The White Robe (57 page)

Dozo stood and took a couple of hesitant paces forward and stopped again. Allowyn had honoured him by allowing him to watch his practice and, even occasionally, his devotions, but it was always on the understanding that he would never interfere. The value he placed on that honour was considerable, but it was nothing compared to the value of Tissian’s life. As Tissian stumbled backwards calling out to yield again, louder this time and with more desperation, Dozo ran. He could see Tissian on the ground holding his sword high to defend himself against Allowyn’s relentless attack, but two good blows would end it.

The first came and battered the sword aside with Tissian holding onto the hilt, but unable to raise it again quickly enough to defend himself. The second strike descended with all of Allowyn’s force behind it and Dozo screamed. Allowyn jerked like a puppet whose strings had just been pulled, then ploughed the point of his sword a hand length into the ground, a fraction from Tissian’s face. For a moment he stood frozen, every muscle rigid with tension,  then he pulled the sword from the ground and threw it to one side. With a sound between a groan and a sob he turned away from them both, and strode off into the trees.

Tissian opened his eyes and blinked back the sweat that was running into them, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps caused not just by his exertions, but by the realisation of just how close he had come to death. He lay there for a moment unmoving until Dozo stood over him offering his hand. Tissian gratefully accepted the assistance and stood on shaking legs, his sword still clutched in his hand. He looked at where Allowyn had thrown down his sword, then questioningly at Dozo, and finally in the direction Allowyn had gone. Hesitantly he took a step to follow, but Dozo held him back.

“Give him some time, Master Tissian, he is not himself.”

Tissian looked back down at Allowyn’s sword lying in the dirt, but knew better than to touch it. “Have you ever seen him like this before?” he asked in concern.

Dozo shook his head. “No, but it’s been coming for some time.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I think that’s a question you’ll have to ask Master Allowyn, but after he’s had time to ask himself the same question, and has worked out the answer. In the meantime there are things we need to do.”

Knowing what needed to be done he nodded and took the cloth that Dozo held out to him. He wiped down his sword and found his long knife, which he had dropped in the grass, and sheathed them both. Dozo helped him off with his armour and laid it out to air, whilst Tissian spent half a candle length stretching and easing his sore muscles. When he had finished he rubbed himself down with the towel Dozo had ready for him, and then put on a clean shirt. It was an old one of Allowyn’s which was too big for him, but the smell of saddle leather and herbs was so familiar that it brought a lump to his throat as he thought of the anguish his mentor must now be feeling.

Almost reverently he picked up the abandoned sword with a clean cloth, being careful that his hands didn’t touch it, and spent the rest of the candle length cleaning and oiling it so no trace of its dishonour remained. He wrapped it in another clean cloth, took the fresh shirt Dozo gave him, and set off after Allowyn. The trail was easy to follow; the protector had crashed blindly through the undergrowth in his need to get away. Tissian found him sitting on a fallen tree trunk staring into a shallow, fast running stream that twinkled in the sunlight filtering through the canopy above. He made sure to make plenty of noise with his approach so that Allowyn was bound to hear him before standing stock still to one side of where his mentor sat.

After a while Allowyn looked up from the stream. “I’m sorry, Tissian.”

Tissian took the apology as his permission to approach and went and sat on the same fallen tree trunk, placing the wrapped sword carefully across his knees. He looked sideways at his mentor, whose face was grey with dirt and streaked with sweat, and for the first time it struck him how old Allowyn must be. For a moment he wondered what happened to protectors when they became too old to fight any more but, of course, he knew the answer to that. He chuckled to himself; the way Allowyn had just fought, it would be many years yet before that day came. The sound of his amusement made Allowyn look at him, his mouth grim and his eyes full of pain.

“Is something funny?”

Tissian shook his head. “I was just thinking. Last time I dropped my sword, you made me run the length of a woodland path, and back, ten times over in full kit. I was wondering if that was the prescribed punishment for clumsy protectors?”

It was Allowyn’s turn to shake his head. “No, just clumsy boys with too much pride for their own good. The punishment for a protector who loses control of himself is far worse; guilt, shame and dishonour. Hellden’s balls, Tissian, I’m so sorry, I nearly killed you. I would have killed you if it hadn’t been for Dozo.” He turned back to the stream and buried his head in his hands and his shoulders shook.

Tissian waited until he was still again. “Why did you do it?”

Allowyn looked up. “I just lost control, and I forgot who and what I am. I’ve only ever done something like that once before, when my brother died, but then I had the excuse of sorrow to justify my actions. I don’t have such an excuse this time.”

“So why did you do it?”

“Helplessness, and because I love my master and cannot bear to see a good man used and corrupted by those around him.” Tissian raised a questioning eyebrow. “It’s Borman. For years we served King Hormand together, and in all that time Callabris only ever used his magic to further the cause of fairness and justice. Since joining ourselves with Borman, my master has done things which he would have never even considered doing before. Each time he does what Borman demands, he does things which are unworthy of him with more ease and less regret, until I don’t know him anymore.”

“Have you talked to him about this?”

