The King's Man Read online

  “Which would mean giving up my independence,” I pointed out. “Whoever sponsored me would certainly want something in return.”

  “Quite.” Sir Gareth nodded, curtly. “And where do you see yourself in five years?”

  I frowned. The sudden shift in subject seemed designed to confuse me. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “It isn’t as if I have many prospects.”

  “Really?” Sir Gareth lifted his eyebrows. “Is that true?”

  “Yes,” I said. “The only real prospect is going to work for my dad.”

  I stared at my hands, unwilling to admit how little I wanted that. Father wasn’t a bad person - perish the thought - but I wanted to be more than just a merchant tradesman and shopkeeper in Water Shallot. And yet, where could I go? What sort of job could I do without surrendering to the aristos and becoming just another client? I couldn’t imagine anything, save perhaps signing on to a clipper ship and sailing to distant Hangchow. But even the clipper ships belonged to the Great Houses. I wouldn’t have a hope of commanding my own ship, unless I sold myself to the aristos.

  Sir Gareth leaned forward. I had the sense the real discussion was about to begin. “Every year, my office looks for students such as yourself. Skilled magicians, with brains and power ... and independence. People who know Shallot, or the other cities, without being part of the local power structure. I dare say that’s true of you?”

  “I dare say,” I echoed. “Father has a tiny power base, too small to matter.”

  “Quite,” Sir Gareth said. “I have a job offer for you. The training is hard; some would say brutal. You might wash out within the first few weeks or die, if things go wrong. The pay is good, but don’t count on having much time to spend it. You’ll have respect, and support, as long as you uphold the law. And you’ll be challenged every day until you retire.”

  I cocked my head. “What sort of job is it?”

  “A King’s Man,” Sir Gareth said. “We’re always looking for new recruits. And we think you have the right stuff.”

  I forced myself to say nothing. My thoughts were a churning mess. I’d heard all sorts of stories about the King’s Men, from damsels in distress being rescued to angry dragons being slain before they could lay waste to entire towns and cities. The King’s Men had done everything, if the stories were to be believed. They’d stopped invasions, put down rebellions, protected commoners, defeated crime lords and aristocrats and generally upheld the law. The stories made them sound like supermen. And they wanted me? I was tempted. By the Ancients, I was tempted.

  And yet, the king was just another aristocrat. Wasn’t he? I didn’t want to pledge myself to any aristocrat. But ... I stared down at my hands, unsure of myself. I wanted the chance to take on a newer and better challenge, whatever the price. What choice did I have? I really didn’t want to spend the rest of my life as a glorified shopboy. Father might not even leave the shop to me. My older sister was first in line and she was determined to turn our small business into a massive enterprise. I had the feeling I’d be spending the rest of my life serving her, when Father finally joined his ancestors.

  I swallowed, hard. “What ... what’s it like?”

  Sir Gareth smiled. “Like I said, the training is hard. And it never stops, even when you graduate. You’ll spend the rest of your life on the cutting edge of magical and military research, learning spells and techniques you will hopefully never have to use. Your word will be enough to save or damn the accused, to settle disputes and comfort the afflicted. One day, you may find yourself brokering a truce and ending a House War; another, you may find yourself tracking down a murderer or chasing a fugitive across the border. Or you might lead troops into battle, holding the line for reinforcements to arrive. Or ... you might be on the far side of the border, doing whatever you can to slow an enemy army. The only thing you can be sure of, young man, is that each month will be different.”

  “And you want me to pledge myself to the king,” I said. It was hard to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “I don’t want to surrender everything ...”

  “You don’t have to,” Sir Gareth said. “The king understands the importance of listening to his advisors. And his loyal servants.”

  I frowned. “I don’t know,” I said. It was almost - if not quite - a lie. “What ... I ... someone came to you, didn’t they, and made the same offer. What do you wish you’d known before you started?”

