Ward of the Philosopher by D. P. Prior Page B

idea,” Aristodeus said. “Mind if I tag along. Jarl, you coming?”
    Jarl narrowed his eyes, then turned away. Deacon heard him ordering his men to search for survivors and pile up the bodies of the reavers for burning.
    “So,” Aristodeus said as he followed Deacon and Gralia from the square, “how about a glass of wine and a bite to eat? All that fighting’s got me famished.”
    Gralia stopped and looked the philosopher in the eye.
    “You were never really in danger, were you?”
    “What do you mean?” Aristodeus said.
    “You knew. You knew what was coming.”
    “I can assure you—”
    “Don’t lie to me!”
    Aristodeus steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. He drew in a long breath and let it out as a sigh.
    “I didn’t know there would be a lich. And no, I had nothing to do with the attack, if that’s what you’re thinking. I see patterns, read the signs; that is all. Just think where you’d all be if I hadn’t been here, and if I hadn’t put so much work into training young Shader.”
    “No,” Gralia said.
    “No?”
    “No wine, and no food, unless you make it yourself. I’m Nous’s servant, not yours. And besides, my son and I need to pray.”
    “Oh, for goodness’ sake, Gralia—”
    “Not just because we survived; not just for the souls of those who didn’t; and not just for lashing out like I did. For you, Aristodeus. We’re going to pray for you.”
    “Now you’re just being—”
    “What you’ve done is wrong, philosopher. I always said so from the start. You know what I’m talking about. This plan of yours is warped, unnatural, but I’ll speak no more of it in front of my boy. And I do mean that, just so we are clear. He is my boy; mine and Jarl’s. Is that understood? Because if not, I’ll put an end to our agreement, and to the Abyss with Jarl’s honor.”
    A war of emotions flashed across Aristodeus’s face. His eyes burned with suppressed rage, but then a mask of calm descended, and he spread his hands.
    “You are right, Gralia. Forgive me. I am the tutor, you are the parents. I sometimes get a bit carried away, but you know it’s only because I want what’s best for young Shader.”
    Gralia shook her head and tugged on Deacon’s hand, and together they headed home to pray, leaving Aristodeus stranded at the edge of the square. But no matter how much he might have wished otherwise, no matter how much he prayed, Deacon had the feeling his old life was irrevocably lost.  
    Already, his thoughts were changing, falling into patterns that were not his own. He may have been only seven, but he was astute enough to realize every story he was told, now that Jarl had abandoned reading to him, was carefully chosen. Not only that, but the philosopher drilled him in the forms of sword play, taught him to ride, coached him at Strategos, and voiced an opinion about everything, persuading Deacon to adopt it as his own.  
    But what choice was there? Since Aristodeus had arrived, Jarl had virtually stepped out of Deacon’s life, and Gralia might just as well have been a shadow. About the only thing the philosopher left to her was prayer. What hold Aristodeus had over his parents, Deacon could only guess at, but whatever it was, it paled beside the hold he now had over his young charge. No matter which way he turned, Deacon felt he would never shake off the philosopher’s influence. It was like the luminaries said of Nous, who would pursue them no matter how far and fast they ran to hide from the truth he confronted them with:
    Aristodeus was in his blood.  

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    WARD OF THE PHILOSOPHER  

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    This has been a short introduction to the world of the SHADER series and a glimpse at the childhood and origins of the Elect knight who leads the decisive