“You’ve done better,” Gwaynn said softly, moving around her.
Vio paused, a scowl on her face. “Why are you here? Only to mock my performance I suppose?”
Gwaynn took a step back, surprised at her anger. “No,” he said suddenly feeling awkward.
“You shouldn’t be talking to me,” Vio said her anger suddenly turning to sadness. “I’m Deutzani. You should hate me.”
Gwaynn was silent long enough for Vio to glance up, having expected him to answer.
“But I don’t,” he said softly, as eye contact was made. Her face flushed and she quickly looked away.
“I will cheer for you,” he added and she looked into his face once more and gave him a small smile. “I expect you to do better,” he chided and then headed off to find Tar Nev.
“Gwaynn,” she said after he had gone ten paces and he turned back to her. “I will never return to the Deutzani.”
The vision of his mother, cut open, innards rolling out into the dust flashed in Gwaynn’s mind, and his eyes watered momentarily transforming the world into his own personal watercolor painting. He blinked rapidly, embarrassed, not trusting his voice; finally he nodded to Vio, turned and carefully headed off across a muddy field.
ǂ
The next few days flew by, and all with an air of celebration. Food and drink stands sprung up everywhere flooding the air with delicious smells. There were also gaming tables for those who could not lose enough betting on their favorite student, and many temporary shops selling everything from blankets and cookware, to clothes and weapons of all kinds. Crowds that were not otherwise engaged with the ongoing Competitions milled about the shops and food tents. The Competitions drew all types of people, from all across the kingdom. Royalty, soldiers, entire peasant families, and of course thieves, all made their way to Herra. Lesser trainees, those not granted Tar status, were in charge of keeping order, and for the most part order was maintained even in the face of the occasional pickpocket. There were of course fights, which broke out in the drinking and gambling tents with annoying regularity, but that was to be expected.
But Gwaynn was unaware of such troubles, for he had no money; nor did gambling and drink interest him. He and Nev ate, mostly as honored guests, at many a tent. Lambs meat, spiced with pepper sauce and sold on a skewer quickly became Gwaynn’s favorite and he enjoyed a taste whenever possible. Otherwise he was immersed in the Competitions. Watching all that he could, and at times bemoaning the fact that he could not compete himself. Both he and Nev were spectators at nearly all the kata matches, as well as a majority of the hand to hand bouts, and as many with the staff as they could catch. It was hard to go to them all since many events took place at the same time. Jon often sat with them, especially during the kata matches, and Gwaynn was always glad when he did. Jon was loud and enthusiastic and not afraid to let everyone know who he was pulling for, which in most cases was Vio, as he had taken Gwaynn’s recommendation to heart. Gwaynn was gratified at the noise the large man made, which occasionally drew the attention of Vio, at least when she was not fighting and she smiled up at Gwaynn on several occasions.
“That little minx is making me a rich man all by herself,” he laughed as Vio defeated a sixth year student under Tar Bnall and advanced once more. Gwaynn was not aware of the fact that Jon’s boisterous cheering also attracted the attention of several others pulling for Vio, namely King Arsinol and the Executioner Navarra.
“The boy watches without a care,” Arsinol growled, both men aware that Gwaynn almost never looked at them, and when he did it was if he did not even recognize or care that they were present. “He looks to be very comfortable, probably feels quite safe,” the King added, his anger at the man to his right growing.
“Yes, but Nev is ever watchful,” Navarra answered, nonplussed by his King’s anger. Arsinol looked and sure enough the Tar was staring at them both. Arsinol blanched slightly. He did not like the look of the man’s eye. Something about his face said that he should not be made an enemy lightly.
Arsinol turned his head and raised a hand as if scratching his nose, to hide his mouth. “Everyday with that man makes Gwaynn harder to kill. The Massi Prince must not be allowed to return home. You should have killed him by now. He has twice slipped through your fingers; perhaps you are not so deadly after all.”
Navarra turned to the Deutzani King inwardly growing angry, but he was deadly calm on the outside. “I will kill him today, if that is your wish.”
Arsinol frowned. No, the boy’s death would have to wait. The other families would turn on him instantly if they knew of his involvement in the death of the Massi royal family. If such a thing were to get out, the High King would not have any choice but to openly oppose him, not to mention that Noble Island would also be openly against him. It was not a pleasant thought. The Tars from Noble Island had not gone to war in more than a thousand years, and in that instance they wiped out all opposition and placed High King Mastoc’s ancestors in power. A power they still held to this day.
“No,” Arsinol said quietly, his face still averted from the watchful eyes of the distant Tar. Navarra was both disgusted and satisfied by the fear he saw in the old King’s face. “I cannot be tied to his death,” the Deutzani King finally added.
“Death could come from many unexpected places,” Navarra answered, then turned back in time to see B’dall brutalize an upstart seventh year from Tar Carlett’s quarter in a hand to hand bout; the win placing him in the finals.
Tar Kostek had a fine group of students, with nearly all of them out performing the other students in their age group. The only exceptions were Stephen who struggled with the staff and was defeated by a first year, William, who lost to all the other fifth years in katas and hand to hand, and of course Vio, who had lost early on with the bow. In all other classes, however, Vio was excelling, as were Hotch, Krys and B’dall, even Tam was putting on a good performance, winning the first year crown in katas, the staff and the bow.
It was Vio, however, who was drawing the most attention at this year’s games. She electrified the crowd early yesterday, narrowly losing to an eighth year of Tar Endid’s in the semi-finals in hand to hand. The day prior she nearly made it the quarterfinals with the staff, and followed it up the next morning by defeating Seth, an eighth year from Mneme quarter in the semi-finals of the kata competition. She not only beat the eight year, she did so convincingly ten hits to five. She became the only third year student in the last hundred years to make it to the kata finals and was very much a crowd favorite because of it. Yes, Tar Kostek and the Deutzani family were having a very successful competition.
The morning of the kata finals Gwaynn waited outside of Mele camp, hoping for a chance to see Krys or Vio, and by chance, both of them emerged together with William and Tam. They were moving away from him into the fog, which hung over the river, but he broke into a jog and soon caught up with them.
“Sir,” Krys said bowing his head slightly before he could stop himself. Both Tam and William looked at him oddly, but said nothing and though word of Gwaynn’s true identity was beginning to spread dangerously, most were still unenlightened.