  Sir Gareth nodded. I had the feeling he was pleased. “It can be a lonely life,” he admitted, slowly. “You’re obliged to cut all formal ties of obligation. You can stay in touch with your family - many of us do - but you can’t use your position to help them. Should you get married, your wife will have the same issue. She will not be allowed to manipulate you or your position for any reason whatsoever. And ... you may find yourself spending months, if not years, away from her.

  “And you’ll make enemies. There are hundreds of lords and ladies, with power both magical and mundane, who hate us. A couple of us have met with suspicious accidents during the course of an investigation. We never managed to prove who killed them, or even if their deaths weren’t accidents, but ... we know. You might wind up dead, your ashes scattered in a graveyard no one outside the order knows exists.

  “And ... there will be times when there will be no satisfactory end to an investigation. You’ll find the suspect has enough power and influence to escape judgement. Or that the entire issue is hushed up, with agreements made for compensation behind the scenes. Or ... that you’ll be ordered to do something off the record, to ensure there is punishment even if it is never formally acknowledged. If you’re wedded to a happy ending, all the time, you may find this job a little frustrating.”

  I let out a breath. “And warlocks?”

  “Yes.” Sir Gareth nodded, curtly. “You’ll certainly encounter warlocks.”

  He smiled, thinly. “I understand you don’t like the aristocracy, young man. I don’t blame you. Consider this your chance to keep an eye on it. Who knows? Maybe you’ll find a way to teach them a lesson.”

  I frowned. “How many people did you talk to before you spoke to me?”

  “Enough.” Sir Gareth shrugged. “We do a background check before revealing our hand. It saves time. If a candidate is deemed unsuitable ... well, they never know they had our attention in the first place.”

  “I see,” I said. “What did they say about me?”

  “I can’t answer that question,” Sir Gareth said. “Suffice it to say they said nothing to make us rethink our interest.”

  He smiled, rather humourlessly. “Are you interested? Or should I give up?”

  “I’m interested,” I said. Father might not be pleased ... I told myself I’d have to discuss it with him. Technically, I was old enough to make such decisions for myself, but I didn’t want to blindside the old man. I certainly didn’t want to be disowned. “When do I need to give you a definite answer?”

  Sir Gareth smiled. “Intake Day is one week from today,” he said, as he dug into his briefcase and removed a large envelope. The runes sketched on the parchment promised an unpleasant surprise for anyone who tried to open the missive without permission. “You’ll find all the details here. If you’re interested, after you read the papers and consult with your family and friends, just turn up for training as ordered. If you change your mind ... don’t bother. We’ll log you as another reject and proceed to the next set of candidates.”

  “I understand,” I said.

  “Tell the school you’re moving out early,” Sir Gareth added. “Don’t count on coming back within the next couple of months, unless you wash out. If that happens”- he shrugged - “you might as well try to apply yourself elsewhere.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, reluctantly. “I’ll be there.”

  “Consult with your family first,” Sir Gareth urged. “You’re doing far more than just getting a job. It’s a calling. And things will never be the same again.”

  “I see, I think,” I said.
r />   “I’d be surprised if you did,” Sir Gareth said, coolly. He placed the envelope on the Castellan’s desk. “It took me years to truly understand what I’d joined, and how it would consume my life.”

  I stared at him. “Is it worth it?”

  “I’ve saved lives. And cities.” Sir Gareth sounded pensive, his eyes looking into a past only he could see. “So yes, it’s worth it. But it does come with a price.”

  “I understand,” I said.

  “Hah.” Sir Gareth smiled, rather coldly. “If you can tell me that again, a year from now, I’ll buy you a drink.”

  I kept my thoughts to myself. I knew I’d have to talk it over with Father, but ... I already knew I was going to be reporting for training on Intake Day. My fingers itched to reach for the envelope, open it and read the papers, to plan my journey to ... to wherever I would be trained. I felt torn between my hatred of surrendering even some of my independence and hope - new hope - of doing something about the aristos. Catching some of them with egg on their face would make everything worthwhile.

  Sir Gareth stood. “I have a final test for you,” he said. “A warning, as well as a test. Are you interested?”

