"Who Will Break First?"

Welcome back. I’ve nothing to say in the intro, so let’s jump into the story, shall we?
***************
Sona didn’t know what possessed her to kiss him the night before. A peck on the cheek, really, nothing most girls would consider when interacting with men, but it was a first for her. And judging from the look on shock on his face, it was Martin’s first time as well. She smiled as she remembered his face; it wasn’t so much shock as it was amazed. Perhaps now he would catch all the hints she had been giving him.

But despite her impromptu kiss, she doubted the Alex would act anytime soon on her advances. It was in his records that he would be cautious when someone treated him with respect; a lifetime of being beaten down had made him weary of kindness. Sona knew it would be a while for Martin to accept that she actually wanted to be with him. He just needed time to get used to the idea, that was all.

That didn’t mean that she hadn’t caught him staring at her or even blushing at her advances. Sona chuckled to herself, imagining just how confused she made the poor spy. Not that she enjoyed confusing him, but that he did at least noticed her.

“You seem happy.”

Sona jumped, realizing that her feet had led her to her office. Queen Abigail was at her own office door, unlocking it. Sona blushed; embarrassed that she had been caught daydreaming.

“My mind is on something,” she said quickly, hoping the queen wouldn’t notice. However, Abigail must have realized who she had been thinking about and chuckled. Sona felt her blush deepen. Unlike Martin, the queen was quick to notice her attraction to the Alex and had offered tips on how to gain his attention. The peck on the cheek being one of the newest of the tips.

“Come in,” Abigail said, her chuckling still in her voice. “We need to talk about our interviews from yesterday.”

“Let me get my files,” Sona started to say when she remembered that she left those files in the queen’s office the night before. The researcher had to shake her head, trying to rid her thoughts of Martin. She shouldn’t be distracted when she was busy trying to find the prince.

“We should keep this short,” Abigail was saying as she joined the queen in her office. “My first interview is in a half hour.” Sona sat down in her usual chair, gathering up the files she had left the night before. “Anything you’d like to report?” the queen asked.

“Not much,” Sona sighed, pulling out three files. “I think we can safely assume that Sean, Robert, and Patrick aren’t your son. They were old enough to know if they felt a need to return to Aeterna and said that they felt no such urge.”

Abigail nodded, sighing. “Let’s not throw them out to the cold just yet. We have to remember that my son’s powers were blocked. It could have been a very subtle push leading him back. He may not have recognized it for what it was.”

Controlling her face to unconcerned, Sona replaced the files, inwardly feeling a bit jaded. She was conducting these interviews to find details of these men’s lives to find the prince. One of her best clues was the Connection the Santers had with the land. The prince would have been drawn to Aeterna and Sona believed that that connection would have dragged the prince back at any cost.

“I’m a bit surprised you mentioned the need to return,” Abigail suddenly noted, leaning back in her chair. “Did someone say that they felt such an urge?”

Sona bit her lower lip, the man she had just tired to push out of her mind coming to the front of her attention. “Martin didn’t deny that he wanted to come to Aeterna,” she whispered. “But he also pointed out that so did all the other urchins who wanted to leave the streets.”

Abigail started chuckling again, causing Sona to blush again. “Yes, I don’t doubt that our Alex wanted to leave that pit. Speaking of him, how is it going between you two?”

Sona wished at that moment that the queen hadn’t noticed her attraction, her face was flaming! But Abigail had given her some good advice; she should at least mention something. “I think he’s noticed me. I’ve just got to wait for him to get the courage to ask me out.”

“I don’t think it’ll be too much longer,” Abigail said, smiling. “Once he’s noticed, it’ll be hard for him to keep his mind off of you.”
*************
Martin noted that Var hadn’t shown up to the first class. After breakfast, the glassmith claimed stomach pains and left clutching his abdomen.

“He’s not sick,” Calvin muttered darkly after when they went to their class.

“Why do you say that?” Martin asked.

“Because I saw him before breakfast with a girl in his arms,” Calvin spat. “He always claims sick when he has his eye on a girl. No doubt that they’re in some secluded place fooling around.” Martin raised an eyebrow, not really surprised to hear of Var taking advantage of the serving girls. But it did surprise him to hear the bitterness in Calvin’s voice. According to merchant rumor, he was just as much a woman’s man as Var.

“Don’t pay attention to him,” Jordan laughed, slapping Martin on the back. The Alex stumbled as he tried to regain his footing after such a blow to his back. “Calvin isn’t having much luck in the romance department.”

Calvin scowled darkly. “Oh, sure, announce it to the entire camp.” He snorted. “It’s not my problem that I’m surrounded by uncultured girls. I don’t want anything to do with milkmaids!” Muttering to himself, he picked up the pace and away from them.

“He’s just jealous,” Jordan said, smiling. “But then again, when you’ve seen the most beautiful women of the world, I guess our Aeternan maids look pretty boring.”

Martin said nothing, though he disagreed. Sona was very pretty.

In the politics class, he had to repeat the same introduction. Thankfully the majority of the class had already heard it and there were very few mummers about his profession. Martin tried to pay attention as the noble, Lord Grelend’s oldest son Phillip, lectured on about various nobles. But he had learned it; a spy did not go abroad without knowing the basics of the nobles they might encounter. Leaning back in his chair, he pretended to take notes, but was rather doodling what his next carving project should be.

It wasn’t soon enough when Phillip finally called an end to class and time for the morning break. Martin started putting his supplies away when the noble approached him.

“Master Ghost,” Phillip said, clutching his hands together was if uncertain what to do with them, “a private word with you?”

Giving Jordan a similar confused look, Martin followed the noble to the front of the class where the students had already left. Phillip looked around nervously, making sure they were out of earshot.

“You know Sona Merette?” he immediately asked, wringing his hands together.

“Yes…” Martin said slowly, remembering Thomas’s report and how the young noble had been writing love poems for the researcher. He immediately dismissed the noble as Sona’s type. Tall, thin, and with his father’s square nose and dirty blonde hair, Martin just couldn’t imagine the researcher attracted to that.

“How well do you know her?” The young noble was really nervous now.

“I’m on speaking terms with her.” Though if the kiss on his cheek last night was any indication, she wanted to be on more than just speaking terms. Martin bit his tongue, forcing himself not to think too much on that.

