Under Suspicion

I seem to be doing a lot of apologizing on this blog recently. I’m sorry for not posting yesterday, but I’ve spent the last couple of days too sick to do anything but lay on my bed, read comic books, watch movies, and sleep. I really hate being sick. Not only do I feel crappy, but I feel like I’m wasting my time. I really did try to write, but I was just too sick to sit upright. Oh well. I’m feeling better now and able to do things again. To the story!
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WHUMPH!

Martin was on his back. Again. The tip of the practice wooden sword was also pressed against his chest again. Fall was grinning as he leaned over him, resting an arm on his sword, causing the wood tip to press harder on his chest.

“You’re making progress,” Fall told him, keeping him pinned. “But you’ve got so much to learn. Tell me, why didn’t Suit teach you more about fencing?”

Martin gritted his teeth. “Well, firstly.” He kicked out, his leg knocking Fall’s legs from underneath him, sprawling him out on the ground. Before Fall could do anything, Martin was up. He caught the practice sword out of its fall and pressed it into the sword master’s chest. “I’ve other skills.” Fall gazed at the wooden sword at his chest, shocked to find himself on the other end.

“Secondly,” Martin said, not letting the man up. “Suit thought it was a waste of time for me. I’ve a common face, I could not easily impersonate a noble without a lot of disguise. Best if I just kept common, don’t you think?”

“You’ve made your point,” Fall said, still staring at the sword. “How about letting me up?” Martin drew the practice sword away, letting the master sit up. Fall rubbed his chest, still a bit shocked.

“Where did you learn to do that?” he asked, getting to his feet. “Tripping a swordsman isn’t easy.”

Martin shrugged as he handed the sword back over. “When running for your life, you learn a lot of things.” The bitterness in his tone kept Fall from asking, but he could see the questions in Fall’s eyes.

First Sona almost breaks me and now I’m spilling out details. Martin rubbed his eyes. This was getting serious.

“I wasn’t lying when I said you made progress,” Fall told him, picking up the other fallen sword Martin had ripped from his hands before landing on his back again. “I think by the end of summer, you should be able to be a good swordsman.”

If I last that long. From either the training or the search, he didn’t know.

“How’s Thomas doing?” he asked, hoping a change of subject might hide his discomfort.

“He’s doing better than you,” Fall answered, putting the swords away. “I’m glad that I didn’t decide to train you at the same time. Your duke friend would beat you.”

“Oh,” Martin laughed, “I doubt that. I have invented ways of getting back.”

Fall coughed, looking embarrassed. “So I’ve noticed.” They both looked at the mansion as the clock tower chimed the eighth hour.

“It’s late,” Fall stated, not noticing Martin roll his eyes. “Time to call it a day, don’t you think?”

“Oh, no,” Martin said, shaking his head. “I’ve still got work to do.”

Fall flinched. “I don’t want to know.” He walked away, waving behind him. “See you tomorrow promptly after dinner! Let’s see you keep on your feet longer then, shall we?”

“Yes,” Martin relied after him, knowing the man couldn’t hear him. “Let’s have me fall as much as possible again.” Normally, weapons training was one of his better subjects, but Master Fall seemed to think he had a greater potential than others, pushing him far more than any other teacher who had taught him. It was a different style of teaching Martin wasn’t used to; working hard to prove a teacher wrong was how he learned. And while Martin appreciated Fall’s confidence in his abilities, he did think the sword trainer had his confidence misplaced.

But that was a problem for another time. He had a meeting to attend. Leaving the courtyard, he opened himself up to the emotions of the mansion, letting those emotions guide him to the queen’s office without being seen. It took several back tracks and ducking into unused rooms to make sure he wasn’t seen. He did not mind this; it just happened that way when you avoided being seen.

The hallway of the queen’s and Sona’s offices was strangely empty. Checking the emotions again, he could tell that there were people in Abigail’s office. He wondered if the two women had also arrived so no one knew they were there. It would explain the lack of servants rushing through this hall.

Walking up to the door, he knocked softly then entered without waiting for an answer. Sona and the queen sat at the desk, both wearing annoyed expressions.

“You could have at least waited for an answer,” Abigail said reprovingly.

“Ah,” Martin said, forestalling the lecture, “but you told me about this meeting. You would have been expecting me anyway.” He then noticed two more chairs already set around the desk. “And the two others you’re expecting. I’m assuming Thomas and Luke will be joining us?”

“Does anything escape your notice, Martin?” Sona asked, that half smile tugging at her lips.

“I try not to let it,” he sighed dramatically, sitting down next to her. “But alas! Things do get past me.” Hopefully that would buy him some time to figure out if he could have a relationship with her or not. Sona just chuckled at his antics and began pulling out folders from the box on the floor next to her.

