The King's Assassin (Thief Takers Apprentice 3) by Stephen Deas Page A
Authors: Stephen Deas
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others here?’
Berren peered at Talon. Tarn had asked him the same thing several times and so Talon surely already knew his answer. ‘Why? Why are you asking?’
‘Just answer, Berren of Deephaven.’
‘Lucama then. He has a temper and can be made to lose it. He makes mistakes then but I think I’d fight beside him anyway. He’s short and fast. Morric, Remic, Alaxt, they’re all plodders.’ He grimaced and flicked his eyes sideways in case one of them was close enough to hear. ‘They’ll stand as long as they think they have a good chance to win and they’re cool-headed enough to know when they can’t. Blatter . . .’ He wasn’t sure what to say about Blatter. ‘He’s not as fast as Lucama but he thinks more. He tries to bait us. He’s a bit of a shit really, and some of the stuff he comes out with . . . well, makes you just want to strangle him. He and Lucama aren’t allowed to practise together now.’ Berren paused. ‘There was one time . . .’ Talon must have known already because Tarn had seen it all, but the prince just looked at him. Berren shrugged. ‘I like fighting with Lucama. Blatter used to say things. Call us names. Dark-skin, short-spear. That sort of thing. Doesn’t bother me much but it got to Lucama. The sword-master didn’t stop it either, he just said, “What, you think you won’t get taunts when you fight for real?” And I know how it is. Was always like that where I grew up. So anyway, one day when he’s running his mouth, we pick Blatter up and pin him to the dirt and tell him we’d prefer not to hear his voice for a while.’ Berren coughed. He’d taken his time with his words while Lucama had pressed Blatter’s face into the dirt and Silvestre had watched it all without stirring. They hadn’t seen Blatter for two days after that. ‘I’d be surprised if that’s the end of it between those two.’
Talon shook his head. ‘They’ll save it for the battlefield if they know what’s good for them. Things like that can set whole companies against each other.’ He stopped, his attention drawn by something over Berren’s shoulder. Lucama was walking across the practice yard towards them. He took a long hard look at Talon and began to practise his lunges.
‘Excuse me,’ said Talon. He got up.
Berren turned to Tarn. ‘What’s he like?’ he asked. ‘When you’re fighting?’
‘Who? Talon?’
‘No, the sun-king. Of course Talon!’
Tarn smiled. ‘He’s a tiger. Lordly gentlemen get sent out for a season in the field with one of the companies now and then. Supposed to make men of them but mostly they’re a nuisance. They don’t know their arse from their elbow and you spend more time making sure they don’t get anyone hurt than you do worrying about the enemy. The Prince of War, though, he’s different. He’s been with the Hawks for ten years. Put him in a battle, he’s everywhere. Always shows up where he’s most needed and never runs from anything. You wouldn’t think it to look at him, but on the field . . . On the field he’s someone else, like he’s possessed. Most men run when they see him coming. Pity you won’t ever—’
In the practice yard a fight had broken out.
8
SOME FRIENDS FROM BACK HOME
I n the middle of the fighting square Talon and Lucama had their swords out and were dancing around each other. Lucama was slashing and cursing, snarling with a fury which Talon had surely provoked. Berren started to stand, but Tarn put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down; so he watched instead, chewing on his knuckles while the palm of his other hand rested gently on the hilt of his sword.
‘I’ve been around a lot longer than you have,’ muttered Tarn. ‘Just stay out of it. This sort of thing happens often enough, even in the same company. Usually it doesn’t come to much. He’s just trying Lucama out.’
Trying him out . Berren wondered if anyone had told Lucama that. He was driving Talon steadily into a corner with sheer
Berren peered at Talon. Tarn had asked him the same thing several times and so Talon surely already knew his answer. ‘Why? Why are you asking?’
‘Just answer, Berren of Deephaven.’
‘Lucama then. He has a temper and can be made to lose it. He makes mistakes then but I think I’d fight beside him anyway. He’s short and fast. Morric, Remic, Alaxt, they’re all plodders.’ He grimaced and flicked his eyes sideways in case one of them was close enough to hear. ‘They’ll stand as long as they think they have a good chance to win and they’re cool-headed enough to know when they can’t. Blatter . . .’ He wasn’t sure what to say about Blatter. ‘He’s not as fast as Lucama but he thinks more. He tries to bait us. He’s a bit of a shit really, and some of the stuff he comes out with . . . well, makes you just want to strangle him. He and Lucama aren’t allowed to practise together now.’ Berren paused. ‘There was one time . . .’ Talon must have known already because Tarn had seen it all, but the prince just looked at him. Berren shrugged. ‘I like fighting with Lucama. Blatter used to say things. Call us names. Dark-skin, short-spear. That sort of thing. Doesn’t bother me much but it got to Lucama. The sword-master didn’t stop it either, he just said, “What, you think you won’t get taunts when you fight for real?” And I know how it is. Was always like that where I grew up. So anyway, one day when he’s running his mouth, we pick Blatter up and pin him to the dirt and tell him we’d prefer not to hear his voice for a while.’ Berren coughed. He’d taken his time with his words while Lucama had pressed Blatter’s face into the dirt and Silvestre had watched it all without stirring. They hadn’t seen Blatter for two days after that. ‘I’d be surprised if that’s the end of it between those two.’
Talon shook his head. ‘They’ll save it for the battlefield if they know what’s good for them. Things like that can set whole companies against each other.’ He stopped, his attention drawn by something over Berren’s shoulder. Lucama was walking across the practice yard towards them. He took a long hard look at Talon and began to practise his lunges.
‘Excuse me,’ said Talon. He got up.
Berren turned to Tarn. ‘What’s he like?’ he asked. ‘When you’re fighting?’
‘Who? Talon?’
‘No, the sun-king. Of course Talon!’
Tarn smiled. ‘He’s a tiger. Lordly gentlemen get sent out for a season in the field with one of the companies now and then. Supposed to make men of them but mostly they’re a nuisance. They don’t know their arse from their elbow and you spend more time making sure they don’t get anyone hurt than you do worrying about the enemy. The Prince of War, though, he’s different. He’s been with the Hawks for ten years. Put him in a battle, he’s everywhere. Always shows up where he’s most needed and never runs from anything. You wouldn’t think it to look at him, but on the field . . . On the field he’s someone else, like he’s possessed. Most men run when they see him coming. Pity you won’t ever—’
In the practice yard a fight had broken out.
8
SOME FRIENDS FROM BACK HOME
I n the middle of the fighting square Talon and Lucama had their swords out and were dancing around each other. Lucama was slashing and cursing, snarling with a fury which Talon had surely provoked. Berren started to stand, but Tarn put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down; so he watched instead, chewing on his knuckles while the palm of his other hand rested gently on the hilt of his sword.
‘I’ve been around a lot longer than you have,’ muttered Tarn. ‘Just stay out of it. This sort of thing happens often enough, even in the same company. Usually it doesn’t come to much. He’s just trying Lucama out.’
Trying him out . Berren wondered if anyone had told Lucama that. He was driving Talon steadily into a corner with sheer
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