The Blacksmith’s Son

Chapter 5

My audience with the Duke had gone much as I’d expected. He made light of my late sleeping, passing it off as the ‘excess of youth’, but I was still sure I had disappointed him. In any case he made sure that I was aware that he and the Duchess both were colluding in misrepresenting my social status. As Marc had said earlier, I was to represent myself as a traveling scholar and avoid questions as to my exact place in society; they for their part would divert questions by remarking that I was a distant cousin of some sort.

Looking back I cannot help but wonder at their nonchalance at deceiving so many people about my social standing. It seems incredible from the standpoint of a lowly blacksmith’s son, but when I consider it from their lofty station it makes a bit more sense. It quite literally was no big deal to them; the Lancasters were second in rank only to the royal family itself. Who would gainsay them? Who would bother to question the rank of an unknown scholar? And if the truth should out, what of it? They could pass it off as a minor joke and the worst consequence might be some ruffled feathers. For my part, it scared the living shit out of me, and I felt as if I had my neck on the executioners block.

I took a free moment that afternoon to continue reading and do some experimentation. One of the more interesting things Vestrius had learned early in his apprenticeship was a spell to put others into a magical slumber. Apparently it was a simple feat and one taught early because of its general usefulness. It could be used defensively against men and beasts or to escape from delicate situations. It also had the advantage of plausible deniability, assuming that all the witnesses were included in the effect. Grummond made a point of telling Vestrius that it would have no effect on ‘stoics’ but I had yet to find out what that meant.

I set out to find a suitable target for experimentation. I initially considered Marcus or Dorian but I put that idea aside. I was still uncertain of my abilities and I didn’t want to risk putting them into some sort of permanent coma. I settled for sitting at the window and attempting to put birds to sleep. My first target was a blackbird that was kind enough to land on the windowsill.

I focused my will and looked at the bird, “Shibal.” It collapsed as though someone had struck it with a well-aimed stone. I watched it for several minutes to see if it would waken. It didn’t. The spell was supposed to last a while, depending upon how much power the caster put into it, but I had no idea if the size of the creature was a factor. I tried waking the bird with loud noises but it remained stubbornly asleep. I was pretty sure that was not normally the case with sleeping birds. Finally I picked it up and made sure it was still breathing. It seemed to be fine, with the exception of being a very sound sleeper. I tried shaking it a bit and then I poked it.

“Ow! Shit!” the bird woke and promptly bit my finger. It flew around the room for several minutes while I chased it, trying to herd it toward the open window. Eventually it found the exit and I sat down to consider what I had learned. I definitely wouldn’t be bringing more birds into the room, my finger was still throbbing painfully.

I decided to try again, this time on something further away. I spotted a hawk circling overhead. “Shibal.” The bird faltered for a moment but quickly recovered. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the distance or whether it was more difficult to put it to sleep because it was flying. I drew myself inward mentally and focused my intention on the bird, “Shibal!” The hawk dropped from the sky like a stone. I felt more than heard the hard ‘whump’ as it hit the stone courtyard. Bollocks! I killed it. I quickly drew back from the window, lest someone see me and make the connection. The story of the burning of the college in Albamarl had left an impression on me.

A knock sounded on my door and I started. Surely no one could have seen the hawk and gotten up here already? I opened it and found Dorian standing there.

“You need to come down in a few minutes Mort. The first of the guests are here and Marc wants you there to greet them with him.” He glanced around the room. The bed was still in disarray and the pillows were scattered. “Looks like you’ve been making friends with the cleaning staff already.”

I wondered for a moment if he had been talking to Marc. “Dorian you trust me right?” I tugged him into the room and shut the door.

“Well sure. You remember that time you and Marc dragged me out to old man Wilkin’s farm to help you steal pumpkins?” He had an endearing habit of repeating our childhood stories every time he got the chance, or annoying habit, depending on the circumstances.

“Yeah yeah, here come sit down for a second.” I hustled him over to the divan.

“You and Marc told me you were gonna use the pumpkins to scare the crap out of…” he started to continue the story. Normally I wouldn’t have minded but I had heard it a dozen times already and I had other things on my mind.

“Shibal,” I intoned seriously. Nothing happened.

“…Sir Kelton while he was standing watch that night,” Dorian continued without missing a beat. It might have been because I was staring at him intently, he probably thought I was listening. A second knock interrupted my thoughts.

Benchley, Marc’s valet stood in the doorway, “His Lordship thought you might need some help getting ready,” he said. I guess Penny had changed her mind about dressing me, or perhaps Marc had.