“Tell me, Martin, what do you know about Var Bontaren?”

Martin leaned back in his chair, not bothering to cover his disgust. “He’s an egotistical, conceited, bull-headed, wannabe all important glassmith with a bit of talent from Seals Port. Why do you ask?”

“Well…” Sona stopped in mid sentence as another knock sounded on the door.

“Come in,” the queen said, her smug expression telling him that he should learn from those at the door. The door opened and his two friends entered, both looking a bit worn. They bowed briefly to the queen, something Martin remembered belatedly that he hadn’t done when he entered, and sat in the last two chairs.

“Politics,” Thomas spat, burying his head in his hands. “I haven’t been here two days yet, and Lord Grelend wants me to marry his daughter!”

“You think you’ve got it rough?” Luke snapped at the noble, holding up both his hands. The hands were red and wrinkled. “I’ve spent the entire day washing! Do you have any idea how it is cleaning day in and day out. I don’t think my hands will be the same again! I’ve the hands of an artist, not a worker!”

“Artist?” Abigail asked. “Since when is assassination an art?”

Luke snorted. “I don’t just kill people. I’m a very good poisoner as well. I could have this entire mansion come down with flu like symptoms. But if my hands look like this…” He held up his red hands. “How am I supposed to work my magic? My hands are more susceptible to the poisons. And a poisoner who is feeling the poison is likely to make a mistake.”

“Luke does take his art seriously,” Thomas yawned, slumping into his chair.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” the queen answered, now looking at Luke with apprehension. “But now let’s get to our meeting. What are the whispers going through the mansion among the nobles and servants?”

“There’s a lot whispers,” Thomas said. “The cook’s assistant is dallying with his daughter.”

“Many of the princes are playing with the new serving girls,” Luke added. “Martin’s roommate Var is actually playing the girls against each other.”

“The head healer is worried Lord Grelend will work himself to death.”

“Janice Sergeant is trying to play spy. She’s been searching all the young men’s things for clues about the prince.”

“The guards are complaining that they aren’t getting what should be theirs. They are currently holding grudges against our Listed men.”

“The Head Holster is blackmailing an inn keeper in the village.”

“The lord’s oldest son is busy composing love poems for our dear Sona.” The pretty researcher snorted at that.

“And, last of all,” Luke finished with a yawn. “There is a betting pool about who the prince could be. Everyone is pointing to someone different. Our Martin currently has ten gold crowns, fifty silver, and twenty-three bronze to his name. The highest, with fourteen gold crowns, thirty silver, and eleven bronze is Var Bontaren. The lowest is Jordan the farmer with two gold crowns, forty-five silver, and fifteen bronze.”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “Only ten gold crowns?” he asked, acting hurt. “I thought I could do better!”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” Sona said teasingly. “I’m sure it’ll make itself out in time.” Everyone chuckled at that.

“Anything else that you need to report?” the queen asked, still smiling. “And I don’t mean by way of affairs, jealousy, or blackmail.”

“Not really,” Luke sighed dramatically. “We’ve only been here two days.”

“Very well,” Abigail sighed. “Keep your ears open for anything.”

“Except the affairs, jealousy, and blackmail,” Thomas muttered to Luke. The two of them burst out laughing.

“You know what I mean,” Abigail said sternly. She then turned to Martin. “I believe that Sona was talking to you about someone before these two trouble makers came.”

"Ah, yes,” Martin scowled. “The annoying Var. What about him?”

Sona opened a file. “I suspect that he might be a Venter spy.”

Martin raised an eyebrow, ignoring the confused mutters his friends quietly exchanged. “What makes you say that?”

“He spent four years in Venter,” she told him. “The last year of that was when the war started. He was awfully vague about the time he had spent there and wanted me to change the topic as quickly as possible.”

“What was his excuse for being in Venter for that long?” Thomas asked.

“He was there to learn glassmithing,” Sons said bitterly, frowning. “But his internship was only supposed to last a year and then return. But he didn’t return until after the war started.”

“Until the prince was discovered,” the queen added darkly. “It wouldn’t surprise me if Terk had sent him to spy on this search.”

Martin frowned but said nothing. Although it made sense to the queen’s mind that Var had been sent to spy, he wasn’t convinced. The majority of spies were too good to let an obvious connection lead back to their employers.

“We’d like you to keep an eye on Var,” Abigail said to him. “Watch his movements, know who he keeps in contact with, and discover if he really is working for the other side.”

Martin nodded. “As you command.”

“And you two,” she said, directing her stern grey eyes at his two friends, “keep up your job.” She took a moment to gaze at all of them, as if she were trying to fix the scene to her memory. “I can’t stress enough what you are doing here; I know of your loyalty so I know there is no use to impress your importance, but I would like you to know how grateful I am for your dedication. It’ll be because of you that my son will finally come home.”

