The First Blade Of Ostia Page 9

  The decision to make enquiries caused him anxiety, but the temptation to know what he might gain was too strong to suppress. He would be careful and discreet—and might not go through with anything. He just wanted to know. The best solution to a problem was always found when all options were considered.

  * * *

  THEY TRAINED as usual the next day, although Amero was quiet and edgy throughout the entire session. He didn’t grumble, but there were none of his usual wisecracks or tongue in cheek moans when Bautisto subjected them to something particularly difficult. He seemed tense; his swordplay was tight and lacking in the usual fluid grace that characterised his style.

  Bryn had been friends with Amero long enough to know better than to try and talk his spirits up, and that it was not the time to broach the matter of him moving out. He had never seen Amero like this before and his moods were becoming harder to predict. When Bryn was in a bad humour, he was best left alone to come out of it in his own time.

  When Bautisto was satisfied that he had tortured them enough for one day, he let them go. As they were packing up their training swords Amero spoke for the first time that day.

  ‘Lunch?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Bryn said. It would be the ideal opportunity to tell Amero he was moving out, but he was relieved by the fact that the invitation suggested Amero’s mood might be improving.

  ‘I really don’t fancy having to deal with that prima donna cook today. Let’s just find a tavern and get something simple.’

  Amero’s cook was wasted in a private apartment and was quite extravagant. Asking him for a simple sandwich would result in something that although technically a sandwich, would be far more elaborate. The only reason he put up with the indignity of such an anonymous position was that he knew if he stuck with Amero, even in the obscurity of an Oldtown apartment, he would one day head the kitchen of perhaps the finest house in Ostenheim and would cater for dukes and princes. Even if tending toward the overly dramatic, Bryn had to credit that he was certainly patient. All he had to do was stay on Amero’s good side, something that wasn’t the easiest thing to do those days.

  Bryn was disappointed at not getting one last meal from the cook; he would be living on his own culinary disasters soon enough, or more likely whatever slop the nearest tavern served up. Nonetheless, for the sake of a peaceful life he didn’t argue.

  They walked in silence to the tavern, a short distance from the salon along Harbour Road in the direction of Crossways. When they got there, they ordered and sat in silence until the food arrived. It was a little awkward, but being as tired as he was, Bryn didn’t mind.

  ‘I envy you, you know,’ Amero said, finally breaking the silence.

  No money, no estates, an uncertain future; there was much to be envious of, Bryn thought. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘The only expectations weighing on you are the ones you’ve put there yourself. That must be nice, following your own goals and setting your own standards.’

  It gave Bryn a strong hint as to what was causing Amero’s moods, but there must have been more going on behind the scenes. He wasn’t sure how to respond. He would have given both arms to swap places with Amero, no matter what pressure of expectation was on him.

  ‘It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,’ Bryn said. His thoughts returned to the clock, and the bare patch on his mother’s wall.

  Amero didn’t seem to be listening to him. ‘I’ve always been aware of what’s expected of me, but it only struck me how bad it is the other day in the Arena. All those stuffy fuckers sitting in the audience passing judgement on me; what a scandal it is for the son of the Count of Moreno to be in the arena. I could feel their eyes burrowing into me the whole time I was out there. And I could tell most of them wanted me to fail. What a wheeze it would be for the grandson of a duke to be made to look a fool in the arena. I nearly did, because that was all I could think about for most of the duel.

  ‘I’m sure you don’t think it’s fair that I got a mid-ranked opponent first time out, but you don’t know what I would give to have no-namers in a grotty little arena for my first few duels to get some experience under my belt before having to deal with all those beady little eyes and big opinions. It was intended that I fail.’

  ‘I know it must be hard,’ Bryn said. ‘I certainly didn’t envy you having such a difficult opponent first time out, but don’t you think you’re being a little paranoid about it?’

  Amero smiled in a way Bryn had never seen before, cold, empty of any sentiment. ‘You have no idea.’

