Benjamin Ashwood (14 page)

Before
long, Ben gained enough confidence that he switched over to offense and started
attacking.  The guard fell into familiar defensive patterns and Ben saw he was
meeting the blunted tourney blade head on instead of sweeping the attack to the
side like Saala had taught.  Every time the guard met one of Ben’s swings, Ben’s
arms rang with the impact.  The guard’s must have been too because he was
getting slower and slower to recover from each strike.  Ben saw his opening and
backed up, letting the guardsman get in an attack then Ben sent three hard
lateral swings in a row which the guard met with raised sword.  On the fourth
swing, Ben swept his sword down and up, missing the guard’s weapon and
connecting solidly with his ribs which sent him crumpling to the ground.

Rhys
and Renfro shouted out a cheer and Ben dropped to one knee beside the fallen
guard to make sure he hadn’t hurt him.  He was relieved to see the guard roll
onto his back and give Ben a grin.  “Surprised me there, I thought you were
tiring out.”

“I
was.  I knew I had to get it in then or I’d be too worn out to keep going.”  Ben
reached down and grasped the guard’s hand, pulling him to his feet.

“Seth
by the way,” the young man introduced himself.  “Assistant to the Master of
Arms of the Citadel.  Glad Brinn wasn’t here to see that one though.”

“If
he’d been there to see the first part all he would have seen was you tacking
them on and me flailing backwards.”

“Ah,
it was going well at first, but as Brinn says, it’s how you finish a fight that
counts.  Which reminds me, I probably ought to get back to the Armory.  I’ve
got a little bit more to do before I close up shop today.  When the guards spar
we normally put a mug of ale on it to make things interesting.  I’ll honor the
same stakes if you want to meet me after my shift.  I’ll be down at Meggy’s on
the street of flowers a bell after dusk.  It’s where a lot of the guards go. 
Clean ale, good looking girls and they don’t try to cheat you.”

That
evening on the way down to Meggy’s, Renfro excitedly described the match to
Saala who had joined back up with them.  “Seth obviously knew what he was
doing, being a professional and all, but Ben had him down on the ground by the
end of it.  Nice piece of sword work if you ask me, up against a guard of the
Citadel.”

Ben
was feeling pretty proud of himself too until Rhys took the wind out of his
sails, “that was a good strike at the end.  Of course, in an actual sword fight
you wouldn’t have made it to the end.  He struck you ten or twelve times before
you got one on him.  In the real thing, it won’t last long after the first
blood has been drawn.”

“He
did get me a few times, but he’s a professional guardsman!  He probably trains
every day and I’ve just had a few lessons on the road.”

“If
he’s like any castle trained guard I’ve ever seen fight,” Saala broke in, “then
you shouldn’t have had too much trouble with him.  Sounds like I’ve got work to
do.”

“What
do you mean?  Why shouldn’t I have had any trouble with him?  I hadn’t even
picked up a sword until a few weeks ago!”

“Maybe
I’m putting too much expectation on you too soon.  You’re a natural with a
blade.  You’re quicker and smarter than most of the opponents you’ll ever
face.  The reason you should be able to beat Seth or most guardsmen is that
instead of training, they drill.  He’s probably been taught a handful of useful
forms and has been practicing them for years now, most likely with people who
have been taught the same things as him.  If he’s like most castle trained
guards, he won’t know how to react to something new and different.”

Ben
thought back to how he had gotten his strike in.  Seth had defended only one
way against the swing so Ben had been able to alter his stroke and sweep past
Seth’s guard.  By falling out of the standard form, he’d landed a stroke.  When
he had been using the forms, Seth was able to meet him with the proscribed
defensive responses.  He had likely been drilled on them so much that he was
able to react without even thinking.  Ben realized that he had a lot of work to
do before he met an opponent in a real fight.

Tonight
though, he wasn’t planning on fighting.  They had opted to avoid the Funicular
and walk through the streets of Whitehall on the way down to Meggy’s.  It was a
balmy night and the lantern-lit streets were teeming with people.  The noise of
excited revelry poured out of the wine shops and taverns as they descended
through the city.

