The prince’s words pounded the last blow in a long string of annoyances and insults. Nightfall had always considered himself independent, yet the realization that he had lost the widespread and myriad contacts he had established through years of effort frustrated him. The oath-bond trembled within him, a mockery of the pains that ached through him because of its presence. And he might well lose the use of his hand. Though the least of his problems, Nightfall lashed out at the thing that had thrown him over the edge. He twisted his face into a parody of deep, emotional hurt, a raw-edged expression approaching tears. “Master," he said almost inaudibly. "Your father is paying me nothing.” Rising, Nightfall limped toward the fire and sat with his back to the prince, but not before he saw a wide-eyed look of sympathy and self-hatred form on the prince’s features.
Guilt tingled at the edges of Nightfall’s conscience. Unaccustomed to the emotion, he cast it aside; but the dismissal proved harder than he expected. For all the times he had dallied with men’s lives, he had less experience with manipulating emotions other than hatred and fear. The image of the prince’s face remained in his mind’s eye.
"Sudian, I’m sorry." Prince Edward drew up beside his squire, his familiar, commanding tone gone.
Nightfall said nothing. He stared into the fire, fixating on mourning the destruction of his information net. He felt more alone than he had since the day his mother died, though that loss had filled him with the same mixture of grief and guilt. Only the day before, he had prayed to the sisters of the sunrise to take his mother’s life; and, with the faith in magical thoughts that only a child could grasp, he held himself to blame as much as the client who had dealt the fatal blow. Grief and love had warred with shameful relief. He had cried, yet something deep within him had rejoiced, and that thing his mother would have called "the demon’s influence" had become the center of his existence. His remorseless killings and thefts had proved him as evil as he believed himself to be, delved him into a cycle that ended with Kelryn, then began again with her betrayal.
Prince Edward shifted closer, glancing about as if afraid to be caught talking poignant issues with a servant. “Sudian, I, of all people, shouldn’t have said that, I who also swore to champion a cause and hold it above life itself, I get so ill hearing people dream with their mouths instead of their hearts, listening to them talk about what should be done instead of acting to fix the problem. I’ve tried my best to act when the opportunity presented itself and to prod my father and brother to do the same." He lowered a hand to Nightfall’s shoulder, and this time the squire managed not to pull away. "Sudian, your loyalty is not just appreciated, it’s the most noble act I’ve ever seen. I guess I just couldn’t fathom that kind of dedication to me."
The prince’s grip felt warm and rock steady. Nightfall’s annoyance slipped away, replaced by an almost unsuppressible urge to laugh. His naive optimism is nearly as touching as it is amusing. Seizing the opportunity to test his earlier theory about King Rikard wanting his younger son dead, as well as to lock in Edward’s trust, Nightfall questioned while the prince’s guard was down. “But, Master, you’re so ideal. Surely, I’m not the first to see how much the world needs you. And your father must be proud of all you’ve championed.”
Prince Edward’s fingers flexed, indenting Nightfall’s sleeve. "My father is a good man, but affairs of court keep him too busy to help the downtrodden."
"A pity, Master." Nightfall’s pain had not dulled, but it had become familiar enough for him to think more clearly. He swerved with the prince’s verbal dodge, restoring proper theme to the conversation. "All the more reason why he must cherish your struggle for causes he has no time to handle."
Again, Edward’s grip tightened, gouging linen deeper into Nightfall’s flesh.
The persistent weight of the prince’s arm, as well as the tenseness of his hold, numbed Nightfall’s wounded hand. He appreciated the lessening of the agony, but it frightened him as well. Pain, he understood. The fuzzy tingle fluttering through his fingers unnerved him, reminding him of the possible permanence of this injury. Nerve damage healed so slowly he might die of old age before his hand functioned properly again.
Apparently realizing the intensity of his grasp had gone way beyond comforting, Edward released his hold and turned away. "One day," he said, so softly Nightfall suspected he spoke to himself rather than his squire. "One day, human suffering will take precedence over politics." He whirled suddenly, confidence fully restored. "Sudian, we need to talk about strategy."
The abrupt change in topic and manner left Nightfall momentarily speechless. Clearly, the conversation had closed, and no nudges or twists would divert it back this time. "Strategy, Master?" Suddenly, the fog that accompanied blood loss and pain lifted enough to reveal memory of the moments before Nightfall had lost consciousness in Nemix. "Are we being followed?" He sprang to his feet, forgetting his injured leg until it seemed to suck all the sensation from his body and channel it into jabbing agony. He winced, waiting for the pain to fade back to baseline, along with the ringing void that temporarily shrouded his mind again.
"Careful, Sudian." Prince Edward flinched in sympathy, his warning senseless after the act. "And, no. I don’t think anyone followed us. I ran, as you insisted, though I did leave ten silvers. I’m embarrassed that we had a hand in ruining that inn. The owner deserved restitution, and there’s blood price to take care of for the dead."
The blood of that human crud was more valuable splattered on the roadway than in their worthless bodies. Nemix should have paid us. And restitution? For what? Grittmon’s attempt to slaughter us? Nightfall stared. "Master, the owner was the man flinging daggers at us." It occurred to him then that pursuit was unlikely. Grittmon’s bribes kept the constabulary out of the affairs of his tavern. He had paid for their blindness and deafness, not for their support. For all that the criminals had wanted Sudian dead, they had failed the job in numbers and on their own territory. There, they could claim accident. On international ground, the murder of a prince and his squire would not go unexplored nor unpunished, a price too high to pay for the life of a servant who had only sought information.
“And why was the owner throwing daggers?"
Nightfall continued to study the prince’s face, as if to read the insanity nestled behind features that seemed as unrealistically beautiful and innocent as his nature. Even the fading whip mark scarcely marred the perfection of a countenance as rare and noble as his station. Because he wanted to kill us, you blitheringly ignorant pretty-boy. And you gave our money to the first thief who notices it lying there. Nightfall searched for a respectful reply, analyzing tone to decide whether the prince expected a specific response or demanded an answer because he could not guess the truth.
As time passed in silence, Edward’s eyes widened. He flexed his hands impatiently.
Clearly, Prince Edward had not meant for the query to remain rhetorical, yet Nightfall could think of no comment that would not sound sarcastic or disrespectful. He searched for a simple lie.
"Sudian, why did we get attacked? Did you do or say something to instigate it?"
Nightfall adopted the most stricken look he could muster, which proved easy under the circumstances. "Certainly not, Master. I ate in silence. I got up to relieve myself, and I accidentally got caught in the middle of their fight. I had a choice: defend myself or die." He rolled his gaze to Edward, feigning desperation. "I’m no use to you dead from another man’s argument?
“Nor dead from a dagger thrown at me. Nor dead from my own sword stroke."
"To die for you, Master, would be an honor. Nothing could please me, or the holy Father, more." Nightfall managed to meet Prince Edward’s eyes and stomach the falseness of his own words. The oath-bond receded to a distant tingle, all but intangible for the first time since its casting.