A sudden thought occurred to me, “Actually Benchley I’m already properly dressed but you could give me a hand with the bed. I haven’t a clue how to get the sheets and pillows back the way they were.” I waved in the general direction of the disaster zone I was calling a bed.

Benchley stood a bit straighter and I realized I had probably insulted him since such tasks were usually the domain of the chamber maids. He was a ‘gentleman’s gentleman’ after all. He kept his tongue though, and walked over to pick up the coverlets. I watched him carefully, biding my time. Meanwhile Dorian had stopped his story and was looking at me with an odd expression; he knew I was up to something now.

As soon as Benchley leaned over the bed to smooth the sheets I spoke, “Shibal.” He collapsed across the mattress as if he had been poleaxed.

“Sweet Mother!” Dorian stood up and stared at Benchley, then looked at me, his mouth agape. Then he silently mouthed, “What did you do?” as if we were in danger of being overheard. Honestly, his overly serious expressions are half the reason I love Dorian.

I spent the next few minutes explaining what I had done. One nice thing about Dorian, as opposed to Marc, is that he doesn’t interrupt. He listened intently, his eyes growing wider as I talked. My demonstration had definitely sent him into a state of high anxiety, but the other thing I love about Dorian is his intense loyalty.

“I better go stand guard in the hallway to make sure no one comes in,” he said in a hushed tone. I tried to convince him that wouldn’t be necessary, since there was nothing more incriminating in the room than a sleeping manservant, but you can’t shake these ideas from him once he gets his mind set on them.

Once he had left the room I stepped over to Benchley. My first thought was to awaken him with a shake, since that was what had worked with the bird, but then I figured I should use the opportunity to get more information from my experiment. I tried shouting first, that didn’t work but it did draw a worried Dorian back in from the hallway. “What are you doing?” he silently mouthed at me.

“Nothing, go back to the hall,” I silently mouthed back. Lord, now he had me doing it too! He went back out so I decided to try gently shaking the sleeping valet. After a moment I had to get more vigorous, for it seemed I had put Benchley into a deep slumber. That didn’t work either. Finally I went and got a slender straight pin from the dressing table. I’ve never been sure why they keep those there, but it came in handy.

“Gah!” Benchley uttered a most ungentlemanly sound and sat straight up from the bed. I quickly hid the pin I had just plunged into his posterior. “What happened to me?” He seemed very confused.

“It appears that you fainted Benchley. Do you think perhaps you might be working to hard lately? You might do well to get some more rest.” I did my best to look concerned for his well being as I gently ushered him to the door.

“What about the bed sir?” he asked.

“Never mind that,” I replied, “the chamber maids can get it in the morning.”

“Very good sir,” he ambled down the corridor while I watched him go.

Dorian nudged me, “If we don’t get moving you’re going to miss greeting the Duke’s guests.”

“Oh, right!” I shut the door and we headed down.

As we walked he looked over at me, “We’re going to need to talk about this later.”

“Be sure to invite Penny to the meeting,” I muttered sarcastically to myself.

“What? I didn’t hear you,” he said.

“Nothing, I was talking to myself.” Inwardly I did resolve to try and make sure I included her more in the future. Her speech earlier had made me feel like a complete jerk. All of this assumed of course that she didn’t think I was an agent of the dark gods. The last I had seen her she had been putting as much distance between us as possible.

I wound up standing at the steps leading into the main keep with the Duke and his family. The Lord and Lady Thornbear were there as well, which left me feeling distinctly out of place. While the coaches drew up the Duchess was kind enough to explain my role.

She was a striking woman in appearance despite her middling years and she placed her hand over mine as she spoke, “As the guests get out of the carriages James and I will greet them one by one. Each person standing here will escort one of the guests into the front hall and then show them to the sun room upstairs.” In case you’ve forgotten, James was her husband, the Duke, although she was the only person I had ever heard refer to him by his given name. The sun room was a brightly lit parlor upstairs near the Duke’s rooms. “Mordecai, you will escort Rose Hightower.”

“Yes your grace.”

“Do you remember how to address her?” the Duchess had some qualities that reminded me of my own mother.

“I address her as Lady Hightower,” I said confidently.

“No, Mordecai. Lady Hightower is her mother, you address her simply as Lady Rose,” she remonstrated me.

“Yes your grace, Lady Rose.” I knew that, but I was nervous.

