The Apprentice Page 12

  “That sounds boring,” Rowan commented. “I thought you’d get to do more important things.”

  “I have many different duties, and I perform them all. Some are more important than others, and some are unknown to anyone but myself. Acting as an overseer for the princess does sound boring,” Baird agreed, “and yet somehow Eliza always manages to make things very interesting. And when I say interesting, I don’t mean it in a good way.”

  “From the way you spoke about her earlier, I thought you would… I don’t know, like her more. You don’t make it sound as though you enjoy her company very much.”

  “Do not get me wrong, I love that girl like a daughter,” Baird said. “I would give my life for her. But just because I love her, that doesn’t mean that she can’t annoy me. After all, can anyone truly enjoy the company of another person all of the time? No, they can’t. The people that you are closest to are easily able to annoy you.”

  Rowan thought about that for a moment and decided that Baird was right. Petar was the person that Rowan was the closest to and even though they were both fairly mild tempered, every once in a while one of them would get annoyed and they ended up fighting. They had spent so much time together that at times it would almost seem necessary to go off and do something alone or with other people. Rowan remembered one instance where Petar had gone into town on his own and when Rowan had decided to follow him and see what he was doing, Petar had angered and they had a huge fight.

  Thinking of this, Rowan felt that he could understand and even empathize with the way that Baird talked about Eliza and he decided that he wouldn’t judge his master for trying to avoid her.

  They continued to talk throughout the day as they travelled. The ground was soft and everything was wet from the rain. Every so often they ran into areas that were too muddy to cross safely or where the rainwater had collected in large pools that they had to make their way around.

  Rowan and Baird rode on at a slow pace. The storm had turned the terrain against them and made it dangerous to ride quickly.

  “Keep an eye out for muddy ground or hidden rocks,” Baird said. “It is better to ride cautiously than to risk losing one of the horses to injury.”

  They travelled slowly and by the end of the day they had gained little distance. The light rain which had persisted throughout the day was gone by the time the sun went down, but in its absence it left the air cold and moist.

  Finding a place to camp where the ground was not too wet proved to be nearly impossible. There were puddles everywhere and the earth, having soaked up all of the rainwater from the storm, had been reduced to mud. Unable to find a spot that was dry, Baird managed to improvise and create a decent foundation that they could sleep on. He found a lone tree, dead and battered by the storm, leaving it very weak. Baird used his sword to hack off a number of thick branches, which he then cut in half and laid together to create a solid area elevated above the mud. It was by far the most uncomfortable thing that Rowan had ever slept on. Even with the bedrolls, the logs were bad enough to make Rowan consider moving to the ground and just dealing with the mud.

  But before he even got to lie down, Baird had thrown one of the sticks they used for sparring at him.

  “You will get no rest yet,” Baird said. “We have to make up for the time we lost during the storm.”

  “Have you been carrying these around with you the entire time we’ve been travelling?” he asked. Thinking back, he had always wondered how Baird had managed to find good sparring sticks. Then Rowan noticed that the sticks were still dry. “Why did you not use these to have some sort of small fire last night?”

  “These would make for a very small fire,” Baird said. “Besides, even if we used them for a fire, that would only keep you warm for a short while. The bruises I give you will last longer than that, as will the lessons that such marks will teach. I believe it’s quite obvious that our lessons in swordplay are much more valuable to you.”

  Rowan knew Baird was right. He had known even before Baird's lecture that it was ridiculous to think that burning two sticks would produce a fire able to provide any semblance of warmth, but he hadn’t been able to contain himself. Rowan muttered “I guess so” in order to keep Baird from lecturing him further.

  He stood, stripped off his shirt to keep it from soaking up sweat, and began the sword dance. The dance helped to stretch his muscles and gave him a good workout. He stumbled several times, but he was getting better at it. He could make it almost all the way through the stances now. His movements were far from perfect and he could not hold himself as balanced as Baird, nor could he move as slowly through the motions without his body giving out on him, but he was noticeably improving. Baird no longer had to watch his every movement as Rowan could now catch his own mistakes.

