. It was enough to set Amero off. What Bryn did hear was the sound of steel being pulled from its sheath. A hand stopped him from drawing completely. Emeric had covered the distance between them took a firm grip of Amero’s arm.