  I blinked. “I don’t ...”

  He jabbed a finger at me. I sensed the surge of magic, a second too late. I’d had defences in place, but they melted like snow in the face of the sun. My body warped and twisted - I felt a surge of pain, the unmistakable sense of being transfigured - my eyesight twisting and bending as the world grew larger. The magic boiled around me. I tried to cast a counterspell, but it refused to work. I looked down at myself and gulped. I’d been turned into a frog! I’d been turned into a frog, as easily as a firstie who knew no magic before he came to school. And all my defences had proven worthless.

  That’s what he’s trying to teach me, I thought, numbly. I hadn’t been so easily defeated since I’d been a little boy, playing in the gutter with the other snipes. There are magics beyond the fields I know.

  “Free yourself, before the Castellan reclaims his office,” Sir Gareth ordered, coolly. “And if you’re still interested, report to the hall on Intake Day.”

  He turned and strode out of the room, leaving me behind.

  Chapter Three

  I forced myself to calm down and focus, even though panic yammered at the back of my mind. I was not a little kid, unused to magic. I’d been transfigured hundreds of times over the past decade. I shouldn’t be panicking, not when I was in a form that could move and wave its hands to cast the counterspell. I’d plenty of experience of breaking spells from the inside, freeing myself and going on to strike back at my tormentor. I shouldn’t have any trouble breaking free this time.

  But this spell was different. It roared around me in a manner I’d never sensed. The sheer power was terrifying, as if it was forcing me into another shape through naked will alone. I tried to focus, to pick out the spellform and dismantle it from the inside, but it refused to hold still long enough to let me analyze it. I’d seen all kinds of spells designed to make life difficult for anyone who wanted to take them apart, yet ... this was different. It shifted so often that I found it hard to believe it had just turned me into a frog. It could have done something else ...

  I held still, a giant weight pressing me down. My back felt uncomfortable, as if I’d been forced to the floor in a wrestling match. I knew from bitter experience that if I felt that bad, if someone had me trapped so completely, I’d lost. I’d have no choice but to tap out in surrender. And yet, there was no one to surrender to. I inched forward, feeling the pressure move with me. The spell wasn’t going to let me go that easily.

  The spell can’t be unbreakable, I told myself. I looked around, trying to spot anything that might help. The Castellan might have a spellbreaker in his office. If he did, I couldn’t see it - or anything else. There has to be a way out.

  I gritted my teeth, trying to push the spell away. It was a raging torrent of energy, pushing me down ... it barely budged, even when I threw everything I had into the effort. I couldn’t even begin to untangle it. And yet ... a thought stuck me and I forced myself into new effort. I pushed the spellflow back as hard as I could, while inching forward until I fell off the edge of the chair. My concentration snapped the moment I hit the floor, but it didn’t matter. I was outside the spell’s influence. My body returned to normal seconds later. I stumbled to my feet, sweat trickling down my back. That had been too close. The Castellan would certainly have told Sir Gareth if I’d failed.

  The envelope called to me. I picked it up, stuck it under my arm and headed for the door. The secretary nodded coldly as I wobbled out of the office, feeling like someone had cast an instability jinx. I hadn’t felt so bad since I’d gone out to a party, drank a lot more than I should and wound up nursing a hangover through my first classes of the day. I shuddered as I made my way through the empty corridors. No one had said anything about going back to the Detention Hall. I was sure that meant Akin was going to handle the duty until the bell rang for dinner.

  I put the thought aside as I reached the upperclassman dorms and unpicked the hex on the lock. The sixth years had been trying to sneak into our section of the dorms now that their exams were over, picking out the rooms they wanted when the next term rolled around. I’d heard that some of them were competing to become Head Boy and Girl, although I had a feeling they were wasting their time. The decision wouldn’t be made at Jude’s. Akin was a decent person, for an aristo, but neither he nor Alana had really deserved the honour. There were others - better students, kinder students - who should have been offered the job.