By then the first coach had drawn up and the occupants were getting out. Naturally the first was Devon Tremont, the son of Duke Tremont. The Duke of Tremont was the only peer of the realm who had equal standing with the Duke of Lancaster; accordingly his son and heir had equivalent standing to Marcus. I took that to mean I should be exceedingly polite. The Duke and his wife greeted him warmly and Marc stepped forward to escort him upstairs.

Knowing Marc as well as I did I could tell he didn’t like Devon immediately. “Devon,” Marc tipped his head slightly in greeting, “It is good to see you again.” Something told me that was exactly the opposite of how he felt, but he hid it so well I doubt anyone could have discerned it.

“Marcus, well met. I see you are in good health…still.” Devon replied. The slight pause before the word ‘still’ made it abundantly clear he wished it were otherwise. I watched him intently as they mounted the steps. He was of middling height with a lean athletic build and light brown hair. The moment I laid eyes upon the young lord I nearly gasped. He carried about him a strange radiance, almost a purplish aura and something about it made me feel mildly ill. I had never encountered anything like it before. For a moment his eyes met mine and they narrowed, I wondered what he might be seeing, as there was certainly nothing remarkable about me.

The moment passed and he continued up the stairs. My reverie was interrupted by the next guest, Stephen Airedale, the son of Count Airedale. He was an impressive young man with light blond hair and steel grey eyes. He was also the first person to emerge that was my equal in height, possibly he was taller. Marc’s sister Ariadne offered him her arm and the two of them proceeded up the stairs chatting amiably. Her mother had trained her well and I could see she would someday be a formidable socialite.

The next to get out was Master Gregory Pern, the son of the famous Admiral Pern. As the son of a military commander his standing within the aristocratic circles was minor, his father had been a commoner originally after all. Regardless, his father’s powerful shadow had a long reach and there were rumors that Gregory might be granted a minor title in the future. Before we go on I have to confess, if I sound knowledgeable about the aristocracy it is not through any great knowledge of my own. Marcus had tutored me on our guests that afternoon with some help from his sister.

Master Pern was being led away by Lady Thornbear who seemed quite comfortable on the arm of a handsome young man. She winked at me as they went by. Meanwhile her husband, Lord Thornbear had stepped up to escort Lady Elizabeth Balistair, daughter of Earl Balistair. She was lovely in her own right, although I would have said her nose was a bit too long and her green eyes were unsettling. She was also excessively tall for a woman, probably near five foot eleven inches. Not that that was a bad thing, but being as tall or taller than most men would make finding a husband difficult, and finding a husband would be important to Lady Elizabeth. The Balistair family was rumored to be having financial difficulties.

I had little time to think on that though, my turn had come. Lady Rose stepped out of her carriage and greeted the ducal couple warmly, and then she turned to me. I offered my arm as I had seen done, and she slipped her gloved hand across it. Truthfully she was one of the most beautiful women I could recall, with long dark tresses and warm blue eyes. Well, she might not be quite as pretty as Penny, certainly her figure was a bit slighter, but she had a definite presence. Her father, Lord Hightower was the nominal head of the royal guard and commander of the garrison in Albamarl. Reputedly their family name came from the tall bailey their family occupied in the capitol.

We walked up the steps carefully. I felt awkward walking next to such a graceful lady, but I did my best to cover it. “Lady Rose I understand this is not your first trip to Lancaster?” I said. You would never guess I had a note card hidden in my pocket with a list of similar conversational phrases, thanks to Ariadne. Marc’s sister was very thoughtful.

“Oh! Yes, yes I have visited twice before, when my father came to discuss matters with the Duke.” She seemed distracted, her eyes scanning the crowd when I asked my question. I wondered briefly who she might be looking for.

“I hope your previous stays were pleasant. Did you make any friends of note while you were here?” That question wasn’t on my list of approved topics, but I figured I could improvise.

She looked at me carefully and I could see a sharp intelligence behind her blue eyes, “Why yes I did. I was just a girl at the time but I was quite charmed with young Ariadne.” Her eyes slipped away from me, and it seemed as if they lit upon Dorian for a moment as he stood duty by the front doors. It might have been my imagination though, for she returned her glance to me but a second later. “How long have you lived in Lancaster, Master Eldridge?” she asked.

‘All my life’ I nearly said, but I caught myself, “Not long, but I’ve visited many times before.” She was no longer looking directly at me but it felt as if she was staring at me intently regardless. As we passed through the doorway I gave Dorian a quick wink to let him know things were going well, but he didn’t notice. His attention seemed fixed on my companion. My curiosity was definitely piqued.