“I
can’t believe how many people are out tonight.  Is it some sort of festival
going on?” asked Ben.

“No,
it’s an influx of people for Argren’s Conclave.  Delegates, guards, retainers,
hangers-on.”  Saala eyed one exceptionally boisterous group spilling out of a
nearby inn, “I’m surprised they’re in such good spirits.  My friend I met with
earlier said the talk is that it will lead to war with the Coalition.  Not this
year and probably not the next, but the writing is on the wall.  Argren is
pressing hard to recruit more men, building warships, stockpiling goods…  I’ve
seen it before and that road only leads to one destination.”

“I
don’t understand why Argren would want a war with the Coalition.  They’re all
the way on the other side of Alcott.  The Coalition isn’t a threat to him, is
it?”

“It’s
about balance,” Rhys responded.  “A build-up of power necessitates a build up
elsewhere.  The Coalition has been gathering forces and it’s causing a
reaction.  If it wasn’t Argren, it’d be someone else.  Issen or Venmoor maybe. 
No, once someone starts, it always escalates.”

Saala
nodded, “Rhys is right, but enough of that.  I certainly don’t plan to go to
war tonight, so let’s enjoy it.  I hear there is a certain guardsman that owes
you a round and I mean to help you collect!”

The
talk about war was quickly forgotten once they found Meggy’s.  Seth was true to
his word and bought the first round of drinks for their party.  Once it got out
why he was buying, Ben and his friends drank for free the rest of the evening. 
Meggy’s was crowded with off-duty Citadel guards and all of them wanted to hear
the story of Seth getting laid out by an untrained country boy.  Seth, as the
gate-keeper for new arms at the Citadel, and one of the few who could bend
Master Brinn’s ear to keep someone out of trouble was popular with the other
guards and he took the ribbing in good humor.  Before the night was over, Ben
had a long list of sparring partners that wanted to see what he was really
about.

A
flushed, bald headed and heavily bearded guard was already taking bets on the
outcomes before Ben knew what was happening.  He briefly tried to put a stop to
it but the man wrapped an arm around his shoulder and leaned close, sloshing
ale all over both of their boots and shouted in his ear, “don’t worry about it
none!  The only ones that’d be upset about it are the ones who’ll lose!”

Ale
flowed freely and quickly and Ben was having more fun than he had since leaving
Farview.  He missed Serrot and his other friends back home, but the excitement
of being out at night in a city like Whitehall was over-whelming.  He was drunk
and giddy with the possibilities of life.  One of the last things he remembered
before the rest of the night became fuzzy was standing on a table, arm in arm
with Renfro and Seth, belting out the newly learned marching song of the guards
of the Citadel.

The
next morning brought a painful reminder of how much ale he drank the night
before.  His head was pounding, his mouth tasted like sour milk and as he
lurched out of bed to the washbasin he found he was still wearing one boot. 

The
other men were sitting around breakfast at their common room table when Ben
stumbled out of his room.  He got sympathetic looks from Rhys and Saala but
Renfro was slumped over with his head in his hands softly moaning.  Ben thought
it was possible someone was having a worse morning than him.

“Try
some of this,” Rhys gestured to a mug of steaming black liquid.  “It’s called
kaf.  They drink it up north and believe me, it’s a critical part of the cure. 
After that we’ll get some bacon and toasted bread in you then head down to the
steam baths.  I’ve been in your shoes more than a few times and we’ll get you
feeling right as rain by afternoon.”

Down
in the baths, steam boiled through the cavernous dimly lit rooms.  Ben tipped
back a flagon of cold spring water and thought that Rhys really did know what
he was talking about.  Rhys stated that every drop of water he sweated out had
to be replaced by three that he drank.  Between that, the kaf and the food, Ben
was almost feeling like his normal self again.