  Even after travelling all day on foot, Baird had Rowan spar for twice as long as they usually did. The mud was a constant enemy, sticking his feet to the ground or causing him to slide and lose his footing. Despite this added inconvenience, Rowan found that he was beginning to get used to the exercise and he didn’t tire as quickly as he had when they first started. He was becoming quick enough to keep up with Baird most of the time, dodging and blocking many of his powerful attacks. Rowan was even becoming adept enough to land a blow every once in a while. Twice he even came close to winning a bout, but Baird always managed to reinforce his superior skill with a blade. Rowan had a sneaking suspicion that Baird was holding himself back when he fought.

  When they had finished sparring for the night, Rowan was able to take some amount of pleasure in the fact that he was not the only one who was going to be wearing a new set of bruises the next day.

  Chapter 11

  The days following the storm saw the return of the sun, and Baird and Rowan travelled without their cloaks or many of the thicker outer layers they had been wearing before, all of which were now thoroughly soaked. As the sun began to dry out the ground, the pair were able to make better time.

  The days passed without much event as they continued onwards. During the day they travelled, alternating between long periods of silence and drawn out conversations that helped to pass the time. At night they continued their sparring sessions, which grew longer and more intense as Rowan became more and more proficient. Baird began to insist on performing the sword dance more often to strengthen Rowan’s muscles and improve his balance. He still maintained that it was an art meant to be taken as slowly as possible, the movements steady and sure. However, Rowan could see in the dance the forms and stances used for a blade. It seemed wrong to learn to move between such stances slowly rather than quickly, but Baird was insistent. His master also voiced his opinion that Rowan would soon need to begin practicing with a true blade. He said that Rowan would need a true blade once they reached Estoria, and he promised to take Rowan to the blacksmith who had forged his own sword. Rowan could barely contain his excitement and began forcing Baird to spar with him more often.

  After two weeks of travelling, they were still far from Estoria. Baird was annoyed because they were forced to travel so slowly, and he began complaining often. “We still have a long distance to go, and yet we cannot even travel all the way to the capitol! We must stop on the way to again pick up more supplies.” Baird knew that there was no way to hasten their pace or do anything about their lost food, but it did not stop his complaints.

  While Baird grew irritable at their lack of speed, Rowan felt a knot of apprehension and excitement beginning to grow in the pit of his stomach as they drew ever closer to their destination. Barrinell was not the capitol, but it was a new city for Rowan to experience and it would be their last stop before Estoria.

  It was not until the beginning of their fourth week that they finally neared the city of Barrinell. Baird was the first to spot the city. The plains had begun to give way to a much more lush landscape with grassy hills and trees. The land was more green than brown and they finally had a road to travel on.

  They met people along the way, bu
t none seemed to take any interest in them. No one stopped to converse with the pair of travelers, nor did they ask for news or wish to know where they were headed or where they had come from. Rowan found such behavior odd. People seemed to almost distance themselves from others met on the road.

  “It is different here than in the North,” Baird explained. “The roads are well travelled and it is common to meet others as you travel. People receive news much more readily and they are less inclined to trust a stranger. Highwaymen are uncommon this close to Estoria and Barrinell, but one can never be too careful.”

  They did not see the city until it was less than a day’s distance away. Rowan had thought Attica a large city, and to him it had been. But Barrinell was of an even greater size. Rowan instantly grew excited upon seeing it. The city spread out, covering the landscape. Buildings rose above the walls of the city and even from a distance, Rowan could see that the streets were filled with people. He remembered the press of the crowds from Attica and shuddered at the thought. But the excitement of experiencing another city was greater than his distaste.

  As they approached the city, the road grew crowded, forcing Rowan and Baird to slow to a walking pace. Here and there an idle cart forced people to clog the road as they passed. Soon the press was thick enough that Baird and Rowan had to dismount and lead the animals on foot.