“Her grace introduced you to me as a scholar Master Eldridge… might I inquire what it is that you study?” she queried. I thought I could detect a subtle undercurrent of humor in her question. Worse I had let too much time lapse and she had turned the questioning back upon me. I was definitely getting into murky waters here.

“Mathematics, Lady Rose, although I fear the term ‘scholar’ does me too much credit. I still feel myself a novice compared to the great mathematicians of old.” See I can be quite erudite when I try.

“You do not seem old enough to be so learned,” she remarked.

“In faith I am young my lady. It is a fact which has done me no good service. I shall be glad when at last can display grey hair as proof of wisdom.” I was rather proud of that one, I might be a natural.

“You do not think we should revere the wisdom of the aged?” Ouch, she had neatly turned that one back against me.

“That was not my intention at all. I merely imply that in matters of mathematics advanced years are no guarantee of wisdom, nor does youth necessitate its lack.” We had reached the sun room and I felt relieved that I might escape. I was beginning to doubt my ability to keep up with Lady Rose in the dueling dance of our conversation.

I started to excuse myself, but she held onto my arm for a moment, “Master Eldridge, relax. We’ve only just met. Let me give you some advice.” I looked down and her blue eyes caught me again. “You did well for a novice. In future don’t let your opponent have so much time to turn the questions to topics you would prefer to avoid.”

“Opponent?” I sputtered.

“Shush” she said quietly, then she smiled, a flash of white teeth under rose petal lips. “Don’t act so surprised, you’ll worry your friends.” She waved at Marcus for a moment. “Next time don’t let your eyes give away your thoughts so readily.”

Lord Thornbear came over suddenly so she let me have an easy out, “It was nice meeting you Master Eldridge, I hope we have a chance to talk more later.” She turned and began speaking with Lord Thornbear, seeming for all the world as if she had completely forgotten me already.

I took my chance and began making my way across the room, looking for Marc. I found him talking with Stephen Airedale. He saw me coming and excused himself for a moment to pull me aside, “Do me a favor would you? Devon has Ariadne cornered over there and I’m sure she could use a break, would you mind distracting him for a moment?” Me? It seemed that my friend was unaware of my status as a novice in the art of conversation, at least in these circles. But I couldn’t leave Ariadne without support, she was his sister after all, although she’d been a pain when we were younger.

I headed back the other way and spotted Ariadne. Sure enough she was deep in conversation with Devon. I took a moment to remember the proper address, by which I mean I consulted the note card Ariadne had made for me earlier. Lord Devon it read. Although he wasn’t the Duke of Tremont yet he had been granted a baronet already. Since ‘Tremont’ could be used to refer to the Duke of Tremont, his father, the usual way to call him was by his given name rather than his surname, hence, Lord Devon.

“Ariadne,” I called to her. She looked at me gratefully. I faced Devon, “Please pardon my intrusion Lord Devon, her grace asked me to see if she could be found, to assist with some arrangements.”

“Certainly,” he replied with a genial smile. Despite his friendly attitude the aura around him still made me uncomfortable. Hopefully the books we had found would help me to better understand these things. “I didn’t catch your name when we arrived…” he let the statement trail off, making it an obvious question.

“Ah my fault, I should have introduced myself directly to you, Mordecai Eldridge your lordship.” That pretty well exhausted the topics I was prepared to discuss with the future Duke of Tremont.

“Mordecai, what an unusual name, are you originally from Lothion? The name sounds foreign.” Wonderful, I didn’t even know the answer to that question, my father had found the name embroidered on the blanket I was wrapped in.

“Honestly I’m not even sure where the name comes from either, my mother had a love of foreign romances so she might have picked it up from one of her books. I was raised near Lancaster though, so I consider myself a true son of Lothion in any case.” Practice was honing my skills in the art of dissembling. Lady Rose’s advice came to mind so I attempted to retake the initiative, “My life must seem very boring to a man such as yourself, tell me about your family. Do you have any siblings?”

Devon’s eyes narrowed for a moment, “A brother, Eric, but he was lost in an unfortunate accident a year ago.” I have a knack for uncomfortable topics.

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to remind you of such a delicate subject,” I replied.

“No harm done, he and I never got along, and there was nothing delicate about his death either. Passed out drunk in a bath and drowned.” Devon spoke casually, but I could feel him watching my reactions carefully.

“Was there any suspicion of foul play?” I asked.

