A/N: nice long chapter (for me, anyway) = lots of reviews ::smiles
hopefully::: Please review, now enjoy!
Tyra, when they came to it at last, was a great, bustling city (although not so large as Corus, Liam noted with a certain amount of pride). The streets were packed full of merchants and traders crying out to sell their wares, of men hurrying to work and of women going about their daily tasks.
"Here we are, Liam, Tyra," Hassam said, waving his arm at the city gates. "You ready for it?"
"Yes," Liam said, mock grumpily. "I've got blisters and my legs are aching. So are my shoulders, and that's your fault for making me carry the pack."
"Stop whining, baby, and tell me how you'd attack this city, if you were commanded to."
"Yes sir. Well, does the wall extend all the way around?"
"Yes, in exactly the same condition. There is another gate identical to this one on the other side of the city."
"Thank you, and no cover?"
"None."
"Um, am I allowed mages?"
"No."
Liam groaned. If there was one thing his teacher seemed to enjoy about these hypothetical assignments, it was making them as hard for him as possible.
"Okay. There isn't an overhang or anything, or arrow slits - so I assume the wall is either quite old or poorly designed. The gates are made from iron, so that's not the most sensible way in. What men do I have?"
"One hundred Tortallan knights, a thousand foot soldiers - fifty of these with pikes, the others with swords. Then, let's see, you can have one company of the Tortallan King's Own and five hundred archers. Think you can do it?"
"Yes sir. My archers set up a barrage on the walls, shooting anyone who dares to show their head. Later on, they'll shoot fire arrows over the wall in the hope of causing a fire. My knights will wait in reserve, just out of bowshot, in case they sally out. Meanwhile, my foot soldiers will construct scaling ladders and siege towers. We'll attack at night with them and attempt to take them by surprise. However, with one thousand soldiers supported by archers, we shouldn't encounter any problems. The first objective will be to open the gate and let the knights in. At that point, the city is ours."
"Very good, although you might have a little more care about your casualties."
"Hey, I let them attack at night."
"With no diversions at the time."
"What are my archers then, spectators?"
"Shut up Liam, you're losing your temper again. That was very well done. When we get to Yaman, you can try again. That ought to pose more of a challenge to you. Let's go in now, they'll be expecting us at the palace."
The two Shang warriors walked confidently up to the gate, where they were stopped by a pair of city guards, looking languid and undisciplined compared to a good number of the specialist units Liam had studied in his training. "Names, and business in the city, man," one demanded. Liam sighed - they obviously had a puffed up sense of their own importance if they were using a line that clichéd. Hassam looked unmoved by this show, and answered calmly,
"Hassam Firesoul, the Eagle, a ranked master of the Shang warriors. I am employed at present as personal bodyguard to his Highness, Prince Jerlan of Tyra."
"And the boy, warrior?" he was asked, now perhaps with a grudging respect.
"My journeyman, Liam Ironarm of Shang. He is entering the same employment."
"Welcome to Tyra, followers of Shang are always honoured visitors here."
"We thank you for your courtesy."
Hassam smiled amiably at them, and led Liam inside without another word. They walked along the main cobbled street, wending their way through the crowds of people. No one took any notice of them, a man and a boy in tough brown and black peasant clothing walking and carrying a single pack between them. Suddenly, Liam's hand shot out sideways like a pouncing snake and caught onto the wrist of a ragged street boy.
"Give it back, kid," he said roughly. The boy he had caught, about Liam's age or maybe a bit younger, glared daggers at him. Very reluctantly, he handed Hassam's purse to Liam.
"Next time, I'd advise you to pick your target with more care. Spread the word that if we are targeted from now on, I'll complain to my father."
"Oo's 'e then, some toff who's never done an honest day's work in his life?"
"Well, he's never been completely honest, but he's George Cooper, boy, and I won't tolerate any disrespect. If you don't know his name, I'm sure his highness will be very interested to hear of your rudeness and ignorance."
The boy scowled at Liam, then snatched back his hand and darted off through the crowd and into a narrow, shadowy alleyway. Liam knew better than to try to follow him.
"That was well done Liam, although I'm curious as to how you knew what he was up to?"