Phillip’s eyes brightened with hope. “Then,” he whispered, pulling a sealed envelop from his vest pocket and handing it to him, “could you deliver this to her? Tell her…” Phillip turned red, a color that clashed with his wardrobe. “Tell her it’s from an admirer. No need to mention it’s from me, alright?”

Martin wanted to roll his eyes. The researcher already knew about the love poems. “If you wish,” he said, sliding the letter in with his books. Phillip looked grateful that he had agreed.

“Thank you,” he said, suddenly shaking his hand. “If you ever need a favor, just let me know.”

After assuring the young noble that he would, Martin finally left the class. Everyone else had already disappeared to enjoy their morning break outside the classrooms. Martin waited until he was a few halls down before he took the letter out. Flicking a knife out, he slide the blade under the wax seal without breaking it, opened the letter, and read it. It was, by far, the worst thing he had ever read. The more he read, the more appalled he was by what he assumed was the noble’s poem. By the time he finished the letter, he wondered if Phillip had gotten any education at all. It was horrid!

Shaking his head, he reassembled the letter, not even bothering to reseal the wax. He was going to be honest with Sona when he delivered it; she wouldn’t mind. Slipping it back into his things, Martin decided to visit his tent for a short nap. Still occupied with thoughts of the horrid poem, he barely noticed where he was going until he reached his tent. Opening the tent door, he stopped in his tracks.

Var stood over his bed, the pack and his things scattered across it. Var jumped, dropping the flute Sona had given him for his birthday.

“What are you doing?” Martin demanded to know, crossing to his bed and stuffing his things back into his pack.

Var’s expression flashed from guilt of getting caught to anger of being disturbed. “I could ask the same of you,” he said darkly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Martin snapped, pointing his flute at the glassmith. “I’m not the one searching through your things.”

“For a Ghost,” Var sneered, “you don’t own a lot, do you?”

“I’ve never needed much of anything else,” Martin growled. “What were you doing in my things?” He had known that Sergeant had been searching their things, and that hadn’t bothered him, but Var handling his belongings… There was something wrong with that!

“I could ask the same of you,” Var snapped back. “Someone’s searched my things.”

“And you suspected me?” Martin asked, pointing his flute to Calvin’s and Jordan’s beds, their trucks left untouched. “Or did I come in when you just started your search?”

Var flushed, his frame shaking from anger. “Now, listen here, you bug! I don’t trust you.”

Martin snorted. “Big surprise.”

“I don’t trust you,” Var repeated, speaking louder to keep him from interrupting again. “And I don’t like you. I think you’re keeping secrets. No man, and I mean no man, can honestly own as little as you. I just can’t figure out what secrets you’re keeping.”

Martin laughed in the man’s face. Var had no idea just how many secrets he kept. “I could say the same about you.”

“What are you talking about?” Var snapped, his face paling a bit.

“I know you’re keeping secrets,” Martin told him, glad he could finally lash out against the glassmith. “I know you’ve spent four years in Venter when you were only supposed to be there for one. I know that your things have been searched by Sergeant and that she found some interesting things among your possessions. I know that you know too much about noble life than any master glassmith should. And you are way too good a fencing for a commoner outside the army.” He paused, pleased by the shock of horror on Var’s face. “Yes, I know you’re keeping secrets. But I don’t care about those secrets. I just wonder why you are keeping secrets.”

Var scowled, his face turning red from anger. “Then let’s make a deal, shall we, Ghost? I have a secret and you have a secret. Who will break first?”

Martin smirked. “Just fair warning, it’s going to be you.”

Var’s face darkened. He stomped out of the tent, trying to hold his head high.
**************
I’d like to say at this point…

MUHAHAHAHAAA!!!! HA!

That conflict is setting up nicely. Now if the rest of my life would fall into place. Sigh. November is looking ominous, five presentations to give, still need to get a job, the weather is getting colder, the twin’s baby blessings, another trip to Trefoil, and NaNoWriMo is coming around the corner (Literally. It starts Tuesday). If I ever need evidence that I’m crazy, I just need to point to November.

I think that’s everything. Thanks for reading!

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!
**********
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.
***************
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!

Sona's Interview

I’m keeping my promise (late as it is) to post something. I’m sorry that it is extremely short. I was able to write only about three pages this week. Reason: Between last post and this one, I have been on the road for 30 hours. Nearly a full time job on the interstate. Five trips to Pocatello and back, two trips down to Trefoil Ranch and back (and those weekends were busy because I spent my time cooking), and driving around town to get to other places (like the bus stop and getting gas in my car). Add on top of that all the school work of mid terms, I’m glad I got three pages. So let’s begin the interview Sona has with Martin…

*************
Despite the two interviews for the day, Martin felt the day dragging. Perhaps it was because he was looking forward to the meeting that evening, or was it the dread of meeting with the Queen and Sona as they tried to discover clues he wasn’t willing to give? Whatever the case, the classes seemed to make the day seem longer than it should have.

He had purposefully scheduled his interview with Sona during Professor Collen’s class, grateful for the chance to get away. As he arrived to her office, the other man was already leaving.

“I still don’t understand,” he was saying as the pretty researcher stood in the doorway. “Why did you want to know if I felt the need to return to Aeterna?”

Martin froze. Why was she asking that question?

“The prince is connected to the land,” she explained. “He would have felt the need to come back, even if his powers were block.” The man scratched his head.

“Still seems strange to me.”

Sona shook her head. “Perhaps with more time you’ll learn.” She finally noticed him, her cheeks turning slightly pink. “Best go to class. I’ve still a lot of interviews to get through today.”

“Will we meet again?” the man asked hopefully.

“I know you’re married,” Sona pointed out, her tone colder than it should. “Bring her next time, won’t you?” The man sighed, but nodded. As he left, Martin finally approached.

“Married men now?” he asked, still a bit troubled by the conversation he had just overheard. “Maybe your family is right and you should have stayed home.”

Sona snorted. “Not likely. I know how to take care of myself.”

“True,” Martin agreed, smiling. “Like how you handled Var last night. I must thank you for that. It was nice to see him taken down.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” she said, smirking. “But now it’s your turn.”

Martin leapt back, holding his hands up. “I don’t think so! I’ve seen you use your knives. I’m not touching without permission!”

Sona laughed. “I meant the interview! Come in, we have a lot to talk about.”

Martin cringed when her back was to him. He didn’t like talking about his life at Loman. She knew that. But it was her job and she probably counted on him telling her out of duty. He wasn’t sure how much duty would make him tell.