  Bryn shrugged. ‘Sometimes we just have to take the situation as we find it—particularly if there’s nothing we can do about it. All you can do is train hard and do your best. People are always going to have their opinions, and by the time we’re in the Amphitheatre there will be tens of thousands of them, and most likely half of them’ll want you to fail. It’ll get easier, I’m sure that it will.’

  He hoped the mention of a successful future in the Amphitheatre might cheer Amero up a little but all he got was a resigned sigh and a change of subject. Bryn needed to steer the conversation to the matter of his moving out.

  ‘There’s something I need to talk to you about,’ Bryn said.

  ‘Oh?’ Amero put his fork down. ‘What?’

  ‘Well, now that I’ve got money coming in, I’m going to take an apartment of my own.’

  Amero said nothing for a moment, and then continued eating. ‘Of course. That was always your plan, wasn’t it?’

  Bryn nodded.

  ‘Give me the address and I’ll have my man bring your things over,’ Amero said, without looking up from his plate.

  CHAPTER 12

  With lunch eaten and paid for, they left the tavern. Amero hadn’t said much since Bryn broke the news he was moving to his own apartment. With his mood so changeable, Bryn wasn’t sure what to think. Someone called out from behind them.

  They both turned to face the source of the shout. It had come from a young man called Thadeo dal Strenna, who had been at the Academy with them but who Bryn only knew passingly.

  ‘Hello, chaps,’ he said, as he approached them. ‘Long time no see.’

  ‘Indeed, how have you been, Thadeo?’ Amero said. There was no enthusiasm in his voice.

  Bryn felt a flash of alarm at Amero’s tone. The fact that he reacted that way was as big a cause of concern as the alarm. Was he so worried by Amero’s moods? Was it now him being paranoid?

  ‘Well, thank you,’ he said. ‘I hear you’ve taken to a career in the arena.’

  ‘Just something to pass the time,’ Amero said. ‘What are you doing with yourself these days?’

  Thadeo ignored the question, ploughing on with jovial bluster. ‘Heard you had a bit of a close run thing the other day. I always thought you Bannerets of the Blue were supposed to be indestructible.’

  It was the type of friendly banter made by someone who was trying too hard to fit in, and the unfortunate fact was he didn’t know either Amero or Bryn well enough to talk like that to them, and their shared history at the Academy was too tenuous to make up for the fact. To make matters worse, it was the wrong day to expect Amero to dismiss the comment with good grace, if that was possible any more.

  ‘Were you there, Thadeo?’ Amero said.

  ‘Well, no, but I heard about it. One of the other chaps—’

  ‘Well, why don’t you shut the fuck up then and limit yourself to things within your knowledge. Quite a narrow field I dare say,’ Amero said.

  Bryn cringed but was still hopeful that the conversation might come to an end before it grew any more acrimonious. If Thadeo had any sense he would make his excuses and leave.

  ‘I’m not sure I like the tone of that,’ Thadeo said in indignation, puffing out his chest as he did. ‘I think you should apologise.’

  Bryn couldn’t remember much about Thadeo from their time at the Academy, which didn’t bode well; it meant he had not stood out as a quality swordsman, and he was now demonstrating
that he lacked the intellectual capacity to identify and then extract himself from a rapidly deteriorating situation.

  ‘I think you should take your half-baked opinions and shove them up your arse,’ Amero said, smiling viciously.

  Bryn noticed that Amero’s hand had drifted to the hilt of his sword. Amero wasn’t just being insulting any more, he was trying to precipitate a fight.

  ‘Now, gentlemen,’ Bryn said, feeling as though he was stepping into the path of a charging bull. ‘There’s no need to continue with this conversation. I think we should all be on our way.’

  ‘No,’ Thadeo said, his face flushing red with anger. ‘I won’t be spoken to like that by anyone, son of a count elector or not.’

  ‘I’ll speak to you any way I please, you bloody oik,’ Amero said. He made to draw his sword and Thadeo took an abrupt step backward, his eyes widening.

  There was no stopping it now. The opportunity for Thadeo to get out of this mess was now long past.