"My father had an interesting youth. He'd be ashamed of me if I couldn't spot a common pickpocket like that after all of the training he gave me. By the time I came to Shang, I could pick pockets better than most who live by it, and I was starting on buildings. He took a copper from your pocket too, sir, but I let him have that. It's a hard life, when you're a bad thief, and trust me he was useless."
"That was well managed. He did look as though he could use a decent meal. Who's the man called 'his highness'? It's not Prince Jerlan, surely?"
"Of course not. The thieves have a system of rank, the best thief in each country being counted as royalty. Tyra's only a very small state, even if it is independent, so the ruler of its thieves is only counted as a prince. My father was the King of the Thieves in Tortall."
Very soon they came to another wall and a smaller gate. Liveried palace guardsmen, who looked far more effective than their city counterparts, lined the ramparts. The guards at the gate asked courteously for identification. Liam watched, fascinated, as Hassam held out his right hand, palm up. He caught a glimpse of something, maybe a tattoo, maybe a brand, on the palm. On seeing it, the men saluted and stepped aside to let them through.
A servant rushed up to them as soon as they got in, wringing his hands desperately.
"Excuse me, great warrior," the wretched man said, almost grovelling, "But his Highness commands that you come now to his chambers without delay." Liam restrained a snort, looking at this plump man in his fancy court clothing - he'd noticed that even the servants here were well dressed - was worrying probably only about his master's displeasure, while there were people dying out there. Hassam looked equally amused but said kindly,
"Calm down, my good man. We'll go to him directly. Would you be kind enough to guide us there, I fear we are still strangers to this magnificent palace."
They were led through carpeted corridors. Huge portraits lined the painted walls, but Liam still found it easy not to gawk like a country boy. This was nothing compared to what he'd seen in Tortal since he was a baby. At last, the servant pushed them hastily through an ornate door into an antechamber before vanishing again. The guard there asked them their names. He then swung open another ornate door and announced loudly,
"Hassam Firesoul, Eagle of Shang; Liam Ironarm of Shang, bodyguards to his highness, the great Prince Jerlan the Compassionate of Tyra."
Restraining laughter again, Liam and Hassam strode in step through the doorway, eyes downcast before royalty, and knelt on one knee before the throne, heads bowed.
"You may rise, men," the prince told them magnanimously. Liam needed no further prompting. He stood up smoothly and looked his new employer in the eyes for the first time, smiling slightly at the familiar flinch when they encountered purple.
He was a young man, not much older than Liam actually, maybe sixteen years of age, no more. He wore his chestnut hair just brushing his shoulders and had cultivated a small moustache that quite frankly made him look like the useless, foppish boy that Liam saw him to be. His clothes were, naturally, the best that money could buy, and studded liberally with jewels.
"So you are the new bodyguards my father hired for me," Prince Jerlan said disdainfully. "I have to say, you don't look much for what you're supposed to be. The boy will be tested against my guardsmen, and if he doesn't perform well enough, you will be evicted from the palace immediately."
"Of course, your highness, that is very wise," Liam said innocently. "What weapons would you prefer? The choice is yours, naturally. Would you like to specify, or just say freestyle? I will, of course, abide with your wishes."
Jerlan looked at him suspiciously, not quite sure he was quite so subservient as he looked.
"Swords, of course, rapiers. It's a gentleman's weapon, so I doubt you have any proficiency with it at all. All of my guardsmen are trained with it."
Liam flushed angrily, and glanced questioningly at Hassam. The man nodded slightly, an almost non existent smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"I apologise if you have been labouring under a misconception, Highness," Liam said with impeccable politeness and a slight bow. "But I am not and have never been common born. Indeed, the very idea is preposterous. My father is Baron of Pirate's Swoop; my mother rules in Trebond and is heir to the fief of Olau. She is also the King's Champion of Tortall, and I believe I have been named as cousin to his Majesty, King Jonathan of Tortall. My family has been in the Book of Gold since the beginning."
The prince looked somewhat taken aback at the so called ragged peasant boy claiming such a prestigious heritage. He gestured imperiously towards the door, perhaps not trusting himself to speak without embarrassing himself further. The two Shang bowed, backed out and left with great relief.
"The stuck up prig," Liam muttered to himself. He was very touchy about his personal honour, and the prince had rubbed him entirely the wrong way. Hassam grinned indulgently at him, sharing his feelings exactly.