The spies glanced at each other, all of them a bit surprised to hear the tears in the queen’s voice. Martin felt his stomach drop when she mentioned that they would find her son. How am I supposed to tell her? Glancing at his two friends, their disapproving expressions were quickly covered. They may have agreed to keep his secret, but it was obvious that they did not approve of it. Martin almost sighed; life had gotten a lot more complicated when his glove was discovered.

“That’ll be all for tonight,” Abigail said, quick to pick up the unease she caused the spies. “Sona, we’ll discuss today’s interviews tomorrow.” The pretty researcher nodded. “Dismissed.”

The four spies stood and bowed to the queen and quietly left the room. Once they were in the hall, Thomas let out a low groan.

“I was rather hoping that she’d give me some advice about how to get away from Lord Grelend’s daughter.”

“What?” Sona asked, frowning at the duke. “Isn’t she nice?”

“Too nice,” Thomas grumbled. “Besides, I already have a…” He stopped in mid sentence, his face flushing. Martin coughed out a laugh, knowing exactly what his friend was going to say.

“You what?” Luke asked, confused. “You already have a girlfriend? Who?”

“I refuse to answer,” Thomas said, his face bright red. He turned on his heel and walked in the opposite direction, with Luke right behind him, bugging him.

“Thomas already has a girlfriend?” Sona asked, surprised. She turned to him. “Do you know who it is?”

Martin shrugged. “Kriste.”

Sona’s eyes went wide as she looked down the hall where Thomas and Luke had disappeared. “Kriste? Luke’s twin? When did this happen?”

“About a year ago,” Martin chuckled. “They didn’t want anyone fussing about it, so they simply didn’t tell anyone about their relationship. The only reason why I know is because I happened to come across them holding hands.” He smiled at the memory, still able to see the shock and embarrassment on their faces.

“Now that I think about it,” Sona muttered to herself, “Kriste has had a strange look in her eyes for the last year… “ Suddenly the researcher looked troubled. “Does she know that Thomas is a noble?”

Martin nodded. “He told her. He also told her that there was very little chance of him getting the title, so she’s going to be in a bit of a shock when she learns about it.”

“Poor couple,” Sona sighed. “How is their relationship going to work out now?”

Martin grimaced. That question was far too close to the one he kept asking himself whenever she was near.

“I’m sure they’ll figure something out,” he said, hoping his tone sounded hopeful. “But it’s late and I’d like to get to bed. Good night.” He turned to go when Sona grabbed his arm.

“Martin,” she said, blushing as he turned back to her. She hastily released him, seeming a bit at a loss of words. “There’s something else about Var I didn’t tell you about.” For some reason, Martin knew that wasn’t what she had intended to say, but he was distracted by her confession.

“What?”

“Luke wasn’t lying when he said that Sergeant has been searching the young men’s things. She brought me something this morning from Var’s things.” She said it all fairly fast, as if she didn’t want him dwelling on the fact that Sergeant had already been in his tent. Sona didn’t need to worry about his things being searched; the only thing he owned that could incriminate him was the glove, and that was currently under the queen’s possession. “It was a letter… written in code.”

“Written in code?” he asked, confused. “Why would he write in code?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “And I’m having trouble deciphering it.” That really got Martin’s attention. Sona was one of the best decoders he knew. “I have no idea who it is being sent to or why it’s been written. I’ve made a copy and had Sergeant return the letter so Var wouldn’t become suspicious. I wouldn’t have brought Var up at all to watch if it weren’t for that letter.”

It suddenly made sense why he had been asked to watch the proud glassmith. While he would have dismissed the easy connection between Var and Venter, he could not just as easily dismiss a coded letter.

“Let me know if you find something of his that could be used as a decoder,” she went on. “A book, newspaper, anything with symbols that could be used for a code.”

“I know the drill, Sona,” he assured her. “I’ll keep an eye out and tell you when I find something.” Sona let out a slow breath, as if she were relieved that he would do as she asked.

“Thank you.”

He smiled. “It’s no problem. I’d like to pin Var with something. He’s an annoying snot who needs humbled.”

Sona laughed. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.” Before he could reply, she stepped up to him and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He stared at her as she took a step back and turned bright red. “Good night!” she squealed and dashed off. Martin stared off after her, rooted to the spot. Absently, he reached up and covered his cheek where she kissed him, shocked. He didn’t know how long he stood there, his mind too numb to even care, but when he did turn to go back to his tent, he finally realized he was smiling.
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Sona’s getting bolder. Martin’s got to figure out what to do about her soon. Ah, my characters, you make life so interesting. Until next time, enjoy the journey!