The Ancient Ones (The Legacy Trilogy Book 3) (30 page)

Leopold waited, wishing the magician to leave first; he did not. Lord Samuel turned his back and patiently watched the sea. It was Leopold who was forced to stalk way, furious.

****

Lessons continued and Leopold realised he would never be a great swordsman. At first he was excited by the premise of discovering affinity for swordplay hidden within his core, but he quickly proved himself wrong. Gains came slowly and he made the same mistakes repeatedly, much to the frustration of his teacher. He would never be a master, but he was pleased for learning the basics—to be able to defend himself and not look foolish or slice off his hand as he readied his weapon.

Captain Orrell passed his training onto various men under his command so that Leopold could learn from each of their styles, their insight. That’s how the captain explained it, but Leopold suspected it was more that he was a terrible student.

Most of his instructors were patient and considerate men, and through them Leopold learned a further lesson: he could use his position as Emperor to advantage. Unlike Samuel and Captain Orrell, they spoiled him, catering to his every need, happy to fetch him water and run errands if asked. Leopold tested his boundaries, and amazingly had few. If he commanded the men, they obeyed him, whether it was cooking between meals or raiding the liquor supplies and bringing him brandy or rum. He had been foolish—he could have been doing this from the start.

‘Thank you, Lieutenant June,’ Leopold called, towelling himself down after a heated practice with the man. He now had no misgivings about practising in the open upon the main deck, enjoying the crowds of crewmen and soldiers that watched and cheered him on. He was no match for any of his teachers, and so the slightest victory with the practice sticks brought applause.

‘Well done, Your Highness,’ Lieutenant June replied.

He was a frail and delicate man, compared to the other soldiers aboard, in his sixties at least, but with bountiful experience. Leopold used his youth and agility in an attempt to best him, but Lieutenant June was expert at keeping his position, shifting his feet efficiently and forcing Leopold to work hard—keeping to the middle and rotating on the spot while Leopold had to circle around him.

‘That will be enough for today,’ Leopold announced, unable to get the upper hand. He signalled for a nearby fellow to bring him a flask of water.

‘It’s only been a half hour, Your Majesty,’ June noted.

‘That’s plenty,’ Leopold said, waving off the man’s protest.

‘You’ve progressed well,’ called a voice and Leopold unhappily observed Daneel standing at the edge of the crowd. ‘I don’t mind offering my services, Your Majesty. I could give you a few lessons that would benefit you.’

Leopold had made no secret of his dislike for the man and was not about to be polite now. ‘Not necessary,’ he replied.

‘Come now, Your Highness. I’m sure you would love to have a go with me. I have this terrible disfigurement, after all,’ he said, pointing to his face. ‘You could smack me on the rear.’

‘If it were a real sword, I might reconsider,’ Leopold bluffed, bringing hearty laughter in return.

Daneel smiled graciously. ‘You still have much to learn, Your Majesty. I take back my offer—until you are deserving of such a challenge.’

‘Afraid I may show you up in front of the men?’ Leopold called aloud.

Daneel’s mirth deepened as he stepped in closer. ‘Excuse me, Lieutenant,’ he said to Lieutenant June and the older man nodded humbly and stepped aside. ‘I shall tell you what, young Emperor,’ he said, baring his empty palms. ‘If you can touch me with that practice baton of yours I shall jump overboard and swim the rest of the way. If you cannot, you will apologise in front of these men.’

A murmur ran through the gathering, for the Emperor’s honour was being called into question. No Turian would have dared such an offence, but Daneel was certainly no Turian.

Leopold was thinking of a scathing comeback to save face. He knew he was not up to Daneel’s challenge, as tempting as it was.

A commotion erupted from the aftcastle, and Commander Riggadardian emerged from his cabin, Captain Orrell in pursuit. The commander was livid. His face red, he was bellowing for all to hear as they stood upon the stairway.

‘How dare you keep this from me, Captain! Who do you think you are!’

Orrell was calm and was doing his best to defuse the enraged man. ‘I’m sorry, Commander. It was a necessity. Lord Samuel clarified that he was coming and we both knew how you would respond if you knew the truth.’

‘Of course you did! He is the most wanted man in the Empire!’

‘A long time ago, Commander,’ Orrell replied. ‘The world has changed. Old warrants such as this are no longer valid.’