  As in Attica, when they reached the city, they had to wait before being admitted by a pair of guards. Once inside, Rowan found that the streets were not as full as he had expected them to be. There was ample room to walk without pressing shoulders with others. He still felt confined by being surrounded by so many, but not to the point of being uncomfortable.

  With enough space on the streets, Baird had them remount and he took the lead.

  “I know this city well enough. There is an inn on the eastern edge of the city where I have stayed before. We will head there.”

  “Do you mean to stay the night?” The thought of staying in an inn again was pleasant. Rowan’s body had grown hard and stiff after so many nights spent sleeping in the cold under the stars. A bed, if there was one, would be welcome. Even a floor with makeshift bed of straw or blankets would be decent, though not entirely preferable. Rowan still had some money from his father. He did not know if it would be enough to buy him a bed, but if it was then he would make sure that he slept well.

  “While we are in the city, there is some business that I wish to attend to. We will spend the night here and leave with the rising sun once my business is complete and our saddle bags carry enough food to see us to the capitol.”

  Baird led Rowan through the city streets. Barrinell was indeed a large city and its streets were wide and filled with stalls and smells and sights and a myriad of different peoples. They passed vendors crying their wares and carts laden with food and grain. Smells of cooking and sounds of laughter and mirth came from the common rooms of the inns that they passed. Rowan noted many different signs, each with their own image to mark the inn from which they hung. In alleys and plazas were performers looking to earn coin by juggling or jesting. The tellers of tales and the musicians earned their coins in the inns, but street performers offered a show that could excite a crowd and keep their attention.

  Twice Rowan saw men that he assumed were city guards walking the streets, eyeing the crowds with distaste. Baird had donned his cloak and pulled up his hood when he first sighted a pair of them. Rowan wondered if his master wore his hood to stave off the sun’s heat or to mask his face.

  They came to a small inn by the city’s edge called the Ten Penny Tavern. Out front, they were met by a youth who stared at the pair of them with a furrowed brow.

  “Stable our horses. Make sure that they get fed and watered, and see that our saddlebags are taken in.” Baird handed Shadow’s reins to the boy and pressed a coin into the youth’s other hand, which made him move just a bit more quickly. The boy shoved the coin into his pocket after biting into it to make sure it was good. He then took Chourl’s reins from Rowan and led the horses to the back of the inn.

  They found the common room only half full. Men sat at tables in groups of twos and threes, but there were many unfilled seats. To one side, a man was playing a lute and trying to give the commons some sense of atmosphere.

  “Sir Gawyn! You have returned.” A large man hurried across the room, bowing and addressing Baird. Rowan looked to his master, wondering if the innkeeper had forgotten or misremembered Baird’s name, but the knight seemed ready to answer to it.

  “I was not expecting you back. It has been months since you last stayed here and I did not expect you to return so soon. Most often it is at least a year between your stays.”

  “I have business in the city, Horst. I trust that you have a room available for the night?”

  “Of course, of course. There is always a room at my inn free for your use, Sir Gawyn.” The innkeeper bowed as far down as his girth would allow. “Forgive me for asking, but the boy, he is with you?”

  “He is.”

  “Then you will be needing two beds. Would you prefer two rooms as well? I know how you value your privacy.”

  “A single room will suffice.”

  “Of course. As you wish it. Should you change your mind, you will let me know and I will have a separate room ready before you can even ask.” Horst flashed a toothy grin and then bowed deeply.

  “Come, come. Allow me to serve you a drink. You look in need of a good wine.”

  The innkeeper tried to herd Baird towards the bar, but Baird stayed put. “Thank you, Horst. But the wine will have to wait. Tonight, perhaps. By then I may be feeling better and my business will be done. For now, I wish to have my room. And I think that the both of us will be needing a bath.”