"Why do you think his father hired us rather than some court toadies? I assure you, it wasn't for our looks. The boy's only going to the Yamanis, and their a friendly court with stupendous warriors. No doubt he'll command me to teach him sometime during the visit, having got bored with abusing his servants, and then you have my full permission to thrash him thoroughly, all for the good of his education, of course. Then he might just be civilised enough to instruct safely without my killing him first."
"Of course sir," Liam said, smiling broadly at that. Neither of them had any use whatsoever for court fops who'd never worked in their lives, and the prince certainly fit that description.
The ordered matched was arranged for early the next day. Liam turned up at the assigned practice court early and began to warm up. The prince arrived later, at a so-called civilised hour, with the captain of the palace guard and a young man who wore his sword awkwardly at his side and whose livery was still slightly big for him.
"Captain Dernholm of the palace guard will see to it that you meet the standard. This is Liam of Shang, Dernhold. Report to me when you're done."
"Aye, your highness. I'll see to it."
The prince left abruptly. The captain rolled his eyes at the young soldier, who looked embarrassed.
"His highness, Prince Jerlan, the biggest idiot ever to stand in line to rule the city. Please Mithros I'll be dead by the time that happens. Now, I'm Dernhold, you're Liam and this is Florin, our newest recruit. Be easy on him, he's only just learning and, unlike his highness I know your reputation's completely true and unexaggerated. I'd like a nice fair match now, just swords, young Shang, as his bigheadedness ordered for you."
"Sure sir," Liam said brightly, liking the soldier already. "Ready when you are, Florin."
After a few nervous and uncomfortable stretches, the young recruit lined up uneasily opposite Liam. His grip on his sword, as far as Liam could see, was tight an awkward. Liam saluted him politely, then they crossed swords and began. Liam could tell from the start that he easily outmatched his opponent, just as the captain had predicted. Florin seemed to know it too, and within a minute, he'd been disarmed. They looked at each other tensely.
"I yield," the guardsman conceded, and Liam lowered his sword. "You're amazing, and only a boy yourself."
"You're not much older, Florin, just a couple of years as I remember," Dernholm said pointedly. Florin flushed bright red. "But it happens that I agree. You could have beaten most of my men, lad. You're welcome to train with us any time you want, aye, and your master too, if its his pleasure."
"Thank you sir."
Tyra, when they came to it at last, was a great, bustling city (although not so large as Corus, Liam noted with a certain amount of pride). The streets were packed full of merchants and traders crying out to sell their wares, of men hurrying to work and of women going about their daily tasks.
"Here we are, Liam, Tyra," Hassam said, waving his arm at the city gates. "You ready for it?"
"Yes," Liam said, mock grumpily. "I've got blisters and my legs are aching. So are my shoulders, and that's your fault for making me carry the pack."
"Stop whining, baby, and tell me how you'd attack this city, if you were commanded to."
"Yes sir. Well, does the wall extend all the way around?"
"Yes, in exactly the same condition. There is another gate identical to this one on the other side of the city."
"Thank you, and no cover?"
"None."
"Um, am I allowed mages?"
"No."
Liam groaned. If there was one thing his teacher seemed to enjoy about these hypothetical assignments, it was making them as hard for him as possible.
"Okay. There isn't an overhang or anything, or arrow slits - so I assume the wall is either quite old or poorly designed. The gates are made from iron, so that's not the most sensible way in. What men do I have?"
"One hundred Tortallan knights, a thousand foot soldiers - fifty of these with pikes, the others with swords. Then, let's see, you can have one company of the Tortallan King's Own and five hundred archers. Think you can do it?"
"Yes sir. My archers set up a barrage on the walls, shooting anyone who dares to show their head. Later on, they'll shoot fire arrows over the wall in the hope of causing a fire. My knights will wait in reserve, just out of bowshot, in case they sally out. Meanwhile, my foot soldiers will construct scaling ladders and siege towers. We'll attack at night with them and attempt to take them by surprise. However, with one thousand soldiers supported by archers, we shouldn't encounter any problems. The first objective will be to open the gate and let the knights in. At that point, the city is ours."
"Very good, although you might have a little more care about your casualties."
"Hey, I let them attack at night."
"With no diversions at the time."
"What are my archers then, spectators?"
"Shut up Liam, you're losing your temper again. That was very well done. When we get to Yaman, you can try again. That ought to pose more of a challenge to you. Let's go in now, they'll be expecting us at the palace."
