Alysa Wishingrad - The Verdigris Pawn

For DJS, OAS, and OGS

Everything and Always

T here was a long list of things Beau should be doing. He should be studying, preparing for the days lessons. He should be getting dressed, not lounging around in his shirtsleeves. He should be trying to make himself into the kind of heir his father neededno, demandedhim to be. But all Beau was doing was the one thing he absolutely shouldnt be doing: trying to win at a game of Fist.

Hed already lost three matches to himself, but the second peg on the candle clock hadnt burned down yet. He just might have enough time to finish this match.

Beau rotated the Fist board so that he was now playing the challengers side, trying to remember what Fledge had taught him. When the stable master had explained the rules, it sounded so logical. Either the king knocked the verdigris pawn off the board or the pawn unseated the king.

A simple enough premise.

What wasnt simple was keeping all the rules, strategies, and exceptions to the rules straight.

By positioning the ace between the king and his front guards, Beau was certain he was setting the challengers side up for victory. Yet as soon as he pulled his hand back, he realized his fatal mistakethe move had left his mage completely exposed to the kings yellow guards.

Game over.

Ill never win, Beau groaned as he toppled the board in frustration. But watching the game pieces scatter only made him feel worse. The Fist set was the only thing of his mothers he had left; hed never be able to live with himself if anything happened to it.

Hed just retrieved the king and almost all the yellow guards from under the side table when he heard the telltale shush and pop of the key at work on the door to his apartments.

Mags was early.

Beaus tutor was many thingscurt, a bit lazy, and all too mercurial. The severity of his punishments varied depending on his mood. He could also be kind on the rare occasion. But he was never early.

Beau shoved everything under the cushions of his chair, then threw himself on top and started rereading Volume VII of The Histories: The Great Battles and Their Heroes, as if hed been there all day.

Im in here, he called out. Reading!

But the low-pitched rumble that replied didnt belong to Mags.

By the Goodness of Himself! Barger, the Manors chamberlain, proclaimed as he entered the sitting room. Stand and await his arrival.

Beaus limbs turned cold.

An unplanned visit from his father, Himself, was completely out of the ordinary. Beau wasnt scheduled to have an audience with him for several days.

Beau dropped the book on the table and stood waiting as the waft of cloves and the shushing of long, velvet robes trailing on the floor heralded Himselfs arrival.

As usual, Himself offered his only son no greeting or pleasantries while he conducted his steely-eyed inspection. Beau remained motionless as his fathers pale gray eyes searched for some imperfection, real or imagined. Then came the frigid touch of those long, thin fingers as they twisted a silver button upright so that the Manors crest stood straight or tugged at the single stray curl on Beaus head that dared to be an eighth of an inch longer than the others.

You are surprised to see me, Himself said, his expression pinched in disgust.

Its always a good day when you pay me a visit, Father.

Is it? This was neither a question nor an invitation to respond, for everything Himself said was an irrefutable statement of fact. His opinion the only one that mattered. Your tutor will not be returning.

Beaus stomach soured.

How many tutors had Himself already fired? Beau had lost count. Yet hed still been hoping Mags would be the last, for unlike some of his predecessors, he always allowed Beau time for a daily riding lesson with Fledge.

I thought youd been pleased with my progress, Beau said.

You thought wrong.

Himself nodded to Barger, who stepped forward.

Your tutor was found dead this morning. The fever has now spread from the guards barracks here at the Manor to those in the Upper and Lower Middlelands, the chamberlain intoned. A few of our outlying cottages were also affected.

Beau fought to hold steady, calm. He knew better than to show any emotion in front of his father. Still, news of his tutors death hit hard. Underneath all his bluster and posing, Mags had been good to Beau, and Beau would miss him.

May I attend his funeral, please? Beau asked.

But Himself had no answer for Beau. Bring it in, he ordered his chamberlain.

Barger summoned a footman carrying a large silver tray set with a pot of hot water, a small bowl of herbs, a single teacup, and a long-handled spoon. The servant placed the tray on the tea table, then quickly scuttled out of the apartment.

Himself adjusted the items on the tray in accordance with some measure of perfection only he understood before turning on Beau. Pour the tea.

Beau knew what was coming next, even though he didnt understand why. Himself had already put him through this test once before and was irate when Beau failed. Yet here he was again, trying to prove that Beau was a charmer.

Please, sir, I

Himself cut Beau off with a wave of his hand. Were going to try something simpler this time. Boils. You wont mind, will you, Barger?

At your service as always, sir. Barger dutifully stepped up to the tea tray.

Boils, Himself repeated. Even the weakest charmer would have been able to raise oozing sores.

Please, Father, Beau pressed. You cant think me a charmer, can you?

The vein in the center of Himselfs forehead began pulsating, a warning that an explosion was close at hand. Do you dare question me?

No, sir, never, sir. Beau emptied the bowl of herbs into the pot and stirred while softly repeating, Boils, boils, boils. Although what he really wanted to say was, Why? Why? Why? It made no sense at all. The last of the charmers had been killed by Himselfs own elite guards before Beau even was born.

Yet still he stirred.

After what he supposed might be a good amount of time, Beau poured a cup of tea and handed it to the chamberlain.

Barger downed the steaming hot brew in one go, as if to prove stupidity was a sign of loyalty.

What felt like minutes, hours, lifetimes passed, the tension in the room growing taut enough to crack glass while Himself stared at the chamberlains face.

Check your hands, check your legs, Himself barked as Barger readily obeyed. And yet the chamberlain remained, as hed always been, unblemishedat least on the outside.

Useless! Himself shouted as he grabbed the teacup and threw it across the room. You are unlike me in every way and far too much like her. Except where it would matter the most!

Beaus stomach twisted. He knew so little about his mother, except that his likeness to her enraged his father. The only times Himself ever mentioned her was when he was berating Beau for not being strong enough, hard enough.

It should be you! Himself sneered. It would be easier if it were you. At least if you were a charmer then we could stop these floods and blights from cursing us, end this fever, and quell the rumblings of revolution. Unless...

Himself pulled Beau so close all he could see were the spindles of gray and yellow coloring his fathers eyes. Unless you think youre clever enough to hide your powers from me?