“I do, or I did,” the girl said, her eyes going dark with sadness. “We started at the training class on the same day—learning where all the company’s buildings are, and the docks, and who’s in charge. We even rented rooms together.” She sniffed. Arram provided her with a handkerchief and walked her to a display of jeweled figurines so the senior staff would stop looking at them.
“I was seeing a servant from one of the big houses over in the Moon District,” she whispered. “He bought us three nights in a nice inn, just the two of us. It was wonderful! I did tell her what we were going to do, just not where….” She sniffed again and wiped her nose. “When I got home, our rooms were all torn up, and she was gone. She hasn’t been back! I went to as many infirmaries as I could, and to the Imperial Guard….” She hung her head. “And then they told me that if I lost any more time from my work, they would have to find someone else.” Tears ran freely down her cheeks. “They said it must be robbers, or maybe they took her to sell her, and she’ll never be found.”
Arram bought a trinket—he forgot what it was—and told his new friend how to find him if she ever got word of Faziy. He was halfway back to the university before he remembered why his friends believed he had remained behind. He was only just able to race back and buy what they wanted before the markets closed.
That night he went to bed early, but not before he wrote up what the shopgirl had told him. He gave the paper to Cosmas and stood cold-faced as the master spoke impatiently about involving himself in something he was supposed to avoid. Finally Cosmas gave up and ordered Arram to leave early for the infirmary.
After talking the brawl over with Varice on Monday afternoon, Arram visited Sergeant Okot. The university had moved a batch of students to give Ozorne’s guards a headquarters across the hall from their charge. The area smelled of oil and leather. The common room was equipped with cushions, a few shelves of books, stands of sharpstones, leather, jars of oil, wooden practice swords, a slate with the guards’ schedules, and the sergeant’s desk and chair.
Arram tried not to be intimidated by the military atmosphere. Fidgeting, running his fingers through Preet’s feathers, he explained to Okot why it was wise to keep Ozorne away from those who looked even a little Sirajit.
The man looked up from papers he was reviewing. “Young sir, you think because you attend this overthought sprawl that you know more than a leatherfoot like me?” he asked, setting aside his feather pen. “You believe I don’t understand my work?”
Arram’s voice squeaked when he first tried it. Preet scolded the sergeant for frightening her friend.
“They told us no pets,” the sergeant said, holding up a finger. Preet fluttered over to it and continued to scold.
Arram tried to speak again and coughed.
“Oh, Hag’s droppings, drink this.” The man poured a cup full of water from his pitcher. “Stop carrying on. I don’t even have the right to flog you. And His Highness would have my sword if I laid a hand on you or the young lady.” He stroked Preet’s chest feathers with a thick finger. “Wouldn’t he, birdie? Yes, he would!”
Arram gulped the water and cleared his throat. “She isn’t a pet,” he explained, feeling calmer. “It’s like the dogs upstairs; they’re animals that were trusted to Lindhall for care, or animals he’s studying. That’s Preet. I report on her behavior for Lindhall.”
“Talkative little thing,” the sergeant said.
Reassured by the man’s gentleness with Preet, Arram explained, “I’m not telling you about your work, sir. Varice felt, after the market, that you should know Ozorne’s not normally that way. But if you could watch for anyone who looks to be…to save unpleasantness, just in case…”
The sergeant smiled up at him. “That pretty little girl makes all you fellows dance, doesn’t she? Don’t worry, lad. My men are used to palace details. But the market isn’t safe. You saw that. I made arrangements to get his favorite vendors to come here. All the royals do it.”
Arram stared at the man, shocked. “But they’ll have to haul their goods from the city in the weather, and lose business in the market!”
The sergeant shook his head. “You don’t know much about merchants, do you? They’re glad to do it. Put the little plaque that says ‘Favored by Prince Ozorne’ over their doors? Get the chance to let drop to their friends at the temples—just casual, mind!—how they can’t linger because they’re taking a batch of books up for the prince to look at? Be able to say, ‘You know, His Highness may want just that sort of thing. I’ll mention you to him’? They’re happy to sell goods later than usual in the city if they can brag of His Highness’s custom.”
Arram blinked. “Oh. Human nature.”
The sergeant nodded. “Human nature, lad. It’s a wonderful thing.” Handing Preet back to Arram, he added, “So’s the anger of a boy for the people that killed his father, particularly when he sees he might get to strike back at them.”
“But the ones who killed his father are dead,” Arram protested weakly.
“Not all,” the soldier replied. “Not their sons, or their nephews. My kin wiped out the last nest, and the emperor made peace. He knew they were ready to make peace. But that doesn’t mean we got them all, and it did naught for the men who came home missing a limb or loose in their wits. There’s plenty left if a prince wants his revenge.”
“Please don’t tell him that,” Arram said. “Those people have endured enough.”
“Not your worry, youngster. Leave it to the folk that sit on thrones and the ones that do their fighting for them.” Okot made a shooing motion with his hand. Arram was dismissed.
—
A month later Cosmas halted the fire magic class early and invited Arram and Varice to take a seat. He assumed his own desk chair and waited for Preet to settle herself in his lap. “How is Ozorne managing with his guard detail? Not too intrusive, I hope?”
Arram and Varice traded looks. Arram shrugged.
“It’s funny how such conspicuous men disappear in plain sight, Master,” Varice said for both of them. “Pranksters try to distract them and get them to talk, but most leave them be.” She dimpled. “Some of my friends were talking girl business before they realized Sergeant Okot was standing right behind them.”
Cosmas chuckled. “We did ask that Ozorne’s guards be discreet.”
“Have there been imperial heirs at the university before?” Arram inquired.
“Oh, yes, many times. Not recently, but Mesaraz was a student in the School of Law when his father was the heir. Sadly, Mesaraz was called to rule before he obtained his certificate, but his education is evident in the laws he has made, and the old ones he has rendered void. We are proud of him.” Cosmas looked into the distance, then shook off his thoughtful mood. “Now, you are invited to supper with Her Highness and Prince Ozorne. It takes place at the palace Water Pavilion on Saturday evening. Yadeen understands that you will not be in class on Sunday morning, Arram, just as I am excusing you both from mine.” He tapped a pair of parchments on his desk. Each was ornately addressed in gold ink, one to Arram and one to Varice. “I regret to say that Preet is not invited.”