The two Shang warriors walked confidently up to the gate, where they were stopped by a pair of city guards, looking languid and undisciplined compared to a good number of the specialist units Liam had studied in his training. "Names, and business in the city, man," one demanded. Liam sighed - they obviously had a puffed up sense of their own importance if they were using a line that clichéd. Hassam looked unmoved by this show, and answered calmly,
"Hassam Firesoul, the Eagle, a ranked master of the Shang warriors. I am employed at present as personal bodyguard to his Highness, Prince Jerlan of Tyra."
"And the boy, warrior?" he was asked, now perhaps with a grudging respect.
"My journeyman, Liam Ironarm of Shang. He is entering the same employment."
"Welcome to Tyra, followers of Shang are always honoured visitors here."
"We thank you for your courtesy."
Hassam smiled amiably at them, and led Liam inside without another word. They walked along the main cobbled street, wending their way through the crowds of people. No one took any notice of them, a man and a boy in tough brown and black peasant clothing walking and carrying a single pack between them. Suddenly, Liam's hand shot out sideways like a pouncing snake and caught onto the wrist of a ragged street boy.
"Give it back, kid," he said roughly. The boy he had caught, about Liam's age or maybe a bit younger, glared daggers at him. Very reluctantly, he handed Hassam's purse to Liam.
"Next time, I'd advise you to pick your target with more care. Spread the word that if we are targeted from now on, I'll complain to my father."
"Oo's 'e then, some toff who's never done an honest day's work in his life?"
"Well, he's never been completely honest, but he's George Cooper, boy, and I won't tolerate any disrespect. If you don't know his name, I'm sure his highness will be very interested to hear of your rudeness and ignorance."
The boy scowled at Liam, then snatched back his hand and darted off through the crowd and into a narrow, shadowy alleyway. Liam knew better than to try to follow him.
"That was well done Liam, although I'm curious as to how you knew what he was up to?"
"My father had an interesting youth. He'd be ashamed of me if I couldn't spot a common pickpocket like that after all of the training he gave me. By the time I came to Shang, I could pick pockets better than most who live by it, and I was starting on buildings. He took a copper from your pocket too, sir, but I let him have that. It's a hard life, when you're a bad thief, and trust me he was useless."
"That was well managed. He did look as though he could use a decent meal. Who's the man called 'his highness'? It's not Prince Jerlan, surely?"
"Of course not. The thieves have a system of rank, the best thief in each country being counted as royalty. Tyra's only a very small state, even if it is independent, so the ruler of its thieves is only counted as a prince. My father was the King of the Thieves in Tortall."
Very soon they came to another wall and a smaller gate. Liveried palace guardsmen, who looked far more effective than their city counterparts, lined the ramparts. The guards at the gate asked courteously for identification. Liam watched, fascinated, as Hassam held out his right hand, palm up. He caught a glimpse of something, maybe a tattoo, maybe a brand, on the palm. On seeing it, the men saluted and stepped aside to let them through.
A servant rushed up to them as soon as they got in, wringing his hands desperately.
"Excuse me, great warrior," the wretched man said, almost grovelling, "But his Highness commands that you come now to his chambers without delay." Liam restrained a snort, looking at this plump man in his fancy court clothing - he'd noticed that even the servants here were well dressed - was worrying probably only about his master's displeasure, while there were people dying out there. Hassam looked equally amused but said kindly,
"Calm down, my good man. We'll go to him directly. Would you be kind enough to guide us there, I fear we are still strangers to this magnificent palace."
They were led through carpeted corridors. Huge portraits lined the painted walls, but Liam still found it easy not to gawk like a country boy. This was nothing compared to what he'd seen in Tortal since he was a baby. At last, the servant pushed them hastily through an ornate door into an antechamber before vanishing again. The guard there asked them their names. He then swung open another ornate door and announced loudly,
"Hassam Firesoul, Eagle of Shang; Liam Ironarm of Shang, bodyguards to his highness, the great Prince Jerlan the Compassionate of Tyra."
Restraining laughter again, Liam and Hassam strode in step through the doorway, eyes downcast before royalty, and knelt on one knee before the throne, heads bowed.
"You may rise, men," the prince told them magnanimously. Liam needed no further prompting. He stood up smoothly and looked his new employer in the eyes for the first time, smiling slightly at the familiar flinch when they encountered purple.
