Black Rose

(With one storyline about to turn to a new part, and the other one finishing its first part, time to introduce the third and last main storyline! For the moment.

New characters; slight change of tone.

This story begins outside the main chronology of the rest of the story. We already went back a few weeks with Solveig's story, which began just after Siegfa got back from the mission.

We're now going back even further, to weeks before Chapter 1. This story will soon catch up with the main chronology, when Freya and Five have been in Memika for some time.

This storyline, which we'll the Chariot storyline, has a bit more lightness and fun than the Freya/Five storyline and the Solveig/Owyn/Paul storyline, both of which start in similar places to each other. This saga isn't all about pain and revenge.

... Well, it is quite a lot, but it's notallabout that.

That said, if you can figure out what the local terms mean, there's some pretty racist dialogue in this chapter, because some of the characters in this are pretty racist. But no violence or sex in this chapter.)

***

Chapter 8

The Tales of Sir Felix Coulomb

Torina

Some months earlier

The air was tinged with the smell of greasy smoke, and further up the street a tall pillar of it swayed against the blue sky.

The knight reined his horse to a halt.

This inn was the first they had come to which was not shut and boarded up.

'Right,' said Sir Felix. 'Go and find the city elders and tell them of my presence. I will await them in this hostelry, where I will be quenching my thirst. Help me down, boy.'

Norbert got off his pony, took the stool from the saddlebag, walked over to Felix's horse and placed it on the ground.

Sir Felix made to lift his left leg over the rear end of the horse, but it was stiff from an old wound, and a lot of wine over the years, and it took him three goes before he managed to swing himself onto one stirrup and, wheezing, lower himself onto the step. Then he stepped down into the mud and looked around.

'Are you going to be drinking?' said Norbert.

'Of course I am,' said Felix. 'I have ridden far, and I thirst.'

'It's just that we have no gold left, and little silver,' said Norbert.

'Really?' said Felix, startled. 'Where's it all gone?'

You keep drinking it, thought Norbert.

'Expenses are expenses,' he said.

'Then I am relying on you to secure a commission for us. Then we may recoup our expenses, and cover ourselves in glory.'

'I will do my best,' said Norbert.

'I know you will, lad,' said Felix, 'you always do.'

He lifted his head and walked with all the considerable dignity he could muster into the inn.

Right, then, Norbert thought, and he put the stool back into the saddlebags, tied up the horses and trudged off in the direction of the fire.

As Norbert grew closer, he heard the noise: the cracking of timber and breaking of porcelain, followed by collapsing masonry. Underneath that was a kind of harsh, gargling noise, which occasionally broke into what seemed like a rasping, high-pitched giggle.

He turned the corner into the square and saw that literally one side of the square, a row of buildings, was half-demolished, and that something was causing chaos and mischief in the next building along. There were occasional bursts of flame inside the building. Most of the fire was coming from one of the first buildings to have completely collapsed.

Norbert stopped and stared.

Nobody paid much attention to the small youth standing on the edge of the square, not even when he reached into his pocket and took out a small wooden tube with glass lenses in each end. He put it to his eye and turned it on the building where all the action was going on.

He could see the indistinct thing inside the building, blasting things with its breath, causing destruction. He put the tube back into his pocket.

A group of men in dark robes and chains about their necks stood close by, watching the damage being done, looking helpless and angry.

One of them turned to him and scowled.

'You,' he said, gesturing towards the road out of the square. 'You-you. Go. Much bad. Not safe.'

'Is there something wrong with your brain?' Norbert said.

'Oh,' said the man. 'I didn't realise you...'

Norbert was used to this. People saw his wiry black hair and dark skin, and assumed that he could barely speak their language.

'Well, anyway,' the man said, 'get out of here.'

'Is that a worm,' Norbert said. 'I can't see it very well.'

'Yes, it is a worm, and it will feast on you if it thinks you can't run fast enough.'

'I don't think so,' Norbert said.

'What do you mean?' said the man, annoyed. 'Can't you see that there is a foul worm at work in our city?'

'Yes,' Norbert said, 'but it's playing. If it were hungry, it would have gone after you gentlemen. It's enjoying itself.'

'Oh, you think you know about worms, do you?'

'I do know about them. I learned about them at the Academy.'

The man stared at him for a moment, and then turned back to viewing the worm as it playfully smashed its way into another building. Norbert approached the men.