Devon’s face never moved, but I saw the purplish aura around him flash for a moment, “No, there was no cause for concern in that regard. Eric was well loved by all, and the girl who found him attested to the fact he had been drinking heavily before entering the bath, a few of the other women in the ‘establishment’ confirmed her story.”

“Establishment?” I was confused.

“He died in a brothel.” Lord Devon answered. “Now if you’ll excuse me I need to refill my glass.”

“I would be happy to get that for you,” I said, glad to have something else to do. He proffered his glass and I started looking for the fellow with the bottle. When I returned I found him standing with Marc.

“We were just discussing you Mordecai!” My friend said this enthusiastically but his eyes were full of warning.

“Yes, Marcus was telling me that you’re a student of mathematics and philosophy.” Devon added.

“I try, but I fear I will always be an humble scholar, rather than one of the pathfinders of reason.” I replied.

“You sound as though you might be well suited as a poet. Tell me what you think of Ramanujan and his work with the Riemann Zeta Function, I get so little interesting conversation at home.” The aura around him had gotten darker again, which made his smile ominous.

“I think no one took him seriously at first, but that was his own fault.” I said.

“How so?”

“He presented his ideas in a such a way as to deliberately elicit a contrary reaction from others. If he had been open about his methods, the fact he was using the Zeta function to arrive at his conclusions from the beginning there would have been a lot less controversy.” I could almost feel Devon’s disappointment. There was a very good reason we had chosen mathematics as my scholarly cover. It had become something of a hobby of mine as a result of my time studying with Marc. My parents thought it was useless abstraction of course, as did Marc, but I had found great enjoyment in the subject. Consequently I had spent a lot of time absorbing material from the Duke’s library that most folk would never have even heard of.

“The controversy is perhaps the only reason anyone still remembers his contributions, perhaps it was necessary to preserve his work,” Devon countered.

“I’m sure he is not the first person to hide his methods,” I was starting to get annoyed so I probably emphasized that phrase too much. “He doubtless won’t be the last, but his motive was not controversy.”

“Do explain,” his teeth flashed as he spoke and I found myself reminded of a fox.

“He kept his methods secret to embarrass his contemporaries. If they admitted they could not follow his work it made them look ignorant, if they argued he was wrong he revealed his methodology to make them look like fools. In essence he was an egotistical ass.” Perhaps I was a bit too passionate about my subject, I might have insulted Devon, but I hadn’t intended to, at least not consciously. The purplish light around him was pulsing now.

“Pardon me your lordship, no offense was intended.” I added.

“None taken,” he replied, although it was clear he felt otherwise, “you are passionate about your subject, a commendable quality in a scholar. If you’ll excuse me I should mingle some more with the other guests.” I was relieved to watch him go.

Marc stepped closer to me and took me by the elbow, “Let's retire for a moment, I need to get some air.” He steered me to the balcony which was currently empty. Once there he spoke softly, between clenched teeth, “What the hell was that?”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” I replied sipping my wine casually.

“Could you have chosen anyone in the world to make your enemy, that man is probably the worst you could have picked.” Marc seemed genuinely worried. “What did you say to get his attention so firmly fixed on you?” He was referring to my short conversation before Marc had joined us.

“Well I did stumble into an embarrassing topic quite by accident, I asked him about his siblings.” I quickly related the story of Devon’s brother and how he had died. “He didn’t seem particularly upset about it though.” I concluded.

“Of all the things you could have asked that was the worst. His elder brother’s death has been the subject of many rumors. Quite a few suspect Devon of having a hand in it.”

I could see the problem but not my own relevance, “Surely he must know I wasn’t intentionally trying to upset him.”

Marc sighed, running his hands through his thick hair, “He knows nothing of the sort. You have to understand how people like him work. Let me give you a lesson in the aristocracy. First, he assumes that because he’s so important, everyone else must be nearly as knowledgeable about his affairs as he is. Second, if he did have something to do with his brother’s death he would have to be incredibly paranoid about it. Third, a complete stranger approaches him and starts questioning him about his brother’s ‘unfortunate’ demise. He will naturally assume that you are either trying to send him a message or embarrass him. In either case he will take it as a challenge.”

“Oh,” I answered adroitly. “Well thankfully I live here rather than in Tremont.”

“Idiot, like that matters to someone like him,” my friend was angry now.

“What do you mean?”

“The only person who can safely insult one of the greater peers is someone of equal rank or greater, such as my father, or someone from the royal family,” he explained it as if I were a child.

“Thankfully my best friend is his equal in rank.” I smiled thinking that would make him feel a bi better.