He was a young man, not much older than Liam actually, maybe sixteen years of age, no more. He wore his chestnut hair just brushing his shoulders and had cultivated a small moustache that quite frankly made him look like the useless, foppish boy that Liam saw him to be. His clothes were, naturally, the best that money could buy, and studded liberally with jewels.
"So you are the new bodyguards my father hired for me," Prince Jerlan said disdainfully. "I have to say, you don't look much for what you're supposed to be. The boy will be tested against my guardsmen, and if he doesn't perform well enough, you will be evicted from the palace immediately."
"Of course, your highness, that is very wise," Liam said innocently. "What weapons would you prefer? The choice is yours, naturally. Would you like to specify, or just say freestyle? I will, of course, abide with your wishes."
Jerlan looked at him suspiciously, not quite sure he was quite so subservient as he looked.
"Swords, of course, rapiers. It's a gentleman's weapon, so I doubt you have any proficiency with it at all. All of my guardsmen are trained with it."
Liam flushed angrily, and glanced questioningly at Hassam. The man nodded slightly, an almost non existent smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
"I apologise if you have been labouring under a misconception, Highness," Liam said with impeccable politeness and a slight bow. "But I am not and have never been common born. Indeed, the very idea is preposterous. My father is Baron of Pirate's Swoop; my mother rules in Trebond and is heir to the fief of Olau. She is also the King's Champion of Tortall, and I believe I have been named as cousin to his Majesty, King Jonathan of Tortall. My family has been in the Book of Gold since the beginning."
The prince looked somewhat taken aback at the so called ragged peasant boy claiming such a prestigious heritage. He gestured imperiously towards the door, perhaps not trusting himself to speak without embarrassing himself further. The two Shang bowed, backed out and left with great relief.
"The stuck up prig," Liam muttered to himself. He was very touchy about his personal honour, and the prince had rubbed him entirely the wrong way. Hassam grinned indulgently at him, sharing his feelings exactly.
"Why do you think his father hired us rather than some court toadies? I assure you, it wasn't for our looks. The boy's only going to the Yamanis, and their a friendly court with stupendous warriors. No doubt he'll command me to teach him sometime during the visit, having got bored with abusing his servants, and then you have my full permission to thrash him thoroughly, all for the good of his education, of course. Then he might just be civilised enough to instruct safely without my killing him first."
"Of course sir," Liam said, smiling broadly at that. Neither of them had any use whatsoever for court fops who'd never worked in their lives, and the prince certainly fit that description.
The ordered matched was arranged for early the next day. Liam turned up at the assigned practice court early and began to warm up. The prince arrived later, at a so-called civilised hour, with the captain of the palace guard and a young man who wore his sword awkwardly at his side and whose livery was still slightly big for him.
"Captain Dernholm of the palace guard will see to it that you meet the standard. This is Liam of Shang, Dernhold. Report to me when you're done."
"Aye, your highness. I'll see to it."
The prince left abruptly. The captain rolled his eyes at the young soldier, who looked embarrassed.
"His highness, Prince Jerlan, the biggest idiot ever to stand in line to rule the city. Please Mithros I'll be dead by the time that happens. Now, I'm Dernhold, you're Liam and this is Florin, our newest recruit. Be easy on him, he's only just learning and, unlike his highness I know your reputation's completely true and unexaggerated. I'd like a nice fair match now, just swords, young Shang, as his bigheadedness ordered for you."
"Sure sir," Liam said brightly, liking the soldier already. "Ready when you are, Florin."
After a few nervous and uncomfortable stretches, the young recruit lined up uneasily opposite Liam. His grip on his sword, as far as Liam could see, was tight an awkward. Liam saluted him politely, then they crossed swords and began. Liam could tell from the start that he easily outmatched his opponent, just as the captain had predicted. Florin seemed to know it too, and within a minute, he'd been disarmed. They looked at each other tensely.
"I yield," the guardsman conceded, and Liam lowered his sword. "You're amazing, and only a boy yourself."
"You're not much older, Florin, just a couple of years as I remember," Dernholm said pointedly. Florin flushed bright red. "But it happens that I agree. You could have beaten most of my men, lad. You're welcome to train with us any time you want, aye, and your master too, if its his pleasure."
"Thank you sir."