‘Indeed they are!’ Riggadardian boomed. ‘No one has rescinded any such warrants and they remain valid while the Empire exists.’

Orrell was sighing. Riggadardian huffed down the stairway, leaving his captain. The crowd parted as he stood before Leopold—most of those gathered quickly moved away from the commander’s wrath. His wife, Lady Wind, had followed them out onto the landing beside Orrell and was looking down upon her husband with worry.

‘Emperor Leopold!’ he began. ‘Do you know anything of this? Did you know the old man who shares your cabin is no other than Salu Anthem, the most wanted person in the history of the Empire?’

‘I know his name,’ Leopold responded, ‘and no more, except he was once a capable magician.’

Riggadardian quivered, looking older and more weary than before. ‘And you have no objections? This is the same man who tried to kill your father and kept him living in fear for much of his latter life!’

‘So I have heard, Commander, but my father is dead. Salu has grown frail and harmless. What can we do?’

‘We can execute him!’ Riggadardian declared.

‘With due respect, Commander, we should not,’ Captain Orrell said, coming down beside them.

‘This is outrageous. Where is your loyalty, man? Do you have Turian blood?’

‘Salu will not be harmed,’ spoke the voice of Lord Samuel, and the magician was among them, unnoticed until that moment, stepping from the air. Riggadardian opened his mouth, but Samuel spoke on, softly, in a voice that left no doubt who was in command. ‘The old man is needed. Leave him alone. He is under my care.’ He waited, looking expectantly at the commander.

The man blew heavily, a look of nervousness entering his eyes. He sought support from those around him but no one spoke up. The crowd had shrunk from the magician, and those crewmen that remained darted away.

When Riggadardian had not found his voice, Samuel spoke again, louder for all to hear. ‘The old man is a felon, but he shall not be harmed while he is on this ship or in our company. By Imperial law, Commander Riggadardian is within his rights to seek punishment; it shall wait until our voyage is ended. No one shall threaten Salu until we are back on Turian soil. To do otherwise could endanger the success of Emperor Leopold’s quest. I trust I am understood.’

There was no nodding or murmuring of assent. Everyone across the deck stood unmoving—including those caught skittering away. They would do as the magician said, his inescapable gaze falling across them.

Thankfully, Commander Riggadardian redeemed his honour in front of the men. ‘Yes, you are right, Lord Samuel.’ He nodded wearily. Those nearby heard his quavering voice. ‘I was keen to see justice done and ... I—I did not think the matter through.’

‘Of no import, Commander.’ Samuel commenced returning to his cabin, with those gathered parting to make way. ‘Your loyalty and enthusiasm are noted by all.’

‘Back to your duties,’ Orrell called and the men were in motion. ‘Come, Commander,’ he said to Riggadardian. ‘This calls for an early shot of rum.’

‘Yes—yes, it does,’ replied the frazzled, aging fellow.

As the crew thinned, Jessicah remained, watching the captain and commander depart. She wore a beautiful white summer dress that skimmed the floor. She sauntered up to Leopold, who remained where he had finished his swordplay.

‘Leopold,’ she said. ‘See? Samuel is not heartless. He could have left the commander embarrassed in front of his men. Instead, he made a point of saving the man’s pride.’

‘I saw,’ Leopold had to admit.

‘Then do you maintain he is a monster?’

‘Nothing has changed. One small effort does not make any difference. Samuel had to keep the peace, and it does him no good having a useless commander on board.’

Jessicah sighed. ‘It seems Samuel could do nothing to redeem himself in your heart, Leopold.’

‘You are right. Come, let us stroll before lunch.’

‘I’m sorry, Leopold. I wish to speak with Lady Wind. I need her advice for another matter of importance.’ Leopold tightened his lips, and did not reply. ‘Take care, Leopold. I shall speak with you later.’

When she spoke to him, it was as if to a child. She saw no man in him, nothing attractive, and it burned a hole inside of him. Leopold twisted the length of his practice blade, wishing he could snap it into tiny pieces.

****

That night, Leopold stood upon the aftcastle, leaning against the starboard handrail, a heavy cup of rum in his hand. The sailors received a serve every second day or whenever they excelled in their drills, but Leopold had rarely been fond of it. Tonight however, it set him in a mellow mood. The moon was out, the stars clear, the sea calm and the wind gentle. Together with the liquor inside, he felt sublime.