  ‘Gods alive,’ Bryn said, ‘what the hell are you thinking of? What’s going on with you?’ He put out a hand to stay Amero’s sword arm. He could feel the tension in it ease and began to hope that the situation could be salvaged.

  Amero took a deep breath. ‘Of course, it really isn’t the place.’ He reached inside his doublet and took out a small, cream-coloured piece of card.

  Calling cards were a standard accessory for the aristocracy and since becoming a Banneret of the Blue and a member of the gentle classes, Bryn had been meaning to have some made.

  ‘Have your second call on me at the soonest opportunity,’ Amero said, holding the card out to Thadeo.

  Thadeo took it with slight hesitation. His honour had been wounded and he was angry at the fact. Being faced with a duel put a different perspective on things, particularly one with a Banneret of the Blue. To try and make amends now would do nothing more than mark him out as a coward.

  ‘You’ll hear from him directly,’ Thadeo said. He gave a curt nod to Bryn before turning and walking away.

  ‘That could have been dealt with differently,’ Bryn said.

  ‘To hells with him. Maybe the rest of them will learn to keep their idiot gobs shut from now on.’

  They walked in silence for the remainder of the route that they shared. They stopped when Bryn indicated that he needed to head in a different direction.

  ‘You’ll stand for me, won’t you?’ Amero said.

  He said it in a way that Bryn was unsure if it was a question or an order. It was irrelevant of course, Amero was his friend and of course he would stand for him; he just didn’t like the way it had been put.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Bryn said. ‘I suppose I’m going to have to get some bloody calling cards made up now.’

  Amero laughed and his hard countenance softened a little for the first time that day, or for weeks.

  * * *

  BAUTISTO CALLED Bryn aside after training the next day. At first he thought it was to discuss Amero’s attitude, but when he became slightly cagey Bryn realised that he would be the subject of the conversation.

  ‘I haven’t been able to find another duel for you yet,’ Bautisto said.

  ‘It doesn’t need to be particularly fancy,’ Bryn said. The bare patch on the wall flashed into his mind. ‘Until I get a few more wins and move up the Ladder, I’m happy to take anything that’s available.’

  ‘Yes, I realise that, but even finding you another match like your last one is proving more difficult than I would have expected. It seems there are a great many low ranked duellists around at the moment, and not very many people who wish to see them duel.’

  ‘Ah,’ Bryn said. There wasn’t much he could add. He had known that it would be difficult to get matches when he started off, but had hoped that being a Banneret of the Blue would make him a more attractive proposition to duel organisers. Sadly it didn’t seem to be the case. It made Amero’s anger at his ranking stick in Bryn’s craw all the more.

  ‘It will only be a matter of time, I’m sure. Quality such as yours won’t go unnoticed for long. I must also admit that the fault is not entirely yours; I don’t have many contacts in this city, and you Ostians don’t always think that highly of Estranzans. My salon doesn’t have the reputation to bring promoters to my door. Something will come along soon though, rest assured that I’m doing everything I can to get you a match.’

  It was disappointing news, but Bryn didn’t see what he could do about it. He had known that Bautisto was something of an unknown when deciding to train with him, so he had to accept the consequences of that decision. He couldn’t see the situation lasting for long though.

  ‘Thank you for letting me know.’

  ‘That brings me on to the other thing that I need to discuss. Amero has another duel scheduled so I hope you won’t be annoyed if we maintain our focus on him until your next one is coming up.’

  ‘It stands to reason,’ Bryn said. It was infuriating, frustrating. Bryn wanted to break something, but to go looking for matches himself was just not the done thing; it was seen to be beneath the dignity of a banneret so he had to rely on Bautisto. In any event, turning up looking for a duel in person smacked of desperation, and that would do him no good. If Amero won his next duel, it would give Bautisto’s salon a higher profile, which would in turn benefit Bryn. He would have to content himself with that thought for the time being.