It was no surprise to him to see his file already out and her thumbing through it as he closed the door. “Haven’t you memorized all our files yet?” he asked, taking a seat.

“No,” she said, setting the file down and sitting herself across the desk from him. “If I had, then I know I spend too much time in books and not enough with people.” She paused, looking at him in a particular way. Martin pretended to ignore it, though he felt his cheeks warming under her gaze.

“I suppose,” she said, “that you overheard the conversation just now.”

“Couldn’t be helped,” he said, sighing dramatically. “You were both talking in the hall.”

“Then I pose the same question to you,” she said, leaning forward so her folded arms rested on the desk. “Did you feel the need to return to Aeterna?”

Martin wanted to squirm under her searching gaze. He could remember clearly the pains of his life at Loman. The pain of hunger, beatings, freezing, burning up, fatigue, aches, bruises, betrayals; all memories he had tried to put behind him for the last nine years. But none of those pains could compare with that strange ache to go to Aeterna.

He had never mentioned the physical burn to go to Aeterna to anyone, not even Fred. It was only natural for an urchin to want to live off the streets; many dreamed of living in Aeterna where, as the tales told them, anyone with enough hard work could make something of themselves. But his ache had always seemed more intense than the others. There were days he could barely think straight, his thoughts clouded by the physical need to get to Aeterna. He hadn’t thought much on those feelings after he had finally reached the Aeternan shores because the moment he stepped on the dock at Evan’s Stand, the ache, the burning need, disappeared. The ache meant nothing much like the visions.

It was another clue everyone had missed.

“I can’t deny that I wanted to get to Aeterna,” he said slowly, trying to word it carefully so she wouldn’t know exactly how much he needed to return. “But so did every urchin who had heard of Aeterna.”

“From what I’ve read about Loman, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Sona remarked. Sighing, she leaned back in her chair, idly flipping through the papers in his file. “Yes, I have read accounts about urchins from Loman. It’s given me an idea of how harsh the homeless children’s lives are.” Martin said nothing, hoping she would leave the subject at that. Loman was a different life to him, one he refused to return to.

“Was it really that harsh?”

Her question was soft, almost as if she was terrified to ask him. He watched her carefully, noticing how she now squirmed under his gaze. She knew he didn’t like to talk about it, but there was something in the way she asked…She genuinely cares, he thought, a bit shocked. She wasn’t after troubled memories just to satisfy her curiosity after all. Despite himself, he found that he wanted to answer her.

“Probably,” he said, equally softly, finally lowering his eyes. He stared at his hands, clasping them together so his hands wouldn’t shake. “Perhaps it was worse. I don’t like talking about it.”

“I know,” Sona whispered. “I just…” She stopped and took a deep breath. “I just hope that someday, you’ll trust me enough to tell me.”

Martin refused to look up, uncertain what he would do if he did. In the nine years since coming to Aeterna, Sona had finally accomplished something that healers, seducers, orders, threats, and bribes could not do. He actually considered telling her.

No, he thought, shaking his head. Not now… I don’t know if I could be with her. I can’t burden her with…that. But telling himself that didn’t help his want to let her in.

“You don’t have to trust me now,” she said, her tone almost forced cheerfulness. “I didn’t expect to break your barriers in a single interview.”

She had no idea how close she came to breaking his barriers, something Martin needed to keep in mind. He didn’t know how many times she would come to those barriers without him letting them fall to her.

“You alright?” she asked when he didn’t respond. Her voice was full of the same concern she used to ask her last question.

Martin suddenly laughed. For some reason, her question struck him as funny.

“Not sure,” he answered truthfully, finally raising his head and looking her in the eye. She looked confused at him. “You’re bringing up terrible memories and… I don’t feel a horrible, twisting pit in my stomach. Not that I’m ready to talk yet, but it is a first.”

Sona smiled, an expression he was finding he liked more and more. “Then I have made progress.”
*********
Progress indeed. I had trouble with Martin in this section. He kept wanting to tell her everything and I had to tell him no. It’s not until much later in the plot that he reveals things… like in book three! Much, much, much too soon. Sigh. Sometimes, characters just don’t want to do as they’re told. Good night!

Interviews

It’s still Friday, and I’m still posting something (even if it is later that I usually do). Last time, Martin got to sit in on classes. Today… There are interviews.
**********
Var was quick to eat dinner. Although Sona had a few appointments after dinner before his, he wanted to get the chance to clean up before meeting with her. He grinned in anticipation as he combed his hair back and tied it up again in a tale. He had been expecting an old crone to be the researcher responsible for the list, but the truth was far more attractive. She was as beautiful as one of his own glass sculptures, with those green eyes, flowing brown hair, and all the right curves. Sona Merette was defiantly a work of art. And he loved art.

And her warning about not looking for a husband? She was obviously talking to the other men. Why else would she stare in his direction with a smirk on her lips?

Oh, yes, he thought, picking out his best attire and putting it on. She would be art in his hands by the end of the interview.

Sona’s office was in the mansion, near one of the gardens. He also knew that the queen’s office was in the same hall. This, he reasoned, was so that the two women could discuss the princes without having to travel far to find each other. Tugging down on his vest, he walked boldly up to the researcher’s office door and knocked.

“Come in,” said that heavenly voice. Throwing his shoulders back, Var opened the door and walked in. Sona sat behind a desk, absently writing something. She obviously hadn’t had time to do much of anything in her new office. Boxes were stacked neatly behind her and there was a pile of files already sitting on her desk. Other than that, the room was deprived of anything except the desk and a few chairs. She looked up as he closed the door.

“Var Bontaren,” she said, checking the schedule. “Take a seat.”

Var sat down, eyeing the young researcher. How did a lovely girl like that end up working on this project? If she had been any village girl, she would have been engaged or married by now. Pondering what her story was like, he watched as Sona quickly looked through the files on her desk before pulling one out.

“Let me see,” she muttered, flipping through the pages. “Your records say that you were found outside of Seals Port when you were five, wandering around. The Halbrights took you in. When you were twelve you were accepted as an apprentice for the local Glassmith.” He chuckled softly to himself. She paused then, looking up at his amused expression. “Something funny?”

“You seem to know a lot about me already,” he chuckled. “Seems hardly your trouble to ask us all to meet you when you already know so much about us.” It only strengthened his theory that she was actually searching for a husband, no matter what she said in front of the class.