“That only makes it worse, look over there.” he glanced behind me.

Turning so I could casually glance back into the room I saw Devon looking our way, he raised his glass and nodded at me as if in greeting. “So what does that mean?” I asked.

“He’s already caught on that we’re friends, and he probably thinks I put you up to the questions about his brother. We were friendly before, but now he’ll mark me as his enemy. Rather than shielding you, that puts you in danger Mort.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” I said.

“He can’t strike at me directly, so his obvious targets for retaliation will be my allies, particularly those who have limited resources of their own.” Marc looked at me intently as I finally understood what he had been trying to get across to me.

“But I don’t even know him! I certainly never intended to make an enemy of him.” How could things have gone so terribly wrong?

“In these circles, intentions don’t matter,” Marc answered glumly.

“So what do I do?” I was appropriately worried now.

“Avoid him if possible and pray he doesn’t discover much about your family and friends. Let's go back in, we’re only making him more suspicious chatting out here by ourselves.” Marc stepped back inside. I followed a moment after and made my separate way around the room.

I wound up trapped in conversation with Stephen Airedale who was self absorbed enough to refrain from asking me anything about myself. I got bored quickly though since I had absolutely no interest in spice trading, or how much money he had made investing in it. I was about to excuse myself to visit the privies when I saw Penny enter the parlor with a tray of hors d'oeuvres. She met my eye for a moment and then looked away uncomfortably.

I made my way to the privies with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. In the course of one short day I had managed to become a political liability to my best friend while at the same time convincing another friend I was in league with the powers of darkness. At least I hadn’t caused Dorian any trouble yet, but Marc’s comments had me worrying that he might become another of Devon’s targets if he learned of our friendship.

The rest of the afternoon passed slowly and I finally managed to retire to my room without causing any more problems. I tried to take a nap as the social maneuverings earlier had left me tired, but I was restless. Instead I spent my time practicing the little bit I had learned. After a while I got fairly proficient at controlling the amount of light I produced. I had begun to get a feel for the flow of aythar as I created the light ball. ‘Aythar’ I had learned was the proper name for the force mages use to produce magical effects.

There weren’t any handy subjects to practice my sleep spell on, and the hawk had made me cautious, I still felt a little bad about that. I resolved to retrieve that third book as soon as dinner was over. I couldn't make much more headway with Vestrius’ journal without a better understanding of the Lycian language.

Eventually Benchley came to tell me that it was time to eat. Apparently Penny had arranged to have him handle me to avoid any more difficulties. As dark as my mood was I couldn’t blame her. I wasn’t feeling up to facing more political intrigue so I begged him for mercy, claiming a sudden illness. Benchley had been a valet for many years and he understood immediately.

“Say no more sir, I’ll make your excuses for you,” he promptly left.

After an hour a knock at the door interrupted my thoughts and for a moment I was hopeful that perhaps Penny had forgiven me for frightening her. Opening the door I found Dorian outside with a tray of food. “I thought you might be hungry,” he said.

The sight of fresh bread and cheese reminded me that I had missed breakfast. My stomach rumbled. “Dorian come in, I could use a friend about now.” I put my depression aside and put on my broadest smile for him.

I ate everything he had brought and soon found myself collecting the crumbs from the plate. Now that my belly was relatively more at ease I felt more able to talk, so I spent some time describing my woes to Dorian. He was suitably impressed with the depths of my folly. “You sure don’t do things by halves Mort,” he remarked.

I had to agree.

“At least you got to escort Lady Rose to the parlor,” my friend has always been easy to read.

“Ok let’s hear it, I saw you watching her as we came in. Do you know her somehow?”

He looked embarrassed, “You remember when I was fostered out last year?” It was a common practice for the sons and daughters of nobility to live for a year or two at another lord’s estate. It helped them learn more about the handling of the kingdom, gave them a broader experience of the world, and forged ties with other members of the ruling class.

“I do, someplace in Albamarl wasn’t it?” Then I remembered, Highcastle’s home was in the capitol. “Ohhh…,” I articulated. I have a remarkable vocabulary when I put my mind to it. Finally a concise sentence came to me. “You were smitten huh?”

“Basically,” he replied. “We didn’t speak very much though, so I doubt she even remembers me.”

“You might be wrong there,” I said, remembering her glancing at him earlier, but I didn’t say anything more about it. We talked for a while longer before he left. But neither of us had any decent ideas regarding my problem with Devon Tremont.

Once he had gone I headed to the library to retrieve the third book, A Grammar of Lycian.