  * * *

  AMERO FELT NAKED without his rapier. He had carried one every time he stepped out in public for years. It made him wonder how ordinary people got by. A rapier at his waist marked him out as a banneret, however, and that day he wanted to look like everyone else. He complimented his swordless appearance with his oldest, worst suit of clothes; he looked as ordinary as he possibly could.

  Some carefully placed questions had given him a name, and the address where the person could be found. ‘A healer of bones and solver of problems’ was how they were described. Amero had no broken bones, and his problem was not the one he imagined was being referred to, but if they could mend bodies they might be of use to him.

  He found the address; a doorway in a tight alley in Artisans. He paused before knocking, but pushed his doubts aside. His decision was made.

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘I’ve hurt my hand,’ Amero said. ‘I’m here for your ointment.’

  There was a scraping sound from behind the door and it opened. An old man stood in the doorway. He scrutinised Amero.

  ‘Let me see your hand,’ he said.

  Amero held both up.

  ‘Nothing wrong with those.’ The man’s eyes narrowed and he gave Amero another intense stare. His eyes worked over Amero, his face, his clothes, his boots.

  ‘You’re too well dressed for an Intelligencier,’ the man said. ‘Come in.’

  Amero stepped inside. ‘How can you be so sure I’m not one?’

  The man looked at him and smiled. ‘I’m sure, and it’s not just the clothes, if you’re thinking I’m some sort of idiot. What are you really here for?’

  ‘Can you make a man stronger? Faster?’ Amero asked. He felt foolish saying it, but he had no idea what magic could do.

  The man laughed. ‘Of course not. You been reading fairy tale books? No one can do that type of thing anymore. I fix bones and help women with their troubles is all. Your bones look fine to me, and you’re not a woman. You’re welcome to waste my time, but you’ll have to pay for it.’

  ‘My work takes a heavy toll on me,’ Amero said. ‘I’m tired and sore all the time. Can you help with that?’

  The man raised his eyebrows. ‘Maybe. There’s only one way to find out. What is it you do? Soldier of some sort by the look of you.’

  Amero smiled, but said nothing.

  ‘If that’s the way you want to play it, it’s fine with me,’ the man said. ‘I’ll see some coin first, though.’

  ‘How much?’ Amero asked.

  ‘Gentleman like yourself? Five crowns.’

  Amero laughed an
d looked around the small, shabby room. ‘One, and you’re lucky to get it.’ He took a gold crown from his purse and flicked it to the man.

  The man caught it and turned it over in his fingers. ‘Come closer,’ he said.

  Amero stepped forward, feeling his heart accelerate.

  The man held out his hands. ‘Tired and sore?’

  ‘Tired and sore,’ Amero said. It was the truth. He had trained all morning and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed. His joints ached and his muscles burned; even standing still was a strain.

  The man held his hands over Amero’s chest and closed his eyes. Nothing happened, and Amero felt ridiculous. The whole thing was a farce. He had always scorned the idea of anyone being able to do anything worthwhile with magic. No one had since the days of the Empire—

  A chill flooded though his entire body, so strong that it caused him to shiver uncontrollably. ‘Wh— what are you doing to me?’

  The man said nothing, but the cold became worse, penetrating every part of his body. Amero was about to order him to stop when the man slumped into a chair. The freezing sensation started to fade.

  ‘Is that it?’ Amero asked, indignantly.

  ‘That’s it.’

  The feeling of cold was almost completely gone, and Amero realised he did not feel nearly so tired. Far from it. He felt more rested and refreshed than he could remember. He stretched his arms and shoulders. All of the ache, fatigue, and stiffness was gone. ‘Astonishing. How often can you do this?’

  ‘Often as you like,’ the man said. ‘Within reason. I need rest myself after doing it. Once a day maybe.’

  ‘I’ll be back every day,’ Amero said. ‘Same time, and you keep this to yourself.’

  ‘I will,’ the man said. ‘But it’ll be five crowns the next time.’

  ‘That won’t be a problem,’ Amero said, revelling in the fresh sensation that filled every limb.