Salu was beside him, eyes shut with his face set into the wind. Toby had found a hand brush and a bucket and decided that scrubbing the same inch of deck was a fascinating thing to do. Leopold had spent several minutes thinking of a way to harness the boy’s rampant, untempered energy, before giving up, defeated. A few of the crew were fixing cracked planks on the opposite side of the deck and some of Orrell’s soldiers were milling about, also not keen to retire too early on a peaceful night.

‘It’s not so bad out here,’ Leopold said to the befuddled magician. ‘At times it is splendid.’

Salu, of course, did not respond and Leopold was glad for it. If the old man talked it might ruin his splendid mood.

Leopold put his back to the rail to look across the ship. He strode over and viewed the main deck and across to the fo’c’sle. He saw a feminine figure far away. There were only two women it could have been, and Leopold guessed which one it was. The man beside her was definitely not Riggadardian. Given that the pair were arm in arm, the woman was also not Lady Wind. It was Jessicah and Captain Orrell.

The two had been together often lately, both disturbing and fascinating Leopold. Disturbing, because he was jealous of her being with another, and fascinating because the closer they became, the more he could hurt them with the secrets he possessed. And hurting either of them was as good as wounding the magician.

He watched them from afar. They stopped in the moonlight as their figures merged briefly, before lamplight became visible again between them. They continued along the edge of the ship, strolling towards the bow.

Leopold grit his teeth. He set his cup down and made purposefully along the ship, down onto the main deck and up again onto the smaller fo’c’sle. He followed the edge of the ship, moving in the opposite direction to the captain and Jessicah, inevitably bumping into them.

As they saw him coming, they released each other’s arms and Jessicah stepped away from the captain to rest her elbows lightly upon the railing.

‘Leopold. Good evening,’ Captain Orrell greeted him contentedly.

‘Is there no Your Majesty anymore?’ Leopold replied curtly.

Orrell, not to be caught by surprise, summed up Leopold’s mood. ‘Apologies, Your Majesty. I trust you are enjoying the evening.’

‘I am,’ he replied. ‘Good evening, Jessicah,’ he added, past the captain’s shoulder.

She smiled to him genuinely, and it chafed him. The deplorable woman was so good and pure that she bore no judgement on Leopold’s evil mood. ‘Good evening, Your Majesty,’ she replied.

‘What can I do for you, Your Highness?’ Orrell asked.

‘I apologise for interrupting you,’ and he nodded towards Jessicah to be sure the captain knew what he meant. ‘I wanted to ask you an important question.’

‘Yes?’ said the man, stepping closer.

‘It is an interesting matter, one which I believe requires your attention. After the Darkening, were you in Cintar?’

‘Why, yes,’ Orrell replied, curious as to Leopold’s purpose.

‘Were you there when the Witch Queen appeared? When she first came to power?’

‘No. I was sent to reinforce Seven Oaks before she appeared. Cintar fell to her overnight.’

‘So you never saw her?’ Leopold asked. ‘I want to be sure? You don’t know of her appearance?’

Jessicah considered Leopold with concern.

‘No, never. I can’t say I know anyone who saw her and lived ... except for you and Lord Samuel ... and Jessicah,’ he added, briefly looking over his shoulder towards her. As he glanced her way, Jessicah turned back to the sea. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Never mind, Captain. It is not important. One more thing: hypothetically—out of interest—what should have been done if we had captured her, instead of killing her as we certainly did?’

‘These are dark questions for another time, Your Majesty,’ the captain said, inferring that such language as he would like to use would not be proper in front of Jessicah.

‘I’m curious,’ he said. ‘You don’t need to go into detail.’

‘I would arrange for her execution. That would be fitting for the demon that she was. Given the depravity of her crimes, there are some especially vicious and torturous executions that would be appropriate. I won’t go into detail here.’

‘What if she repented?’ Leopold asked. ‘What if she promised to be good—if she believed she could be? What then?’

‘It wouldn’t matter, Leopold. She would be punished. It is Imperial law, and even if it wasn’t, I would do it anyway. Any sane man would.’

Behind the captain, Jessicah’s eyes were imploring Leopold to stop.

Leopold smiled. ‘Thank you, Captain. I was merely checking. I will leave you two alone. Enjoy the rest of your evening.’