Read Online Princeps: A Novel in the Imager Portfolio by L. E. Modesitt Jr. - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: L. E. Modesitt Jr.
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door.”
Quaeryt smiled. He couldn’t argue with that. “Just to the anomen door.”
From the chorister’s chamber they walked side by side, just far enough apart that Quaeryt’s closely held shields were not triggered into full protection. Because the staircase was too narrow to be comfortable for two, Quaeryt led the way, with Gauswn close behind. Just before Quaeryt reached the top of the staircase, he frowned. Was there someone waiting by the door?
Something slammed into his shields, driving him back so hard that he staggered to one side and almost fell. Because of his shorter left leg, he barely managed to catch his balance after going down one step.
As he did, Gauswn sprinted past him, a long knife drawn from somewhere in his hand.
Quaeryt’s eyes followed the chorister, and after a moment, so did his feet as he ran after Gauswn. He was close enough to see Gauswn’s arm move in what looked to be an underhanded thrust to the chest of a man in black—whose face mirrored shock, even as the crossbow clattered to the stone floor.
“You … always…” The would-be assassin’s knees crumpled.
Gauswn thrust the dying man backward, and his body hit the stone with a muffled thud.
Quaeryt reached the chorister and looked down at the sharp-faced and dark-haired figure, attired totally in black, who tried to gasp, then shuddered and was still. “Alkiabys … I thought he’d died in the last battle, along with Zarxes.”
“He should have.” The chorister turned to Quaeryt. “Again … the Nameless has protected you.…”
“Alkiabys just missed.”
Gauswn looked straight at Quaeryt. “I saw you be thrown back by that quarrel. It was aimed straight at your heart. Yet it was as if it hit a wall and dropped to the stones.”
“I didn’t see that,” replied Quaeryt. That much was true. He hadn’t seen it; he’d only felt the impact.
Gauswn inclined his head. “You are blessed by the Nameless.”
What can you say to that? After a moment, Quaeryt said, “I don’t know that. I do know that I’m glad that quarrel didn’t reach its target … and that you took care of Alkiabys. All I can ask is that I’d very much appreciate it if exactly what happened remains between us. I’m not asking you to lie…” Quaeryt paused. “You can say that Alkiabys fired his crossbow at me. That is true. You can also say that, for some reason, the quarrel didn’t hit me. I will say, which is also true, that you leapt to my defense and killed him.”
“But … why…?”
“Gauswn … if … IF I’m somehow protected, and you tell anyone, how long before someone else tries … and if I survive, someone else after that? If, as you think, the Nameless is protecting me—and I have grave doubts about that—but if it is true, the Nameless might not wish to keep protecting me if the fact of that protection is flaunted … or even known to a single other person.”
The chorister nodded slowly. “Sir … it will be between us.”
“Thank you. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate that.” And I can’t … at least not for a very, very long time. Because, while two people could occasionally keep a secret, especially if one happened to be as honorable as Gauswn, three people never could.
Gauswn looked down at the body, then at Quaeryt.
“Give him an honorable pyre, but no memorial.”
The young chorister nodded. “That would seem fitting.”
“You attend to Cyrethyn. I’ll have Yullyd or Nalakyn come and take care of the body.”
“Thank you, sir.”
When Quaeryt reached the rear of the scholarium, he saw Lankyt standing on the porch, with Nalakyn beside him. Several bundles were set at Lankyt’s feet.
“Princeps, sir,” began Nalakyn, “I understand that you have offered—”
“To have Lankyt escorted back to his father’s holding? That’s correct, but I’m going to have to task you with a less pleasant duty. You might recall Alkiabys?”
“Yes … sir.” The round-faced
Quaeryt smiled. He couldn’t argue with that. “Just to the anomen door.”
From the chorister’s chamber they walked side by side, just far enough apart that Quaeryt’s closely held shields were not triggered into full protection. Because the staircase was too narrow to be comfortable for two, Quaeryt led the way, with Gauswn close behind. Just before Quaeryt reached the top of the staircase, he frowned. Was there someone waiting by the door?
Something slammed into his shields, driving him back so hard that he staggered to one side and almost fell. Because of his shorter left leg, he barely managed to catch his balance after going down one step.
As he did, Gauswn sprinted past him, a long knife drawn from somewhere in his hand.
Quaeryt’s eyes followed the chorister, and after a moment, so did his feet as he ran after Gauswn. He was close enough to see Gauswn’s arm move in what looked to be an underhanded thrust to the chest of a man in black—whose face mirrored shock, even as the crossbow clattered to the stone floor.
“You … always…” The would-be assassin’s knees crumpled.
Gauswn thrust the dying man backward, and his body hit the stone with a muffled thud.
Quaeryt reached the chorister and looked down at the sharp-faced and dark-haired figure, attired totally in black, who tried to gasp, then shuddered and was still. “Alkiabys … I thought he’d died in the last battle, along with Zarxes.”
“He should have.” The chorister turned to Quaeryt. “Again … the Nameless has protected you.…”
“Alkiabys just missed.”
Gauswn looked straight at Quaeryt. “I saw you be thrown back by that quarrel. It was aimed straight at your heart. Yet it was as if it hit a wall and dropped to the stones.”
“I didn’t see that,” replied Quaeryt. That much was true. He hadn’t seen it; he’d only felt the impact.
Gauswn inclined his head. “You are blessed by the Nameless.”
What can you say to that? After a moment, Quaeryt said, “I don’t know that. I do know that I’m glad that quarrel didn’t reach its target … and that you took care of Alkiabys. All I can ask is that I’d very much appreciate it if exactly what happened remains between us. I’m not asking you to lie…” Quaeryt paused. “You can say that Alkiabys fired his crossbow at me. That is true. You can also say that, for some reason, the quarrel didn’t hit me. I will say, which is also true, that you leapt to my defense and killed him.”
“But … why…?”
“Gauswn … if … IF I’m somehow protected, and you tell anyone, how long before someone else tries … and if I survive, someone else after that? If, as you think, the Nameless is protecting me—and I have grave doubts about that—but if it is true, the Nameless might not wish to keep protecting me if the fact of that protection is flaunted … or even known to a single other person.”
The chorister nodded slowly. “Sir … it will be between us.”
“Thank you. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate that.” And I can’t … at least not for a very, very long time. Because, while two people could occasionally keep a secret, especially if one happened to be as honorable as Gauswn, three people never could.
Gauswn looked down at the body, then at Quaeryt.
“Give him an honorable pyre, but no memorial.”
The young chorister nodded. “That would seem fitting.”
“You attend to Cyrethyn. I’ll have Yullyd or Nalakyn come and take care of the body.”
“Thank you, sir.”
When Quaeryt reached the rear of the scholarium, he saw Lankyt standing on the porch, with Nalakyn beside him. Several bundles were set at Lankyt’s feet.
“Princeps, sir,” began Nalakyn, “I understand that you have offered—”
“To have Lankyt escorted back to his father’s holding? That’s correct, but I’m going to have to task you with a less pleasant duty. You might recall Alkiabys?”
“Yes … sir.” The round-faced
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