Sona snorted. From another woman, the sound would be disgusting, but from a woman like her, it was beauty to his ears. “I am a researcher, Master Bontaren. I know how often records are incorrect. And no, I don’t know everything about everyone.” Her face scrunched, as if she remembered a particularly hard record she could not track. “There are some secrets that I have not been able to get my hands on.” Oh, yes, there was a story behind that.

“For instance,” she continued, reading the file again. “Your master sent you to Venter to learn from other glassmiths there when you were fourteen.” She leaned back in her chair, her gaze suddenly uncomfortable. “You returned just over a year ago. Four years of your life is not on record, Var.”

Var stiffened as she spoke. Her tone was almost accusing him. “I was busy learning,” he said, hoping the tone sounded innocent, but couldn’t keep annoyance out of his voice. “Surely that isn’t a crime.”

“No,” she agreed, still staring at him coolly. “But, in case you have failed to notice, we are at war with Venter. So much time spent behind enemy lines, don’t you think?”

Var felt himself getting nervous. The conversation was not going how he was expecting. “But I came back,” he pointed out. “And besides, I don’t know what my training in Venter would mean to you, since you’re trying to find the prince.”

Sona raised an eyebrow, surprised by his quick answer. “I suppose not,” she said slowly, jotting something down on his file. “Tell me, what do you remember before the Halbrights took you in?”

Var gladly launched into his story, anything to distract the pretty researcher from digging into his time in Venter. She listened politely, writing things down randomly as he talked. It was only when he started taking about when he was ten and was taking up a dare did he realize just how much he was talking.

“Listen to me,” he said, shaking his head and smiling. “I’m just prattling on about my life.”

“That’s alright,” Sona assured him. “That’s the point of this interview. You’ve given me some interesting things to consider.” She did not explain what he had said for her to consider. “But it is getting late. It’s been a rather long day and I’m ready to go to bed.”

“Of course,” Var said, smiling as charmingly as he could. They both stood and he opened the door for her, motioning her to go before him. She nodded her thanks, and as she walked past him, he reached out and rubbed her shoulder.

“You’re tight,” he noted, pleased to feel her soft shoulder. “Perhaps I could…”

WHAM!

Before he could register what had happened, he was pinned against the door, his hand hurting, and a knife tapping his nose.

“You forget yourself, Var,” Sona said as she let the tip of her knife rest on his nose, danger in her voice and in her flashing eyes. “I am not here to find a husband. Oh, I’ve read about your conquests with the girls. Let’s get something straight now, shall we? I am not interested in you. I never will. No amount of charming smiles or flourished bows will make me change my mind. And if you ever touch me again, you’ll find my aim with a knife to be…” She smiled wickedly. “Accurate. Understand?”

Var stared cross-eyed at the knife. It looked plenty sharp. Where did she get it? “I understand,” he said slowly, not daring to nod his head least the knife cut him.

“Good,” she said cheerfully, stepping back and replacing the knife inside her sleeve. Someone chuckled. Looking around, they saw Martin standing across the hall, his expression quite amused.

“Yes?” Sona asked. Was it Var’s imagination, or did her voice softened as she addressed the Ghost?

“What are you doing here?” Var demanded to know before the Ghost could answer the researcher’s question. “There are no more interviews for the day.”

“Oh,” Martin said, waving off Var’s heated tone. “I’m just renewing my faith in Aeternan women.” It wasn’t Var’s imagination when Sona looked pleased with the Ghost’s comment.

“You find dangerous women attractive, Martin?” Sona asked, her tone different from what she had just used. Her tone was more… teasing?

The Ghost bowed to her; it was one of the most mocking bows Var had ever seen. “I learn to greatly respect dangerous women, Lady Sona.” He straightened, smiling. “And I have a great deal of respect for you.”

Sona actually blushed. Blushed! This was the same girl who had threatened him with a knife just moment before. Var stared at them, sudden insight dawning on him. Sona wasn’t smiling at him when she announced that she wasn’t looking for a husband. She was smiling at the Ghost! Var glared at the man. Sona was the first girl who didn’t at least let him kiss her, and this Ghost, this common face and dull appearance, seems to have caught her attention. How?

“Your interview is tomorrow afternoon,” Sona said quickly, as if to cover her blush. “Don’t be late.” Smiling, she closed the door to her office, locked it, and left in the direction opposite of they had to go. She was humming.

“You know her?” Var asked, trying to understand what had just happened.

“We’ve worked together before,” Martin said distractedly, watching as the researcher disappeared from view. He returned his attention to him. Var flinched as those hazel eyes stared at him. “She’s something, isn’t she?” Smirking, Martin turned away and walked down to the tents. Var reluctantly followed but did not try to catch up with the Ghost, glancing back to the office door where he almost got knifed.

Something wasn’t adding up. Var couldn’t put his finger on it. I’m going to have to dig into this, he thought as he walked outside. He nearly shivered. He had promised himself no more digging, but the Ghost and researcher were too tempting to pass up.
***********
Martin was awake before his tent mates and headed for breakfast as they finally climbed out of bed. All three of them looked annoyed to realize that they were in the same tent as a morning person. Martin just gave them his most annoying smirk before heading out. Others might curse him for being a morning person, but Martin always thought it was rather fun. There were more hours to the day and everyone’s annoyed look always just made him happy.

He wasn’t the only one at the dinning tent. Several men and women already arrived, taking their seats and waiting for the day to begin. Martin reluctantly made his way to the bachelor table, briefly wishing he were married. Maybe then the girls wouldn’t be so quick to flirt with him.

Over the next hour, the tent slowly filled. Severing girls started moving around the tables, giving breakfast out for those who had already arrived. Martin watched, wondering why they had so many serving girls. Wouldn’t it have been easier, and cheaper, to let the men serve themselves? Before he could figure out why, the same serving girl who had served him at lunch yesterday came up and placed food in front of him.

“You look troubled,” she noted, sitting down next to him uninvited. “Anything I could do to help?”

“I’m just curious,” he said, glancing down at the plate full of eggs and sausages, “why there are so many servants running around.” No need to mention that the majority of the servants were women.

The girl smirked. “You’re wondering why there are so many women?” When he didn’t answer, she leaned forward on the table, resting her head on her hands. “It’s politics. A lot of nobles know that the prince is somewhere in this group. While most of these men are married, there are a few exceptions. The nobles threw a fit that if the queen insists on teaching these men to become princes, that there should be servants to attend their needs. You know, get them used to servants. And to keep it fair, every estate could send so many servants.”