  “Yes, of course. Forgive me. You are weary from your days of travel. It is only natural that you wish to be clean and rest. Later, perhaps, I will give you some of my finest wine. I am sure that you will be pleased.”

  “I will trust in your judgment, Horst.”

  Horst showed them to their room, bowing all the while. He gave Rowan the occasional glance but otherwise ignored him, focusing all of his attention on Baird. The innkeeper promised to have hot water sent up as quickly as it could be heated and then he left them to themselves.

  The room was much larger than their room in Attica had been, and it was well kept. Rowan was glad to see two separate beds against opposite walls. It had been so long since he had slept in a bed that it now seemed a luxury.

  “Why does he call you Sir Gawyn?” Rowan asked when they were alone.

  “It is the name that I have given him in the past. I do not like to give my true name to strangers. It makes it harder to be found or followed.”

  “You are distinct. I think anyone given your description would be able to match you to your name.”

  “So it would seem. But you would be surprised what a false name can hide. Add to that an accent and a hooded face and it becomes very hard to identify me. I may be noticed, but I will not be recognized.”

  “You care that much about hiding who you are?”

  “Sometimes. You have seen what can follow me. You ought to understand the danger.”

  The same boy who had taken their horses soon came bearing their saddlebags, along with a second youth who brought hot water. It took the two boys several trips before they had filled the tubs that were brought, but the water they carried was steaming hot as though it had just been boiled. When the last trip was made, the two left. The wash tubs were filled with water that was hot enough to sting the skin.

  Rowan stripped down to his smallclothes and quickly set about rinsing himself with the warm water, scrubbing away the dirt from weeks of travel. It felt great to be clean again. When he was done, he set about rinsing and washing his clothes, all of which had accumulated a layer of grime as thick as what he had worn on his body. It was over an hour gone when he was done and by then the water was no longer warm.

  “Let us eat and then we shall go
and buy our supplies.”

  Rowan finished pulling the driest of his shirts on before nodding his agreement. The cloth was still a bit damp, but it would dry within an hour.

  The two of them went to the common room, where Horst quickly approached Baird and asked if there was anything that he needed.

  “We are looking to take our lunch here before we go about our business for the day.”

  “Of course. It is only natural that you are hungry after your travels. Do you have a thirst as well?”

  “Yes, but not for anything too heavy. Perhaps a nice cider or a sweet wine.”

  “As you wish. I will have food and drink for you soon. And for the young sir as well?”

  “Yes. He will eat as I do.”

  Rowan could see Horst glance at him quickly, flashing a mixed look of confusion and annoyance. “Of course. Please enjoy yourselves as you wait, and let me know of anything that you require.” Horst bowed and retreated to the kitchen.

  Baird chuckled. “He does not know what to think of you. You dress as a commoner but you follow me and I treat you as almost equal. I think it frustrates him and so he avoids addressing you directly, preferring to interact with you through me.”

  “Why does he care? I am obviously not a lord and I have no riches. We are only staying for a single night. I don’t see why he should care who I am.”

  “It is all part of a game. Knowing someone with power, money, or influence, or someone who may gain such things, is of great use. Making one’s self useful to important people, becoming an asset, is a good way to increase one’s social standing. The nobles have made a game of it, and many below them try to play as well, serving as a foundation for those above. Like a game of stones, only the pieces are people and it is never clear who the players are.”

  “Sounds bothersome,” Rowan said. He was the second son of a farmer from the Vale. He may travel with Baird and he may be the knight’s apprentice, but he did not see himself as a person of great influence or importance. To have someone think that he might someday become such a person was odd. He looked around, imagining how the innkeeper saw all of the people who came here. What did he use to judge who was important or who might become important? All it would take is some dirt, a few days without bathing, and a hooded cloak to hide even a great lord among all the others. All it would take is a random twist of fate to make a commoner into a knight’s apprentice. Who could be bothered to try and predict the path that fate would take?