'My master will defeat it for you,' he said.

'Really,' said another of the men flatly.

'Yes. My master is Sir Felix Coulomb, the renowned worm-slayer.'

'I've never heard of him,' said the second man.

'Have you ever had a worm in Torina before?'

'No.'

'He is the reason why. Let me fetch him, and he will slay the worm with his courage and ingenuity.'

Hiscourage andmyingenuity, Norbert thought.

The men looked at each other and seemed to sag.

'If you think he can defeat this thing and spare our city,' said a third man, 'by all means fetch your master and have him come here.'

'Thank you, gentlemen,' Norbert said. 'I will be back shortly.'

He walked out of the square and returned to the inn.

At the inn, Felix had already made a few friends for life.

'What news, lad?' he said. 'Have you found us an opportunity?'

'I have,' Norbert said.

'Is it the worm, by any chance?' Felix said, and grinned at his companions.

'You've heard about it, then,' Norbert said.

'I have indeed. I have indeed. And now that I am refreshed, let us go and look at this worm, that has this great city in its evil thrall.'

Felix and Norbert returned to the square with a small mob of interested followers. At the square, almost the whole of a line of buildings was now a smouldering ruin, and the worm was having its fun with the last building in the line.

Felix stared keenly at the destruction.

'You got your glass, boy,' he said quietly. Norbert handed it to him. He took it and lifted it to his better eye and peered through it.

The gentlemen from earlier approached, clearly attracted by Sir Felix's large build, and martial apparel, and general air of command.

'Is this your worm-slayer, boy,' said one of the men.

'Yes,' Norbert said. 'And, as you see, he is assessing the situation for himself.'

Felix kept peering through the glass. The worm appeared to have kicked down a supporting wall, for a building collapsed around it, and it pulled itself out of the rubble and let out a triumphant snort of flame, and started kicking with its clawed feet at the next building along.

'Your name, sir knight,' said the man.

'I am Sir Felix Coulomb,' Felix said majestically.

'Your servant says you have form at slaying these beasts.'

'He's not my servant,' Felix said, still peering through the glass, 'he's my nephew.'

'Oh. Well, as you see, we are plagued with this creature. We cannot get it to leave, if we do not feed it fresh meat regularly, it kills and eats our citizens, and for amusement, it likes to destroy property.'

'Mmmm,' said Felix thoughtfully. The worm let out a roar, and a large cloud of flame erupted inside the building before it, setting it on fire.

'What say you?' said the Torina councilman. 'Will you free us of this plague, sir worm-slayer?'

Felix lowered the glass and stood in thought for a moment, his moustache twisting. He glanced at Norbert, and then turned to face the councilmen.

'It is true, gentlemen, that I have slain worms in the past. I slew a worm in Abigem that was raiding the orphanages. I slew a pair of worms in Dolfholm that preyed on all supplies coming into the city, and in the late war, in the Battle of Salens River, I slew a worm that the Dominies had harnessed for their own use.'

First I've heard of any of that, Norbert thought, although he took care not to let his face reflect his thoughts.

'So you will help us,' said the councilman.

'Alas, sirs,' Felix said gravely, 'I cannot. That is no worm.'

'But,' said another man, 'what do you mean? That's a worm. It's obviously a worm.'

'My poor skills, such as they are,' Felix said in his most professorial manner, 'are effective against worms. But that is no worm. It is a corkindrill.'

There was a silence.

'A what?' said the first councilman.

'A corkindrill, sir,' Felix said. 'They differ from worms, in that they have scales that no sword wielded by man can penetrate. You would need cannons, to make a mark on that beast. I am surprised that you are not familiar with the correct way to deal with a corkindrill.'

'We sent to the king for men to help us kill it,' said a councilman, 'and the king sent an expert on worms, who identified the thing as a relatively minor worm, and told us that we had to rely on our own manpower and our own finances.'

'Well, of course he did,' said Felix. 'The king doesn't want to start lending people cannons. It would be anarchy. I am sorry, gentlemen, but I freely admit that even one with such experience as I, cannot defeat this thing.'

Norbert looked around. Their little mob of followers was looking disgruntled and was melting away back to the inn.

'I see,' said the first councilman heavily, after a long silence. 'Well. No matter. Thank you for your... advice.'

They turned around and went back to watching their city being gradually demolished.