“And they sent women,” he sighed, finally figuring it out. “Hoping a girl from their lands will land the prince.”

“Exactly!” she cheered, smiling. “It’s a great opportunity, don’t you think?” She eyed him; Martin felt like a piece of meat she was considering purchasing from the way she stared. “Tell me… has anyone caught your eye yet?”

Martin faced the girl, copying her position. “As a matter of fact,” he said, keeping his tone equally cheerful. “I have. I’ve yet to gather the courage to ask her out, but the time is coming. So, if you wouldn’t mind, stop flirting with me.”

The girl’s face fell. “Fine,” she said coldly. “You’re not much to look at anyway.” Standing up and tossing her head, she left him alone to his breakfast.

“Good riddance,” he muttered, glancing at his breakfast again. As he started eating, someone else joined him.

“You know,” Thomas said, placing his plate down, “it’s not a good thing to upset the servants. How are you supposed to spy on them?”

“That’s Luke’s job,” Martin pointed out. “Besides, he’s better at dealing with flirtatious women.” He paused. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Eating.”

Martin rolled his eyes. “I mean eating down here and not at the high table.”

Thomas sighed, moving the food around his plate with a fork. “Her Majesty thought it might be better for me. Meet new people, she said. Make contacts, she said. Find out who is my son, she said.”

“I doubt that last bit.”

“It was implied,” Thomas waved off.

“Your Grace!”

Thomas groaned, bowing his head into his hands. Martin turned around to see Jordan and Calvin joining them. The moment they sat, two girls came with their breakfast. Jordan grinned at Thomas.

“What brings you to our table, your Grace?”

“Oh,” Martin answered for Thomas, smirking. “Meeting new people, making contacts…”

“Thanks, Martin,” Thomas said dryly.

“I’m just returning a favor,” he said cheerfully, remembering the day before when the noble kept interrupting his story.

“Don’t tell me,” sneered a voice from behind. “You’ve worked with the duke as well?”

Thomas and Martin glanced back to where Var was standing. Var didn’t look as impressive as he did the night before when Sona had threatened him.

“Actually, he’s my friend,” Thomas said coolly. “Who are you?”

Introductions were then made, Var managed to keep the superiority out of his voice, Calvin tried to seem impressive, and Jordan was simply… Jordan.

“I’m supposed to be joining you in your classes,” Thomas told them when it was asked again why he was sitting with them. “Her Majesty thought it would be good for me.” He paused. “What’s your first class anyway?”

“Politics,” Var grumbled. “I don’t think anyone likes that class.”

“All we’ve done so far is memorize nobles and government officials,” Calvin agreed, looking bored. “As if we didn’t already know the difference between dukes and counts.”

“Some of us are still having problems with it,” Jordan said, sounding hurt that he was the only one who seemed to be ignorant of noble life. “They’re just trying to prepare us for life as a prince.”

“But only one of us is the prince,” Var pointed out, his tone heated. “They’re wasting time and resources on us. There has to be an easier way of finding out who the prince really is.”

“There are the interviews…” Jordan quietly pointed out.

“Speaking of interviews,” Martin cut in, noticing the queen walking in. Others noticed and stood, but most everyone else did not. “I have my interview after breakfast.” By that time, everyone in the tent had noticed the queen was present and the buzz of chatter died down. Abigail merely waved at them to continue and the noise rose back up. Martin wondered why the queen wanted these interviews. Would she spot something that Sona would not? He suppressed a shiver, not looking forward to his time.
**********
Abigail had greatly enjoyed breakfast, though the report Professor Collen had handed her put a sour end to the meal. He had listed a number of trouble makers in his class, hoping to get permission from her to set these students in a different class. As she read the note, it said that these trouble makers already knew the material he was trying to teach and needed something more to engage their minds. She didn’t really want to have a separate class for these men. The point of the classes was to get all these men to the same level until they found her son, not to segregate them.

But she had to put the matter aside for the time being. She had reached her office and the first interviewee was there for his appointed time.

“Are you always early, Martin?” she asked as she approached. The Alex bowed briefly as she unlocked the door.

“I try to be,” he said, following her into the office. Like Sona’s office, the queen had very little time to unpack. But unlike the researcher, she had brought very little in the way of paperwork. Her attendants kept most of it and only brought papers when it needed to be brought to her attention. Remembering important papers, she took the letter she received at breakfast and set it in a drawer. It could be dealt with later.

“Please sit,” she said, sitting down herself. The young spy sat, turning his chair a bit so he could occasionally glance at the door without having to turn his head too much. Abigail shook her head but said nothing. Martin had been trained to be careful and she wasn’t going to try reversing that training if it could save his life.

“How are you doing?” she asked, the same question she asked all of the men who came into her office. “Enjoying your time here?”

Martin shrugged. “I’ve annoying roommates, lessons that I’ve already learned, and Master Fall wants to give me private fencing lessons. I haven’t gotten a chance to poke around…”

“Martin” she said firmly, cutting the spy off. He stopped and frowned. “I don’t want a report on your finds. That’ll be later tonight. Sona and I need a private meeting with you about some people we’d like you to keep an eye on. But that business is for tonight.” He looked confused. She tried to give him an encouraging smile. “The point of my interviews is to get to know the listed men. Yes, you are currently you are under my orders, but you’re also on the list. I just want to talk to you, get to know you.”

Martin leaned back in his chair, his expression uncertain. “You should already know me,” he said slowly. “It’s in record…”

Abigail laughed. “Records tell me what you’ve done, not who you are. Yesterday, I learned that one man likes to fish, another secretly writes poetry, and yet another dreams of owning his own horse farm. None of those things are on record.”

For some reason, Martin looked even more troubled. “I don’t talk much about myself.”

That was an understatement. The spy was duty bound and kept everything else quiet. Abigail knew this was going to be a hard interview when she came across his name on the schedule. “Then I’m just going to have to spark the conversation. You’ve traveled all over Aeterna. What’s your favorite place to visit?”

Martin blinked, surprised by how quick she was with a question. She had decided it was the best question to ask him. According to Sona, the spy had a tendency to steer the conversation away from him whenever possible. To ask his opinion might be the trick to open him up to other things. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he considered her question.