  I heard footsteps behind me and blinked as Louise Herdsman hurried up to the dorms. We should have been friends - we came from similar backgrounds, with similar stories - but we’d never really gotten along. Louise had spent her first few years at Jude’s acting like a know-it-all who didn’t, trying to boss everyone around when she wasn’t questioning why things weren’t organised to suit her. I understood her frustration, but ... she could be very wearying at times. Her blonde hair hung down to her shoulders, a reminder that she was now a legal adult. She was pretty, yet ... there was something cold and hard about her. I tried to ignore the part of me that suggested I should ask her out.

  “Adam,” Louise said. “I heard you were in trouble.”

  “Foul lies,” I said, wondering what she’d heard. Alana had probably told everyone I’d been given detention. “I am never in trouble.”

  Louise gave me a look that suggested I was something particularly unpleasant she’d scraped off her shoe. Given that she was about as aristocratic as myself, it was very impressive. I would have been cowed if I hadn’t known her as a little girl.

  “What are you doing this evening?” Louise sounded indifferent. I had the feeling it was an act. “Are you going to be free?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I have to go back home.”

  “Ah.” Louise backed off. “I’ll see you later.”

  I watched her go, trying not to let my gaze linger on her behind. Louise ... she hadn’t been trying to ask me out, had she? I didn’t think so. She’d never shown any interest in anyone, as far as I knew. I frowned, then opened my door and stepped into my bedroom. I’d never minded the dorms, where there had been little privacy, but I had to admit the private bedrooms were much better. It was just a shame that I’d be going back to the family home - and a complete lack of privacy - if becoming a King’s Man didn’t work out. I was too old to share a room with my sisters or father, wasn’t I?

  If we had room to spread out, we would, I thought, as I poured myself a mug of juice and sat on the bed. There was barely enough room to swing a cat, but the chamber was still better than anything I’d had as a youngster. Back home, there’s no way we can make the chambers bigger without magic or money we don’t have.

  I sipped my drink as I opened the envelope and read through the set of leaflets. They weren’t as informative as I’d hoped, although they did manage to answer a couple
of questions I hadn’t thought to ask. The Intake Day was going to be held at Haddon Hall, an estate thirty miles north of Shallot. I picked up a map and studied it, trying to understand how I was meant to get there. There was a stagecoach passing through Haddon itself, but the estate was a mile or two south of the town. I might have to get off at the town and walk to the estate. Or go to Haddon the day before and rent a room for the night. It wasn’t as if it would be hard.

  Just expensive, I mused, tartly. They could have offered to pay my travel expenses.

  I frowned as I worked my way through the rest of the papers, then stood and started to pack up. I didn’t have much, thankfully, but I couldn’t afford to leave anything behind. I had to report for training in a week and ... I didn’t want to lose anything. I glanced back at the list of items I was supposed to bring and frowned. A handful of clothes and nothing else. No spellcasters, no spellbreakers, no toys and games ... not even any books! I wondered, sourly, if we were going to be kept so busy there would be no time for fun. Probably. I didn’t know much about the King’s Men, beyond the fact they’d tried and failed to stop the House War, but I had the feeling we were going to be worked hard. Very hard.

  The room looked oddly bare when I’d finished. I stood, feeling a twinge of disquiet. I’d lived in the room for nine months and ... I hadn’t really made any impression at all. The walls were as barren as they’d been when I moved in. I sighed, remembering how the aristos had decorated their rooms. Even Akin had hung a huge painting of himself and Caitlyn in pride of place. I wondered, as I headed for the door, what Alana made of it. As a reminder her sister was marrying before her, it could hardly be bettered.

  I heard the dinner bell ring as I made my way up to the library, ignoring the handful of lowerclassmen running to the dining hall as if the food was going to run out. They probably expected to be tossed out, a few short seconds after they entered. Upperclassmen lorded it over lowerclassmen. It was the way of things and, now that the exams were over, the upperclassmen were free to be jerks. If they wanted to be. I’d never felt the urge, myself.