Norbert looked up at Felix, who looked down at him, opened his eyes wide for a moment, and then frowned.

'I think, lad,' he murmured, 'that we should retrieve our horses, and find a different inn.'

***

Sir Felix had always been more in love with the fol-de-rolaroundbeing a knight than with the actual hard work ofbeingone, namely physical violence.

It was, to Norbert's mind, one of the better things about him. The fact that Felix really didn't like fighting people had meant that Norbert's apprenticeship had been longer and more peaceful than it would otherwise have been, giving him plenty of time to do the things that he really liked to do: read books, study the world, figure out how things worked, and make interesting and useful things.

On the other hand, Felix's fundamental dislike of fighting people, and his preference for bluffing and charming his way out of situations, also worked for him, up to a point. He so disliked the physical effort of fighting that, whenever he was finally forced to do it, he was keen to end the combats as swiftly and decisively as possible.

And, not being completely stupid, he had, to that end, evolved a fighting style that was crude, but undeniably effective. He waded in, hit hard and often, and didn't turn his back on his opponent until the opponent was in no position to do anything to Felix's back.

But Felix's chief weapon was his sheer affability. Soon, in the new inn, he was in full swing, knocking back the ale, roaring at the jokes, the centre of attention, as usual.

Norbert had gone out to see if there were any other jobs that might come their Felix's way, but he had had no luck. He edged his way into the room and made his way over to the door out the back, keeping his eye on Felix as he went. He could see Felix's gaze roving the room even as he laughed at one joke and told another, and sure enough, the knight caught his eye and raised an eyebrow.

Norbert returned the look with no expression at all.

Felix laughingly excused himself and stood up, threaded through the crowd towards Norbert, who slipped out into the back yard.

After a moment, Felix joined him, and shut the back door. Norbert knew that Felix knew that Norbert had nothing to report.

'Never mind, lad,' Felix said. 'You tried. Thank you for going back. Appearances matter, you know.'

Norbert nodded. Felix reached for his money pouch and looked in it.

'We've got enough for a few beers and a bite, and somewhere to put our head down,' he said. 'Let's write this one off and be on our way tomorrow, eh?'

'Yes, sir,' said Norbert.

'Good lad,' said Felix. 'Come along. I've already talked about you as the brains of the operation. There are some quite interesting chaps here, in fact.'

Norbert let Felix guide him back inside the inn.

'Here he is,' Felix said as they reached the table 'This is my boy.'

Norbert sat down opposite two men, youngish, about half the knight's age. They were dressed in good clothes that had seen much wear, and they were both fair-haired, large men. One of them sat square-on to the table and smiled at Norbert, holding out his hand. The other sat side-on, and regarded Norbert coolly through the smoke he puffed from what appeared to be a short stub of vegetation that he held between his teeth.

'So you're the smart one,' said the smiling man.

'Allon Tanit, at your service.'

'Norbert Gris,' said Norbert, shaking the man's hand. A firm grip, but not one of those handshakes that was meant to crush your fingers.

'My ugly friend here is Robert Falco,' said Allon Tanit. He pronounced 'Robert' to rhyme almost with 'clobbered', which was odd, because everyone knew that names like that rhymed with 'more bear'.

Norbert wondered where this Robert Falco was from; he'd never heard a name that was so like his own, pronounced thus. Norbert nodded to Robert Falco, who waited a moment before giving the merest inclination of his head in acknowledgment.

'These chaps have been in the war, too,' said Felix.

'Indeed, yes,' said Allon. 'May the Right help the peace, but there's little work left for soldiers.'

'Very much so,' said Felix. 'Young Norbert here has been scouting to see if there's anything doing in the city, but it appears that the bloody thing can only be kept docile by feeding it cattle.'

'Someone should send a regiment of wild women at it, or barbar slaves,' Falco said. 'They fight like animals, and it wouldn't matter if any of them were killed.'

He glanced at Norbert.

'It might be effective,' said Felix. 'A woman can wield a sword with the best of 'em, if she puts her mind to it.'

'True,' said Allon, raising his mug to Felix and sipping his beer.

'Nowadays we behave like it's some newfangled thing,' went on Felix, 'but I can remember when we met those wild women in the field at Hamazole, and I can tell you, they were no rest. Quite vicious, and very disciplined.'