Allowyn shook his head. “It is not a protector’s place to question the actions of their master, but yes, I’ve tried, but the answers he gives me to justify what he does are the same answers as those he gave to Jonderill; it’s to protect other people. When he changed Prince Newn into a beast, he said it was to protect others from a vicious ruler, and when he tracked down Lord Istan and the others, so they could be recaptured, he said it was to protect the innocent who would die in their place. I’ve tried to accept his reasons and have turned away from the truth, but I can find no justification for the enchantment he has lain upon your master.”

“What enchantment?”

“Has Lord Jonderill been himself lately?” Tissian thought about it and shook his head. “It’s a mild, localised enchantment which is almost impossible to detect. It makes him slow of thought, forgetful and constantly weary. Callabris doesn’t think I know what he’s done, but I’ve seen him use it before.”

Tissian could feel his anger rising. “Is that why you tried to kill me, in case I found out and confronted Callabris?”

“No! No, I truly didn’t mean to harm you. When I agreed to practice with you I needed the challenge to take my mind off things and sweat them out of my system, but as we fought my mind took over and I lost control. The battle madness is something which is not uncommon amongst protectors, and occasionally soldiers too when they’re in combat and under stress, but it’s never happened to me like that before.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“There’s nothing I can do about it except to pray to the goddess to forgive me for my weakness.”

Tissian shook his head in annoyance and fought back the urge to hit Allowyn over the head with his own sword. “That’s rubbish! You can tell Callabris that what he’s doing is wrong, and you can get him away from this place before he does something worse than he’s already done.”

“I can’t do that. It’s not a protector’s place to chastise their master and tell him what to do.”

Now Tissian was really annoyed. He stood in front of Allowyn with his mentor’s blade free of its wrappings, held in his hand like an accusation. “And is it a protector’s place to try to kill their brother and then to dishonour their sword by throwing it into the dirt.” He dropped the sword into Allowyn’s arms. “You taught me that it was a protector’s duty to protect their master from all enemies and fight for their lives, even at the cost of our own. Borman is as much a danger to your master as a whole troop of armed guards, and yet you sit there and do nothing. Where is that commitment to duty you vowed before the goddess to uphold? Has it faded away just because the task is too difficult? Where is your honour, Allowyn?”

Allowyn gently stroked the blade of his sword as if it was his own child. “Thank you for cleaning my blade and bringing it back to me. My honour would not have allowed me to retrieve it from the dirt, even though it’s as much a part of me as the arm which wields it.” He looked up from the sword, his face a little less grim than it had been. “You’re right of course, although I have never thought about my sworn duty that way. But it is not just a case of talking to my master and us walking away from this. I need to do something which will go at least a small way to recompense for the wrong which has been done, and make it so that it becomes impossible for Callabris to serve Borman any longer.”

Tissian gave him one of his mischievous grins. “I think I have just the thing.”

*

They had talked about going in disguise, since they both still had the uniforms Tissian had stolen when they had helped Istan and the others escape, but in the end they decided to go as themselves. After all, Jonderill had no restrictions on where he could go in the fortress without guards at his side, and the white robe and his protector were a common enough sight around the place not to create undue suspicion. As they walked purposefully towards the king’s private rooms, they both looked as if they had a right to be there, although Jonderill looked half asleep and his shoulders were slumped. Tissian wondered again if he should have told his master about the enchantment, but decided against it. Instead, he waited until they reached the entrance to the final corridor before reaching their destination, and whispered urgent words into his master’s ear. Jonderill jumped slightly, opened his drooping eyes and pulled himself up straight.

Borman’s two huge personal guards who always stood outside the king’s chamber when he was within were missing, which was a relief, but further along the corridor, two guards of almost equal size stood outside the closed door of another room. They watched suspiciously as Jonderill and his protector approached, and Tissian recognised them as the two men Guardcaptain Rastor had assigned to guard the Lady Tarraquin. Jonderill came to a stop in front of them and put on his most haughty look, giving each one a cursory and dismissive inspection.

“His Majesty has sent for the lady. We are to accompany her to the throne room.”

The guards looked doubtfully at each other. “The King said nothing about that to us. We were told to wait ‘ere and guard the whore until Guardcaptain Rastor sent someone to relieve us.”

“Well the King has changed his mind. He wants us to take the lady to the throne room now and prepare her for his arrival.”

The guards didn’t budge but one shook his head. “Rastor said that the King would be in ‘is receiving room all morning and the lady was to stay ‘ere in case ‘is Majesty got bored and was in need of some entertainment.”

“I don’t care what Rastor said. I just do what the King tells me to do. He has unexpected visitors from Tarbis and he wants to parade his prize in front of his guests in the throne room.” The expression on the guard’s faces had turned to doubt so Jonderill continued. “Still, if you want to follow your Guardcaptain’s orders rather than your king’s that’s your business, it’s not me who’s going to lose my balls.”

“You’d better take ‘er then but we’re coming with yer.”

Jonderill shrugged. “Fair enough. We want the maid as well; the King has demanded that the lady should be undressed.