“I’d have to say,” he said slowly, “that I really like the Morvan Woods.”

Abigail raised her eyebrows, surprised by his answer. She would have thought he liked Evan’s Stand or some other city. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Well… It was the first forest I’ve ever seen. Loman doesn’t have many trees, except in rich people’s gardens. Then I came to the Stand, then Nacre, but then… I saw the Morvan Woods. It amazed me to see so many trees that weren’t placed there by human hands. It was… beautiful.”

Abigail then understood. A child who had seen nothing but streets and buildings would find nature to be different. She smiled at him. “It is beautiful. Have you done much there?”

Much to her pleasant surprise, Martin had done much. He reluctantly talked of his time spent there shortly after he had arrived to Aeterna, and Abigail didn’t press to ask why he had. There was a well known retreat in the Morvan for the healing of the sick. If the scars on his back were any indication, he must have at least spent a season there recovering. But as the conversation drifted away from his first time in the forest, he talked of the many training sessions he had there, seemingly happy to talk about it.

She listened with enjoyment. This was why she insisted on these interviews. These men, even the great Alex, had lives. They had their passions and dreams. She wanted to know those passions and dreams of her son before she took him to Nacre. She wasn’t about to deny him the pleasures he had enjoyed as a civilian.

There was a polite knock on her door. Martin glanced at the door, stopping in mid sentence about the time he had been learning about wilderness survival.

“I guess my interview is over,” he said, a bit surprised. “I can’t believe I talked so much.”

Abigail laughed. He wasn’t the first man to say that to her after an interview. “It’s alright,” she assured him. “I’m glad we could talk. Remember though, I do want a private meeting with you tonight about your orders here. Make sure no one sees you.”

Martin stood up and bowed to her. “Of course, Your Majesty. Shall I let the other man and his wife in?”

“Yes. Thank you for coming.” Martin bowed again and let the young couple in. Abigail briefly wondered how the Alex knew it was a couple outside her door, but as the couple sat, the question left her mind and did not return.
*************
Oh, Abigail, if only you paid more attention to the fact that he had known there was a couple outside your door. But my plot hasn’t yet gotten to that point. I’ve still got a long ways to go before Martin gets revealed.

And for the record, I really enjoyed writing the scene between Var and Sona. I’m debating wither I should let her carry out her threat or have Var loose his courage….

Did anyone realize that NaNoWriMo is less than a month away now? What is it about NaNo that gets me writing? Is it the ridiculous short deadline? The ridiculous number of words that need to be produced? Or a combination of both? Whatever it is, I’m sure to be writing up a storm when it comes.

But that’s still a few weeks away. Next week’s post is going to be the private meeting where Martin gets to begin his spying work. Until then, enjoy the journey!

Classes

What a fun time I’ve had in Yellowstone! Ah, it always refreshes me to visit our first national park and get away from classes. But you don’t want to hear about bison, bears, and geysers. So then! On to the story!
************
Martin recognized the professor of the class he and his tent mates were assigned to learn from. Charles Collen usually taught at one of Nacre’s academies as a teacher of protocol. He was a timid little man with a head of white hair. His large eyeglasses enlarged his eyes so he always looked wide-eyed. He wore a dull dark robe that reminded everyone of his scholarly background.

“A new student?” he asked as Martin walked in. “How nice. Once class has started, I would like you to introduce yourself to the class and a bit about yourself.”

Great. Another chance for people to gawk at him.

Thanks to Var, they were about a half hour early. Slowly the other students arrived. Martin was surprised at first when the first married man and his wife entered, but then he rationed that it was only wise to also instruct the wives. Their husbands might be a prince, which would make them princesses. Martin wondered how many wives were excited about the prospect and how many were terrified. By the time class started, there were only about thirty students present.

“Good afternoon,” Collen said in a monotone voice. “Before we start the lesson, we have the last listed man.” Taking the cue Martin stood and did as asked. Giving his name and fake profession, which everyone started buzzing afterwards, he ended his introduction to them by mentioning that he played the flute. There were several chuckles from the class.

“Now, now,” Collen said, getting the attention back to him. “There is nothing wrong with playing the flute. It’s nice to have a musical talent.”

“But a flute?” one man laughed. “Doesn’t sound very princely to me.”

Martin sat down, groaning softly to himself. Was this how people would treat him after revealing himself?

“Neither does your manure mucking job,” Collen pointed out, earning a laugh from the class. “Our prince could be any of you, so don’t dismiss someone merely because they don’t have ‘princely’ attributes. Now, today we’ll discuss the proper forms of address for…” He stopped mid-sentence, squinting his eyes as he looked at the back of the tent.

“Yes?” he asked. Martin turned around, a bit surprised to see Sona had entered the tent.

“Excuse me, Professor,” she said, smiling. “But I’m here to introduce myself to your class.”

Collen frowned and gestured her to the front of the class. Sona saw him watching and gave him a quick smile before joining the professor at the front.

“No doubt most of you saw me arrive this morning,” she started, “but I did not introduce myself at the time. My name is Sona Merette. I’m the researcher responsible for the list all of you are on.”

The tent buzzed with excitement. Martin wasn’t happy to see Var stare hungrily at the pretty spy. He suddenly wanted to be present when Var tried to flirt with her, imagining how she would quickly stomp on his advances. At least, Martin hoped that was how it would go.

“I will be questioning you about your pasts,” Sona went on to say. “There is a schedule set up for which you will sign for which time you would meet with me. Wives,” she added, nodding to the women in the class, “you are invited to attend with your husbands.” Suddenly she smiled, her eyes twinkling. “And for you single men. I have no interest about how brave, well-versed, hard working, rich, poor, heroic, handsome, or clever you may seem to think you are. I am not here to court you. I am here to delve into your pasts and find out who among you is the real prince. I am not looking for a husband.” She caught Martin’s eye and smirked. “Besides, I prefer men of my own… profession.”

Martin resisted the urge to cough out his embarrassment. This was the first of her serious hints to him. And in front of everyone! It was only thanks to his training that kept him from blushing. Too much.

“Also,” she went on, the smirk still lingering on her lips, “the queen has set up a schedule to have a meeting with each one of you. She wishes to get to know all of you individually.” She held up two papers. “These are the times to meet with her Majesty and myself. Please sign up on a time slot.” She handed the papers to the closest man. “I will wait for everyone to sign before leaving for the next class. Thank you.”