The
steam rooms at the Citadel were even more impressive than the bathing room he’d
seen at the inn in Fabrizo.  There, the copper piping system had fed hot water
into a few baths.  The steam rooms at the Citadel were made up of a series of
honeycombed chambers containing pools going from scalding hot to ice cold. 
Rhys had them sit on benches in one of the hottest rooms while they poured
sweat and drank cold water.  When Ben thought he couldn’t take the damp heat
any longer ,they moved down to the coldest of the rooms and plunged into the
freezing pool.  The change in temperature sent a wicked shock through Ben’s
body but Rhys claimed it made his blood pump harder and helped clear out the
toxins from the night before.  Now, they were in the last stage of recovery and
were soaking in one of the warmer pools before eating again and Ben hoped
taking an afternoon nap.

Ben’s
head was finally clear enough to remember they were supposed to be back on the
road this morning and he groaned, “oh man, I hope we’re not holding off our
travel plans because of this.  Lady Towaal is going to kill us.”

“No,
we’ve got plenty of time now,” answered Rhys who was floating gently in the
mineral smelling water.  “Towaal and Amelie left word after their dinner with
King Argren last night.  They agreed to stay for the Conclave.  Sounds like the
both of them want to hear what is discussed.”

“What
does Lady Towaal have to do with the Conclave?  I thought it was just Amelie
who was relaying a message from her father?”

“You’ve
got a lot to learn about politics kid.  I didn’t know it before we got here,
but the Sanctuary is neck deep in this.  I should have realized something was
going on earlier.  Lords need Mages and Mages need Lords.  Think about it.  Why
else would Towaal have been pushing us so to travel so hard?  Sure, we need to
get Amelie and the others to the Sanctuary but there’s no deadline there.  I
wouldn’t be surprised if Towaal knew about this and was angling to be here
before we even left to Issen.”

“But,
on the ship Lady Towaal sounded like she was against a war.  She said in the
Blood Bay War there was no real winner.”

“She
would know that better than anyone.  It was brutal after that war and while
people have forgotten, I’m sure she hasn’t.  Her personal feelings and that of
the Veil may be different.  She’s a spirited woman but she’ll do what she’s
told when it comes down to the business of the Sanctuary.”

“The
Veil?”

“The
Veil is head of the Sanctuary.  Or The Veil is the Sanctuary some would say. 
She’s their leader and she leads absolutely.  If The Veil wants Argren to form
his Alliance, then Towaal will support it.  That being said, what the Veil
appears to want and what she actually wants may not be the same thing.  The
currents of politics run deep in The City and the Veil plans decades ahead. 
I’ve been travelling with Towaal for months now and I couldn’t tell you what
the Sanctuary’s goals are, but there is no chance they’d miss an event like the
Conclave.”

The
next few days were full of more of the same.  Ben found eager sparring
companions in the younger Citadel guards and they were more than happy to show
him their city.  Seth in particular took a liking to Ben and treated him almost
like a little brother.  It was an odd feeling for Ben because he quickly
realized that in some ways, he was the more mature and worldly of the two. 
Still, it felt good to make a connection with someone who was close to his own
age.

Seth,
like many of the younger guards, had never been more than half a day outside of
Whitehall.  Initially Ben was the one bubbling over with questions, but soon he
found himself spending more time describing the islands of Fabrizo than he did
hearing about the towering structures in Whitehall.

The
girls for the most part stayed in another wing of the Citadel and Saala, Rhys
and Renfro also kept to themselves.  The men would come watch Ben spar and may
come out for a few ales afterwards but none of them struck up the friendships
like Ben did.  With the amount of time he was spending with the guards, Ben
felt himself being pulled away from his travelling companions.

After
one awkward evening at Meggy’s where Saala repeatedly dodged Seth and other’s
questions, Ben asked him about it during the walk home.

“These
are my friends.  They’re good people.  They’re helping me on the practice
field, they’re showing us around Whitehall.  I don’t understand, why are you
avoiding talking to them?”

Saala
slowed his pace and glanced around the nearly empty streets.  Lantern light
reflected off cobblestones still wet from an earlier rain, but this late in the
evening they were alone aside from the occasional passerby bundled up and
uninterested in them.  “They are friendly, but that doesn’t mean they are
friends.  The help they are giving you, the time they are spending with you, it
is because they want to learn about you and who you are travelling with.”