'The wild will always fight harder than the civilised,' said Robert Falco. 'They have not the manners that we prize so much.'

'That's what makes them wild,' said Allon, smiling tolerantly at his partner. 'But men of honour do not fight so. It's the manner of fighting that marks out the man from the animal.'

'Exactly so,' said Felix. 'Exactly so. And on that note, let's drink to it. Here! Girl!'

A serving girl, walking by with an empty tray, stopped and regarded them. Norbert glanced up at her and quickly glanced down again. She was golden and well-shaped, her face and exposed neck glowed with the heat and exertion, and a lock of her hair hung in front of her eye in a way that made him deeply uncomfortable.

'Four ales,' he said. 'You'll have one, won't you?' he asked Norbert

'A small one,' muttered Norbert.

'Just get him a regular one.'

'Shy, is he?' she said.

'Yes,' said Felix, 'but he knows much.'

'Does he know how to please a girl?' she said, grinning.

'I'm sure he's read something about it,' said Felix, grinning back at her, and the girl and Allon laughed heartily.

'He's very pretty,' she said. 'I like his hair.'

Norbert wanted to crawl under the table and die.

'He's young,' said Felix, smiling. 'I was once as handsome myself. If you can believe it.'

'Maybe,' she said, 'when the Yard was young, and the gods were many.'

But she was smiling at him, and Felix was still a good-looking man, even if he had gone a little red in the face, and his waist wasn't as trim as it one had been.

'That'll be twelve,' she said.

Felix counted out fourteen coins and she took them with a nod in recognition of his generosity, then tapped the table in front of Norbert. Involuntarily he glanced up at her, flushed crimson and looked down again.

The girl had another good laugh and walked off.

'Well,' said Allon, 'the king's peace shows us that the worst the wild has to offer is no match for good men with a good commander.'

'Exactly right,' said Felix. 'With the right men, any foe can be defeated.'

'So I've always thought,' said Allon. He finished his beer and inverted the mug on the table to show that it was empty. Many a mug had been inverted on the table over the years. The wooden tabletop had absorbed so much beer dregs that it had a curiously spongy texture. Norbert pressed the wood with his finger and saw it make a shallow fingermark which then quietly pushed itself up and flat again.

'The trouble is,' said Allon, 'since the war ended, it takes more than a man's word to earn the trust of lords. Falco and I fought for the king, and though I say myself, we earned our bread, and then some.'

'Of course you did,' said Felix.

'And yet,' said Allon, 'there is distrust in the air. We cannot find good soldier's work, because now that the lords can have their pick of the soldiery, they won't accept anyone who is not of noble birth.'

'I detest snobbery,' said Felix. 'A true nobleman should show favour to all.'

'So you would think,' said Allon. 'And yet, the work is there, but we cannot be given it. The lords of Torina smile and thank us for our service, but that is as far as their favour extends.'

'Which work is this?' said Felix.

'No small task,' said Allon. 'The city's taxes lie unpaid to the king, because the lords will only trust a knight of the king to deliver them. And knights are few in these parts.'

Felix looked interested.

'The city's taxes?' he said. 'Well, it is churlish, of course, not to entrust a job like that to sturdy chaps like yourselves, but perhaps the city fathers have a point. A knight's loyalty is always to the king. A job like that demands absolute honesty.'

'You are saying we are not honest?' said Falco, through the smoke from the burning thing in his mouth.

'Of course not,' said Felix, smiling tolerantly. 'I can see you are honest, as plain as I see the nose on your face. But if you have none to vouch for you, then...'

The remark trailed off. There was a silence. Falco gave Felix a hard look, then shrugged, and the tension eased a little.

'You say you can see we are honest,' said Allon, smiling. 'How can you be sure?'

'First, I am a tremendous judge of character,' said Felix airily.

'So think all.'

'Also,' said Felix, smiling, 'I can see inside your shirt that you fought for the king, unless my eyes deceive me. I am not quite so foolish as all that, you know.'

Allon laughed and Falco smiled, and Allon pulled open his shirt to reveal his marks of honour.

Norbert's eyes widened; he saw the sigils of many battles, but one of them in particular caught his eye. The image of a plain, bare stone tower.

To anyone who could read it, it said that Allon had been at Sharlackberg.

Allon glanced at Norbert, and smiled.

'Yes, lad,' he said. 'We were there.'