Smiling again, she nodded her thanks to the professor and went to the back of the tent to wait for the lists to arrive back at her. Martin refused to watch her, but instead kept his eyes on his fellow classmates, noting which ones did watch the researcher. He shook his head when he realized what he was doing. He didn’t know if he would be allowed to court her. Why should he be concerned if other men found her attractive? Even as he thought it, he caught Var steal a glance to the back, a smile tugging at his mouth. Oh, yes, Martin couldn’t wait for Sona to take him down a notch.

The lists quickly reached them. Martin was a bit surprised to see more names than those in the class on it already. Sona must have already visited another class. Var passed the list to him after carefully picking his own slot. Martin was quick to see the glassmith’s name on the last slot for the day to visit Sona. He made note of it to be around when the appointment came. Finding a time for the next day on both lists, he signed his name and passed the list over to Jordan.

“As I was saying,” Collen said at the front, as Sona gathered her lists and left quietly. “Today we’re going to learn the different forms of address for various nobles.”

Launching into the lecture, his monotone voice soon drifted over the heads of bored men and women. Martin leaned back in his chair as the professor drawled on, having learned this long before. He glanced around the tent again, noticing others like him, such as Calvin, who had very little interest in the lecture. There were a few, like Jordan, who sat at attention, jotting down as much as they could. But most of the class watched the professor, jotting down some things.

This is going to be a trial, Martin thought with a sigh. Maybe he wasn’t going to learn anything. He had already learned this through his training.

By mid afternoon, he was proven wrong. Apparently Collen only had them for a couple hours each day. Once the professor dismissed the class, he was surprised to see the mixed looks of excitement and dread among his classmates.

“What’s our next class?” he asked Jordan as they moved with the class to the mansion.

“Fencing,” Jordan sighed, looking glum. “Apparently the queen thought it would be wise if we know how.”

“It makes sense,” Calvin muttered, joining them. “It’s a nobleman’s sport.” He made a face. “Many of us are fairly bruised after the class. I’m not meant for sword work. I’m a merchant; haggling is more of my style.”

Var, who was walking in front of them, turned around and smirked at them. “Of course, Master Merchant. You’d rather cheat people than draw blood.” Calvin paled and said nothing. Martin glanced briefly at the merchant, surprised he hadn’t said anything back. Calvin was known among the merchant world to have a harsh tongue. Still smirking, the Glassmith turned around and kept walking forward, whistling.

“Pay no attention to Var,” Jordan said as an aside to Martin. “He’s just gloating. He’s one of the best fencers in our class.”

“One of?” Calvin snorted. “He is the best.” Suddenly the merchant grinned wickedly. “Perhaps our Ghost can top him. From what I hear, you Ghosts are really good at nearly every weapon.”

Martin burst out laughing. “No, those rumors are wrong,” he said, as he regained his composure. He had listened to enough of Fred’s rants about his Ghosts to know that the elite fighters did not all know how to use every weapon. “Besides, you are right. Fencing is a nobleman’s sport. And I’d rather have my enemy as far from me as possible. Give me a good bow and arrow and I’ll hit nearly any target you point out.”

Jordan and Calvin both sighed. “Well,” the merchant grumbled, “maybe our teacher will have something for Var to do to keep him from beating us up.”

Martin frowned. Was Var really that good? Why would a Glassmith need to know fencing? Come to think of it, Var was also very bored during the class, as if he had already known what was being taught. It didn’t add up. How would a village Glassmith know about noble life? He made note to himself to ask Sona next time he saw her to give him some back ground information about the man.

They didn’t enter the mansion, but rather headed for the parade ground. The class before them moved gingerly away from the grounds, rubbing arms, legs, and back. Martin watched them, getting a bit nervous. Suit had taught him some basic fencing, just in case he ever needed to impersonate a nobleman, but knowing the queen as he did, he didn’t think she would accept his sub average skills.

A tall man was standing in the center of a ring, waiting for them to arrive. The men gathered around the ring, but did not enter, as their wives took their places around the outside of the yard. Martin’s attention was on the tall man, trying to remember where he had seen him before. He knew they had met somewhere, but he couldn’t figure out where or when.

“Well,” the man said, noticing him among the students. “Another one. Don’t tell me. You’re Ghost Eight-One, right?” There was a slight narrowing of his eyes as the man took a good look at him. “Tell me, Ghost, which unit are you from?”

Martin paused, suddenly recognizing the man. He was Eric Fall, one of the weapons masters who taught the Ghosts. He had spent half a summer with Fred at one of the training sessions for Ghosts. Fall had been there and hadn’t paid much attention to the fourteen year old that Chief had brought with him.

“There are no units,” Martin replied, again thankful for his friendship with Fred. “They’re called teams. Once my name was on the list, Fred pulled me out of Coronal Hillard’s team.” Martin hoped that the man hadn’t taught anyone on Hillard’s team.

Fall folded his arms. “I didn’t teach Hillard’s team. Well, we’ll see how well Master Walters taught you fencing.” He turned around to pick up the sword he had outside the ring when he noticed someone coming down from the mansion.

“Lord Gerlend,” Fall said, bowing as the feather dressed lord approached. “What brings you down to the lists?”

Gerlend gave his wide smile. “I have another student for you. Her Majesty thought it might be wise to train him as well.” Stepping to the side, he revealed Thomas. Martin chuckled softly to himself. His messy friend did not look thrilled.

“Lord Thomas,” Fall said in surprise, bowing lower. “I had heard that you arrived this morning.” Martin was surprised that Fall recognized his friend.

“It’s Duke Dawson now,” Gerlend corrected, grinning. “Recently returned from his schooling at Suit’s Academy for Gifted Nobles.” Fall raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing. Martin was familiar with the school the feathered lord mentioned. Thomas was told to use the name in case someone recognized him as the youngest Dawson and asked where he had been. Anyone who actually knew Suit would immediately know that Thomas had in reality been working as a spy.

“However,” Gerlend went on, oblivious to the lie he had just told, “the academy did not teach him fencing. Queen Abigail thought it might be wise for him to learn.”

“Why not?” Fall sighed, motioning for the duke to join them. “The more the merrier.” Thomas sighed and walked around the ring to join the rest of them. Gerlend, pleased with himself, went back to the mansion. Seemingly by chance, Thomas managed to position himself next to Martin.

