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Knowing Blade

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 3

Some time later Noras realized, somewhat to his own surprise, that he was counting the lad among his friends. Not only that, but the group of young soldiers with which he'd hang out in the evenings now had a new member: a lanky, dark-haired youth, several years younger than the rest.

When he'd begun to single out Daynar from the crowd and invite him to join them, there'd been many raised eyebrows and not a little teasing from the others. He'd just shrugged the jibes off, and also Daynar had taken all the horseplay with admirable restraint. Not once had the boy let himself be provoked into anything foolish or embarrassing, and his attitude, a funny mixture of modesty and cheekiness, had soon won the others over.

By now all of Noras' old companions were fully convinced that the lad was someone worth having around, and wherever their group went, Daynar went as well. He'd be there when they loitered around the castle well, sipping water so cold that it made the neck muscles ache, talking about the day's drills and commenting on each others' performance. He'd share their table at dinner, and he even accompanied them to the bathhouse in the evenings. He was considered one of them.

Especially the latter was a source of much envy among the other youngsters. Everyone in the castle was given their daily turn in the bathhouse, but just as everywhere else, the higher-ups got there first. By the time the younger lot got in, the place was only lukewarm at best ¨C and of course there was much more at stake than just hot water. It was about the principle, and the privileges Daynar got by fraternizing with the older crows earned him many a dark look from his peers.

Daynar ignored them, just continued his hard work on the training grounds and outside them, and Noras watched him in fascination. The lad had wanted to see how far he could get, and he sure seemed to be doing just that. Rather like a young dog trying to find its place in the pack.

Noras had seen something of the kind back in his home village. His father had owned a bitch that excelled in the dangerous art of boar hunting, and in fact she'd been such a good boar dog that people were ready to pay money for her pups. One of her offspring had stayed in the family, and Noras could remember how the shaggy creature had steadily worked its way through the ranks of the village dogs, until one day he'd seen it bare its teeth at the former leader who meekly lowered its head and stepped aside.

He nearly laughed aloud when that particular memory popped up, but couldn't deny that the kid reminded him of that tireless, aloof dog ¨C even if Daynar was far better off in the looks department. Nevertheless, there were many similarities between the two.

When training, Daynar seemed tireless. More precisely, he did get tired and admitted it, but was nevertheless always ready to push on if required. When some new skill or technique gave him trouble, he repeated it again and again and again until he got it right, and then joined Noras' group for some extra sparring to hone his skills against the tougher opposition they provided. It was really no wonder that he was beginning to be a step or two ahead of his age-mates.

No doubt he was headed for the front lines, but he wasn't going there blind, as testified by the unflagging interest he showed towards the stories Noras and his companions had to tell. They might not be old yet but they'd already seen some action, albeit briefly, and several of them bore real scars as a memento of real battle. They'd had a taste of what it meant to be a soldier, and Daynar was ever an attentive listener when they felt like talking about their experiences.

He'd also been listening to others, as Noras realized one evening in the Soldiers' House. When they'd first crossed swords, it had still been plain to hear that Daynar had grown up a farm boy. Now the broad country accent was all but gone, replaced by something that sounded suspiciously like the Lord of Oberrel and his court. Noras had to bite his lip not to smirk too widely at the notion. He was sure it was no accident; like many other things about Daynar, that just couldn't be just a coincidence. With a little shake of his head he grabbed his tankard and washed his smile down with beer.

Considerably later he exited the dining hall, Daynar at his heels as usual, but instead of the sleeping halls he headed to the courtyard. The night was bright and starry, a sliver of moon just barely visible above the castle walls, and gratefully Noras breathed in the cold air that was heavy with dew. His head hurt a little, a dull ache, and he thought in passing that perhaps the last tankard of beer had been too much. Wicked stuff, because it tasted so damn good...

Daynar walked to the well and hoisted a bucket of water from the depths, then offered some to Noras who drank greedily and grimaced at the way the cold water froze his teeth. He squinted at the lad, realizing all of a sudden that they were all alone; a rare occasion in a crowded castle. It felt unreal. He couldn't remember when he'd last been alone with anyone.

"You look quite sober," he said accusingly, but he youth just shrugged.

"I don't want to get drunk."

"Have you ever tried?"

"No."

"You need to know what it's like," Noras pointed out. "You try out everything else, why not that?"

"I've seen what it does to people."

"You need to try it out," Noras decided. "Learn for yourself."

Daynar chuckled. "I think some things can be learned well enough by just watching others."

"Hm." Noras tried to think of arguments that would be convincing enough. "Maybe. But it won't do any harm even if you do get drunk sometimes. At least then you'll know what it does to you, and how much beer you can take before it really affects you."

"Maybe," Daynar agreed mildly. "I think we ought to go back indoors."

"Soon," Noras said and leaned his back against the wall. Cold began to seep through his clothes and skin, but he pressed the insides of his wrists to the stone as well and closed his eyes. "I want some fresh air now."

"You probably need it," Daynar observed.

Noras opened his eyes and looked at the youngster. "You sound like the Lord, did you know that?"

"I do?"

"I bet you've worked damn hard for it, too, you smug little devil."

"I have," Daynar admitted easily.

"I don't know what to make of you," Noras said after a little pause. "I know you want to be on top of things, always, all the time. All right, so you're on your way somewhere ¨C but where? What are you after?"

Daynar looked thoughtful.

"I want to be someone whose name people know when they hear it." He sounded at the same time dreamy and determined. "I want to pick and choose who I work for. I want the lords of castles dream of having exactly me in their employ."

"Oh boy," was all Noras managed to say. "Oh good heavens, lad, you've been listening to some tall stories."

"There are such people," Daynar said stubbornly. "You know it."

"Yeah, I know. There are even some such in this castle," Noras said, thinking of their Swordmaster. "So that's what you want to be?"

"Yes. That's what I'm going to be." Daynar folded his arms across his chest. "And I also intend to bag some money while getting where I want."

Noras laughed. "Still higher ambitions, huh? And here I was thinking that it all sounded far too simple. That someone like you would only want to be famous? No way."

"You're mocking me," Daynar said with an audible grin. "Go right ahead, as long as you don't talk about this to anyone else. Please, Noras."

"Oh, don't worry, kid. I won't. I want to keep you as my private pastime. Though I really wish I knew what's put all those big ideas in your head."

"My father, I guess," Daynar mused. "And also, ever since I came here, I've seen so many things that have made me understand what exactly I want to do, and how to do it."

"Your father? Was he a soldier, too?"

"Oh no. He's just told me all my life that I shouldn't do the same as his brother." Daynar sighed, raking fingers through his hair. "Uncle... he's been forever telling everybody that the farm isn't enough for him, that he'd do something big yet, see places, just you wait. But he's never done a thing about it. He's just drifted about, talking big and bragging about what he'd do one day, and everyone knows he'll never do anything. Never get anywhere."

Noras nodded slowly. He knew the type of man Daynar was talking about. There was always someone like that in every village, several if the place was any bigger.

"Dad always said that Uncle could've become something, if only he'd gone for it," the lad continued. "That's why he's told me, many times over, that I shouldn't follow Uncle's example. That if I wanted to see what's behind the next bend in the road, I must go and see, because no matter how patiently I might wait, the road won't get any straighter."

Noras scratched his neck and pushed himself away from the moist wall. His shoulders were beginning to ache for the cold.

"That's enough clever talk for one night," he decided. "Better get to our beds before we're locked outside."

"You're right," Daynar agreed, and together they shuffled once more across the yard and up the few stairs that separated them from the door of the Soldiers' House.

 

 

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