“So,” Martin said, only half listening as Fall started his class. “Where’s your servant?”

“Luke is busy with other servants,” Thomas sighed. “He’s probably enjoying himself, though.” The messy duke looked around, noticing the stares at him. “I hate this.”

“Don’t worry yourself,” Martin assured him. “You’ll have a prince to outshine you.”

Thomas gave him a flat stare. “When?”

Martin had no answer.
*************
As usual, Var proved to be the best fencer in the class. Even the Ghost was a disappointment. But then again, Fall had his doubts that the young man was a Ghost. He had trained nearly every Ghost on active duty, even Coronal Hillard’s team. And he knew Ghost Eighty-One personally. The young man was a fake. But it made Fall wonder just who he was to think he could pull off being a Ghost.

The class went as he expected. Most of the men had no experience with any weapon; Calvin the merchant held his saber like it was a snake ready to bite him. He used to have high hopes for Jordan, but the farmer’s strength was just that. Strength and no agility. Then there were… them.

Only three men in the class he would consider good fencers. Thomas was one. He was a bit surprise to hear that the runway noble had been under Suit’s command, but reasoned there must have been a good reason for it. The pretend Ghost, though not even the best he had ever seen, did have some training. And then there was Var.

The Glassmith was a surprise when he first taught this class a week before. The way he moved, how he handled the saber, the precision of his actions. This man obviously trained under someone for a long time and had achieved near mastery of the art. Not for the first time, Fall wondered where Var had learned such advanced swordplay.

Before the dinner bell rang, the entire class was sore and sour. He grinned wickedly as he anticipated that many of these men would be moving slowly the next morning. Out of the corner of his eye, however, he caught the duke and fake Ghost step aside and started talking. Fall frowned. So the imposter was friends with a duke?

I have to get to the bottom of this, he thought, purposefully walking over to the two young men. They stopped their conversation as he approached.

“You’re not a Ghost,” Fall stated. The best way to deal with an imposter, in his opinion, was to get the truth out in the open. “I’ve trained Ghosts for years and I’ve never seen a Ghost who did as bad as you did today. And I know Ghost Eighty-One. So unless you’ve found a way to reverse age and changed your appearance, you’re not him.” The two men exchanged glances, neither one too surprised by his declaration. Apparently the duke was aware of the imposter. “Who are you really?”

“I didn’t expect that you recognized me,” the imposter said, not at all shocked that his cover had been blown. “It was about five years ago when Fred introduced us.”

Fall raised an eyebrow. “You know Fred then? Describe him.”

The imposter shrugged. “He’s a taller man with a strong build. Blondish hair, blue eyes, and he’s currently walking with a limp. A souvenir from the battle at Fort Bree when Terk invaded Aeterna.”

So the imposter did know Fred, or at least what he looked like. “You said we met five years ago.”

“Yes,” the man answered. “You were training Ghosts up near Seals Port.” He lifted a corner of his mouth in a smile. “As I said, I really didn’t expect you to remember me. I’m the little spy-in-training that was following Fred around for half that summer.”

Fall frowned, trying to remember that summer. Nothing exciting happened that summer, the training had gone on as usual. Then Fred showed up, a teenager always in his shadow… Fall examined the imposter again, remembering the common face and dark hair.

“I think I remember now,” he said slowly. “Fred said something about Suit wanting to name you his apprentice…”

The man grinned. “I was his apprentice.”

“It’s true,” Duke Thomas cut in, clearly amused by the conversation. “Martin was his apprentice until, what? Half a year ago?”

Martin nodded. “Then he named me the Alex.”

Fall froze. “The Alex?” he asked, not sure if he heard right. He took another long look at the spy. He picked out little details he had missed. The aura of awareness, the way he would move with purpose, his plain appearance. No doubt he also carried move knives than he had limbs.

“How did you end up as a Ghost?” he asked, still a bit stunned that the spying legend was standing next to him.

The Alex rolled his eyes. “As much as I’d like to deny it, I really am on the list of princes. Of course, once I was on that list, Suit couldn’t send me out on dangerous missions, so he sent me to Evan’s Stand.”

“Where he had the unpleasant experience of getting blockaded in,” Thomas added cheerfully, much to the annoyance of the Alex, judging from the glare he shot at the noble.

“Yes,” he said, taking the story back. “I couldn’t reveal to them that I was the Alex when I started helping them in their defenses, so I told them I was Ghost Eighty-One. Fred didn’t mind.”

“And now he’s here among the possible princes,” Thomas interrupted again, his grin widening. “But the queen rather not let these others know that they’re up against the Alex, so she let Martin keep going with the story of his Ghostly past.”

“Thanks, Thomas,” Martin said dryly. “I appreciate your comments.”

The duke laughed. “Anytime, my friend.”

“Wait a minute,” Fall said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let me get this straight. You’re actually the Alex, but in course of your work, you told people you were Ghost Eighty-One, and the name’s stuck ever since?”

“He’s good at summoning things up, isn’t he?” Thomas asked.

Martin rolled his eyes. “Yes, that summons it up. If you want, the queen could tell you if we’re lying or not.”

Fell held his hands up, submitting to the truth. “No need. The tale is too strange to be a lie. Not to mention, you’re friends with Thomas, who’s been working with Suit.” He held up a hand when the duke opened his mouth. “Don’t tell me why you were there.” He knew what Suit’s academy meant. “I don’t want to know.”

“He’s taking this all rather well,” Thomas noted. “Most people don’t like to learn they’ve been dealing with spies.”

Martin shrugged. “It’s a part of our profession.”

“About that,” Fall said, suddenly realizing something. “Several of your classmates were surprised to see how bad you are at fencing. I told them that not all Ghosts are good at every weapon. That seem to mollify them for now, but I think you should take more effort in your fencing.”

The Alex rolled his eyes. “I’m better with short blades.”

“I have no doubt about that,” Fall quickly assured him. “But to be on the safe side, I’d like to give you some private lessons to get your skill up to an un-embarrassing level.” He bowed briefly to the duke. “I’d also like to teach you. Although you are better than your friend, you could still to with a bit more practice.”

The two young men looked at each other, their expressions one of not great excitement.

“Alright,” Martin sighed. “We’ll have private lessons.”
**********
I wrote about half of this while on vacation this week. Once it gets dark in Yellowstone, there’s not much less to do other than read books, study, or write. Until next week! Enjoy the journey!